The call log displayed a long string of various unfamiliar numbers. From local to long-distance, everything was there.
He continued scrolling down; it was still unfamiliar number, unfamiliar number, unfamiliar number.
For three or four pages in a row, they were all new stranger's numbers added during the time he was away.
This was enough to show that Mila had truly executed the task he assigned to perfection, and at the same time...
Alain looked at her in astonishment. "None of these numbers worked?"
"Correct," Mila agreed, her brows furrowed as she gazed at the scenery outside the window, which was gradually being dyed black by the night. "For the very first call, I wanted to ask a locksmith master to see if they could come over to Yalin Villa and open a door that has no keyhole.
"At that time, I was still worried whether the masters would find it difficult to perform their work without a keyhole. But unexpectedly...
"The locksmith master agreed immediately."
Alain said, "Isn't that great? If they can open a lock without a keyhole, we can save a lot of trouble."
"Mn... but then he said: he can open it, but he needs a special lock-picking tool. Then he explained a whole heap of technical jargon to me, saying it would take at least three days for the goods to arrive." Mila sighed.
"Three days..." Alain stroked his chin, then proceeded to check the other call logs. "What about the others? It can't be that every single locksmith has to wait for that whatever special tool, right?"
"..."
Unexpectedly, Mila fell silent.
She looked at the iron door beside them, which in her trance seemed like an impregnable fortress of copper and iron.
"Mn," the young girl answered briefly.
Yet, this caused Alain's pupils to contract slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asked back. "Are you saying that the meaning of all the locksmiths was that they all needed that lock-picking tool that takes three days to arrive?"
Was that tool some kind of magic gadget, or was it made of gold?
If just a single locksmith held such a rhetoric, Alain could still understand.
But... to think that everyone said the same thing?
Alain checked the communication log again. Scrolling up, scrolling down; he made a rough estimate that she had made at least 30 calls to unknown numbers.
This meant that Mila had sought help from at least 30 locksmiths, and without exception... all refused.
No, it wasn't a refusal, but rather... they needed that three-day tool?
How was that possible?
"Although you might not believe it, the fact... is just like that." Mila looked like a child about to be scolded, tangling her fingertips together. "I... did my best."
Alain took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the strange feeling in his heart. "It's fine. Even without a locksmith, we can still open this iron door."
"...Mn." Mila nodded, seemingly accepting Alain's statement.
As for Alain... he understood that his current objective shouldn't be focused on the strangeness of those locksmiths, but rather... how to open this room door.
Currently, the plan to seek outside help had failed without a doubt.
And regarding opening the windows...
He opened his email communication log with Monika, his gaze focusing on her potential hint:
[Help me open the window. Let in some fresh air.]
Alain had already opened all the windows that could be opened. However, he still hadn't received any prompts.
Except for that one window in the bedroom.
But that window was extremely special; it completely lacked any mechanisms or mechanical structures. Furthermore, its hardness was also extremely absurd.
Alain couldn't think of how to open it...
Or perhaps, inside this residence—were there still windows he hadn't opened?
Alain's gaze focused on the iron door of the basement.
He had just searched the entire residence once. He had also opened every window visible to the naked eye. So, the only place he hadn't entered yet was this basement.
But... why would a basement need a window? Could it be a window opening toward the soil layer or the foundation?
He had also circled the exterior of the residence just now. At least from the ground level, one couldn't see any windows existing for the basement.
Then, excluding the basement, where else was there that he hadn't searched?
Upholding the belief that there is strength in numbers, Alain explained his thoughts to Mila.
"Mn... windows, huh." The young girl stroked her smooth chin. "That Secret Room—did you check it?"
Mila was referring to the small room hidden behind the bookshelf, which contained a computer and a photograph.
"I checked it. Unfortunately, there wasn't even a window there." Alain sighed.
The layout of that Secret Room was particularly simple, basically clear at a glance.
Aside from the computer, there was only a photograph of an inexplicable system window—
"..."
In the next instant, his eyes went blank immediately.
He raised his head stiffly, looking at Mila.
This provoked the young girl's confusion. "Wh-what are you doing?"
She hugged her ample chest and turned her head away. "I didn't help you, so I'm really sor—Eeek!!!"
Alain hugged her tightly with lightning speed. Relying on the power granted by the Game Controller, he constricted Mila's underarms and lifted her up, spinning her a few circles in mid-air.
"You! Are truly!! Too smart!!!"
After Alain finished speaking, he planted a super affectionate and excited "mua" on her cheek.
"Aaaah what are you doing! Id-idiot!"
Mila's face turned red, her dark blue eyes swirling in circles as she dizzyingly accepted Alain's successive kissing attacks.
Mua, mua, mua, mua, mua!
It wasn't until Alain's lips felt a bit numb from kissing that he put her down.
The young girl collapsed to the ground in response, steam rising from her body.
"What are you still doing?" Alain pointed at the wall; diagonally above that spot was the direction of the Secret Room. "Let's go, come into the room with me!"
"Woo, woo... you bastard, for this kind of thing... you didn't give me any time to mentally prepare!"
Mila leaned against the wall and stood up, taking a napkin from her pocket to wipe the saliva from her face.
But before she could wipe for even a few seconds, Alain immediately grabbed her wrist and dashed toward the Secret Room.
"W-wait for me! Why the rush? It's not like these few seconds matter, right?"
"I just want to verify an idea."
As the two spoke, the steps flew past beneath their feet. Before long, their steps halted in front of the Secret Room's door.
"Phew... a distance of merely a dozen meters was forcibly turned into a marathon-like exhaustion by you." Mila grumbled, looking at the computer and the photo on the table.
But she just didn't see a window.
"So, where is the window you mentioned?"
Alain did not answer. He chuckled mysteriously twice, then slowly walked toward the only table in the Secret Room. He picked up that photograph and displayed it before Mila's eyes.
"It's this."
"?"
In Mila's gaze, within Alain's hand, the content of that photograph was—a window from the Windows operating system.
"This is the residence's last window." He changed the subject, the corners of his mouth rising. "It is also... the final window that Monika said needs to be [Opened] and [Let in some fresh air]."
____
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