Chapter XXXIX: The Journal, Part 1
It's already after school, and the students go home. It's almost 5pm, yet the sky seems blue with a hue of orange and pink. Going deep into a road, further from the main road, the red gate creaks softly as Aoto steps inside the Abe household. The Abe household is just a simple house. A driveway, and next to it, a small shed where all the sewing kits and fabric his mother kept, even after she ran away from his life. Perpendicular to the driveway is a simple bungalow with an attic serving as a low-ceiling second floor.
The sky is already dimming, washed in muted orange and gray, and the air carries the familiar scent of old wood, evening meals, and distant traffic. His shoulders feel heavier than usual—not from schoolwork, not from exhaustion, but from something deeper pressing against his chest.
The house stands quietly, unchanged. Too unchanged.
"I'm home," Aoto says, slipping off his shoes.
From the living room, his grandmother's voice answers, warm but tired.
"Welcome back, Aoto. Dinner will be ready soon."
His grandfather hums in agreement, eyes glued to the television, tired from Taxi duties. Aoto nods, forces a small smile, and moves down the hallway. Every step takes him closer to a door he rarely opens.
His father's room. It stands at the end of the hall, slightly ajar, as if waiting. Aoto stops in front of it.
For a moment, he considers walking past. For a moment again, fear whispers that opening the door might reopen wounds he has tried so hard to seal.
But Dr. Aoshima's voice echoes in his mind.
Knowledge begins with you, Abe. To seek the truth, one must investigate it
Aoto exhales. He pushes the door open. The light switch clicks. Warm yellow light floods the room, illuminating a space frozen in time.
The bed is neatly made. The desk is dusted but untouched. A coat still hangs behind the door, its pockets empty but its presence heavy. The faint scent of old cologne lingers in the air, sharp enough to sting Aoto's eyes.
"It still smells like you," Aoto whispers.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. The room feels... alive. As if it remembers.
Aoto moves to the desk first. He opens drawers carefully, fingers brushing paper edges, envelopes, old receipts. He scans through folders—financial statements, balance sheets, client records. Nothing unusual. Nothing magical. Almost nothing about a ring.
He checks the bookshelf next. Accounting textbooks. Tax manuals. Ledgers with dates written neatly on the spine. Still nothing. His heart sinks.
"Was it all in my head?" he mutters.
He kneels near the bed, checks underneath. Old shoes. A storage box of childhood photos. Nothing else.
Aoto leans back against the bed, frustration tightening his chest. Then his eyes catch something. The bedside table. He opens the drawer. Inside lies a thin, worn journal. No label. No title. Just leather, cracked with age. Aoto's breath catches. His fingers tremble as he lifts it.
"This..." he whispers.
He sits on the bed and opens the journal. The handwriting is unmistakable. His father's. Neat. Precise. Familiar. Aoto begins to skim.
Observation Day 3.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrkAdMjNEqp
Energy resonance fluctuates when proximity exceeds one meter.
His breath quickens. He flips pages faster.
The ring reacts to emotional stimuli.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2xrQUXuCla
Heat. Stress. Fear.
Then—His eyes freeze.
"There was this Magical Ring that I have found a long time ago."
The words burn into his vision. Aoto swallows hard.
"This is real..." he murmurs.
He reads more carefully now.
The artifact does not originate from known terrestrial materials.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5HiRsGeRWG
Symbol engravings resemble no known language as if from an extraterrestrial origin or something like that.
A chill runs down his spine.
"So you weren't just an accountant," Aoto whispers.
Footsteps approach outside.
"Aoto?" his grandmother calls. "Dinner."
"I'll be there," he replies, closing the journal gently.
He tucks it under his arm like a fragile truth and leaves the room, turning off the light.
The room returns to silence.
But its secrets no longer sleep.
The next day drags. Vacant time arrives, but Aoto's mind refuses to rest. The journal presses against his thoughts like a weight. At the far table, Takeshi leans back in his chair, phone already in hand.
"Mobile Legends?" Takeshi asks.
Okaki grins. "I'm already loading."
Kuebiko cracks his knuckles. "Ivy Scurvy's about to dominate."
Miran yawns. "Five minutes. That's all I need."
Aoto stands.
"I need to go," he says.
They all look up.
Takeshi blinks. "Go where?"
"Dr. Aoshima."
Okaki groans. "Bro, it's vacant time."
Aoto tightens his grip on his bag. "This can't wait."
Kuebiko studies his face and sighs. "That serious, huh?"
Aoto nods once.
"Fine," Takeshi says. "But you owe us a match."
Aoto offers a weak smile and turns away.
Dr. Aoshima's office is exactly as before. The knock echoes.
"Come in."
Aoto enters, pulling the journal from his bag. Dr. Aoshima looks up—and freezes.
"You found something," he says quietly.
Aoto hands over the journal.
"This was in my father's room."
Dr. Aoshima takes it with both hands, reverent. He opens it slowly. As his eyes scan the pages, something changes. His calm cracks.
"This handwriting..." he murmurs. "It's meticulous."
He flips pages, faster now.
"Energy resonance... emotional triggers... temporal instability..."
Dr. Aoshima looks up.
"Your father's profession," he asks suddenly, "what is it officially?"
"Accountant," Aoto answers.
Dr. Aoshima exhales sharply.
"Fascinating," he says.
He closes the journal carefully.
"This level of research," he continues, "requires physics, metaphysics, and field experimentation."
He looks at Aoto.
"He lives a double life."
Aoto's throat tightens. Dr. Aoshima stands.
"I will study this," he says. "Thoroughly."
"When?" Aoto asks.
"I return it next week," Dr. Aoshima replies. "I promise."
Aoto nods.
"I trust you."
Dr. Aoshima meets his gaze.
"And I intend to earn that trust."
Aoto returns to the classroom.
Takeshi waves him over. "You're late."
Aoto sits down, phone already in hand.
"Let's play," he says.
As the match loads, Aoto glances at the door. Somewhere behind it— The past is waking up. And the ring is no longer just a myth.
ns216.73.216.133da2
and then Add to home screen.