When you ask, “If I were the culprit, what would you do, Shuichi?” Shuichi freezes. He never expects a question like that.

In the last class trial, the real culprit framed you. He defended you and cleared your name. And now, here you are, inviting him to the dining hall for dinner. You tell him he’s smart. You say you admire him. You even call him “Shuichi” instead of “Saihara-kun.”

Not even the brim of his hat can hide the redness spreading across his face. Ah… so this is what it feels like to be praised by you…? It’s light, dizzying—like floating on clouds…

…And then, just as Shuichi is still lost in that haze, he hears your question.

If you were the culprit…? His first instinct is to deny it. No way. He knows you. You would never be the culprit.

But… hypothetically, if—just if—he ever discovered that you really were?

Years of detective work, his principles, his conscience—they all tell him the truth must always come first. No exceptions.

But if it’s you…

A long silence stretches between you before Shuichi finally exhales, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Please don’t ask me something so difficult.”

This is not a direct answer, but it says everything. You come first. Always.