《Princess Higanbana; A Murder Mystery》


 Prologue : The Unsolvable Murder

    A single person entered the castle of illusions. There, he discovered six victims, two accomplices and an entropic world of mysteries. He wanted nothing more than to share this mystery with the one he loved most, with the one he knew ¡ª one day ¡ª he¡¯d reunite with.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Here lies before you a case involving an interloper, a terminally ill boy and a princess of a cursed castle ¡ª a case dubbed, ''The Death of Dante Searcher''.

 Chapter 1 :

    Thirty years ago. That¡¯s where it began, when Virgil sent out letters, inviting the nine to come. He had sent letters all about the world. From ocean to ocean, land to land ¡ª the world that had drifted apart had come together for that day.


    Dante was the first to arrive on the shores of Southern Hesha, an eastern nation home to pirates and samurai. He had come all the way from the isles of Cobell on a singular rumor ¡ª a local legend of sorts. Rumors of a cursed castle had permeated from Southern Hesha to all over the world, a rumor of a castle ruled by a demonic princess.


    The thought of visiting that castle ¡ª and inviting others to it ¡ª was an idea that intrigued Dante, which was why he was so keen on accepting Virgil¡¯s invitation. Of course, he packed with him the essentials.


    He was a foreigner to his own lands. With long and messy dark hair tied to a low ponytail and a warm winter coat, one he had purposefully prepared for the harshness of winter. It was the first of December when he came and landed on the shores, exactly as Virgil had requested him to do so via letter.


    Dante stood alone in the port, staring off towards the sea. Virgil had written to him that the others would come around the afternoon. Most people would rule that off as a prediction, seeing as the ocean was as unpredictable as the weather, but Dante had a feeling ¡ª one that told him Virgil would be spot on.


    One by one, a trio of ships made their way into the port. They were simple, smaller ships built solely for speed, and he recognized them as he had taken the same type of boat. From each came out a single passenger.


    The people quickly vanished into the sea of local townsfolk, but Dante knew they¡¯d all wind up in the same place, the one location Virgil wanted them to gather and meet. The port was filled to the brim with hanging lanterns made of a dull bronze that were all lit for the afternoon. From the nets of fish to the crates full of foreign goods, the pier seemed impossible to navigate and unendingly busy.


    A single star guided the invitees towards a singular point, and under the light of a single silver lantern, Dante waited for the group to arrive. There, his ¡®peers¡¯ arrived, sticking out like sore thumbs in the crowd of conical straw hats and jet black hair.


    The first of the three was an older gentleman with a black eyepatch that contrasted with his gray hair, a man who both looked roughened up over decades of less than legal work. Despite that, however, he looked calm and gentle ¡ª mistakable for a kind, old grandfather, maybe even a head butler of an imperial palace. He was well dressed for the winter, with thick clothing, a woolen scarf around his neck and a knit hat in his hands.


    Dante knew better than to trust those who wore the kindest looks, and knowing that, he kept a skeptical eye on the old cyclops.


    The next of the three was an unusual woman from far overseas. She had tan skin ¡ª at least, that¡¯s what he could parse out from how little of her skin she exposed. The woman was wrapped head to toe in a black cloak like a marauder and her hair covered with a hijab. She seemed a little standoffish, though that didn¡¯t stop him from coming up and extending a hand.


    She saw his hand, looked into his very character with a pair of emerald green eyes, then backed away a step or two.


    Finally was a woman who could be mistaken as either a commoner or a member of high society. Anyone¡¯s guess was as good as his, and looking at her beat-up coat and boots, she looked like she just stepped out of a factory. That¡¯s when he saw the long stemmed smoking pipe she carried, and judging from the dull, golden glimmer of a fancy looking seal, it was authentic ¡ª something collectors would drool over.


    The woman wore an expression on the verge of a smiling sneer. She was beauty for sure, but had an underlying tone of danger to her, one that¡¯d capture anyone¡¯s attention with just one glance at her blond locks and into her sharp, calculative gaze.


    With a step forward, she stole the hand the other girl refused to shake, then smiled.


    ¡°Erika Portinari,¡± she stated, as firm as her handshake, a trail of smoke escaping her lips. ¡°Pleasure to meet you. If I had to guess, you¡¯re one of the guests invited here by Virgil, correct?¡±


    His questions were answered by her manner of speech alone. Clearly, she was nobility or some pygmalion creation. Why she was wearing such drab clothing was beyond him, though, he didn¡¯t care to have his questions answered.


    ¡°Dante Searcher,¡± he answered, just as firm, ¡°and to answer your question; yes, I was. I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d need four people though, to be honest. It seemed like a two man job to me.¡±


    Seeing the two shake hands, the old man smiled, patted Dante on the shoulder before extending his hand as well.


    ¡°Howell Herman, at your service,¡± he said, all friendly-like. ¡°I¡¯ve been invited all the same. This Virgil ¡ª he¡¯s quite the fellow, bringing people from all over the world to one destination. I can¡¯t imagine the cost of all this. He must be quite the rich gentleman.¡±


    Howell seemed like a reliable person, both from his elderly age and mannerism. It isn¡¯t everyday someone would approach you, pat your shoulder, shake your hand and tell you they¡¯re ¡®at your service¡¯. Whoever he was, he¡¯d be good help for sure.


    ¡°I¡¯m Dante Searcher, and it¡¯s good to meet you too,¡± Dante replied, and he crossed his arms to shake both their hands at once. He twisted himself for the sake of politeness.


    Howell turned to the third guest, the foreign woman, and crossed his arms like a pretzel to offer her a spot in their handshake that was equally complex as it was respectful ¡ª like a daisy chain.


    ¡°My fair lady, won¡¯t you introduce yourself?¡± Howell asked with a playful, peppy tone in his voice. He wore the look of a refined gentleman amazingly effortlessly.


    The woman however looked at his hand, then turned her head away ¡ª a total and complete rejection.


    ¡°I am Iffrah, and I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t do ¡®handshakes¡¯. You may keep your western customs to yourselves, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Prickly, like the cactus of the Sulphuran mesas, I presume?¡± Howell asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°I am quite prickly. I hope it¡¯s not too much for you all to handle.¡±


    She seemed unsociable but at the same time able to take a jab at herself. Whoever this Iffrah was, she seemed like a complicated soul. Howell took her prickliness with stride, all while wearing that same unbreakable smile.


    ¡°By the way,¡± Iffrah asked, skipping forwards. ¡°What exactly were Virgil¡¯s orders?¡±


    Dante lifted an attention grabbing finger, then pulled out his letter. With a breath in, he orated the instructions all fancy-like ¡ª like the way he¡¯d imagine Virgil himself writing it down.


    ¡°Reach the mainland, and from there, follow that which turns argentum to aurelius,¡± he read, ¡°or at least, that¡¯s what Virgil wrote to me.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡± Howell asked, and Dante simply shrugged.


    ¡°Nothing more, nothing less.¡±


    That was the first of many lies to come.


    ¡°Well!¡± Howell said, clapping his hands together ¡ª his letter being placed between his palms. ¡°It¡¯s time we followed ¡®that which turns argentum to aurelius¡¯. The question is, what exactly does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Argentum to aurelius, eh? I suppose it¡¯s a riddle ¡ª a test of sorts,¡± Erika said, and Howell grinned at the thought.


    ¡°Oh, I do love a good riddle. Seeing as it¡¯s been given to us, specifically, I believe it¡¯s a puzzle only we can solve.¡±


    ¡°Then it looks like we got a puzzle to solve,¡± Dante said, and he first cut the puzzle in half for dissection.


    ¡°First, argent,¡± Dante said. ¡°What does it mean, argentum?¡±


    He turned to the others. Only Iffrah came up with an answer.


    ¡°Argentum, it¡¯s a term in Sulphuran occultism.¡±


    ¡°Occultism?¡± Howell asked, his smile fading ever so slightly.


    ¡°More specifically, it has to do with alchemy,¡± Iffrah answered. ¡°Argentum is the byproduct of a certain type of transmutation ¡ª where lead is transmuted into gold. In the transmutation there¡¯s a remaining byproduct that is silver.¡±


    ¡°Silver?¡±


    ¡°Otherwise known as argentum. That remaining waste argentum is sublimated into gold, otherwise known as aurelius.¡±


    Hearing that, Howell grew visibly skeptical. The smile on his face soured to a bit of a frown.


    ¡°Then tell me, how does that silver become gold?¡±


    Iffrah took a finger, then pointed up. The group traced that invisible line, up towards a silver lantern that hung from above.


    ¡°The purifying flame turns tainted silver to ¡®pure¡¯ gold.¡±


    Erika peered up towards it, then ahead to a second silver lantern, then a third. They were strewn across the pier, down the main street of the harbor city. Winter made daylight short, and with that, Dante watched as the sun began to set a few hours early. While the group marched under the light of the argentum lanterns, he took some time to think it all over.


    The enigmatic Virgil made himself clear. He specifically stated that multiple people would be arriving at the port. From there, they were to solve his riddle, then make their way through the port and onto his desired path via the silver lanterns. Thinking it over, Dante couldn¡¯t help but make mental notes of every person there.


    Why were they here? Why exactly did Virgil pick them? What did they expect to gain?


    A thousand questions swirled, and from behind his false smile, he schemed. Virgil¡¯s prize was a pie, and the bigger the piece he got, the better.


    His gaze first fell on Howell, who was busy trekking through the port, passing beneath every silver lantern and inspecting them for a brief moment. Dante knew from the start that Howell¡¯s smile was the same as his ¡ª a disarming performance.


    Then, his gaze fell on Iffrah. She was from Sulphura, a nation rich with sulphur ¡ª the occultic alchemists¡¯ favorite element next to gold ¡ª and oil, the fuel of the modern world. If Sulphuran onions were anything to go by, then that meant that woman had many layers to her ¡ª layers that, one by one, would reveal a grand, infernal sin hidden underneath.


    Finally, Erika Portinari. She was a noblewoman for sure. No sane noblewoman would take a boat trip across the world after receiving a cryptic, mysterious letter. That meant she was here for Virgil¡¯s reward out of a level of desperation.


    The three were not people to be trusted, and when the lanterns came to a halt, they found themselves on the outskirts of the city. Before them stood a thick brush that was closer to a jungle than a seaside forest.


    The four stood before a grand forest filled to the brim with wilting maples and old oaks. Before their feet was the bend of a twisting river where a singular silver lantern waited. It rested on a throne-like stump, as if it were waiting for them to finally arrive.


    ¡°Hoh, will you look at that?¡± Howell said with a smile ¡ª an excited smile. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve been led by our noses. I wonder if Virgil is waiting for us here?¡±


    ¡°Out here? In the middle of the woods?¡± Erika said, and she scoffed. ¡°Old man, that¡¯s absurd. Virgil must be waiting on ahead.¡± and she pointed her pipe forwards and upstream.


    Iffrah was the first to go on ahead, moving on as if she were abandoning the rest. She didn¡¯t even make eye contact with the others. Howell smirked, then turned to Dante, leaning in close ¡ª so close that they were almost cheek to cheek.


    ¡°Sulphuran women, they¡¯re quite finicky ¡ª feisty even,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps she doesn¡¯t see us as her equals, hmm?¡±


    ¡°Equals?¡± Dane muttered.


    ¡°Perhaps she¡¯s royalty. A daughter of the Shah?¡± Erika added, leaning in from the other side just as close as Howell was, as if the two were sandwiching him in between them. He could smell the tobacco on her breath.


    ¡°Royalty? Oh, that¡¯s absurd. Simply absurd!¡± Howell said. ¡°If she were the daughter of the Sulphuran Shah, she¡¯d have been married off to nobility years ago. The last place she¡¯d be is overseas.¡±


    For now, all they could do was follow behind, all while they admired the crystal clear water that spilled down the river. The forest was peaceful ¡ª almost too peaceful. It was as quiet as could be, and from how pristine it was, it looked like no humans had ever stepped foot into it. That¡¯s when they found something odd.


    ¡°What are these? Paper talismans?¡± Dante muttered.


    They had come across a segment of forest where twine ropes were tied from tree to tree. The ropes and branches all were weighed down by paper talismans that had been tied to the ends along with lead weights. It looked almost sinister, but when Howell inspected them, instead of looking cross, he instead began to laugh.


    ¡°Hah! Oh, I can¡¯t believe it. Of all things to be unnerved by, it¡¯s this?¡± Howell asked himself.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Dante asked, and Howell plucked one off of a string to show the others.


    ¡°These talismans ¡ª I¡¯ve seen them before from my more adventurous friends,¡± Howell said. ¡°These are sealing charms. They¡¯re meant to ward off evil spirits.¡±


    ¡°Evil spirits? You don¡¯t mean ¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing more than a prank from the locals. Virgil must have told them foreigners were arriving, and they must have gone ahead and placed some ¡®attractions¡¯ to unnerve us,¡± Howell stated. He seemed awfully confident about it all. Howell leaned in to get a closer look at Dante¡¯s face before asking, ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Scared?¡±


    ¡°Scared? Me? Of what?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you believe in ghosts and scaaary monsters, now, do you?¡± Howell asked. He teased Dante, all while he wore a smirk. He was like a grandfather toying with their grandchild. Erika smirked as well.


    ¡°Oh my. It appears our Virgil has invited quite the coward,¡± Erika said. The two poked fun at Dante who could do nothing to defend himself.


    However, he wouldn¡¯t need to be defended as someone there stood up for him.


    ¡°The supernatural exist,¡± Dante heard. He turned to see the Iffrah who spoke. Her accent was thick and foreign to the core, yet when Dante heard it, it felt all too familiar.


    ¡°They exist. They are the malevolent forces that plague our lives, causing grief and misery,¡± she said. ¡°You can mock them all you want, but I will assure you, you do not want to be their next victim.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s awfully kind of you to stand up for our dear Dante,¡± Howell said, ¡°but please. The suffering you are describing is just a part of life. Normal as could be. Take it from me as an old man.¡±


    ¡°You can deny it as much as you want, but it doesn¡¯t change a thing,¡± she said, her eyes as narrow as the end of a knife. ¡°Malevolent spirits target those who reject their existence the most ¡ª those who are trapped in the inferno of heresy.¡±


    A silence filled the growing void between the two. Howell, being a mature and reasonable old man, threw up his arms and gave in to the forest itself.


    ¡°My apologies, To the spirits listening, feel free to take vengeance on me, but please spare the others.¡±


    It was half hearted at best. Iffrah, however, nodded and accepted it for what it was, seeing as it was the best apology she¡¯d get out of a person like him. So long as Dante himself wouldn¡¯t be pulled into Howell¡¯s punishment, he was fine with it. Erika simply stood and took a drag on her pipe.


    The four went on ahead, following the river upstream. The further they went, the thicker the canopy became. The brush was overgrown, so much so that it looked less like the trail to whatever Virgil wanted to bring them in for, and more like a part of the wilderness. Though, that wilderness was marked with those familiar talismans, strewn about on every branch. They were more plentiful than the coming spring blossoms.


    They were an unnerving sight. They were wards that kept demonic spirits and evil entities away, but the further they followed the river, the more they wondered if those seals weren¡¯t warding away monsters, but keeping one sealed away.


    The water was crystal clear, though they noticed there was a distinct lack of marine life, or any life in general. It was still early in winter, meaning animals should be on the verge of going into hibernation ¡ª but not before enjoying the snow for a moment.


    It was eerie, how quiet the world was at that moment. Nothing but a silent forest and a gushing river. Though, it wasn¡¯t like the four were going to speak up about it. They all knew why they came, and for what reasons.


    Dante led the pack, only to have his back tapped on by Erika.


    ¡°Dante?¡± she asked. ¡°About Virgil.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Have you¡­ met him?¡±


    He put a hand to his chin to think, then turned to her with a confident smile.


    ¡°I have no idea what he looks like, though I bet if we knocked loud enough, we could find out in a heartbeat.¡±


    It inspired no confidence. Instead, she wore a frown. That¡¯s when they went around a bend and up to the mouth of the river. There, they saw exactly what Virgil wanted them to find.


    In the middle of the forest, in the center-stage of a clearing, stood a fortress built upon a foundation of cobble piled up on one another, patted down with fire-clay mortar. The castle stood about two floors tall. Atop the foundation was the castle itself, which had walls of pure white and arched roofs topped with black slate tiles. It was a piece of history that was preserved by the obscuring brush of the forest ¡ª a piece of history that wasn¡¯t wiped away by air raids and bomber planes brought on by the war between North and South Hesha.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    It was reminiscent of mansions of western nobility, though from the way they trailed up the river, they had arrived at the backside of the building. Following the river, they found a rudimentary entrance. The river itself flowed through the center of the fort, past a metal grate entrance that looked all too much like a sewer entrance. There was a barred metal door fit for a prison, and with a tug, Dante found it was unlocked.


    ¡°Well, I suppose this is the entrance?¡± Dante said, and he waved Erika in, saying, ¡°Ladies first.¡±


    ¡°Ladies first,¡± Erika repeated, and she turned to Iffrah who gulped, then stepped inside.


    Inside, it was like a tunnel that was as dark as a cavern, forcing Dante to pull out a silver lantern he stole to light their way. The building was awfully quiet ¡ª though the washing of the river was a soothing noise. He took a moment to dip a finger inside to find that the water was as clean as it could possibly be. Erika was quick to judge him, looking down on him with a hint of disgust on her face as if it was sewer water.


    The river passed through the entire fortress, sectioning itself off from both ends with two metal gates. Midway, there was an entrance ¡ª a slightly moldy doorway, a western style door with a lock, one that grew rotten with the continuous exposure to the river¡¯s water. It was gross to touch, but with the twist of a brass knob, they made their way into the fortress¡¯s upper palace.


    The fortress was as gorgeous as it was empty. The outer walls were fortified to the maximum, while the interior was decorated with the taste of an artisan and the wealth of an Emperor. The walls were white as snow and the halls long and winding, all while managing to feel full of life through vases and flowerpots. Whatever this place was, Virgil had chosen well.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. Almost too beautiful,¡± Erika said. ¡°What is a castle like this doing out here in the middle of nowhere?¡±


    Dante, Erika and Iffrah passed under the brilliantly beautiful architecture and past fanciful furniture. The age of the castle was unguessable and the cost of the building itself was impossible to gauge. To think that a building as beautiful as this would be abandoned in the woods was brain racking, though evidently, it looked like it had been left alone for quite some time.


    Beyond the beauty, there hid a growing creakiness in the form of entropy. The painted walls had slight, but noticeable chips and the corners of arches and doorways were cobbed with webs.


    All of that was thrown into question when Dante took a glance at a certain short pot. Sitting by a window, kept in a brown pot was a peculiar looking flower.


    He could hardly call it a flower. It was closer to an insect, with long, spindly stamens that crept out from its center like spider legs. Dante couldn¡¯t help but stare at the flower until he felt someone stroll by his side.


    ¡°Well, what is this?¡± he heard. It was Erika, who came by and stood next to him, leaning close to inspect the flower.


    ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure, but whatever it is, it¡¯s a creepy looking flower. Probably cursed with some thousand-year hex.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s got spider legs,¡± she said with a smile, ¡°and look how red it is ¡ª thick as blood.¡±


    ¡°Thick as blood?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a gorgeous shade of red, and like a rose with its thorns, it''s armed with these spider legs. I wonder, if I leaned in too close, would it sink its fangs into me?¡±


    Dante took a moment to think, then leaned his head in to poke the flower with his nose.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it would,¡± he answered. ¡°At most, it looks like a spider ¡ª but nothing more than that.¡±


    Iffrah came over and stood between the two. Looking down on the plant, she took a glance, then immediately turned away.


    ¡°That flower ¡ª it¡¯s cursed for sure.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Dante asked, and she scoffed.


    ¡°You have eyes, don¡¯t you? Why don¡¯t you use them every now and then?¡±


    Iffrah was as prickly as ever. Maybe she was upset that it was a flower and not a cactus. Either way, the two took that moment to admire the flower before turning to go, with Dante taking it upon himself to pluck it out of its pot.


    Erika stepped on ahead, moving backwards into a pair of sliding doors, ones she opened without turning to look ¡ª doors that led to a wide, cathedral hall-esque chamber fit for a ballroom.


    Moonlight poured in from above through a circular window along with a few rectangular windows that circled around them. It was a beautiful room filled with ink paintings that followed the rules of Setsugekka, which was made up of the following three principles.


    The autumn moon above.


    Winter¡¯s snow.


    And of course, the blossoming flowers of spring.


    Dante stood, hand on chin. He looked the place up and down, all while Erika stepped forwards and towards the center of the ballroom.


    ¡°At first, I questioned why Virgil would invite people all the way out here of all places, but now that I¡¯m here, I¡¯ve gotten a finer grasp on his intentions,¡± Erika said, and she turned around, reaching a hand out to say, ¡°This place is a ballroom, so come ¡ª I want to see you dance.¡±


    Erika, for sure, was an eccentric. She stood, hand outstretched, a playful, sarcastic smirk on her face. It was as if she was wordlessly challenging him to come prove her wrong ¡ª to prove that he knew how to dance.


    Dante, however, wasn¡¯t interested in her little game.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t dance,¡± he answered, and her smile faded a little, like the midday sun heading towards the afternoon.


    He saw that disappointment, then let out a sigh.


    ¡°Even if I can¡¯t dance, I¡¯ll do the next best thing,¡± he said, playing along.


    ¡°Oh? And what is that?¡±


    He stepped forward, close, looked her up and down and then smirked.


    ¡°What are you smiling at?¡± she asked with a hint of skepticism in her voice.


    ¡°I just noticed that your outfit was missing something.¡±


    He took the flower, then placed it in her hair, allowing it to sit in the crease of her ear. The macabre black of her coat, the gold blond of her hair and the blood red of the flower ¡ª all of it together made for a perfect combination.


    Erika looked shocked, and she turned to one of the mirror-esque windows to see herself with the flower in her hair. She put a hand to her chin, bobbing her head left and right, as if she were questioning whether this style was acceptable. Finally, she turned back to Dante with a smile.


    ¡°You¡¯ve outdone yourself. A fine addition to my outfittal repertoire,¡± she said. ¡®Outfittal¡¯ wasn¡¯t actually a word, but for such an eccentric girl, making up words was one way she expressed her emotions.


    Iffrah watched all this and walked over, muttering, ¡°Flirting in public? How vulgar.¡±


    ¡°Flirting?¡± Dante said to himself, and Erika smirked.


    ¡°Are you questioning your own actions?¡± she asked, and she clicked her tongue to say, ¡°A wishy-washy heart is no good. It¡¯s better you shut up and die than send the wrong signal.¡± She smirked even wider into a grin. ¡°Speaking of signals, I¡¯m not getting your hopes up, am I? Am I?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± he replied confidently.


    He was about to poke back at her, but before he could even speak, he froze. In the distance, past closed doors and through hallways, he heard footsteps followed by the sliding of doors. Opposite of the way they entered, another crowd stepped foot into the ballroom.


    The leader of the crowd was an older gentleman ¡ª a towering, silver haired man clad in a noble suit and tie with a pocket watch peeking out of his breast pocket. Draped over his body was a fur covered cape marked with the seal of his family crest, an ornate axe angled diagonally, as if it was a flying hatchet. If you looked at him from a distance, he¡¯d look like a grayish, silver mass.


    ¡°Well, it looks like we¡¯re not alone in this bizarre building,¡± they said, and the three turned towards the new crowd.


    The old man tugged on his tie, cleared his throat and demanded answers from the trio.


    ¡°You three. Were you invited here by our dear Virgil as well, or are you some interloper?¡± he asked, his gaze strict and his posture unbending ¡ª fit for a king.


    Dante nodded and was more than willing to answer his questions. Unfortunately for him, the prideful Erika stepped forward and stole away his attempt to respond.


    ¡°We are. Were you five guests invited here by Virgil as well?¡±


    The old man rested his hand over his chest, then bowed, an Ennian traditional form of greetings.


    ¡°Baron Gadro,¡± he answered. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, young ladies and gentleman. I¡¯m an Ennian nobleman, a friend of the Emperor ¡ª and from your accent and look, I reckon you two are Cobellians with a Sulphuran in tow, yes?¡±


    ¡°Friend of the Emperor, eh? Well, well, well¡­¡± Erika said to herself with devious intent and an equally devious smile. Dante took initiative and stepped forward, stealing back the spotlight from Erika who looked like she was scheming.


    ¡°Spot on, mister,¡± Dante replied. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you guys came in through the rivergate entrance, right? Beautiful palace for sure, but it seems kind of empty.¡±


    ¡°Empty? I suppose it¡¯s because everyone else was with me,¡± Baron said, and he waved out an arm to introduce the others.


    First, an Ennian stepped forward ¡ª a meek looking man. He had chestnut brown hair with a pair of circular glasses. He looked like he was born in a library and was destined to die there.


    ¡°I¡¯m Wright Bernstein,¡± he said with a surprising amount of confidence ¡ª confidence that belonged to a top rated salesman. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you all. I¡¯m no nobleman ¡ª just a humble bank clerk brought in by this Virgil.¡± and he pulled out a letter, and from the seal on the front, it was clearly from Virgil.


    Next, a black woman, most likely from the continent of Zahna ¡ª what was commonly known as the ¡®center of the world¡¯. It was a continent that, during the colonial eras, was taken apart, piece by piece, by colonizers from all over the globe.


    She wore clothing that differentiated herself from the noble Baron and the well dressed commoner, Wright. She wore a summer yellow kimono covered in traditional Zahnian patterns ¡ª clothing from a South Heshan colonized Zahna. Her curly hair was tied back in a bun with a pair of chopsticks.


    ¡°Shinjiro Aki,¡± she said, ¡°but please, call me Aki.¡± and she pulled out that same letter, saying, ¡°I was an exchange student, but after getting a letter like this, I don¡¯t know what to believe.¡±


    Next up was a woman with hair that Dante could only describe as ¡®flowing gold¡¯. She was a foreigner for sure ¡ª someone who came from up north where the snow never stopped. She was clearly a Cliesen, and from her formal, uniform-esque outfit, she looked like she belonged in the Imperial Cliesen army. The revolver by her side only emphasized that look.


    She looked poised and dignified, both in the way she stood tall and straight and from the expression on her face. The only aspect of hers that made her look approachable was the woman who stood behind her, using the lady soldier as cover ¡ª a meek girl who relied on her.


    ¡°I am Misha Asimov, and this is Calina,¡± she said with the dignity of a high ranking soldier, and surprisingly, her voice lacked the accent Dante assumed she¡¯d have. With the pat of her white-gloved hand, she brought forth Calina.


    The meek girl wore the habit of a nun ¡ª clothing that was awfully similar to the Sulphuran hijab ¡ª and with a bow, she introduced herself, timidly.


    ¡°I am Calina Yekov from Cliesen Socialist Republic,¡± she said, her accent thicker than Cliesen semolina and berry-nut porridge. ¡°It is a very good to meet you all. I am priestess and nurse. You hurt? I can help.¡± and for emphasis, she brought out a bundle of gauze bandaging. Meekly, of course. There wasn¡¯t a drop of confidence in her words, or any part of her at all.


    Wright, Aki, Misha, Calina ¡ª and of course, Baron Gadro. They made up the crew of people who already entered the castle. Dante, with a reciprocal smile, welcomed them in.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s good to meet you all,¡± he said, and he first approached Calina ¡ª the meekest, and cutest, of them all. He took her hands, all gentleman-like, and smiled.


    ¡°What brings you to this castle?¡± he asked ¡ª an attempt to drag information out of the girl, so crude like a rake through a mound of sticks and dried twigs.


    She hesitated. Her smile was red with embarrassment. With a hiccup in her voice she responded, ¡°Virgil. He sent letter. Very nice person ¡ª he give me ticket, too.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying that if I sent you a ticket and an address, you¡¯d go anywhere I¡¯d like you to?¡± he asked, half jokingly. ¡°You didn¡¯t come here because you had the opportunity to, right? What exactly brought you here?¡±


    Before she could answer, Misha came up and put a hand on Calina¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Settle down, loverboy,¡± she said. Her smile was warm, but her voice held a drop of poison. ¡°Calina here isn¡¯t very good at Cobellian. Speaking of Cobellian, isn¡¯t it so very convenient we can all, at least, understand this one language?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Virgil planned this from the beginning,¡± Wright said, stepping forth and out of his corner to speak and participate. However, that one statement changed the mood of the whole castle.


    Baron stood still, his eyes narrowed. He scanned the room, looking left to right at every invitee. He was regal, yet equally a dangerous man.


    Misha stood firm, her hands behind her back and her revolver kept close by her hip. She kept her unphased, unbreakable expression on her face.


    Erika stood with a small smile, gently smoking on her pipe, all while the red spider lily sat gracefully in her hair.


    Dante stood tall, one hand resting by his side, the other grasped tight onto a golden coin in his pocket.


    The silence was suffocating. Wright was the only one to step forward and push the group back towards their previous, amicable formation. He did it with a smile, a wry and awkward one, but a smile nonetheless.


    ¡°Speaking of Virgil, is this it? Are we all the invitees?¡± Wright asked, and Dante put a hand to his chin.


    Dante froze. Calina noticed and her expression turned to worry.


    ¡°You are all here, yes? There are three of you, yes?¡± she asked, and Dante clenched his teeth down hard.


    ¡°Where the Hell did that old man wander off to?¡±


    From that point on, they began an investigation throughout the entire castle. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, and it seemed Howell was next in line. The group went together, eventually splitting up to search for Howell. Dante, Erika, Aki and Wright stuck together, looking around the lower levels while the rest grouped up and searched the top floors of the multi-layered fort.


    At first, the crew was in a major hurry to find Howell and ¡®rescue¡¯ him, but after an hour of searching, that feeling vanished and in its place was both awe and a lingering sense of dread. In that dread a strange and twisted humor was born. Dante, who stood before a window, watched as a blizzard picked up ¡ª obscuring the world under a veil of white.


    ¡°Say,¡± Dante said, grabbing the others¡¯ attention. ¡°Howell ¡ª he mentioned something earlier, something about a ¡®prank¡¯ from the locals who live around here.¡±


    ¡°Prank?¡± Aki asked, and Erika nodded.


    ¡°Earlier we came across what looked like mystical Heshan talismans. Howell looked at them and simply laughed, saying it was some sort of prank,¡± Erika explained, and she pulled out a talisman ¡ª one she had stolen for herself.


    She showed it off to Aki who took it out of her hand to get a closer inspection. Aki read it up and down, then looked to Erika with a tinge of dread in her eyes.


    ¡°These aren¡¯t ordinary seals,¡± Aki said. ¡°These seals ¡ª how many were there?¡±


    ¡°More than I could count,¡± Erika said, and her expression turned to a smirk, asking, ¡°Why do you ask? Are you afraid of a demon being freed?¡±


    ¡°Maybe an Oni, maybe a Kitsune, or maybe even a Yuki-Onna,¡± Aki muttered to herself. Dante felt a shiver run down his spine, but with a confident yet fake smile, he kept his calm demeanor afloat.


    ¡°Well, it looks like this castle might be haunted. Judging by those seals, it looked like a demon was locked up in here.¡±


    Aki¡¯s response was to pause, and when her expression shifted to something more nervous. Wright stepped in and lightened the mood with quite the centric smile.


    ¡°Well, whatever it is, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve got nothing to worry about,¡± Wright said, ¡°and besides, if there really is a demon, it only lends more credence to Virgil¡¯s claims.¡±


    ¡°Virgil¡¯s claims?¡± Aki asked, and Wright nodded cheerfully.


    ¡°His claim that he could present us a miracle.¡±


    Dante and Erika both instinctually froze, all while Wright pulled out his letter and presented it to Aki before reading it out loud.


    ¡°Dear Wright Merkal,


    I am in need of brilliant minds, and I believe you are an appropriate candidate to solve a mystery that has kept my mind bound for years. Bound within this letter is a ticket for a private sailing to the ports of Southern Hesha where further instructions will be waiting for you.¡±


    That was the first part of the letter, which was partially personalized, a template of sorts for every invitee where only the name and wordage was changed. It was standard and every invitee had read it at least a few times. The more important part was the part he was willing to ¡®spill¡¯ ¡ª the part everyone else kept close to their hearts.


    ¡°I know for certain that a requested invitation to solve a mystery isn¡¯t enough to entice most folk. That is why I¡¯ve entrusted a payment of sorts to you. Consider it a ¡®down payment¡¯ for your services.


    With my Lady¡¯s will engraved into my heart,


    Virgil.¡±


    That payment. It was what dragged every person to the castle ¡ª going as far as to sail across the world to a foreign nation, whose language they couldn¡¯t even speak. Wright, with a smile, pulled out a familiar item.


    It was a golden coin, and marked on the front was an emblem, the padded paw of a bear that had been emblazoned.


    ¡°I have to say, folks, this isn¡¯t some regular gold coin,¡± Wright claimed. ¡°The moment I got it, I ran off to the nearest jeweler to confirm it. When the man set it on his scale, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Every single test ¡ª from the most modern of measuring instruments to the oldest, most superstitious methods ¡ª proved that the gold was, without a doubt, 100% pure.¡±


    The gold was both a down payment and a weight around their necks ¡ª one that¡¯d drag them down to Hell if they weren¡¯t careful. The others, hearing that, froze in place, frozen in shock by the impossible purity of his gold coin.


    Erika sucked in a breath, then revealed her coin ¡ª an identical match to Wright¡¯s. Aki did the same, flashing it with a bit of a prideful smile. Finally, Dante gave in and revealed the 24 karat dream slash nightmare that had fallen into his lap.


    ¡°Looks like Virgil¡¯s got us all on his payroll, eh?¡± Dante asked, and Wright smiled.


    ¡°He sure has. He sure has.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of payroll, just how much do you think all of these coins, combined, are worth?¡± Dante asked.


    Hearing that, Aki froze. Her lips babbled and she muttered, ¡°This single coin is worth at least ten thousand Bura ¡ª the currency of Zahna if you were wondering ¡ª and seeing as there are nine people here¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh my. That alone is quite a bit of money,¡± Wright said, and he put a hand to his chin, asking, ¡°Just who is this Virgil? How much money has he sank just to get us all here? The tickets themselves plus the coins ¡ª it¡¯s a distressing amount for sure.¡±


    ¡°Distressing to us normal folk, but what if they were some kind of nobleman?¡± Dante asked, and he looked to the others in an accusatory manner.


    Aki reacted by perking up her eyebrows before turning to Wright who, embarrassed, waved his hands no.


    ¡°I¡¯m just a commoner,¡± he answered. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have the wealth to pull off something like this ¡ª if that was what you were wondering, that is.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± Dante asked, turning to Erika. She stood, her coat cloaked over her body and the warm end of her long-stemmed pipe cradled in her hand. She had an inquisitive look that turned to her usual smirk.


    ¡°Go ahead. Take a stab at it. Just what kind of imperial woman do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°A princess,¡± Aki said, stabbing first. Erika¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change in the slightest. Either it was wrong or she had one Hell of a poker face.


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re some kind of eccentric?¡± Wright asked, and this time her expression turned sour.


    ¡°Are you calling me weird?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Wright answered, and she let out an annoyed huff of smoke, then turned to Dante with an unimpressed look in her eyes.


    Dante put a hand to his chin, then nodded to himself, answering, ¡°You¡¯re an heiress inheriting the debts of a fallen noble family.¡±


    She smiled. Wryly. The smile was a sneer ¡ª one filled with both pain and disdain. He had struck a nerve for sure, one he¡¯d have to repay with a thousand apologies. Of course, that didn¡¯t matter. It was a remark that would be brushed off and aside. More importantly, the group made their way to the lowest floor and back towards the entrance they came in through. It was past one final doorway where a faint smell emanated.


    ¡°What is that smell?¡± Aki asked as she grasped her nose.


    ¡°Good lord, just what is that?¡± Wright said, coughing on the stench that permeated through the hall.


    Erika paused, lowered her pipe, then took a whiff of the air, only for her expression to turn sour.


    ¡°What is that? It smells like something¡¯s burnt,¡± she muttered, and Dante nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s past this doorway. The smell ¡ª it¡¯s coming from the river entrance.¡±


    Dante pressed a hand against the door, and with a breath in, he pushed. He expected it to open just fine, but to his surprise, there was quite a bit of resistance. Erika came in and gave him a hand ¡ª and with the two of their strengths combined, they found just what was blocking the exit.


    White. A strange form was pressed against the door, one that was covered head to toe in a gentle, frosty layer of snow. The form was tough, and when the door caved in, it toppled over. Snow blew into the tunnel from the metal grate entrance, proof of a blizzard, and from the wintry night came the source of that burnt smell.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Aki muttered, and she poked at the snow covered, slightly frozen thing with her boot.


    When it fell over, one answer dropped into their lap. In return, a thousand questions appeared.


    ¡°Howell?¡± Dante muttered, and Erika nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s Howell. Frozen to death.¡±


    A frozen corpse laid before the door, and from the way the body was positioned, it looked like Howell was trying his hardest to bash on the door ¡ª to get anyone¡¯s attention. He was covered head to toe in snow, and from the looks of it, it looked like he died in the middle of knocking on the door, begging for help.


    But that wasn¡¯t it. It couldn¡¯t have been. Dante stepped forward and made the declaration of a detective.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t right. He can¡¯t have died from hypothermia.¡±


    ¡°Are you a doctor?¡± Wright asked, fear twisting his voice to an even more meek and frightened tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m no doctor, but I know a thing or two about hypothermia,¡± Dante said, and he crouched down ¡ª pointing at the coat of his, saying, ¡°During the later, more extreme stages of hypothermia, people tend to feel a kind of ¡®phantom warmth¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Phantom warmth?¡± Aki asked, and Erika stepped in.


    ¡°They begin to feel warm. Unbearably warm. The body constricts the blood to try and preserve heat during the earlier stages, but when the muscles responsible for that begin to fail, that blood rushes throughout their entire body, heating up their frozen body. It¡¯s such a sudden flash of heat that they feel like they¡¯re, quote unquote, burning up.¡±


    ¡°Howell¡¯s body ¡ª it¡¯s covered head to toe,¡± Wright said.


    Howell¡¯s body was, indeed, covered head to toe. He had wrapped his scarf around his face and head like he was a bandaged mummy and the rest of his body was clad in winter clothing, gloves and socks. All of it was frozen and soaked in snow, however, turning it from a warm embrace to a death sentence. They couldn¡¯t see a spot of bare skin. Marked on his back was a red IX.


    ¡°Not just that,¡± Dante said, ¡°but in the late stages of hypothermia, people tend to curl up into the fetal position.¡±


    ¡°Howell, he was propped up against the door,¡± Erika said. ¡°It¡¯s like he was frozen alive.¡±


    Wright stumbled back, shouting, ¡°What do you mean!? Are you saying this was a murder!?¡±


    ¡°What else could it be but murder?¡± Dante said, and with it, the other eight were next on the chopping block.

 Chapter 2 :

    30 years have passed. Now, a singular person carried a singular testimony ¡ª the remains of victims whose murders may never be solved. It was like she had said before, that there just wasn¡¯t enough evidence to piece together the identity of the culprit.


    She sat alone in a dark room, one that was pitch black like the inside of a furnace. The only entrance was a giant pair of reinforced metal doors. In the center sat a complicated combination lock carrying a sequence of four letters backed by twenty six possibilities per tab.


    There were about 15,000 different possible combinations ¡ª random combinations ¡ª and of those, only one was the answer.


    Smoking on her pipe, she sat all alone, reminiscing on the days when the world seemed ¡®right¡¯, an illusion only a child could believe. Now, drab and cynical, she watched as the days passed by. Before her was a lantern made of silver and next to it were three books.


    The first was the case of the boy who was considered to ¡®no longer exist¡¯.


    The second was the testimony of the girl who ¡®shouldn¡¯t exist¡¯.


    And of course, the third belonged to the man who, under every circumstance, ¡®couldn¡¯t exist¡¯.


    Each were valuable. Each were painful. Each told a story of love that just could not be.


    According to Dante, Howell was dead. His corpse laid before the group who had all been gathered together. It was a bitter sight for sure, and Dante was the one to step up and explain everything that had happened. Iffrah was shocked to see the corpse, Baron included. Calina looked horrified, stumbling back and bumping into Misha who stood firm and unfazed.


    Misha was the calmest of them all, and with one breath in, she let out a sigh.


    ¡°Poor man,¡± she said, her wintry, Cliesen accent slipping in through the cracks. ¡°It looks like he froze to death, bashing on the door here. Is that correct?¡±


    ¡°If you look at it from the surface level, sure,¡± Dante said, and Misha smiled.


    ¡°It looks like you are a smart man. I¡¯m glad you saw past the convenient answer presented to you. Bravo.¡± and she clapped her hands. Dante couldn¡¯t tell if she was being sarcastic or not, but her smile looked genuine ¡ª as sweet as Calina¡¯s.


    Misha went over to the body, and with a gloved hand, she dug through the frozen corpse, or at least what she could get out of it. The corpse was so frozen, it would be impossible to peel Howell¡¯s pockets open without taking a hatchet to him, as if his body had been soaked, then frozen. Expertly, she pulled out a few important items Howell was carrying on him.


    ¡°Ah, look at this,¡± she said, and she presented three items.


    A golden coin.


    A letter from Virgil.


    And of course, the leather holster of a revolver.


    Baron saw all this and let out a sigh, saying, ¡°The coin and the letter are to be expected, but the holster? Why would he bring a gun? Was he planning on shooting some rabbits while we were out here?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any ammo on him,¡± Wright said, looking the evidence over. ¡°There¡¯s one problem, though.¡±


    Aki nodded before revealing, ¡°The revolver¡¯s gone.¡±


    The holster was empty. Misha took the holster and stuffed it into a pocket along with the coin. The letter, however, was for all eyes.


    ¡°Deep inside the castle lies the sleeping heart of its master,¡± the letter wrote, narrated by Misha. ¡°Clear the mist and revive her, and in return Princess Higanbana will free you from the cages of your hearts.


    With my lady¡¯s will engraved into my heart,


    Virgil.¡±


    ¡°Princess Higanbana?¡± Dante asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a sort of Yokai, according to the locals,¡± Aki said. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of her when I was a child, of how a single demon massacred an entire village and built a castle atop its ruins. Though ¡ª don¡¯t get me wrong, I don¡¯t believe in their stories.¡±


    ¡°But demons don¡¯t exist, they ¡ª'''' Dante said, but Iffrah interrupted him.


    ¡°Care to explain how Howell died? If it wasn¡¯t the doing of a demon, then who?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it was a demon, and perhaps it wasn¡¯t,¡± Misha said, and Calina fumbled back before hiding behind Misha.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say, but are they going for me next?¡± Calina asked. ¡°I am priest and doctor. They want me dead, yes?¡±


    ¡°Oh, absolutely,¡± Misha said, her cold demeanor unchanging. ¡°You are target number one, my dear priestess. The demons roaming through this castle are just begging to tear your flesh from your bones.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Dante said, shutting her down with one harsh, unwavering statement. ¡°Demons and monsters do not exist. There is nothing supernatural for us to worry about, and that¡¯s final.¡±


    ¡°If demons don¡¯t exist, then does God?¡± Misha asked, all cocky, and Dante stood his ground with a frown.


    ¡°There is no such thing as the supernatural. No demons and no Gods either.¡±


    The Sulphuran woman and both Calina looked shocked to hear that. The woman scoffed and said, ¡°Believe what you want. You¡¯ll go to Jahannam all the same.¡±


    Calina, however, was far kinder. She clasped her hands together and shut her eyes, as if she were praying for both Dante and Howell¡¯s souls.


    ¡°It is okay if you do not believe in the lord. I will continue to pray for you. To pray for us all,¡± she said. She clasped an Octavian crucifix tied to the end of a necklace.


    She was a member of the Octavian Sect, and while the Sulphurans and Octavians have historically hated one another, at this moment in time, the two women celebrated a sort of religious unity. Of course, Dante brushed it aside, seeing as there was no reason to rely on faith when facts were present before them.


    ¡°Forget about faith or whatever. Focus on the body here,¡± Dante said, and he crouched down and tugged on Howell¡¯s scarf.


    The scarf, however, was stuck. Frozen to his very skin. Peeling it would mean peeling off his frost-gnawed face. The gloves, too, and even the clothes. They were practically glued on, as if his dead corpse were begging them not to strip away his warmth.


    From the outside, it looked like there were no wounds, and there was no good way to peek into the inside. As far as they knew, Howell was locked out. Frozen in the blizzard.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s no point loitering,¡± Baron said, ¡°especially not out here in the cold. Why don¡¯t we all go back inside where it¡¯s warm?¡±


    ¡°We ought to do just that,¡± Erika said. ¡°There¡¯s no point sticking around this frozen corpse, lest we join him.¡± and she pointed left and right of the tunnel where the blizzard winds poured in.


    Snow piled in through the metal grate entrances. Seeing that their exits were blocked off, the group agreed to return to someplace warm. The warmest room in the entire castle was a little dining room. There sat a large, rectangular table where the two groups sat, opposite of one another.


    Dante sat next to Erika. The two of them opposed Misha who sat next to Baron and Calina, who at this point became a sort of younger sister for her to protect. Meanwhile, Wright and Aki sat opposite to one another, though instead of becoming a rift between the two, the table acted as a sort of connector tying them together.


    In the center sat Howell¡¯s letter. The words mist and heart permeated through the room like a shroud of frost. Meanwhile, the blizzard battered against the walls, rattling away through the darkening night.


    Misha sat with her hands pressed together, and with a stern look, she set the ground rules.


    ¡°It is our duty as human beings to fend off whatever threatens us. Be it monsters or humans, we must do what we can to prevent any more casualties,¡± she said, and she pointed to the window, saying, ¡°This blizzard is impossible to predict, so until the weather clears up, it¡¯s our duty to survive.¡±


    Hearing that, Aki raised a hand to speak. Misha, with the utmost grace, allowed it.


    ¡°I used to live around here,¡± Aki said, ¡°and in the wintertime, we usually have long blizzards that begin near the end of Autumn.¡±


    ¡°How long exactly?¡± Baron asked, his eyes narrowed, almost nervously.


    ¡°The longest I¡¯ve ever waited through was five days, but on record, the longest one lasted two weeks. The snow piled up higher than you could imagine.¡±


    ¡°Two weeks? Two weeks!? You¡¯re joking! You¡¯ve got to be joking!¡± Baron said, and he threw up his arms, shouting, ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to get trapped in a blizzard of all things! There¡¯s got to be some way to get out of here! To get out of this castle!¡±


    ¡°Maybe if you ask nicely, Princess Higanbana will part the snowstorm for you,¡± Wright said with a nervous smile. It was a joke, but clearly, Baron had no laughs in him.


    The old man scoffed, then pointed his finger, firing accusations at every single person in the room.


    ¡°I came here because Virgil invited me here, understood? I didn¡¯t come here to sell myself out for money or for that ¡®down payment¡¯ like the rest of you lot!¡± Baron said. ¡°I¡¯m not here to murder and usurp some fortune! I have everything a man could wish for! Everything a man could lose!¡±


    ¡°Mister Baron, you¡¯re acting irrational,¡± Erika pleaded. ¡°Please, just calm down. We¡¯re not here to rob one another. We have our own possessions we keep dear.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s easy for you to say, little miss disgraced noblewoman,¡± Baron bit back. His eyes were growing wide with accusations, and while he seemed mad, there were kernels of truth in his words.


    ¡°Perhaps we may not all have things to lose, but that is no reason to fling accusations, sir,¡± Erika said, calmly. ¡°While we all come from differing backgrounds, that is no grounds for unfounded beliefs. Whether we come from a back alley or a palace, it doesn¡¯t matter. We are all humans gathered in a castle ruled by our dear, supernatural princess. It is to our best interest that we work together, like Misha said.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it is the best option, but I however do not think the same,¡± Baron said, leaning in and closing in on Erika ¡ª the move of an opponent. ¡°While you may like to smile and laugh and pretend to like one another until the slaughter comes, I believe in the long forgotten practice of honesty.¡±


    ¡°Honesty? Are you accusing us of lying to one another?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± and Baron pointed to himself, stating, ¡°I know, because I am proof of that.¡±


    Baron pulled out a familiar coin ¡ª his down payment from Virgil ¡ª and he tossed it into the air with a flip. When it landed on the table, every single person turned to focus their gazes on that piece of gold. Baron, however, didn¡¯t take it. He instead sat back with one leg crossed over the other.


    ¡°Eyes on me,¡± Baron said, and everyone turned their gazes away from the lone coin and towards Baron.


    ¡°What are you playing at?¡± Dante asked. Subconsciously, he pawed at the coin, resting his hand on the table next to it.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Baron said, ¡°if I left that coin there on the table and went to the bathroom, when I return, will it be waiting for me?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Even if someone takes it, it¡¯s not like they could escape with it,¡± Dante said with a frown.


    ¡°Then, what if the lights went out?¡± Baron asked, grasping a silver lantern that hung from the roof. ¡°What if the windows were unlocked and an escape path was laid out for you? What if you were free to act without consequence, hmm? Then, would you do the smart thing and snatch it away?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Dante said, his voice trailing away. He turned to everyone else who shied away from the answer. Even Erika. Only one person was willing to stand and make their stance clear.


    It was Misha who stepped in and slapped a hand over the coin. She looked colder than the blizzard that forced them into the arms of the Higanbana princess.


    ¡°I would do it,¡± Misha said. ¡°I¡¯d take it, and when I look back I¡¯ll smile. I¡¯ll laugh at how stupid a test like this was. When there are no consequences holding us together, our selfish desires leave us with no choice but to tear us apart.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I can trust one person here,¡± Baron said, and he let out a huff before standing up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go lock myself in one of the bedrooms,¡± Baron said. ¡°Noone bother me. The only person I¡¯ll answer to is Misha. All of you had your chance to earn my trust and only one woman came forward with her honest truth. The rest of you are cowards.¡±


    ¡°Mister Baron, I ¡ª¡± Wright said, but Baron interrupted by waving a gloved hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you all tomorrow morning,¡± he said. ¡°Till then, I bid you all adieu.¡±


    Baron vanished after bowing before his crowd. Misha followed behind, disappearing with the old man for a moment before returning after the distant sound of a clicking lock.


    ¡°Baron has locked himself in one of the guest bedrooms here,¡± Misha announced. ¡°If you wish to speak with him, please, come to me. Think of me as a sort of overseer.¡±


    Misha came over to the table. There, she looked at everyone with a smirk before opening a closed hand. Resting on the table was Baron¡¯s coin.


    ¡°I trust that this coin is in safe hands. Now, about Howell and that letter.¡±


    Aki pushed the open letter into the center of the table, and with a note and pen, Misha began the investigation.


    ¡°The heart of its master and a shroud of mist,¡± Misha said. ¡°What exactly does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Mist?¡± Dante asked, and he pointed outside, saying, ¡°The snow is thick enough to resemble mist. Any thoughts?¡±


    Iffrah¡¯s hand shot up.


    ¡°Perhaps this heart is outside, hidden in the blizzard,¡± she said. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen the outside perimeter of this castle yet. There might be something worth finding.¡±


    ¡°Then feel free to lead the way,¡± Misha said.


    Iffrah froze, then began to laugh nervously, saying, ¡°It¡¯s just a suggestion, and besides. There¡¯s probably nothing out there. No point going out in this weather, now, is there?¡±


    While she panicked, Dante stood up, silencing the room.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I''m the one who brought it up, so I¡¯ll be the one to back up my own claims,¡± Dante said, ¡°and besides, I¡¯m the only one here who doesn¡¯t believe in the supernatural.¡±


    ¡°Then feel free to go,¡± Misha said. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here and watch over the others. You can go ahead and prove your case.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back with our princess¡¯ heart,'''' Dante said, and with that, Dante pulled a coat over his shoulders, grabbed a lantern, then threw himself to the white wolf of winter, all while the rest stayed behind, following Misha¡¯s commands.


    ¡°Look alive, ladies and gentlemen. We¡¯ve got a princess to find,¡± Misha said, and she led the group like a herd of sheep.


    The only person who stayed behind was Iffrah who stood and stared out the window.


    It was a frozen wasteland out there. It had only been about a few hours since the blizzard began, and already the world was painted a singular solitude white. He had draped a few warm articles of clothing onto himself along with pieces he found inside the castle, and with a gloved hand, he carried his lantern through it all.


    He pushed his way out the tunnel entrance, and from there, he circled around the perimeter of the fortress.


    Other than forest and brick, there wasn¡¯t much of note. All he found was a world of cold, kept warm only by thick winter clothing. Below him was a field of snow and next to him, he kept a hand on the wall so as to not lose himself.


    There was no telling what would happen if he turned away from the fortress and towards the surrounding forest. The only thoughts that popped into his head were of the now eight other invitees.


    ¡°Just what is Baron planning?¡± Dante asked himself, out loud. He looked behind him, making sure Baron wasn¡¯t stalking him.


    It was a fair question. To lock oneself in a room is to create both an alibi and a hole of continuity. Sure. He could assume Baron was obediently waiting in his room for the blizzard to let up, but Dante knew better than to expect the best. To trust others so much.


    Baron was, most likely, biding his time. Inside the privacy of a room, he was probably scheming. The coin test earlier was just a ruse. A means of unnerving the others and turning everyone against one another with the suggestion of a possible betrayal. Dante could see through it all. He could see exactly what he was planning.


    Perhaps he was preparing a fake death or maybe even a disappearance, something to get the group to panic. In that panic, he¡¯d execute his plan, piece by piece, eventually reaching his desired goal.


    Of course, that¡¯s where Dante fell short. Just exactly why was Baron here, of all places?


    To solve a mystery? Utter nonsense. He didn¡¯t even know the full extent of the mystery beyond the fact that it simply was a mystery.


    To collect Virgil¡¯s full payment? Maybe. It was possible he was some kind of ruined nobleman, but he probably had better methods of scrounging up money than risking his life, sailing across the world to a foreign nation, especially since he was old and most susceptible to diseases.


    Or maybe, he just wanted to experience one final thrill before old age took him out.


    A stroke? A heart attack? Or maybe a peaceful death in his sleep? There were a thousand questions and a thousand theories, but there was no truer answer than one from Baron¡¯s mouth.


    Then, he turned to the others.


    Aki. A student who used to live in southern Hesha. Half Zahnian, half south Heshan. She knows the mythos surrounding the fortress and the blizzardy weather patterns, and yet, she still came knowing all that.


    Wright. A mysterious and meek Ennian. A commoner, or so he claims. He seemed like a good natured person, but he was as friendly as he was opaque. If you met him, you¡¯d learn next to nothing with how secretive he was.


    Calina. A sweet and paternal girl who seemed only to care for the safety and wellbeing of others. Seeing as she was a member of the Octavian Sect, if she were to follow the principles of the church as strictly as a preacher, she¡¯d be the closest thing they had to a saint. Of course, Dante kept the surface traits on the surface. He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if, all of a sudden, she swapped personalities before revealing she was some monstrous serial killer. It''d be cliche, but cliches existed for a reason.


    Misha. A stoic, unshakable soldier-esque woman. Her eyes pierced into his soul and her words cut through lies. She was a bit of a taskmaster, but her honesty made him glad to have her. Of course, she was a prime contender for a backstabber. Maybe she was some kind of Cliesen intelligence officer who specialized in misleading others and obfuscating facts. Whatever she was, he knew not to tread lightly with her.


    Erika. To Dante, she was the person he kept closest to him as both an ally and potential enemy. Seeing her reaction to Baron¡¯s comments, she probably was what he thought she was, and knowing that, she was as hazardous as the smoking pipe she carried.


    Finally, he landed on Iffrah. While not as bad as before, she was still stubborn as Hell, and on top of that, she hadn¡¯t yet revealed her name to them. Whoever she was, she didn¡¯t want it to be leaked to the others. Either that, or she was so religiously dogmatic that she considered giving out her name to be a sinful act.


    Howell was dead, no doubt about it, and as far as Dante knew, it was by no means natural. The question was, whodunit?


    Dante turned, then looked up into a window. There, she stood.


    The castle looked bigger from outside. Inside, it was far more manageable. It was split into three floors. The first contained rooms found in most houses, with the only difference being the grandness in scale. A massive kitchen overlooked a massive dining room which connected to a massive living room. From the living room connected an entrance to the front of the castle and into an expansive courtyard surrounded by walls. The second floor contained the bedrooms and the ballroom they were inside of earlier and the third floor was a glorified rooftop that overlooked the entire fortress. No self respecting architect would call it a third floor, though, there was no reason to obfuscate facts.


    While snow piled up outside, they could see through the windows that the castle truly was a marvel to look at, if only there wasn¡¯t a snowstorm obscuring everything.


    The group were interested in the princess and her mystery, but more importantly, they were scrounging around for the basic necessities. Everyone worked together to raid the kitchen, which was a maze in it of itself.


    Thousand year old leeks hung off the walls alongside ancient looking garlic and other dried herbs. They were aged for so long that their original spicy flavor was twisted into a rough, but fine taste.


    Beneath a trapdoor was a cellar where root crops were stored, and while it was impossible to tell just how old they were, one single whiff proved they were probably still edible. And of course, everyone was hungry. The only person who could cook, however, was Calina who held up a wooden ladle.


    ¡°I will try best,¡± she said, and with what ingredients she could gather up, she began working away in a kitchen that was far too large for one person. Spare firewood was used to light up a stovetop.


    Being quite the little lady, she dragged a stool over for herself. With it, she peeked over the mouth of a pot where she dumped in a mix of peeled and cut potatoes alongside carrots and onions. Snow was melted down into water, and while Calina worked away, Wright came over with a small jar in his hands.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± he asked, all politely like the Ennian gentleman he was. ¡°I¡¯ve found a few bits and bobs which I believe can make for a scrumptious stew. Would you care to look them over?¡±


    ¡°Bit and bob? I do not know bob, but I try,¡± she said half jokingly, and although her speech was choppy, she was just as respectful as he was.


    She took the little jar and looked it over. Her expression turned a little sour.


    ¡°What is the matter?¡± Wright asked, and she let out a sigh.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Can¡¯t read.¡±


    ¡°It says here, Cobellian peninsula peppercorns,¡± Wright read. ¡°It must be a foreign import, this one. Looks like a high quality batch, too. It¡¯ll surely make our meal scrumptious.¡±


    ¡°Peppercorn?¡± she asked. ¡°They come in corn? I thought pepper is powder.¡±


    ¡°You grind it down to a powder,¡± the two heard.


    Coming from behind was Aki carrying a little mortar and pestle, saying, ¡°You¡¯re gonna need this if you¡¯re planning on powdering that peppercorn, now.¡±


    ¡°Why yes,¡± Calina said, and she handed it off to Wright who began powdering the corns as it¡¯s colloquially said. Meanwhile, Aki brought over a bowl full of salt and a bottle of alcohol.


    ¡°Salt and sake,¡± she said. ¡°It ought to make your soup even tastier than before. That is what you¡¯re making, right?¡±


    ¡°Soup, stew, it is all same. One thick, one runny. Both tasty, both funny.¡±


    She pinched a bit of salt into the soup, then stuck her hand into Wright¡¯s mortar and pestle to collect just enough pepper. With the ladle, she gave the forming soup slash stew a taste.


    It was a Cliesen style soup, made mostly with the starches of potatoes and the flavor of carrots and onions. The spices were an add on along with other, normally included but currently unavailable ingredients.


    She took the ladle and brought it up to Wright who took a sip, then Aki who did the same.


    ¡°Well, it appears that the ingredients are still good to eat,¡± Wright commented.


    ¡°Good enough for me,¡± Aki said, and she stole a bowl for herself.


    Wright offered Calina a hand and carried the hefty pot of stew out of the kitchen and to the rest who sat around, picking away at whatever they could find. Calina did notice that Wright was surprisingly strong, with toned arms and biceps she could see creasing his sleeves. Aki was quick to eat. Meanwhile, Misha and Erika sat opposite of one another.


    Erika sat and smoked like it was a lounge, sitting back with not a single worry written on her face. Misha, however, stood firm. She stared out a window towards the endless snowstorm outside.


    ¡°Princess Higanbana,¡± Misha said, out loud. ¡°Tell me ¡ª just what kind of response does that name elicit?¡±


    ¡°The princess of the red spider lilies,¡± Erika replied, flaunting the flower in her hair. ¡°They¡¯re beautiful, yet awfully creepy looking flowers. Whoever this princess was, they have the strangest taste.¡±


    Misha turned back outside, and after squinting, she waved Erika over. The two of them peeked out into the courtyard where ¡ª in the distance ¡ª a few graves were kept. Surrounding them were those familiar flowers, soldiers that withstood the snowstorm. The graves were short stone pillars accompanied by a rock lantern that wore a sort of stone hat.


    The grave itself had been worn away by time. At this point, it was impossible to tell whose name was carved into the front. Half of the pillar itself had cracked and crumbled away, virtually erasing the existence of the person buried below.


    Despite all that, the Higanbana flowers stood guard in the face of the snowstorm.


    ¡°Aki,¡± Misha said, calling her over. ¡°Just what is the etymology of this flower?¡±


    ¡°The Higanbana? Well, they¡¯re a religiously significant symbol for both north and south Hesha.¡±


    ¡°Higan. What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°Higan¡­ Higan¡­¡± Aki mumbled. ¡°Higan comes from Ohigan, a holiday celebrated on the equinoxes. Ohigan ¡ª it means the ¡®other shore¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Other shore?¡± Erika asked, and Aki nodded.


    ¡°As a literal translation, it means the flower from the other shore. In other words, the flower from Hell.¡±


    The group fell silent. Misha stood and stared at the gravestone, all while Erika picked at the flower that was put into her hair. Aki sat with her empty bowl, then peered out to the unending snow storm. Only one person could break that silence, and with a pot and pan in hand, they made a world of noise.


    ¡°Everyone! Do not worry about little flower! They are pagan lies!¡±


    Calina came in, and with the sheer noise of the clanging pot and pan, she washed away the underlying dread that came from the flowers that bloomed in Hell.


    ¡°Instead of being afraid of little flower, come and enjoy meal,¡± she said, and she plattered them a bowl of her soupy stew. The group were quick to eat, but before they could dig in, Calina stopped them all.


    ¡°Wait! Before we eat, we must give prayer to God for meal!¡± and with that, Calina clasped her hands together and began whispering a soft prayer. The rest copied, though some of them kept their eyes open, peeking over to Calina who fervently prayed.


    ¡°To our father in Heaven, thank you for meal. Now, we may eat.¡±


    Aki took a second bowl and began to eat. At the same time, Erika stopped them all for a brief moment.


    ¡°What about Baron and the others?¡± Erika asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we invite them here to eat?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring a bowl to Baron,¡± Misha said, ¡°and as for Dante, he¡¯s already got someone watching over him.¡±


    Snow piled up, and with one hand on the wall, he trekked through the encroaching blizzard. For a castle this old, it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine one of the windows shattering and allowing in winter¡¯s wrath. If anything, there was a chance each and every window blew in, turning the castle into a frozen Hellscape.


    Howell and his death filled his head, and imagining it now, there was a good chance that Dante himself could fall to the same fate.


    Princess Higanbana. The name echoed through his mind, all while he stomped over the grounds she ruled. Beneath his boots were the crushed spider petals that created a blood red trail.


    There was another thing he missed. A small, yet growing crack in the earth.


    The spider lilies watched him. They stalked him as he went, releasing their legs and whispering into the air. Those whispers turned to a voice out in the snow, one that called out to him.


    ¡°Willard Ford, Percy Smith, Gerome Sachler¡­¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡± Dante asked, calling out to the snowy abyss. The voice, however, continued to groan through the night. It was mechanical ¡ª almost utterly and completely inhuman.


    ¡°Mikhael Bronovich, Tatsuya Suou, Rudolf Zieger¡­¡± the voice muttered before moving onto more binary words, spouting out, ¡°A, B, C, D, E, F, G¡­ H, I, J, K¡­¡±


    He heard a tap tap tap come from the darkness. The robotic voice was utterly unfamiliar. Dante could do nothing but back up ¡ª pressing himself against the wall of the fortress, filled with a mixture of fear and dreadful curiosity.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Dante asked, his lantern grasped tight. He heard a tch tch tch come from the night. It sounded like a person clicking their tongue, and yet, it sort of sounded like the scratching of a playback machine.


    ¡°Just who are you, Dante Searcher? If that even is your real name.¡± and after they said that, Dante heard the familiar sound of a coin flicking against a fingernail.


    From the darkness reflected a touch of gold, and from the darkness a coin flew ¡ª landing by Dante¡¯s feet.


    ¡°You came to collect your full payment, and in return, you are to solve the Princess¡¯ mystery,¡± they said. ¡°I suppose I ought to give you some more ¡®encouragement¡¯. Take it, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    Dante picked up the coin. It was identical, with the bear paw and all. The person before him ¡ª they weren¡¯t someone to be trifled with.


    ¡°You! You¡¯re Virgil, aren¡¯t you!?¡± Dante said. ¡°If you are, what are you doing, skulking around out here!? What happened to Howell!?¡±


    Silence. Nothing came from the darkness. Dante grabbed his lantern and swung at the night, but the projecting light of the flames bounced off of nothing. It was like he was alone in the dark.


    ¡°Virgil! Where are you!? Come out here!¡± Dante cried, and he let go of the wall to pursue.


    He saw boot prints in the snow. There was no way he was alone out there, and with a lantern in hand, he pursued. The blizzard was just a background distraction. His mind solely focused on Virgil who vanished into the night, leaving a trail behind.


    The sweeping snow blew away the boot prints, but Dante didn¡¯t let up. He kept following them to their natural conclusion.


    That conclusion was brought by the earth itself. The trail stopped, and then the snow gave way. The earth below him was less than stable, and in an instant, the group began to crumble away. The snow had obscured the true nature of the landscape around the castle, which proved to be a less than stable foundation.


    He saw the ends of roots poking out of the earth. The ground beneath him gave way and he saw it. The other end of a ravine. Before he could fall into that ravine, he felt something grab his wrist.


    ¡°Dante!¡±


    It was a woman¡¯s voice, and before he slipped away into the snowfall, his wrist was grabbed with both hands ¡ª tight.


    The coin Virgil gave him slipped away into the ravine, and above him was Iffrah. A singular gust of wind blew away the hijab that obscured her, revealing an expression he could have never imagined.


    ¡°Grab my hand!¡± she cried.


    She was a lifeline that, with all her strength, pulled him back onto solid ground covered in snow. She had fallen backwards, getting her black clothing covered in more snow than the blizzard could manage. She, however, didn¡¯t seem to care. Not even a little.


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name were you doing!?¡± she cried.


    Her skin was pale as snow, but the rush of adrenaline painted her face a harsh, hypothermic red.


    ¡°I ¡ª I heard him. I heard Virgil,¡± Dante said, and her expression turned to utter shock.


    ¡°You saw Virgil? So he really exists?¡± she asked, and she frowned, asking, ¡°There¡¯s no way. Everyone¡¯s inside, having dinner. Have you gone mad from the cold?¡±


    ¡°I heard his voice, and I saw the boot prints he left behind,¡± Dante said, and she looked to find nothing. The boot prints were blown away by the harsh winds. ¡°He gave me a coin, too,¡± Dante added, but he remembered that it fell into the ravine.


    The woman let out a sigh, saying, ¡°That¡¯s enough. We should get inside and warm you up before you really lose it.¡± and with an extended hand, she pulled him onto his feet.


    Before they could go, Dante pointed out something she missed.


    ¡°Your head scarf,¡± Dante said, and she touched her own face before bursting into shock.


    ¡°My scarf ¡ª it must¡¯ve blown away with the wind. It¡¯s so cold that my face is numb. I must¡¯ve not noticed. I ¡ª¡± and mid sentence, Dante interrupted by taking the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around hers.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I didn¡¯t see anything. I promise,¡± Dante said with a smile. All she could do was sigh, but try as she might, she couldn¡¯t hide the relieved look she wore beneath the scarf.


    She pulled him inside the tunnel entrance where they dusted off the snow on their bodies. After Dante was fully dried off was when she interrogated him properly ¡ª with his winter scarf on of course.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me you saw Virgil out there?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes! Well ¡ª no, not really. I didn¡¯t see him, but I heard him speaking to me,¡± Dante said, ¡°and also, I saw his boot prints and he tossed me one of the coins. If that wasn¡¯t Virgil, then I don¡¯t know who it was.¡±


    ¡°What did their voice sound like?¡± she asked, and he put a hand to his chin.


    ¡°They were robotic. Machine-like. I heard a few scratches when they spoke.¡±


    ¡°If I had to guess, you might¡¯ve been talking to a tape recorder,¡± she said. ¡°This Virgil, they¡¯re trying to obscure themselves. Whoever they are, they aren¡¯t leaving any clues to their identity, are they?¡±


    ¡°Speaking of clues,¡± Dante said, he swung his lantern over towards the door that led into the castle. By the door was nothing but a small puddle of ice.


    ¡°Howell¡¯s body,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s gone.¡±


    The body was gone. The puddle of ice remained, lasting as a testimony that proved that a frozen, yet barely warm, body had been there. There was absolutely no evidence left behind ¡ª nothing but a singular item left in the center of the frozen pool.


    Peering through the ice, they saw it. A singular key. Dante took a random stone and smashed open the ice to retrieve it.


    ¡°It¡¯s a key,¡± he muttered, and then he reached towards the entrance door, then pushed it in. With a twist, it opened.


    ¡°This key ¡ª¡± Dante muttered.


    ¡°This key!? What in God¡¯s name!?¡± she shouted. ¡°This key is to this door! But Howell ¡ª he froze to death here, unable to get inside! Why was there a key underneath his corpse!?¡±


    ¡°Howell¡¯s body, where¡¯d it go?¡± Dante whispered, and then he turned to her, asking, ¡°You didn¡¯t move the body, did you? You said everyone else went to go to dinner, meaning you and I were the only ones who could¡¯ve gone past his corpse.¡±


    ¡°I can promise you I didn¡¯t,¡± she said. ¡°I promise you on my name ¡ª on my family¡¯s good name that I did no such thing.¡±


    ¡°Your family¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°I am Iffrah Pezra, eighth daughter of the Suphuran Shah.¡± and she stood firm, her hand over her heart. ¡°On my family¡¯s honor, I swear I¡¯ve done no harm.¡±

 Chapter 3 :

    Dante and Iffrah gathered everyone together with some bad, and worse, news. They gathered in the dining room where Calina handed everyone a bowl of soup ¡ª or stew, they couldn¡¯t quite tell. Dante and Iffrah, together, stood on the far end of the table. While the group had an air of levity and relaxation to them, the two¡¯s arrival filled the air with dread.


    ¡°There is something I need to announce,¡± Dante said, and he pulled out the key and slid it across the table like an appetizer. It landed in the center between their meals.


    ¡°Howell¡¯s body has gone missing, and beneath his corpse was this key,¡± he said. ¡°The key is a master key ¡ª one that unlocks any door in this building.¡±


    Silence. Everyone stared at the key, only for Misha to step up and snap her fingers ¡ª redirecting their attention.


    ¡°Well, it looks like you¡¯ve been sleuthing around. Found anything of value?¡± she asked, and Dante frowned.


    ¡°Outside. I met Virgil.¡± and hearing that, Misha froze. Her expression shifted back to a calm look after a moment of surprise.


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that interesting? Did you see him?¡±


    ¡°I heard him. He spoke through a tape recorder. I saw his boot prints as well and it led me nearly off a cliff. Luckily, Iffrah here saved me just in time. Without her, I¡¯d be dead meat.¡±


    ¡°How convenient¡­¡± Misha said, and she took that key, then pressed it against one of the locked cupboards. To everyone¡¯s surprise, it opened. ¡°It appears that this key truly is a master key,¡± she said, ¡°and truly, you found it beneath Howell¡¯s vanished corpse. Correct?¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Dante said. It was like being interrogated, which was something Misha probably was used to doing.


    Misha, upon hearing his answer, smirked.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been sleuthing myself,¡± she said, ¡°and I found a peculiar room. It appeared to be a sort of ¡®staff room¡¯ where keys were hung up behind a locked glass shelf.¡±


    Misha brought everyone off their seats and down a hall. Up on the second floor, she brought them to this staff room. It was like she said. A body was embedded into the wall. It had multiple glass covers with multiple locks, and behind it was a set of keys. They were divided into groups with Heshan symbols marking the specified groups. Each group had their own lock, meaning that unlocking one would keep the others safe from thieves. Next to that lock box was a hefty looking bolt cutter.


    ¡°Aki, if you please,¡± Misha said, and she began translating.


    ¡°Servants¡¯ keys, room keys, head servant¡¯s keys, and finally, the master key,¡± Aki translated.


    The keys were all organized and every single one was placed in their rightful position. All except one.


    ¡°It appears the master key has gone missing,¡± Misha said, and she turned to Dante with a smile, asking, ¡°Is the missing key in your possession?¡±


    Dante pulled out the key, and to his surprise, the key managed to open all locks, including the latch for the master key. With that, Misha threw up her hands.


    ¡°Well, we have our culprit,¡± Misha said. ¡°Dante and Iffrah, together, stole the master key and hid Howell¡¯s body. Additionally, they pushed the existence of Virgil on an unknown tenth person to push the blame onto a person who doesn¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you aren¡¯t seriously blaming us for Howell¡¯s death!?¡± Dante said, and Misha simply shrugged.


    ¡°You were so insistent that Howell¡¯s death was unnatural,¡± she said, ¡°and knowing that, by pretending the key you stole was underneath Howell¡¯s corpse the whole time only goes to show that Howell was murdered.¡±


    ¡°Why would we move the body then?¡±


    ¡°To get rid of Howell¡¯s corpse, that way we can¡¯t investigate further,¡± Misha answered. ¡°By claiming Howell had the key the entire time, you prove his death was a murder. By hiding the body, you obscure how the murder happened. You proved yourself right and cut off any further investigations, leaving you both correct and without the evidence required to solve said murder.¡±


    Misha stood firm, her theory unchanging. Wright, however, stood up for the two.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Wright said. ¡°If they¡¯re responsible for Howell¡¯s death, then why would they do any of this? Why would they prove his death was unnatural? Wouldn¡¯t that be against their best interests?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave uncovering their murderous intentions to the police,¡± Misha said, and this time Aki stood up for the two.


    ¡°Wait! How are we so sure that there really isn¡¯t a tenth person?¡± she asked. ¡°If they¡¯re telling the truth, that means that there¡¯s a tenth person who killed Howell, then later moved his body, then confronted Dante with his tape recorder. Isn¡¯t that possible?¡±


    ¡°Occam¡¯s razor,¡± Misha answered. ¡°Simple explanations tend to be better than complex ones. Adding a tenth suspect would do nothing but open the doors for wilder, more inexplicably complex theories ¡ª theories that make this case impossible to solve.¡±


    ¡°But still, it¡¯s possible. There really might be a tenth suspect,¡± Aki said.


    Misha frowned, but before she could speak, Erika interrupted her.


    ¡°There¡¯s a possibility that there really is a tenth suspect,¡± Erika said. ¡°This castle ¡ª it¡¯s under Princess Higanbana¡¯s domain. If we go by Calina¡¯s example, maybe there¡¯s a pagan demon acting as our tenth.¡±


    ¡°Pagan¡­ demon¡­¡± and Misha sat back, opened her mouth, and let out a huff. ¡°Pagan demons, ah? So that¡¯s the answer ¡ª we¡¯re being haunted.¡±


    ¡°It is why we must pray,¡± Calina said. ¡°We must pray to lord and savior. He will protect us. He make sure we do not go hungry and he make sure the demon does not get inside. As long as you have faith, he will protect you.¡± and Calina turned to Dante, saying, ¡°He was protected too. Iffrah coming to save him was not coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose I can¡¯t argue with that¡­ logic,¡± Misha said, ¡°but we shouldn¡¯t be so quick to let the two off the hook.¡±


    ¡°I think the responsible thing to do is watch over them,¡± Wright said. ¡°The best bet we have is to keep them in a room until everything blows over. We¡¯ll have the local police take care of everything else afterwards.¡±


    Aki turned to the two, asking, ¡°Is that alright with you two?¡±


    The two paused, looked at one another, then swallowed their pride.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll be roommates till this blizzard blows over,¡± Dante said, and he extended a hand towards Iffrah.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be good company until then.¡± and with a smile, she took his hand and shook it.


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    ¡°Until tomorrow morning, I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll have to lock you two away. Shout if you need anything or if you¡¯re in trouble. Although, I doubt anyone will come and terrorize you through the night,¡± she had said. Of course, it was Misha who so callously locked them in rooms.


    Behind her was Aki, Calina, Erika and Wright. With the confidence of a de facto detective, Misha waved the two goodbye with a singular gesture of her hand. It was as she said. Until tomorrow morning, the two would be locked away in separate rooms.


    Dante and Iffrah both stood next to one another with keys in their hands. They were room keys for their respective rooms ¡ª the two rooms being next to one another. Misha stuck out both her hands and into her palms the two dropped their keys.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I hope you two enjoy your stays,¡± Misha said, and with both keys dangling around a single finger, she turned to leave. It was Aki and Wright who did the deed of closing the sliding doors ¡ª though, to the two, it felt like watching the lids of their coffins close shut. When the doors closed, they were left all alone.


    Their rooms were awfully small, with nothing but a futon bed, closet, chest and window with a lock on the inside. The door itself had both a lock and a chain which Dante went ahead and set. At that moment, he found himself in the proverbial ¡®closed room¡¯. All they needed now was their killer to come and create an impossible-to-solve crime scene.


    But, for now, all Dante could do was kick off his shoes and throw himself down onto his bed. He laid beneath the window, watching as the blizzard ravaged the world.


    The howling winds battered against the castle, and while he was on the second floor, he swore he could feel soft vibrations beneath him ¡ª vibrations that might have been coming from the earth below.


    Mid-thought, he heard a tap. It came from the wall next to him ¡ª from the room Iffrah was in.


    ¡°Dante? Are you still awake?¡± he heard. It was Iffrah speaking through the walls.


    ¡°It¡¯s barely been a minute. There¡¯s no way I can fall asleep after today,¡± Dante said, and he knocked on the walls, muttering, ¡°These walls ¡ª they¡¯re way too thin. Our precious Princess Higanbana didn¡¯t bother soundproofing these buildings. What a mistake on her part.¡±


    ¡°With walls this thin, it¡¯s impossible to be snuck upon,¡± Iffrah replied. ¡°Though, if a murder somehow occurs without anyone noticing, that only lends credence to the existence of demons.¡±


    Dante sucked in a breath, paused for a moment, then asked, ¡°Do you really think a demon is responsible for what¡¯s going on here?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°With the info we have now, ¡®perhaps¡¯ is the best answer I¡¯ll get,¡± Dante said. ¡°There¡¯s just not enough evidence to prove and disprove the three theories.¡±


    ¡°Either the culprit is among us, is a tenth person, or is a supernatural being,¡± Iffrah said.


    The two fell quiet once more. Dante heard a thud ¡ª one that came from his and her side. He rested against the wall, and while he couldn¡¯t see it, he felt like she was doing the same. The two sat, back to back, with only those thin walls separating them like the bars of a cage.


    ¡°If the culprit is a tenth person, just what do you think they look like?¡± Dante asked, and he heard her scoff.


    ¡°What are you doing, focusing on their appearance?¡±


    ¡°Well, I think it¡¯d be fun, theorizing what they look like. If I had to guess, I bet they¡¯re a stocky guy with a twirly, villainous mustache.¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting that we¡¯re in a Cobellian murder mystery novel? If we are, then where is our dear detective to protect us and bring the criminal to justice?¡± she asked, and Dante let out a chuckle.


    ¡°We have one already,¡± he said, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid real life investigations aren¡¯t so cut and dry. Call me Poirot, but if I had to guess, things aren¡¯t gonna pan out as well as you¡¯d like.¡±


    ¡°At least we¡¯re not in a stopped train, or an island separated from the rest of the world,¡± she muttered. ¡°Instead, we¡¯re inside a castle ruled by a demonic princess.¡±


    Dante simply nodded, then fumbled over, falling to his side. He laid there with his head on his pillow, staring at the wall opposite of him. As far as he knew, that so-called demon could walk through the wall and reveal themself if they wished to do so. The fact that they haven¡¯t done so only further proves that the supernatural aren¡¯t at play here.


    Of course, it could also be a ruse. Perhaps these demons did exist, and they were holding off ¡ª watching from above. Maybe they were looking down and laughing at the growing distrust between them all, laughing at the misery that grew out of the Princess¡¯ mystery.


    ¡°So,¡± Dante heard, ¡°about Erika.¡±


    ¡°Erika? If you¡¯re wondering, she and I are just strangers who met here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, but why did you put that flower into her hair?¡±


    Dante paused, then let out a sigh, saying, ¡°I¡¯m not sure. My body ¡ª it was like it moved on its own. I didn¡¯t think about it. I just did it, then smiled afterwards. There¡¯s nothing between us. No deeper meaning behind that action.¡±


    No deeper meaning? Iffrah laid on her side as well, with his scarf still wrapped around her face. Bit by bit, she slowly unfurled the lengthy bit of cloth, allowing her black hair to spill out.


    ¡°Dante, why did you come here to this castle?¡± she asked, ¡°and don¡¯t tell me you came here for the money. I know for a fact you aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Bold accusation, but you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I heard his voice earlier. I was following you ¡ª eavesdropping, if you will,¡± Iffrah confessed. ¡°He spat out a thousand different names, then asked that one single question ¡ª a question I need an answer for. Just who are you, Dante Searcher?¡±


    Up and down. Having three whole floors meant she had a ton of work to do, but Misha wasn¡¯t about to give an inch of ground to their ridiculous theories. With the lantern Dante used in her hand, she went up and down the hallways, inspecting everything she could. Everyone else had locked themselves up for the night for their own safety. Everyone but one meek priestess.


    Calina had volunteered to follow Misha to both lend a pair of eyes and ears and also to give her a proper alibi. Seeing as Calina had God as her witness, Misha brought her along as her corpse-autopsing Doctor Watson, and seeing as she was a nurse, Calina only made herself more and more valuable.


    With the two being Cliesen, the two spoke in their native tongues. They did it partially because it was more comfortable, but more importantly, they did it because only they would know the contents of their speech. Eavesdropping was something Misha would not allow herself to become a victim of.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you came along,¡± Misha said in Cliesen. Her voice was soft in comparison with her taskmaster-self who barked orders earlier. ¡°If it weren¡¯t you, I would¡¯ve brought Baron along as my witness, you know that?¡±


    ¡°You trust me over Baron?¡± Calina asked, her Cliesen fluent and nimble. ¡°Wait ¡ª you trust Baron at all? Why? Of everyone here, it¡¯d make the most sense if he was Virgil¡¯s true identity. He¡¯s a rich nobleman. He has the funds to pull off something like this.¡±


    ¡°True. That is the case. However, I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s most likely a piece of bait ¡ª a red herring, of sorts.¡±


    Misha took out a ring of keys and twirled it around her finger. It carried both Dante and Iffrah¡¯s room keys along with the two masterkeys that existed. In a second key ring were all of the other keys. It was a tyrannical method of controlling entryway and exitance, but none could say it was ineffective.


    Control was in Misha¡¯s hands. For now, at least.


    ¡°Those keys,¡± Calina said, pointing to the two room keys. ¡°Why did we lock them in regular bedrooms? They can be locked and unlocked from the inside. If we wanted to keep an eye on them, we could¡¯ve locked them in a storage room instead.¡±


    ¡°Remember Baron¡¯s coin?¡± Misha said, and she redirected Calina towards the stairwell that led up and down. Walking down the stairs, Misha explained, ¡°The coin Baron left on the table ¡ª it was a test of his trust.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it sure was.¡± and Calina turned a little guilty, going, ¡°I wish I spoke up and told my truth at that moment. Maybe then, Baron would feel safe enough to enjoy dinner with us all.¡±


    ¡°Yes, what a shame,¡± Misha said, dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Anyways ¡ª that coin was a test. These keys, too, are a test.¡±


    The two strolled down to the first floor, and in an instant, they saw the results of said test. The coin was gone. Calina reached into her pockets to find her own coin on her person. Misha did the same, flashing her coin with a smile.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got a thief among us,¡± she muttered, almost giddy. ¡°It looks like I didn¡¯t have to take it myself. Someone did the deed in my place. Shame I wasn¡¯t the one to take it.¡±


    Misha twirled the keys around her finger, continuing her search through the entire castle. She used the master key well, locking away every room she searched as a sort of send off to each possibility that could become another theory for her to root out. She even locked the windows so no intruder could climb up the outer walls like an intellectual-rapist and climb inside.


    She was utterly thorough, had eyes like a hawk, and noticed each and every detail. Truly, if anyone could be it, it was her who was the de facto detective.


    Eventually, after hours of this tiresome routine, she closed off every possibility. In a way, she managed to control fate itself ¡ª restricting the castle so tight that not even shapeshifting demons or ghosts could move as they pleased.


    ¡°Misha, please, it¡¯s one in the morning,¡± Calina whimpered. ¡°Can¡¯t we call it a night? Haven¡¯t you done enough?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. Perhaps I have done enough,¡± Misha said, and she slapped her hands together, dusting off whatever grime covered them. ¡°Let¡¯s make sure everyone¡¯s in their rooms, then go to bed.¡±


    ¡°Thank the lord,¡± Calina muttered, following behind.


    The castle was quiet with nothing but the wind blowing away. The snowstorm truly never let up. Misha walked down the halls with her arms folded behind her back like a general. In her mind, she mulled over every detail.


    But no details could prepare her for what was waiting beyond the mist.


    Misha stepped, then heard a creak beneath her feet. Her eyes darted down towards a singular plank of wood beneath her.


    ¡°Misha? Are you okay?¡± Calina asked, but the detective paused, then fell to her knees. She leaned forwards on both hands, peering between the cracks of the floor with a piercing eye. She peered so close that her eye nearly bulged out ¡ª all in an attempt to peek through the boards and down to the first floor like a spider hanging from the roof.


    ¡°Something¡¯s not right,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°What is it? Something¡¯s off?¡±


    ¡°Baron,¡± she whispered. ¡°We haven¡¯t checked on Baron yet.¡±


    Misha crept forwards, and while she twirled the master key around her finger, she approached the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she listened in to hear nothing at all.


    ¡°Baron?¡± she asked, speaking in Cobellian once more. ¡°If you¡¯re awake, do respond. I¡¯d hate to intrude.¡±


    Nothing. Misha turned to Calina, and after a nod, she handed the key to Calina who pushed it inside, then twisted. The lock shifted, allowing the sliding door to open.

 Chapter 4 :

    It was one in the morning. Misha dragged everyone together ¡ª including Dante and Iffrah. Dante let out a yawn, then stretched like it was nothing. Iffrah, meanwhile, wore her scarf as a hijab, though it would do nothing to hide her coming reaction. The others looked a little worn out, and seeing as they were still wearing their normal clothing, they seemed to have had a cold and weary sleep.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Dante asked.


    ¡°Come with me, everyone,¡± Misha said, and she directed the group down the hall and to the end where Calina waited, standing by Baron¡¯s door with a bolt cutter in her hands.


    ¡°A bolt cutter?¡± Erika mumbled, and Wright was the one to perk up with surprise.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me ¡ª you had to cut his room¡¯s chain?¡±


    ¡°It is bad day. It is very bad day today,¡± Calina whispered, and she set the cutter aside in favor of the door.


    ¡°Before we go inside, I¡¯d like to ask one question,¡± Misha said. ¡°Who was the one who took Baron¡¯s coin from the table?¡±


    Silence. Noone spoke up. They all looked to one another, then to Misha who let out a sigh.


    ¡°Then perhaps this was meant to be,¡± Misha said, and she pulled open the sliding door to reveal just what was behind.


    ¡°Mister Baron? Baron!?¡± Aki said, her eyes wide ¡ª utterly awake.


    ¡°God, forgive his soul,¡± Iffrah whispered, grasping her head.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be real¡­ This just can¡¯t be real!¡± Erika cried.


    Dante grabbed his head, then crumbled to his knees, whispering, ¡°We¡¯re all fucked.¡±


    Baron was dead. Or at least, he wasn¡¯t alive. Dante couldn¡¯t quite tell. At this point, Baron was in a state of limbo. Every gruesome, bloody detail pointed to the fact his life had been snuffed away like a candle, but a singular clue kept his soul alive.


    ¡°Erika¡­ Aki¡­ Wright¡­ Calina¡­ Howell¡­ Baron¡­ Misha¡­¡±


    ¡°Erika¡­ Aki¡­ Wright¡­ Calina¡­ Howell¡­ Baron¡­ Misha¡­¡±


    The message repeated. Baron¡¯s corpse laid in the center of the room. Someone had taken a sharp blade to his limbs, hacking off each one and meticulously laying them out and inside the perimeter of a blood traced circle. Symbols filled that circle like a transmutation circle.


    A red VI had been carved into his chest like a tattoo done with a kitchen knife.


    The body had been dismembered and Baron¡¯s chest had been opened up. His internal organs had been scattered. His stomach opened up with the stew inside spilled out in a foul puddle, his entrails laid out like the threads of a spool. A stump laid at his neck where his head had been stolen away ¡ª his throat-hole stitched up in a crude surgical job.


    ¡°Erika¡­ Aki¡­ Wright¡­ Calina¡­ Howell¡­ Baron¡­ Misha¡­¡±


    The voice. It was Baron¡¯s voice for sure, and while Baron didn¡¯t have a head or internal organs, he still somehow spoke.


    ¡°Erika¡­ Aki¡­ Wright¡­ Calina¡­ Howell¡­ Baron¡­ Misha¡­¡±


    ¡°Where is that voice coming from?¡± Dante asked, and Misha shrugged.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t touched the crime scene, as of yet,¡± she answered.


    Iffrah grabbed her head, then let out a painful whimper.


    ¡°His voice. He¡¯s still alive. He¡¯s been butchered by a demon ¡ª a demon who is so cruel that she leaves her victims with a shred of life, hanging on by just an inch.¡±


    ¡°Iffrah, get a grip,¡± Dante said. ¡°This isn¡¯t the work of a demon. This is something a human did.¡±


    ¡°But Baron, he¡¯s in pain,¡± Iffrah said. ¡°He¡¯s begging us to end it. He¡¯s calling out to us all, just begging for us to help.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Dante said, and he reached to his waist to pull out a little dagger ¡ª one he used to poke at the body.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch his corpse. You¡¯ll get in the way of police investigations,¡± Misha said, and Dante scoffed.


    ¡°In this weather and in a castle like this, the police are never arriving.¡±


    With his knife, he cut open the stitched-together throat. Inside it was the source of the sound. A tape recorder had been stuffed into Baron¡¯s throat and on the recorder itself were bloody fingerprints galore. Unfortunately, they were made with gloves, leaving no real culprit evidence behind.


    ¡°See?¡± Dante asked, revealing the truth. ¡°This is no demonic feat. This crime was committed by a human.¡±


    ¡°One problem,¡± Misha said, and she pointed to the window, then to the hanging chain which was cut in two.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me ¡ª¡± Dante muttered, and Misha nodded.


    ¡°This is a closed room. The door was locked and chained shut. The window was locked and closed shut.¡± and she threw up her arms, saying, ¡°There¡¯s nowhere for the culprit to hide. There¡¯s no way for this room to be kept closed without the culprit staying inside of it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± Dante said, the strength in his voice all but sapped.


    ¡°Additionally, me and Calina did a full search on the castle¡¯s interior,¡± Misha said. ¡°As far as I know, inside of this castle, there is no tenth culprit.¡±


    Misha then led the group towards the closet. Inside was a set of clothing that had been splattered with blood, clothes that were shoved into the tight space, dirtying everything it touched. They didn¡¯t look like anyone¡¯s in particular ¡ª almost drab and random. Additionally, hairs were picked out of the clothing, though none of them matched the seven remaining survivors.


    ¡°It appears the culprit killed Baron, then disposed of their dirty clothing in this closet,¡± Misha stated. ¡°Additionally, there is a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± Dante asked, and she kicked over the closet to reveal the weapon hidden behind.


    Behind the closet was a giant katana. Misha went ahead and picked it up, dangling it downwards to reveal the blood soaked blade. There, however, was something strange about it.


    ¡°What happened to the blade here?¡± Dante asked. ¡°The end ¡ª there¡¯s a big circular chip.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the mark of a pirate¡¯s sword,¡± Aki said. ¡°Pirates in the past would steal swords off the corpses of samurais they¡¯ve killed. As a mark of disrespect, they¡¯d chip the end of the blade.¡±


    ¡°So, what sort of sword is this?¡± Misha asked, stamping it into the wooden floor.


    Aki leaned into the handle of the blade, then the body, and finally the ridge.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t any cheap sword. A sword like this belongs in either a museum or a historic collection,¡± Aki said. ¡°The sword was forged by the legendary blacksmith, Imaji Imasa. Legend says that his blades were cursed, and that their wielders would have an insatiable bloodlust.¡±


    ¡°Well, this sword must be drinking happily, seeing as this was the mess it left behind,¡± Misha muttered.


    Erika mumbled to herself, whispering, ¡°Cursed castles, flowers from Hell, demonic swords and impossible closed room murders. There¡¯s no way a human could be responsible for something like this.¡±


    Dante mulled over every detail, and as the night went on, the group cleared away from the crime scene. Misha locked the room shut and sent everyone off ¡ª everyone but Dante who stood and stared at the door.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Misha asked, watching as he grabbed the door, inspecting every part of the frame.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it,¡± he answered. ¡°I refuse to believe that we¡¯re being haunted by a demon.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a closed room. There¡¯s no way in and no way out. There are no secret passages and the corpse is Baron¡¯s for sure. I don¡¯t know what more you could want. All the evidence points towards an impossible murder.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not hiding anything from us, are you?¡± he asked, and Misha let out a scoff.


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust me, do you?¡±


    ¡°How could I? Who¡¯s to say that this wasn¡¯t done by a human? Who¡¯s to say you and Calina both did this?¡±


    Misha reached into the inside of her coat, then pulled out a singular piece of proof ¡ª proof that raised her above everyone in terms of credibility.


    ¡°That badge¡­¡± Dante muttered and she nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯m Misha Asimov, a detective for the Cliesen City Police Department.¡±


    Dante returned to his room, but when he tried to slide it open, he found that it had been locked from the inside. When he knocked, the door opened to reveal that he had guests.


    Inside was Aki and Wright accompanied by Iffrah. The three of them were quick to pull him inside before locking the door behind him.


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s this about?¡± Dante asked, and Wright put a finger over his lips.


    Aki sat on a chair while Iffrah sat next to Dante. Wright stood by the window which was locked tight. The winter winds continued to blow, endlessly, and the blizzard hadn¡¯t let up. Not yet, at least.


    ¡°What did you see out there?¡± Wright asked, standing by the window, peering out to the white aurora.


    ¡°I met Virgil. He spoke through a tape recorder, and when I tried chasing after him, he led me to the edge of a cliff. It was Iffrah who saved my life.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Virgil was some sort of paranormal entity, leading you to your death?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way. I don¡¯t believe in Gods or demons and I stand firm in that belief,¡± Dante said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do to make me believe this was done by anyone other than a person.¡±


    ¡°Well, we were all locked in our own rooms. That means it was none of us who did it, right?¡± Aki asked, and Wright shook his head.


    ¡°The doors can be locked and unlocked from the inside. Someone could¡¯ve left, committed the murder, then returned to their room.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Iffrah said. ¡°It was a closed room. Until that chain was cut, there was no possible way for the killer to leave. It¡¯s not like they cut themselves into little bits and escaped through the drain of a bathtub.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of closed rooms,¡± Dante muttered, ¡°earlier, Misha accused us of stealing the master key, then accused us of pretending to have said key be in Howell¡¯s possession.¡±


    ¡°But that key was locked behind the case ¡ª one that can only be opened with the same key,¡± Iffrah said, and Dante nodded.


    ¡°How could you get the master key without breaking the case¡­ unless¡­¡±


    ¡°Unless there¡¯s a second one,¡± Iffrah mumbled.


    Aki spoke up. ¡°The master key belongs to the master of this castle. Howell¡¯s room was locked, and seeing as Misha held every single key in the castle, there was no key available ¡ª no key that could open his room.¡±


    ¡°The master of this castle¡­¡± Dante whispered, and he turned to Aki, saying, ¡°Tell me! Tell me the history of this castle! Who owned it!?¡±


    ¡°A woman named Byakko. She was said to have demonic blood, but according to the legends, she died a hundred years ago.¡±


    ¡°We have the queen, then how about a king?¡±


    ¡°She was said to have been betrothed to a boy named Ruka, but he died before their marriage was properly sealed. Apparently, they were very close, but when they invited a stranger into their home, it was said that that stranger poisoned Ruka who was already ill with a terminal illness.¡±


    ¡°Who is that stranger?¡± Dante asked, and she put a hand to her chin.


    ¡°He was someone not from around here, and yet, he had the blood of a south Heshan,¡± she said. ¡°His name¡­ it was Sen.¡±


    Sen. The name rang through Dante¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Tell me more. Who was this Sen? Were there any more people?¡±


    ¡°Well, from what I know, Sen was the only one,¡± Aki answered. ¡°I remember reading about the legend, but that¡¯s all there is to it. No more details beyond that.¡±


    ¡°Sen, Byakko, Ruka¡­¡± Dante mumbled. ¡°A stranger, a girl with cursed blood and a boy who was terminally ill.¡± and he stood up, saying, ¡°I know what we have to do.¡±


    The group returned to their own rooms to sleep, and in the morning, they found that they were all still alive. The snowstorm had calmed, slightly, but it was still far too dangerous to travel away from the castle lest they wanted to end up like Howell or food for wolves.


    The rest gathered, but Dante chose to be alone. He still suspected the others and a potential tenth person, and seeing that, he chose to slink away and back outside. The snowstorm weakened, allowing for visibility, but it was still unbearably cold, even with thick winter clothing.


    The sun was bright enough to see, and with gloves and tall boots, he trudged through the piercing winds and high snow continuously until he squinted and saw something in the distance. It was a building with quite the open architecture, but stepping inside, he saw what it truly was.


    It was a burial site, and through an unlocked door, he made his way inside. Lying before his feet was a silver lantern, one that was waiting for his arrival.


    The flame burned bright, illuminating three wooden caskets. Mold ate away at the outer layers, but when he swung his lantern close, he could read it.


    ¡°Ruka¡­ Sen¡­ and Beatrice?¡±


    The names were carved and written in Cobellian. Dante opened Sen¡¯s casket to find nothing but bones. It belonged to a young boy in his early teens. The boy¡¯s ribs and chest were cracked, all while the rest of the bones were in fine condition. Additionally, a red I had been carved into the top of Sen¡¯s casket.


    The second casket belonged to Ruka, but he moved past it and went to Beatrice¡¯s. Inside, he found it was empty. There was nothing but a single flower ¡ª a Higanbana. It rested on the bed that the corpse was meant to lie on for all eternity.


    Finally, he opened Ruka¡¯s, and inside was another corpse, one that was as young as Sen. In the center of the pile of bones was a box, one that was empty, with nothing but a note written, again, in Cobellian.


    ¡°Rest in peace, her dear prince. I leave the only other key in your possession so that no one may disturb your slumber.¡±


    The only other key? The box ¡ª it was the home of the second master key.


    Dante grabbed the box and the letter, both of which were stamped by that familiar bear paw, then made his way back towards the castle. He intruded on the others eating breakfast which was leftover soup, then slammed down his findings.


    ¡°There¡¯s a second key! One in the nearby burial site!¡± Dante cried, and he shoved the letter into Misha¡¯s face.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Misha said, reading it over. ¡°A key for the prince. Judging by the emptiness of the box, the other key must¡¯ve been stolen, am I correct?¡±


    ¡°This is proof that the key container could be opened and the master key stolen!¡±


    ¡°One problem,¡± Misha said. ¡°Are you honestly suggesting that Howell, first, went to this burial site, stole the key, entered the castle, stole the second master key, then hid one of the master keys before dying outside the tunnel entrance with said key on his body?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ uh¡­¡±


    Dante stumbled and fumbled. The only person willing to stand up for him was Erika who, pipe in hand, blew out another theory.


    ¡°Who says Howell took the key from the burial site?¡± and she looked at the group, asking, ¡°Those of you who came here with Baron, you didn¡¯t sneak off and steal any keys, did you?¡±


    The group all fell silent, then quickly shook their heads no when Misha glared. Erika turned back to Dante, asking, ¡°Did you see anyone in the burial site? Any clues that might lead to a potential tenth person hiding inside?¡±


    ¡°This lantern,¡± Dante said, lifting his lantern. ¡°It was placed on the floor in front of the entrance. It was like it was waiting for me ¡ª waiting for me to pick it up.¡±


    ¡°Then the culprit must¡¯ve gone in, took a lantern, stole the key, then left the lantern by the entrance.¡±


    ¡°Also! There were three caskets. One for Ruka, Sen, and another for a woman named Beatrice. The first two had bones inside, but the third had nothing but a higanbana flower.¡±


    ¡°A flower?¡± Erika asked. ¡°How fresh would you call it?¡±


    ¡°Fresh?¡± Dante asked, and he put a hand to his chin, answering, ¡°If I had to guess, it was as fresh as the one in your hair ¡ª maybe a bit older.¡± and he tapped on the slightly wilted flower which was still in Erika¡¯s hair. Whether it was a piece of good fortune or a bad omen, he couldn¡¯t quite tell.


    ¡°It was a real flower, right? Real flowers, over time, will wilt. That¡¯s why we keep them in vases.¡±


    ¡°Wilt?¡± he asked, and he shook his head. ¡°They looked a little older than yours, and seeing as I gave it to you yesterday evening, that means they must¡¯ve been put there recently. At most, I¡¯d estimate they were put there two days ago.¡±


    ¡°Two days ago? That¡¯s impossible. We all arrived here at midday yesterday, unless¡­¡± Erika mumbled, and she turned to the crowd who ate their breakfast soup.


    Seven of nine remained, and it wasn¡¯t hard to believe that, just maybe, one of them had arrived earlier and proceeded to pretend to land with the rest. If they did, it could explain so many questions. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    But before she could speak up and ask, Misha let out a lengthy yawn. The sight of it was so jarring that the group couldn¡¯t help but stare at her in silence.


    ¡°Sleep well last night?¡± Calina asked, and Misha rubbed her eyes.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not easy being the group¡¯s leader and detective,¡± she said. ¡°I may or may not have stayed up last night, and I may or may not have spent the night awake, listening for any incriminating noises.¡±


    ¡°You should sleep. Go to bed, right now,¡± Calina said. ¡°Sleep is good. More better than food.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Wright said. ¡°You really ought to go to bed.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Misha cried. ¡°I heard something! I remember it, I heard footsteps and whispering. I heard someone whispering their evil deeds last night, how they butchered both Howell and Baron, all while they dragged a weapon behind them!¡±


    ¡°Are you serious!?¡± Wright said. He was pale as a ghost, grasping onto Aki who sat next to him out of fear.


    Misha, however, smirked.


    ¡°Just kidding. I heard nothing. Everyone slept safe and sound.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not funny. I don¡¯t want to end up like Baron,¡± Wright grumbled, all while Calina stood up and propped a blanket over Misha¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°She is acting strange. Either she needs sleep, or she is possessed by demon,¡± Calina said, half jokingly. ¡°Come on, now. Sleep time. Go to bed, okay? We will not die. It is promise.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± Misha said, mid yawn. ¡°Leave the bolt cutter in my room, okay? I¡¯m not taking any risks.¡±


    ¡°I will bring blanket, hot chocolate and sing bedtime lullaby. Come on, now. Don¡¯t be big baby.¡±


    Calina coaxed Misha to bed and the two left to go upstairs. Meanwhile, the five remained. They all looked strained, and seeing as Baron died last night, they had the entire world to be afraid of. Erika, however, took the mantle by leaning into the table, spoon in hand.


    ¡°Something tells me those two are hiding something,¡± Erika said. ¡°They¡¯re too friendly. Too close. They¡¯re impossible to trust, and the more they try to help us, the more suspicious I get of them.¡±


    ¡°Not suspicious enough to skip breakfast,¡± Iffrah muttered under her breath.


    Erika had no argument. She took the half eaten bowl of hers and pushed it aside. She wore a frown and turned it towards Dante.


    ¡°What about you? What are your thoughts about Calina?¡±


    ¡°Cute, clumsy in speech and one Hell of a chef,¡± he said, wagging his spoon for emphasis. ¡°I¡¯d hate for her to be our culprit. I¡¯ve been enjoying these meals. I¡¯ve had to test each one of my bowls before I eat, though, which really dampens my mood.¡±


    ¡°You tested them? How? With a silver spoon or some precious metal?¡± Erika asked, and he pointed his spoon towards her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get mad, but I swapped my bowl with yours,¡± he confessed. ¡°In case she was the culprit, I¡¯m sure she wanted someone as meddlesome as me gone. Poison would be one Hell of a way to do it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I really appreciate it,¡± Erika said, her sarcasm palpable.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hate me because you didn¡¯t think of it first. After all, I¡¯d be fine with you doing it to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be happier if you didn¡¯t since I have nothing to go off of. Nothing you¡¯ve demonstrated has proven to anyone that you are innocent of any of these crimes.¡±


    ¡°But the locked room, I ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Locked from the inside,¡± Erika interrupted. ¡°You could have left, killed Baron, then returned and locked your own door, pretending like nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°Come on. His room was locked and he answered to no one ¡ª no one but Misha.¡±


    ¡°You could have tricked him into opening the door,¡± Erika answered. ¡°So long as he was inside of that room, the possibility lives.¡±


    ¡°What about the chain?¡± Dante asked. ¡°How could I have gotten in if there was a chain set?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t,¡± the two heard.


    The two bickerers turned towards Iffrah. Iffrah, with her hands folded together, suggested something insane.


    ¡°Maybe the chain was never set,¡± she stated. ¡°Who knows? After all, it was Misha and Calina who found Baron dead. I never saw the chain be set.¡±


    Aki, hearing that, stood up and slammed down on the table, her soup nearly spilling off.


    ¡°Absurd!¡± she cried. ¡°What? Are you saying that Baron, the most cautious, wouldn¡¯t set a chain? That¡¯s ridiculous!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an old man. Maybe he forgot to, or maybe he trusted the door lock enough,¡± Iffrah answered. ¡°Maybe, or maybe, he left the chain unset so that if something went wrong, Misha could easily unlock the door and help him. He¡¯s an old man who probably has a few health issues he hasn¡¯t yet mentioned. What if he had a heart attack from the stress here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fair assumption,¡± Wright said. ¡°If he had a heart attack, he¡¯d want us to get inside and help him immediately. The door lock is enough. A chain would do nothing but force us to get the bolt cutter, expediting the process. By the time we¡¯d reach him, he¡¯d be nothing but bones.¡±


    ¡°Just how would we help him if he had a heart attack in the first place?¡± Erika asked, and Iffrah shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe some medication. I¡¯m sure Calina has something.¡±


    Erika clasped her hands together to ask, ¡°Just why are we suspecting this? Why would we assume that the chain was never set in the first place? How do you explain the chain we saw, which was clearly cut?¡±


    The room fell quiet. Everyone turned to Dante who shook his head.


    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± he said. ¡°To try and pin this on some supernatural entity ¡ª it¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°Why? Tell me why they¡¯d do this?¡±


    ¡°To misdirect.¡±


    Suddenly, the silence was broken. A shiver ran down every single soul¡¯s spines. They heard something odd ¡ª something they could never expect.


    It was the sound of an old bell. The bell reverberated through the entire castle and they could feel the ground beneath them shudder. The force was so strong that the table shifted and one of the legs came loose. The table buckled and soup spilled all over the floor.


    ¡°Gah! I haven''t finished that!¡± Erika cried. ¡°Stupid, goddamned castle!¡±


    ¡°Oh Goddess,¡± Aki mumbled. ¡°Just what was that? Some kind of earthquake?¡±


    ¡°It was, clearly, a belltower¡¯s clock. A powerful one, too,¡± Wright said. ¡°Though, I don¡¯t remember seeing a bell or a tower. Just where did it come from?¡±


    ¡°Just where did it come from?¡± Dante whispered, and the group watched as something fell from the sky.


    A storm fell, and like feathers, a whirlwind of those familiar flowers fell from above. The group watched, dumbfounded, as they were covered in the petals of that toxic flower from the other shore.


    Then, a single letter fluttered down.


    Dante snatched it, then read it for them all.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to have you all as my guests.


    I am Princess Higanbana. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re acquainted with my servant, Virgil, yes?


    Well, he¡¯s done a fine job bringing you all here. Props to Virgil. I expect a round of applause, sooner or later. (He gets awfully cranky when his work goes unacknowledged, so please, be kind to him. He¡¯s a sensitive soul.)


    Oh! But I¡¯m getting ahead of myself. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen it by now. Yes, I had to do our friend in. Shame. I was looking forward to meeting such a distinguished gentleman, but to have him cooped up in his room, I just could not allow that.


    So, I¡¯ve dragged him out.


    You¡¯ll see him later.


    Come find me where the snow meets the flowered moon.


    Love, BXXX.¡±


    Dante took a long look at that letter, then sucked in a breath before exploding.


    ¡°This is BULLSHIT. For starters, it¡¯s written in Cobellian, not south Heshan! Second, Baron is still in his room. He hasn¡¯t been dragged NOWHERE.¡±


    ¡°Dante, please, calm down,¡± Wright said, but Dante shook his head fervently.


    ¡°No! I won¡¯t allow this crap to stand! First, it¡¯s the impossible closed room murder. Next, it¡¯s a letter coming from nowhere! Falling down from the sky and into our palms! I won¡¯t have it! This is all misdirection! It¡¯s all a trick into making us believe in some supernatural princess who¡¯s going around, butchering as she pleases!¡±


    Dante took the letter, then pressed it against everyone¡¯s faces. The other, however, didn¡¯t feel the same way.


    ¡°The handwriting,¡± Erika mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s different from Virgil¡¯s letters. It can¡¯t have been the same person ¡ª there¡¯s no way.¡±


    ¡°The letter,¡± Iffrah whispered. ¡°It fell from the sky along with a storm of Higanbana petals, but how?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s just too many unexplained questions,¡± Wright said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to admit, this is all a bit overwhelming.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go to the place where the ¡®snow meets the flowered moon¡¯,¡± Dante said, his tone cold and unforgiving.


    He knew the one place where the snow met the flowered moon, and that was all the way back at the ballroom. He directed everyone¡¯s attention to the paintings that filled said room.


    ¡°Snow, moon and flowers,¡± Aki said. ¡°Setsugekka. It fits for sure.¡±


    The group gathered in the room, and surrounded by those rectangular paintings intersected by windows, they found themselves in a surreal world. Looking up, Dante noticed something off. There was a bit of three dimensional depth to the paintings, almost as if the trees were popping out of their ink canvasses and forming a canopy above.


    His eyes followed up the branches, but before he could look up to the center of the ceiling, he saw a blur of an object fall.


    The object fell, crashing down before them. They heard the awful crunching of some strange material, and on closer inspection, they realized just what it was.


    ¡°Baron?¡± Dante muttered and Erika bit down on the stem of her pipe.


    ¡°This body, it¡¯s the same one as before. It¡¯s Howell¡¯s body.¡±


    Like some creature from Frankenstein¡¯s castle, a corpse laid before their feet. Half of the body was smashed from the fall, spilling frozen chunks of flesh and blood left and right. In the center of it all was the head of the victim from before ¡ª Baron¡¯s head. His severed head had been sown onto the other corpse in some infernal patchwork.


    Sewn into his skin were the stems of those Higanbana who looked happy to sap the nutrients of the two combined corpses. They were brighter than any flower they had ever seen.


    A thousand spider legged lilies crawled over Baron¡¯s head, and stuffed into his mouth ¡ª whose teeth seemed to have been plucked out ¡ª was another tape recorder.


    Dante reached into his mouth to press the play button, and from the tape escaped an unfamiliar voice.


    ¡°Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I¡¯m sure you had a lovely, lovely rest. Please, allow me to welcome you all in.¡±


    ¡°Whose voice is that?¡± Erika mumbled.


    ¡°It¡¯s a woman ¡ª but it doesn¡¯t sound like anyone here,¡± Wright said, all while the recording continued.


    ¡°Well, how was it? My trick? Lovely, wasn¡¯t it? I¡¯d love to have spent more time on ¡®buildup¡¯, but oh well. I¡¯m afraid, sometimes, it¡¯s best to come out, guns blazing ¡ª leaving our dear guests with no room to prepare. Isn¡¯t that right, Virgil?¡±


    ¡°Virgil?¡± Aki whispered, and a new voice surfaced.


    ¡°Why come to me for answers? You know I can¡¯t help but agree with everything you say, Princess,¡± Virgil said with a hint of sarcasm.


    ¡°Iyah ha ha! Of course! Of course! Well, my dear guests, don¡¯t feel too bad for yourselves. Now, I don¡¯t want you wallowing in tears, begging to the Gods for even an ounce of hope, now, would I? Would I?¡±


    The princess was harsh tongued and painfully cocky. Dante could hear the smirk behind the recording.


    ¡°What the Hell?¡± Dante whispered to himself, and as if they heard him, the princess let out a hearty chuckle.


    ¡°Ke he he he¡­ I suppose I should give you a chance at surviving the night, though don¡¯t expect survival to be as simple as locking yourselves in a room, now. Lock yourself in your room, lock yourself in the bathroom ¡ª Hell, you can lock yourself in the castle¡¯s vault! But! No matter what you do¡­


    I will get you, and I will drag you out.


    I propose a game for you all, and if you are successful, I will undo the spells I¡¯ve bound upon you all and allow you safe passage through my territory.¡±


    In an instant, as the princess paused and the recording fell silent, a tear rang out through the castle. Dante turned to see the painting on the wall go unhinged. The tall, rectangular painting fell like a door being kicked in, and behind it was the source of the earlier ringing.


    A giant brass clock was embedded into the wall, and before it was a pair of iron doors. In the center of it all was a combination lock.


    ¡°You have twenty four hours,¡± the Princess said. ¡°If you ever wish to see the light of day again, you will undo my lock and open the doors to the castle vault. Waiting inside is the gold you so desperately desire.¡±


    ¡°The Princess of the Higanbanas beseech thee,¡± Virgil said, and the Princess let out a soft breath.


    ¡°Who am I?¡±


    With that, the recording stopped and the button released, returning to a neutral position. There was no more. No hints, no clues, no nothing. The head, however, caught aflame and like magic, Baron¡¯s flower-pierced face burned away, leaving not a shred of flesh behind. No bone, no cartilage, no material at all. Nothing but ashes. The ashes scattered towards the lock before them.


    Wright and Aki approached the four-piece combination lock together to find something odd.


    ¡°It¡¯s letters, not numbers,¡± Wright said. ¡°Four sets of twenty six. Just how many possible combinations is that?¡±


    ¡°However many it is, it doesn¡¯t matter. There¡¯s nothing stopping us from brute forcing it, is there?¡± Aki asked.


    Wright, however, shook his head, saying, ¡°Back home, I worked with a lockpicker¡­ I mean, a locksmith once. He used a simple set and shake method.¡±


    ¡°Set and shake?¡± Aki asked, and Wright chuckled softly to himself.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯d pull on the shackle of the lock and spin the combinations, testing for the stiffest. Then, he¡¯d pull and twist the set with the most resistance, stopping when he hears a click. Repeat ad nauseam with the increasingly less resisting sets, then finally brute force the last one. Worked like a charm. Said he had a 90 percent success rate.¡±


    ¡°Well great,¡± Aki said. ¡°Come on. Show us your magic.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s one problem.¡± and Wright tapped on the side of the giant door.


    There was, indubitably, no shackle. No shackle meant no way of administering resistance like a painkiller towards a patient. That left them with only two tedious methods.


    Either A, they brute forced it.


    Or B, they somehow discovered the name of their princess.


    ¡°Discover the name of the princess?¡± Erika whispered to herself, all while she stared at the iron gates with a dull look. ¡°To discover their name, there has to be clues hidden around the castle, right? How else?¡±


    ¡°There are clues, but everything I found was outside,¡± Dante added. ¡°As far as I know, nothing inside here is worth our time, unless¡­¡±


    Dante looked to Iffrah, then the rest.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Iffrah asked, ¡°why would Misha go ahead and coop herself up before these events began? Why would she go with Calina ¡ª together? She¡¯s a grown woman. She can tuck herself to bed.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one answer,¡± Dante said, and he smacked his closed fist against the iron door, shouting, ¡°They¡¯re in this together! The princess and her partner in crime! Princess Higanbana and her Virgil!¡±


    ¡°What the Hell was all that noise!?¡± they all heard. Behind them, through the doors, was none other than the duo.


    Misha stood with a bit of a hunch and an irritated look on her face, all while Calina guided her along, acting as a second in command. Misha let out a groan before standing upright, then proceeded to spout out her thoughts.


    ¡°Well, it looks like we¡¯ve got a mess here,¡± she said, looking the group up and down before peering over to the headless corpse. ¡°What the Hell is this, and what¡¯s that? A tape recorder?¡±


    She picked up the ruined recorder whose tape had been scorched away. Then, she inspected the body that was covered in those frozen clothes. They had been partially thawed and she showed no signs of disgust as she dug through the slightly wet clothing. The clothes, however, were nearly impossible to peel off the corpse. She instead looked up to the stump that made up the throat section.


    ¡°Well, there goes my earlier suspicions. This body is, indeed, a corpse. Not some fake or whatever,¡± Misha announced. ¡°Well, what¡¯s going on? What¡¯s this big door?¡±


    ¡°Our princess wants us to discover her name,¡± Wright answered. ¡°To her, it seems like all of this is just some game ¡ª and from the way she was laughing on the tape, it seems she¡¯s enjoying things quite a bit.¡±


    ¡°A combination lock? Big mistake,¡± Misha mumbled under her breath, and as if she were drunk, she hobbled over and began flipping away at the locks¡¯ endless set of combinations.


    ¡°Anna, Anne, Anya¡­¡± Misha said, muttering to herself as she went through the motions. After a solid minute, she turned to the dumbfounded group with a scowl.


    ¡°Hey, all of you. Don¡¯t you want to solve this puzzle? It¡¯s only four letters. No need to lament.¡± and Misha pulled out a notepad and began scrawling away. Then, she pointed a fountain pen towards Aki and Wright, shouting, ¡°You two! Come on! Get to work!¡±


    The two looked to one another, only to be interrupted by Calina who acted as a sort of anchor preventing the group from drifting apart.


    ¡°I am sorry. When the bell rang, it made her cranky. She does not like to have beauty sleep interrupted.¡±


    ¡°Then for her sake, we ought to crack this safe ASAP,¡± Wright said, and he turned to Aki with a smile and an extended hand, asking, ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¡°We shall, I guess,¡± Aki replied, taking that hand. He was quite the gentleman, leading her towards the gate where Misha retired, allowing the two to continue her work of decoding.


    ¡°The rest of you,¡± Misha barked, ¡°get to searching. I spent last night digging this place up from top to bottom, though, seeing as I had done it in the middle of the night with nothing but a lantern, I suppose it¡¯s possible I missed some clues.¡±


    ¡°You want us to do your job for you?¡± Dante asked, and she wagged a finger.


    ¡°I have done my job. You are all alive, minus one. Those are better results than I expected. I, however, am unable to babysit you all. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll have to work together if we want to survive.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± Dante said, and he waved the rest over, saying, ¡°Come on. This castle won¡¯t search itself.¡±


    Everyone left, meanwhile the two stayed behind to crack away at the safe, chipping at the steel body. Turn by turn, they worked the combination locks, all while they recorded their failed attempts, over and over. Eventually, as time passed by, they came to a standstill. Wright sat back and tapped away at the notepad with a pencil in hand.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Wright said. ¡°Just what brought you here?¡±


    ¡°I said it before. I¡¯m a student, and I¡¯m studying for a good job,¡± she answered. ¡°Seeing as this Virgil guy wants to pay me to solve his little game, I couldn¡¯t refuse. After all, this coin¡¯s worth a bit. I can¡¯t imagine just how much the total payment is gonna be.¡±


    ¡°Just what makes you think you¡¯ll be paid?¡±


    Silence. Aki paused. It was all Wright needed to hear. For the first time, he looked genuinely serious, as if his frightful and meek demeanor had vanished.


    ¡°I know that¡¯s not why you¡¯re here,¡± Wright said.


    ¡°And how do you know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯m here for something else. Something other than money.¡±


    Wright pulled out a revolver, and before Aki could scream, he pulled the trigger.


    Dust flew, the snow fell and the winter winds continued to blow. Meanwhile, the group worked away, inspecting every corner of every room. Calina poked at every bookshelf, Iffrah peeked behind every nook and cranny while Dante and Erika stood together, eyeing every odd tile in search of a secret passage.


    Misha sat in a seat, dozing off while somehow maintaining the alertness of a detective. While Dante flipped through the pages of a book written in old south Heshan, he turned when Erika blew a cloud of smoke towards him.


    ¡°Fancy book. Shame you can¡¯t read it,¡± Erika said, and Dante shrugged.


    ¡°Who knows? Seeing as the tapes were recorded in Cobellian, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s gotta be something we could read,¡± he said, and he flipped through a couple more books.


    Of course, there was nothing to be had. The best they could do was compact a few and bring them over to Aki for a full translation. They put Calina to work, sending her back and forth, deliberately keeping her away from Misha under deep suspicions.


    Eventually, the group was dragged back towards the ballroom where the two continuously plugged in potential names. Dante split apart from them, and from the second floor he inspected the layout of the upper areas of the ballroom. From where he stood and from how the balcony protruded, he couldn¡¯t get an angle on the first floor where the door and lock was ¡ª both of which were directly underneath him.


    He expected to find some kind of contraption set to drop the corpse from above and initiate the whole sequence they saw, earlier, but to his shock, there was nothing.


    No spare ropes, no loose threads ¡ª no nothing. Nothing that could point to a human method of dropping a corpse before them. He stood by an upper balcony and leaned against the railing, peering up towards the support beams of the roof.


    ¡°No ropes, no nothing,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just how did they get the body to drop like that?¡±


    Approaching him from behind was Misha who did the same, peering up, saying, ¡°If it were up to me, I¡¯d tie the corpse to a rope from the support beams, setting it to a timer that reliably dropped it sometime after 9:00 A.M. Looking at this, however, it seems like no mechanism was used.¡±


    He was surprised to see her, but instead of pointing it out, he grew a soft smile.


    ¡°Maybe it was a supernatural being who could, with the snap of their fingers, teleport the body above us,¡± Dante said, half jokingly. ¡°It¡¯d make sense, seeing as Baron was killed in a locked room. To a human that should be impossible, but for a demon it should be no problem.¡±


    Dante leaned back, and turning to Misha, he said, ¡°That is if the facts presented were accurate.¡±


    Misha leaned against the railing, then let out a chuckle, asking, ¡°You do realize you¡¯re talking to a detective, right?¡±


    ¡°Then you should have no problems answering my question. Was the door really chained?¡±


    ¡°It had been chained, and we cut it with bolt cutters. That is a fact.¡±


    She was way too confident in her speech to lie ¡ª enough so that Dante was shocked by her immediate answer. Misha, however, didn¡¯t let up. She fired back in retaliation.


    ¡°Tell me, just who are you? I know for a fact that none of us came here to get money from this Virgil who supposedly exists. We all came here for more personal reasons. Why did you come here of all places?¡±


    ¡°Why did you come?¡± Dante replied, and while it was bad manners to answer a question with a question, she obliged.


    She took her badge, then snapped it in half with her hands.


    ¡°Four years ago, I had quit my job as a detective. One day, while I was at home, drinking all alone, I heard a knock on my apartment. When I went to check, I found a letter.¡±


    ¡°Virgil¡¯s letter?¡± he asked, and she answered by flashing a coin ¡ª two coins.


    ¡°He invited me to this game, and at the time, I thought it was nonsense so I ignored it. Four years later, I got a second letter.¡±


    She revealed two letters and two tickets. One was punched. The other was untouched.


    ¡°He gloated, telling me just how much fun he and his princess had, flaying their victim¡¯s skin from their flesh and drinking the marrow from their bones. He taunted me, telling me it was my fault for not being there ¡ª for not being his detective, the one who¡¯d solve the case, the one who¡¯d protect the victim¡¯s from harm.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first game?¡± Dante muttered.


    ¡°And it won¡¯t be the last, unless we¡¯re able to bring Virgil to justice.¡±


    She reached into her coat and brought out a shining, silver revolver.


    ¡°I will bring him to justice. On my name and honor as a detective, I vow to kill the myth of the Higanbana Princess.¡±


    She took the revolver, then pointed it at Dante¡¯s head.


    ¡°Tell me. Whose side are you on? Do you stand for justice, or will you hide behind illusions and lies?¡±


    When she pulled the hammer back, he didn¡¯t shudder or hesitate. He stood firm with a solid answer.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stop him. I¡¯ll stop Virgil.¡±


    And in response, two gunshots rang out.

 Chapter 5 :

    A red VII had been carved into their chest.


    Everyone gathered, and together, they found another corpse. Leaning against the wall sat the solver of the combination lock ¡ª or at least, what was left of her. She sat, her head drooped back and to the side. Blood was the least shocking element of her crime scene.


    Her blood spilled everywhere, staining the door red and soaking through every page of the notepad they wrote in and the books Calina brought to her. The circumstances around her death were obscure, though suicide couldn¡¯t be ruled out. A bullet lodged itself between her eyes ¡ª at least, what was left of them. Her face had been mauled to a point where she was nearly unrecognizable.


    Additionally, a revolver sat next to her. The only thing missing was her supposed partner.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Wright?¡± Dante asked, and he turned to Calina who had last seen them.


    ¡°I am not sure,¡± Calina answered. ¡°Last time, I see them together. Now, he is gone.¡±


    Dante nodded, then picked up the revolver from the ground. Looking it up and down, he noticed an engraving in the wooden grip. Carved into the side was an H engraved twice.


    ¡°H and H. Howell Herman,¡± Dante said, and he turned to the others with the revolver, saying, ¡°So Wright killed Howell and took his gun. Then, he killed Baron and finally killed Aki. Now, he¡¯s gone and disappeared. Who else could be Virgil but him?¡±


    ¡°One moment,¡± Misha said, and she took the revolver. With a snap, she opened up the gun to reveal that the chamber was empty.


    Dante, however, was quick to refute.


    ¡°So what if it¡¯s empty? Wright could¡¯ve easily taken the empty casing, left the gun, and vanished.¡±


    Misha¡¯s response was to take the gun and wipe the barrel with a handkerchief. When she unfolded it, she revealed not a hint of gunpowder.


    ¡°He could¡¯ve cleaned the gun and then left it behind,¡± Dante argued, and Misha shook her head no.


    ¡°Impossible. There¡¯s no way to thoroughly clean a gun in such a short amount of time. And besides, this gun is so clean that it looks unused. In fact, from how difficult it was to open the chamber, it probably was never opened. It¡¯s most likely an ornamental weapon ¡ª something to make its owner seem tougher than they are.¡±


    ¡°Then forget this gun,¡± Dante said. ¡°Instead, why don¡¯t we talk about the bullet wound itself? From the way everything¡¯s placed, from the slumped corpse to the blood on the wall, it¡¯s clear that she was shot here. There¡¯s no possibility of her corpse being dragged over here from somewhere else like with Howell¡¯s corpse.¡±


    Dante, with the confidence of a detective, created his case.


    ¡°This is how things went down. Wright, after being left alone with Aki, shot and killed her before dropping Howell¡¯s revolver which he stole prior.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then where did he go?¡± Misha asked, and she pointed above to the balcony, saying, ¡°We were up there, and when I looked down, I saw no one running away. The balcony above overlooks both entrances to the ballroom.¡±


    Erika stepped in, asking, ¡°What about the gunshots?¡±


    ¡°Gunshots?¡±


    ¡°There were two of them. Didn¡¯t you hear?¡±


    Dante turned back to the body, and to his shock, there was only one bullet wound. Calina, being a doctor, came over to verify that fact. Aside from being ¡®faceless¡¯, Aki was also missing their second bullet. Looking around, Dante found no evidence of a second bullet, which could¡¯ve been lodged into the walls or even the roof above.


    He bit down, hard, then came up with his most rational answer.


    ¡°There were two gunshots,¡± he proclaimed, ¡°and while the first one hit Aki, the second one was a blank.¡±


    ¡°A blank?¡± Erika asked, and Dante nodded.


    ¡°You only heard it, and looking around, there¡¯s no evidence of a second one. If the second one was a blank, then it¡¯s possible to hear both shots.¡±


    ¡°A blank? Then how do you explain this?¡± Misha asked, and she strolled over, past the body, and towards a new set of clues.


    A trail of blood. Small drops. They led from the body and towards one of the windows where a drop rested on the windowsill. Dante unlocked the latch, then looked out to find there was a depression in the piled up snow along with footprints. In the snow were scarlet drops of blood mixed with the snow-smothered Higanbana flowers that lined the outside.


    ¡°This! This is how Wright escaped!¡± Dante announced. ¡°He shot Aki, somehow got hurt in the process, and escaped out the window ¡ª blood dripping from his wound. He probably fell and made this depression in the snow.¡±


    ¡°Good theory,¡± Misha answered, peeking her head out all the same. ¡°Unfortunately, it looks like their footprints have been all but covered by the snow. It¡¯s impossible to follow. You¡¯ll only end up at a dead end.¡±


    ¡°What about the blood? We could follow a trail of blood.¡±


    ¡°Forget it. Didn¡¯t you forget something more important than blood?¡±


    Dante pulled his head back in, and with that, Misha shut the window, then did something he missed. She snapped the lock shut ¡ª the state it was in when they came to said window.


    ¡°Tell me, how did they lock the window from the outside?¡±


    Dante turned to find the others all in their own stalemates. Calina knelt before Aki¡¯s corpse with her hands clasped, praying for the proper departure of her soul. Iffrah stood and pressed both hands to her face while whispering a prayer of her own. Erika stood over the two, looked to Aki¡¯s corpse, and finally shut her eyes ¡ª a tepid, almost defeated expression on her lips.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. May you rest in peace,¡± Erika whispered, and she clasped her hands together, praying for a safe departure for her soul.


    Seeing the three pray filled Dante¡¯s heart with an unusual feeling, a mixture of both religious awe and creeping dread. Misha, however, clicked her tongue.


    ¡°Another impossible murder,¡± Misha mumbled. ¡°It looks like Princess Higanbana won¡¯t go easy on us. If there was any time to pray, now is it.¡± and she turned to Dante before reaching into her shirt to reveal a cross necklace. She brought the necklace up to his face with a raised eyebrow, as if it were an invitation.


    ¡°You¡¯re not trying to convert me, are you?¡± Dante asked ¡ª half bitter, half pained. Misha, to his surprise, shook her head no.


    ¡°If anyone¡¯s gonna do that, it¡¯s Calina. I¡¯m just leaving the option open for you ¡ª the option of repenting to whatever God you wish to pray to. Maybe then our princess will show us some mercy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in any Gods or religions,¡± Dante muttered. ¡°He hasn¡¯t shown himself to me, the same way the Princess hasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think these impossible murders and magic tricks are the princess¡¯ ways of showing herself to us?¡±


    Dante paused, then mulled over everything.


    ¡°The invitations. They were all from Virgil, and each of them had that golden coin,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe that a human could manage to get all nine letters sent to us all ¡ª people from all over the globe.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible. Oh, it¡¯s possible,¡± Misha replied. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. Criminals do the darndest things.¡±


    ¡°Then, there¡¯s Howell,¡± Dante said, pushing past the invitations themselves. ¡°He stepped back for a second, and in that short time frame he was killed. To have his frozen corpse pushed up against the door like that ¡ª it¡¯s just sadistic.¡±


    ¡°Cats love to play with their food,¡± Misha said, arms crossed all detective-like. She turned to him with a frown, going, ¡°Who knows. To the Princess, we¡¯re just mice for a cat like her to toy with. Howell was most likely her sharpening her claws ¡ª a bit of practice.¡±


    ¡°Then, there¡¯s Baron,¡± he mumbled, his voice softening. ¡°Even while he locked himself in his room, the Princess got him, bypassing the lock and the chain. She even went ahead and cut him to pieces, stealing his head and leaving him in that horrible, evil circle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d play rough too, if I had just freshly sharpened my claws like she had,¡± Misha replied, ¡°and because of our silence to his testing questions, he went ahead and locked himself away. What was meant to be a safe haven was instead his coffin. I wonder how he feels, being a victim of an impossible murder?¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re not careful we¡¯ll find out.¡±


    ¡°Then what about the next question?¡± she asked. ¡°When the bell rang, you supposedly had a letter appear on the dining room table. What sort of trick did she pull to do this?¡±


    Dante paused, then peered up towards the roof ¡ª which was the underbelly of the second floor. The floorboards looked tight, but had a gap wide enough to fit a letter, most likely. The flowers, however, were another question.


    Just how did a bouquet fall from the sky?


    ¡°Forget the letter,¡± he said, turning to point towards Howell¡¯s beheaded corpse. ¡°That¡¯s the next mystery. Did she really drop a corpse before us? We checked the upper support beams and there was no sign of a contraption that could do something like that.¡±


    ¡°Instead of the corpse, focus on the tape you heard,¡± Misha said, dragging his attention back to where it was needed. ¡°Think. Just who was on that tape?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. They were strangers. Noone here sounded anything like our Princess or Virgil.¡±


    ¡°Then that leaves us with two possibilities. Either they¡¯re really who they claim to be, or they¡¯re outsiders to the nine invitees.¡±


    She was right. Either they were who they claimed to be, or they were really outsiders. Something was off ¡ª something Dante wanted to point out.


    ¡°The Princess, she communicates in two ways. Either through letters or through the tapes. Anyone could write the letters, but the tapes ¡ª they need the woman and the man to keep continuity.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want new people masquerading as our princess and butler, now would we? That would just be immersion breaking,¡± Misha said, a small smile appearing on her face.


    ¡°And if that¡¯s the case, then¡­ then¡­¡±


    He racked his brain, only for no real outcome to surface.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± he asked himself out loud.


    He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Calina who shuffled up to him, nervousness painted on her face.


    ¡°What should we do about Aki?¡± Calina asked. ¡°If we leave her here, then princess will come steal her body. We can¡¯t let her do that, can we?¡±


    ¡°Well, since there¡¯s no police coming to save us, we may as well take things into our own hands,¡± Misha said, and she turned to him with a smile, asking, ¡°Won¡¯t you be a gentleman and help move her corpse away?¡±


    ¡°Move it?¡±


    ¡°To someplace safe,¡± Misha said. ¡°Even if our princess can phase through walls and teleport corpses, it couldn¡¯t hurt to put her corpse in a locked room. Then, the princess could go ahead and prove to us, once more, that she truly is a supernatural being.¡±


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s for the best,¡± Dante mumbled.


    With a huff and a deep breath in, he shut his eyes and moved close to the corpse. The scent of blood was overwhelming, and when he touched her arm, he felt a cold chill run down his spine and touch his hand. He pushed back every thought except one ¡ª the desire to bring their killer to justice.


    With Aki¡¯s corpse carried in his arms as if she were a princess, he followed Misha down the halls. Misha took the precaution of locking every single door she came across.


    Dante felt sick when he heard the popping of Aki¡¯s rigor mortis afflicted joints, and when he took the first step up a flight of stairs, her head rolled back and her jaws separated, opening up to reveal what was left.


    Only a few teeth remained. Some of them had been punched into her tongue, as if her face had been beaten in with the stock of a rifle. He gagged at the sight of it and even Misha, their hard boiled detective, looked away.


    All he could feel was a growing, burning wrath ¡ª wrath directed at Wright who he knew was roaming the halls of the castle uninhibited. As far as he knew, Wright probably possessed a secret master key of his own alongside the gun he used to kill Aki. He had to have set up every single event, carefully hiding behind his meek demeanor, tricking everyone into believing he was just a harmless man who could barely keep himself together.


    Setting Aki¡¯s corpse down and under the covers of the futon bed, Dante could do nothing but clench his teeth, bitterly, while he covered her entirely ¡ª ensuring that no one¡¯s memories of her smile could be tarnished by the bloody remains of her face.


    ¡°What should we do now?¡¯ Erika asked, standing by the doorway to the detective duo.


    Dante turned to her and shook his head, saying, ¡°Let¡¯s stick together. There¡¯s no point putting ourselves in danger by separating.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we try to open that iron gate?¡±


    ¡°No point,¡± he told her. ¡°Let¡¯s just enjoy one another¡¯s company till the snow storm blows over. Speaking of snow storms, how long do blizzards here last?¡±


    ¡°Five days,¡± Misha answered. ¡°At least, that¡¯s what Aki said.¡±


    Being reminded of that, Dante could do nothing but nod. Everyone left, and he locked the room up once more. Under his breath, he whispered ¡®rest in peace¡¯.


    The group gathered for dinner, again, and with a dreary soup to fill their stomachs, they were quick to return upstairs. They all split up and went into five bedrooms, their doors locked and their chains set. Each needed their own privacy ¡ª especially Dante after what had happened.


    Laying in bed, the same bed he laid in last night, he stared up and out the window. Listening to the winter winds howl, he couldn¡¯t help but feel defeated.


    While he and Misha were earlier working together to piece out the mystery before them, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of distrust he felt towards her. Staring up to the swirling snow outside, he took every snowflake and in his mind, tied them together to form a sort of constellation ¡ª one he quietly prayed could solve their mystery with a miracle.


    Of course, it did nothing but distract his mind. That¡¯s when he heard a knock and a familiar voice asking, ¡°May I come in?¡±


    Entering was Erika. He was surprised, but lacked the energy to poke fun at the idea of a noblewoman like her entering the room of a lowly commoner like him. She looked bothered, with her hair let down and her eyes a bit tired. Eyebags began to appear, acting as a shadow that opposed her long stemmed pipe.


    Erika came and took a seat on a chair, opposite of Dante who laid on the futon bed.


    ¡°So, this is how it is, eh?¡± Erika asked, sitting sideways, leaning against the backrest of the chair, muttering, ¡°The last thing I thought I¡¯d be doing was cowering in a room, sheltering away from a murderer.¡±


    ¡°The last thing I thought I¡¯d be doing was solving a series of impossible murders,¡± Dante replied. ¡°At first, I felt like this mystery was possible to solve, but the longer the day drags, the more I realize that things are getting too out of hand.¡±


    A silence filled the room.


    The two sat, one on a seat, the other in bed and on the ground. It could be interchangeable. They were too shaken up by the events to pay attention to things that honestly didn¡¯t matter. Erika sat and smoked, her coat pulled in tight for whatever warmth it gave her.


    In that silence, the two occasionally glanced around, eventually meeting eyes. Erika still wore that cursed flower in her hair. Maybe she liked it so much she ignored the inherent danger that came with side stepping warnings from the occult.


    ¡°Tell me, do you think these crimes are possible for a human to commit?¡±


    He turned to her with a pair of dull, unsure eyes, then shrugged.


    ¡°No matter how you look at it, it¡¯s an impossible murder. There was nowhere for Wright to go.¡±


    ¡°We came in from both entrances,¡± Erika added. ¡°The only other way out is through the window which was locked from the inside. How exactly is a human supposed to get away with a murder like that?¡±


    He sat and thought. They had all arrived at the crime scene at the same time so that ruled out the possibility of the culprit being among them. Additionally, like Erika said, there was no exit for Wright to take that wouldn¡¯t end up with him bumping into the others. Every room was locked by Misha who additionally placed a seal on searched rooms ¡ª slips of papers that proved whether or not someone had gone through said rooms.


    That ruled out the possibility that Wright left through the two entrances to the ballroom.


    ¡°It has to be the window,¡± Erika said. ¡°There¡¯s no other way he could¡¯ve escaped. But still, it was locked from the inside.¡±


    ¡°Then that means there¡¯s a second culprit. Wright killed, left, and someone else locked the window from the inside ¡ª swapping places with him.¡±


    ¡°Then who exactly did that?¡±


    There was only one reasonable answer, and with a breath in, he aired it.


    ¡°Princess Higanbana.¡±


    His theory was final. Wright killed Aki with a gunshot, fired a second blank shot, then left a decoy gun on her body. With that, he left through the unlocked window, Aki¡¯s splattered blood dripping off of him in a trail.


    Once he left, Princess Higanbana took it upon herself to lock the window once more, creating their closed room.


    ¡°So, we have our Virgil ¡ª Wright,¡± Erika said. ¡°The question is, who is Princess Higanbana?¡±


    Dante paused, then it hit him.


    ¡°The window¡­¡± he whispered. ¡°Did anyone see it and confirm it was locked?¡±


    ¡°Confirm? Well, Misha pointed it out, and ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Misha pointed it out,¡± Dante said, and Erika¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean ¡ª are you saying that Misha, in the panic and confusion of everyone seeing Aki¡¯s corpse, tricked us all by locking the window, creating the illusion of a closed room?¡±


    ¡°What else could it be?¡±


    ¡°But Misha is the detective,¡± she argued. ¡°She can¡¯t be the culprit. It breaks the ten commandments.¡±


    Hearing that, Dante simply smirked knowing that he already broke a few of the commandments, then laid back and stared up to the ceiling.


    ¡°Perhaps she is. Perhaps she isn¡¯t. However, if I had to guess, it has to be her. Noone else fits the position of Princess Higanbana better than her.¡±


    Erika came over, slumping out of her seat to sit next to him on the futon bed.


    ¡°Even if she is, do you want to believe one of us nine are the culprit?¡± she asked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather believe it was a supernatural entity, rather than have one of the nine stab you in the back?¡±


    Dante remembered it, how Misha pulled out her Octavian cross. It was an invitation to faith ¡ª to believing in a higher power, whether that be Gods or Demons.


    ¡°You know, all my life, I never believed in things like faith or miracles,¡± Erika said, sitting next to him. ¡°Now that I¡¯m here, however, I feel like things have¡­ changed. I never understood why people grasped onto things like faith, but now I think I get it.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Then tell me ¡ª why do people believe in nonsense?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s better than the alternative. Do you think the others¡¯ deaths were fated to happen or random coincidences out of sheer convenience for our culprit?¡±


    He paused, then simply shrugged.


    ¡°What difference would it make?¡±


    ¡°Would you rather their souls disappear forever or go to Heaven?¡±


    Dante, hearing that, reached into his coat to pull out a cigarette. He brought a lighter to the end, but before he could light it, Erika stopped him ¡ª handing him her fancy, gold sealed pipe.


    He took that pipe and blew out a huff of smoke followed by a lung¡¯s worth of coughing. Whatever tobacco she smoked, it was strong.


    ¡°You know, smoking¡¯s bad for you,¡± Erika said, a hint of playfulness in her voice.


    ¡°I know,¡± he answered. ¡°After all, it killed your father. Mister Portinari ¡ª dead from lung cancer. He left his ruined fortune to his only family, his only daughter.¡±


    ¡°And despite that, I still hold on,¡± she answered. ¡°I¡¯m a real glutton, eh? Smoking the same tobacco that killed my father ¡ª it¡¯s like he died in vain.¡±


    The two grew close. Dante sat up, then proceeded to wrap an arm around her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re still young. You¡¯ve got plenty of time to make up.¡±


    He reached up to her ear and brushed his finger against the legs of the spider lily.


    ¡°You know, at first, I thought a rose would fit you better.¡±


    ¡°A rose?¡±


    ¡°Beautiful. Elegant. Barbed with iron thorns,¡± he answered. ¡°Looks delicate, but if I play rough and hurt you, you¡¯ll pay me back tenfold.¡±


    She paused, then ran a finger across her teeth, gliding over a set of awfully sharp canines fit for a vampire.


    ¡°I suppose. I¡¯ve got quite the set of fangs,¡± she said, ¡°but what do you mean, at first?¡±


    ¡°At first I thought a rose would fit you, but the Higanbana flower is far more fitting. Elegant, unsettling and impossibly beautiful. You¡¯re a flower that blooms in Hell, one that guides people like me down the right path.¡±


    ¡°The right path?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I should rethink it all,¡± he answered. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s worth believing ¡ª to have faith that everything¡¯s gonna turn out all right.¡±


    Dante took in a breath, then fell backwards ¡ª pulling Erika down onto her back with him.


    ¡°I¡¯m a man who came from nowhere, and as far as I¡¯m concerned, I¡¯ll disappear into nothingness,¡± he confessed.


    Erika turned towards him, and one look into his eyes said it all.


    ¡°Dante Searcher,¡± she asked. ¡°Just who are you?¡±


    He paused, then finally he confessed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    In a year¡¯s time, so much can change. Whether it¡¯s a baby¡¯s first words or a rookie pianist¡¯s first perfect performance, the world moves forward and everything is dragged towards tomorrow. Unfortunately, there are those who are trapped ¡ª trapped and unable to step forwards.


    His whole life, he felt that way. From the first memories to the fateful day a letter arrived to his ¡®name¡¯.


    Like an unsolved case, he one day woke up. With no memories to his name, he was an enigma, one that the local church took in. According to the priest who ran the place, he was picked up by a local fisherman who found him washed up on the beaches of the seaside city. Where he came from and who he was ¡ª they were answers they couldn¡¯t shake out of him.


    Out of empathy, the old priest took him in along with other lost souls, and for the longest time, he spent his days trying to remember memories that may or may not even exist. Trust in God¡¯s plan, the priest had told him, but as the days rolled on, he just couldn¡¯t bring himself to believe in that higher spirit.


    That was until a letter marked with an ¡®I¡¯ appeared at the doorsteps of the church.


    The priest was the first to see it, and seeing as it wasn¡¯t for him he turned to the others. The others, however, all shook their heads in refusal, telling the priest it wasn¡¯t sent to them.


    That¡¯s when the letter fell by his feet, and reading the letter, he felt his frozen heart beat again. He was the only one to take it and tear the seal open, revealing the coin, ticket and letter.


    ¡°To Dante Searcher,


    I am in need of your services. A mystery eludes me and I require your assistance in solving this ¡®crime¡¯. I¡¯ve spent enough time to know that this is out of my hands, and with that, I turn to the wisdom of others who¡¯ve lived different lives in this massive world. Inside this letter is a coin made of pure gold, this letter, and a ticket towards your future.


    Think of the coin as a down payment. In due time, when the curtains close and the spectacle comes to an end, you will be properly repaid. Your payment will not be gold, but something far more important ¡ª the very truth you were searching for.


    With my Lady¡¯s will engraved into my heart,


    Virgil.¡±

 Chapter 6 :

    Whispers filled the room. The snowstorm raged on harder than before, smothering the windows in a layer of ice and the rest of the world beneath a blanket of snow. Everyone had hidden away in their own rooms, but after hours of staring out towards nothing, that feeling of fear and dread melted away.


    Iffrah, all alone, worked with a fountain pen and used its sharp tip to try and pierce open the mystery at hand.


    How could someone kill, then disappear like that? The doors were all locked by Misha beforehand and the window where the blood led to was locked ¡ª something that was impossible to do from the outside. She tried to make a diagram on paper, but the more she planned out the murderer¡¯s movements, the tougher things became.


    Maybe they entered through the door Calina was using, killed Aki and Wright, then escaped out the window with Wright¡¯s body carried over their shoulder?


    No. The window was locked from the outside, making it impossible to escape that way.


    Maybe they entered through the door, killed and fired a blank, then escaped through the same door, creating the blood trail as misdirection?


    No. They''d bumped into Calina, Iffrah and Erika who all came through said door once the gunfire was heard. They were all together from start to end.


    Maybe they rappelled down from above, shot the two, threw Wright¡¯s corpse out the window, then climbed up to the second floor to ¡®disappear¡¯ before hiding said corpse?


    No. Misha and Dante were upstairs. While they couldn¡¯t see what was going on on the first floor, they could have seen that happen.


    The more her pen wrote, the more and more she realized that there were a thousand possible methods of murder, and yet, every one of them hit a dead end. The further she went down this speculative path, the more she realized that this just wasn¡¯t a possible murder.


    Princess Higanbana¡¯s words rang through the castle like the chimes of a church bell, marking every square inch as her territory, and every few hours that cursed bell rang ¡ª reminding everyone that time was ticking away.


    Her pen wrote and wrote scenarios until finally she gave in.


    Only four letters remained.


    B is one of them. For sure.


    But what about the rest?


    B¡­ what could connect to it? Beau? Bela? Bika? Bret?


    There were thousands of combinations, but those combinations involved words that just didn¡¯t fit under the terminology of ¡®name¡¯. In reality, the fact that the princess gave out the clue of finding her name cut that number down to a couple hundred.


    Of course, that meant finding a woman¡¯s name that started with a B and had three following letters. Though, thinking about it now, she realized that it may or may not even be a proper name. A name this short could¡¯ve been an abbreviation, or maybe even a nickname.


    But a nickname? That tacked on a million different combinations. Nicknames were as frivolous as they came, with most of them being made up on the spot with no real thought put behind them ¡ª as frivolous as a tree shedding red, brown and golden leaves in the autumntime.


    The further she dove down that rabbit hole, the further she was dragged into the singular belief that the culprit truly was their supernatural host.


    That tore away at her mind, and in due time, she undid the chain and twisted open the lock of her door before sliding it open. With that note in hand, she made her way through the dark halls of the castle. The howling winds deafened the world, and every time she passed by a window in that hall, she was reminded that they were truly trapped in an isolated world.


    ¡°Dante Searcher, just who are you?¡± she heard. It was Erika¡¯s voice through the door of what wasn¡¯t her room.


    Eavesdropping in, she heard it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he answered.


    At that moment she realized just what was going on. She suspected it from the beginning, but hearing it this way, she couldn¡¯t believe it. Dante truly wasn¡¯t who he made himself out to be.


    Of course, that didn¡¯t mean he really was Virgil, but she couldn¡¯t shake the thought.


    That¡¯s when she felt a hand grab her wrist, and before she could let out a scream, the other hand covered her mouth.


    ¡°Hush,¡± she heard. It was Misha, and seeing her, she calmed down a bit ¡ª enough for her to be ungagged.


    ¡°What are you doing, skulking around like this?¡± Misha asked. ¡°You aren¡¯t planning on finding our killer yourself, are you? You¡¯d just be inviting trouble.¡±


    ¡°I was just going to get myself a drink,¡± she answered. She wasn¡¯t lying, but at the same time, wasn¡¯t quite telling the truth.


    Misha frowned, then let out a sigh, saying, ¡°Let¡¯s discuss this somewhere safe.¡±


    She brought her back to her room which was quite far from Dante¡¯s room, and with the chain set and lock shut, she began the interrogation. Iffrah spilled every last bean, and hearing that, Misha couldn¡¯t help but grow a smile.


    ¡°Well, so Dante isn¡¯t who he makes himself out to be, is he?¡± she asked. ¡°Then, there¡¯s no doubt about it. He¡¯s Virgil¡¯s fake identity and Erika is his beloved princess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying that,¡± Iffrah argued,¡± but what I heard was true. He¡¯s not who he claims he is ¡ª but don¡¯t go thinking you can pin whatever you want on him because you¡¯re probably wrong.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯d be wrong?¡± Misha asked, arrogantly.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like you know any of us. You don¡¯t know where we came from and what sorts of backgrounds we have.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s where you¡¯re mistaken.¡±


    Misha pulled out a familiar set of items. In her pocket were five letters delivered to the following people.


    Misha Asimov; VII


    Calina Dostoevsky; VIII


    Howell Herman; IX


    Baron Gadro; VI


    And of course, Shinjiro Aki; V


    All five letters rested in her hand, and with that, Misha announced the truth.


    ¡°We¡¯re missing the first four,¡± Misha said, ¡°and thinking about it now, I have to guess that you¡¯re number two, correct?¡±


    Iffrah paused, then revealed her letter. Marked on the page was the letter II.


    ¡°I was wondering what it meant,¡± Iffrah said, ¡°but, the further along things went, the less and less things made sense. There¡¯s no pattern to predict with. The numbers may as well be meaningless.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they have meaning.¡± and Misha pointed to her pipe, saying, ¡°You are the embodiment of lust, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°L - Lust!?¡±


    ¡°You were going for a drink, but if I had to guess, you weren¡¯t planning on drinking alone, were you?¡± Misha asked, definitively.


    ¡°So what if I was?¡± Iffrah asked. ¡°Why, it doesn¡¯t make me any more guilty of anything.¡± and losing her cool, she threw up her arms, shouting, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being stressed in this kind of situation! I¡¯ll go ahead and make the princess¡¯ job easier by drowning myself in booze.¡±


    Misha unveiled the letters, digging through them one by one.


    ¡°Howell was labeled the ninth after he sold out his battalion of soldiers. Baron was labeled the sixth after using his influence and connection to the Ennian Emperor to hound the Octavian Sect. Aki was labeled the fifth after accidentally killing a schoolmate she hated.¡± and she turned to her with a frown, looking into her very soul, asking, ¡°Just what did you do to be labeled with the sin of lust?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing,¡± she answered, all stern, unwilling to cooperate. ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing, and there''s nothing for me to be indicted on. I am no criminal, do you understand?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to indict you. I need to know the contents of your letter, not to criminalize you, but to understand Virgil and his princess better. Depending on what kinds of secrets he knows about us, we might be able to pin his identity down on a single person.¡±


    Hearing that, Erika paused, then turned to her with a frown.


    ¡°I¡¯ll confess. So long as you do the same.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure.¡±


    Misha pulled out a badge, then pulled out a revolver of her own. The barrel was dirty with grime and one of the cylinders was shattered ¡ª as if a bullet had hit it. Staring down the barrel of the gun, Iffrah froze, until Misha finally returned it to its rightful holster.


    ¡°I was a detective. Stopped being one when I killed the chief,¡± Misha confessed. ¡°In my career I met the worst of criminals, but those folk were nothing compared to the bastards holding office.¡±


    ¡°You killed your boss?¡±


    ¡°The day I learnt of his crimes, I was no longer his employee,¡± she answered, all too nonchalantly. ¡°I¡¯m a detective. I drag the truth to light. Doesn¡¯t matter who. Doesn¡¯t matter how.¡±


    ¡°Why should I trust you? Why should any of us trust you?¡± Iffrah asked. ¡°Hell ¡ª who¡¯s to say you aren¡¯t actually our Princess Higanbana?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I am,¡± she answered, ¡°but you aren¡¯t innocent either, are you?¡±


    Lust. According to the Octavian sect, it was one of the nine infernal sins. Iffrah knew all too well that she partook in that sin, and with every past memory, she felt herself sink deeper into Hell. The feeling welled up in her chest, and finally, she gave in.


    ¡°I was wondering about it myself,¡± Iffrah confessed, ¡°but thinking about it now, I understand. It was my father who always warned me ¡ª telling me to do as he said, to forget about a boy I met and fell in love with in favor of an arranged marital partner. He told me that that boy was dead and never coming back, and still¡­¡±


    Hearing that, Misha¡¯s gaze softened.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your loss,¡± she said, all too softly. Misha reached into the inner pocket of her coat to pull out a small canteen, one she handed to her.


    Unscrewing the cap, Iffrah took a sniff before wincing. Whatever it was, it was as harsh as booze came.


    ¡°It¡¯s Cliesen vodka,¡± Misha said. ¡°Drink it. It¡¯s harsh, but it¡¯ll help you sleep.¡±


    Iffrah stared at the bottle, then drowned her sorrows with alcohol.


    Morning came. Alone in bed, Dante rose, and staring out the window, he noticed something he never could¡¯ve imagined. For the first time, the snow subsided. The blizzard came to a halt and the world stood still, covered in a blanket of snow. Erika had left and returned to her room after their talk, leaving him alone.


    He couldn¡¯t believe his eyes, but when he regained feeling in his body, he hastily undid the chain and made his way towards the others.


    Of course, things couldn¡¯t be that simple.


    ¡°Dante!¡± he heard. Running down the hall was Calina who tossed aside a pair of bolt cutters before grabbing him by the shoulders.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Erika!¡± she cried. ¡°She¡¯s missing!¡±


    Once again, the princess struck. He ran over to find the chain cut and the room Erika slept in completely empty. Before he knew it, Dante found himself flying down the halls with the second master key delivered to him by Calina. According to her, Misha had already gone off to find Erika, leaving the two to search together.


    While the snow subsided and the blizzard came to a halt, they couldn¡¯t leave just yet. Not without all of the survivors.


    ¡°Erika!? Erika!?¡± Dante cried, his voice echoing through the halls. With the twist of the key, he passed by empty room after empty room.


    That¡¯s when he made his way to the main chamber by the proper entrance of the castle, and there, they found the answer to a question they had asked, but not wanted answered.


    They thought he somehow escaped on his own through the locked window ¡ª an impossible feat. As punishment, they were forced to bear witness to what remained of him.


    Like paint, blood streaked the walls of the room, as if someone had brought a brush and ran down the perimeter, tracing the walls, allowing it to smear down in a macabre display. The scent of iron filled the room and their eyes were dragged to the center where the remains sat.


    A chair sat in the center and seated was none other than Wright. Wright stared back at the two, but after a moment, Dante realized that it was one sided. Approaching him, he noticed a glimmer of gold.


    First, he saw his teeth. They shone bright, glimmering with gold. Then, he noticed his shoulders. They were unusually bulky, as if something had been stuffed into them. His clothes were warped and his face looked slightly¡­ bloated. It was as if Wright had stuffed his cheeks like a squirrel.


    ¡°What the Hell?¡± Dante muttered, creeping close to the still body.


    The body twitched. A single finger shuddered and with it, Wright¡¯s arm dropped to his side, allowing a slew of golden coins to spill out of his sleeve. All sorts of golden jewelry pooled by the legs of the chair, a remarkable, contrasting sight in comparison to the blood that laid, splattered against the walls.


    Dante approached, and when he touched his arm, Wright¡¯s head craned back, revealing a wound on his throat. A red IV had been carved into him. Stuffed into Wright¡¯s mouth were golden coins held back by gold teeth that looked like they had been forced into his defanged gums. Shoved into his ears were bundles of golden chains and dug into his fingers were golden rings that were too small for him ¡ª small enough to turn his constricted fingers a purplish black in contrast to his pale, bloodless self. Golden nuggets spilled out of his mouth while a pair of golden needles were stuck into his dull irises like throwing darts.


    ¡°IV. It is the circle of greed,¡± Calina whispered. ¡°This is punishment, for sure.¡±


    ¡°Then, does this mean it wasn¡¯t Wright who killed Aki?¡± Dante asked, and Calina paused.


    ¡°Perhaps, but it may not be like that,¡± she answered. ¡°Maybe there are two culprits.¡±


    Two culprits? Looking back at it now, he went back to the start. Back to Howell. One culprit could¡¯ve distracted everyone inside for long enough while the other hidden person found, killed, and set up Howell¡¯s corpse by the door.


    Next came Baron. Baron was a tough man, and being aligned so closely with nobility, he definitely had military training. A second person would be mandatory if any killer wanted to take him down.


    And finally, Wright. Seeing as he was marked with the sin of greed, he could¡¯ve been bribed to aid in the murders, and when his usefulness dried up, his partner could¡¯ve gotten rid of him and turned him into an example.


    The concept of a second killer was too great and too impactful on what was possibly a murder committed by humans. The idea of a vengeful deity was just plain absurd. There was no way that monsters existed.


    At least, that¡¯s what he wanted to believe. Looking at Calina, he noticed something wrong.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Iffrah?¡±


    Picking between finding Erika and going back for Iffrah, he chose the woman who wasn¡¯t missing over the girl who was, and that¡¯s when he saw Misha knocking on her door.


    ¡°Misha? What¡¯s going on?¡± Dante asked, and she turned to him with concern on her face.


    ¡°Iffrah, she isn¡¯t answering.¡±


    Misha took her master key and unlocked the door.


    Right underneath their noses, tied to a rope, Iffrah became the fifth to go. It, however, wasn¡¯t a murder. Rather, a suicide. With a chair kicked aside and a rope up above, she had hanged herself.


    Peacefully, she slept. Her black hair ran down like curtains from above, and standing beneath the dangling woman was Dante ¡ª too stunned to breath.


    That¡¯s when he noticed a piece of paper on the windowsill. Marked on the front was an ominous II. Nothing else was written on it, but with one glance, Misha could gather the clues to a potential motive.


    ¡°It¡¯s a suicide letter,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s an apology from her.¡±


    ¡°An apology?¡±


    ¡°Maybe death was her punishment for her own crime, or maybe a way to return to someone she lost.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡±


    Dante stood still, staring at the hanging corpse, unable to believe the sight before him. Dante felt a tug on his hand. Behind was Calina who pulled him to the door.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask questions you won¡¯t get answers to,¡± Calina said, all too gently. ¡°Come. She would not want you to see her like this, yes?¡±


    Dante was the one to close the door, but for a brief moment he stared at her hanging corpse ¡ª too dumbfounded to think.


    The three of them stood outside of Calina¡¯s room. He felt the world spin around him, but something tugged on his mind. In the corner of his eye, he saw it. A red petal. On the floor was a torn spider leg of the Higanbana flower.


    ¡°This flower,¡± he said, and when he picked it up, he saw it. ¡°This flower¡¯s wilted.¡±


    ¡°These flowers are bad omens,¡± Misha said. ¡°Noone¡¯s going out of their way to pick the flower of the other side in Princess Higanbana¡¯s castle.¡±


    ¡°Noone but me,¡± Dante mumbled.


    He looked back. Behind him was Erika¡¯s room. Below him was the petal. Ahead of him must have been where she went.


    He followed that trail with Misha parting to search on her own. With Calina, Dante followed a sort of trail made of pieces of Erika¡¯s possessions. First was the flower petal. Next was spilt ash from her tobacco pipe and finally, he came across something deeply concerning.


    Blood. Seeing a splash of blood on the ground that was still moist only filled him with dread. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Erika, please be alright,¡± he mumbled to himself. ¡°I can¡¯t lose anyone else. Of all people, I can¡¯t lose you.¡±


    Now, of all times, they needed faith. Calina chose to stay back and pray for her safety while Dante chose to take matters into his own two hands. Pushing through the halls, he felt the walls of the castle close in on him as if it was alive, but he knew better than to succumb to perception and delusion.


    Even if the entire castle and its princess tried to drag him to his knees, he refused to buckle and acknowledge the existence of the supernatural.


    No amount of illusions and tricks could convince him. No closed room, no impossible murder, no inhuman crime would go unsolved. Everything had a human solution to them, for sure. It was just a matter of time and sleuthing before he found them.


    ¡°Erika!? Erika!¡± Dante shouted, but before he could go on any further, Calina stopped him, grasping him by the wrist.


    ¡°Dante?¡± she asked. ¡°If we find her, what are you planning to do?¡±


    ¡°Planning to do?¡± he asked, and he stood firm, saying, ¡°I¡¯m getting her help, and together we¡¯re gonna find the culprit and drag them out.¡±


    ¡°Together?¡± Calina asked, but she was interrupted by a thud.


    Dante ran after that thud, and pushing his way past doors with the master key, he made his way to the source. It was all the way back at the kitchen, and making his way past the stoves, he heard the thud again. It sounded like someone pounding against a door.


    ¡°Erika?¡± he said, and he saw a door shudder from a kick.


    With the master key he opened it up, and to his relief, it was Erika. She had been tied and gagged, but other than that, she looked like she was in good condition. Freeing her, she let out a gasp.


    ¡°Dante!¡± she cried, and to his surprise she pulled him into a hug, one that washed away the dread and replaced it with a soft and warm relief. Her Higanbana flower had been damaged, losing most of its petals.


    He was just glad to see she was alright, and with an outstretched hand, he pulled her back onto her feet. She stood, stumbled over, and leaned against him ¡ª as if her motor functions and balance had been stripped away. She looked paler than usual, and judging from everything about her, she had most likely been drugged or poisoned.


    ¡°Calina?¡± Dante asked. ¡°What sorts of medicine do you have? Anything to help against poison?¡±


    ¡°Calina?¡± Erika asked, and she peered over his shoulder to find nothing at all.


    Calina was gone, and from that point on, Dante knew.


    ¡°Calina and Misha,¡± he whispered. ¡°Virgil and the princess. There¡¯s no other explanation.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me ¡ª¡±


    ¡°It has to be them,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s no other way. It has to be them.¡±


    ¡°Calina was with you? But if it¡¯s them, then why leave us alive? Why not kill us both while they had the chance?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask questions like that. You¡¯ll never get a satisfying answer.¡±


    Dante looked out from the safety of the kitchen, then reached down to his pocket.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you,¡± Dante said.


    He pulled out his letter. Erika¡¯s eyes widened when he saw it ¡ª a mark of ink written in a harsh I.


    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re the first,¡± Erika whispered.


    ¡°I am the first circle ¡ª the sin of limbo.¡±


    Dante was taken in by the Octavian Sect and in turn, they taught him all about Heaven and Hell, more precisely the nine circles in which every sinner is sent to. He was expecting it, but couldn¡¯t quite believe that he would be marked with the first circle ¡ª the circle of limbo.


    There, those who died before being baptized or those who believed in other religions were kept. He didn¡¯t quite believe himself to be a person worthy of being sent to a place as nice as limbo, but he couldn¡¯t argue with it. He refused to be baptized and had always kept the concept of God at an arm¡¯s length ¡ª the perfect recipe for a ticket to the first circle.


    Dante


    Iffrah


    Erika


    Wright


    Aki


    Baron


    Misha


    Calina


    Howell


    One to nine. Every circle had been assembled.


    ¡°This castle,¡± Erika muttered. ¡°The home of the flower that blooms in Hell. It truly is the other shore.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only what you make of it.¡± and Dante revealed something he couldn¡¯t show to anyone ¡ª something he could only reveal now that there were only four people left alive.


    ¡°Tell me, Erika. Why are you here? Why exactly did Virgil invite you?¡±


    ¡°To solve the supposed mystery in exchange for gold.¡±


    Dante reached into his coat and pulled out a revolver.


    ¡°Virgil invited me here for something else ¡ª or rather, he wanted Dante here for another reason.¡± and he opened up the cylinder to reveal four bullets.


    ¡°That gun ¡ª¡±


    ¡°He wanted Dante to catch and kill the culprit¡­ but now, there¡¯s no point ¡ª no reason to risk our lives.¡±


    In one hand, he carried the gun. In the other, he reached down to take Erika¡¯s hand.


    ¡°The snowstorm¡¯s gone. Now¡¯s our chance to escape.¡±


    ¡°Escape? But what about solving the murders? What about catching the culprit?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t risk your life for a promise I made to someone else,¡± he said, and with her hand in his, he helped guide her out the castle.


    His revolver was like a torch that lit up the inhospitable castle, giving him the confidence he needed to make his way through and past the rows of Higanbanas. With the snow subsiding, the red spider lilies popped out of the ground once more, surrounding the castle and peeking in through the windows.


    Whether the castle was cursed or not, he was focused single mindedly on the human culprits who roamed the princess¡¯ domain. The two moved in rapid succession, hiding behind corners and peeking out before moving from hall to hall. The bitter cold seeped through the walls, turning the castle into a massive freezer. Their breaths fogged before them, a terrible sight.


    Just how long could they survive the outdoors? Enough to make it back to the port? Were the gold coins they had enough to purchase a ticket back to Cobell where they belonged? The further he went, the more and more these questions ate away at his mind.


    Even if they could escape, there was no telling that they¡¯d make it. Knowing that, Dante held onto her advice and with his eyes shut, he put everything in the hands of fate. Faith and hope were his remaining chess pieces in his game against the culprit.


    Of course, the princess did everything to hinder him, and that¡¯s when he felt a thud against his back. Erika stumbled against him and looking at her, he could tell she didn¡¯t have the strength to move on. He was willing to give up life and limb to help her escape, but to his surprise, she looked at him with a wincing frown.


    ¡°Leave me and go,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m nothing but dead weight. I¡¯ll slow you down.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Dante said, and he grasped her wrist, saying, ¡°How could I leave you behind?¡±


    ¡°My legs ¡ª they won¡¯t listen to me. There¡¯s no point taking me with you, it¡¯ll just get the both of us killed.¡±


    ¡°Erika,¡± Dante said, and to her shock, he held her, then brushed a hand through her hair and past the Higanbana flower¡¯s stem.


    ¡°I¡¯m a man with no past, present or future. I have nothing, came from nothing, and will disappear into nothingness all the same,¡± he confessed. ¡°I¡¯ve failed everyone here, but if I could at least save you, I can die knowing I did something good with my life.¡±


    ¡°Dante, I ¡ª¡±


    ¡°When this is all over and we make it back to safety, I want to start over,¡± he said. ¡°No more lies. No more illusions. No more deceptions. When this is over, I want you to give me a new name ¡ª a new identity.¡±


    ¡°Dante, please. Don¡¯t say those things.¡±


    ¡°When I leave this castle, I¡¯ll do as Virgil wrote to me and discard the name Dante Searcher,¡± he stated. ¡°I¡¯ll live a new, renewed life ¡ª a new life as Dante Portinari.¡±


    Hearing that, tears welled up in both their eyes. Erika bit down bitterly, then broke out into a genuine smile.


    ¡°I told you, you shouldn¡¯t toy with peoples¡¯ hearts like that.¡±


    ¡°From now on, I keep my promises. I won¡¯t let any demonic princess or culprit get in my way.¡±


    That¡¯s right. For you ¡ª for us all, I¡¯ll have the faith to live on. Even if I never regain my memories and remember who I was, it won¡¯t matter.


    Iffrah¡¯s faith won¡¯t die in vain. He would never, ever believe she died in any other way than murder. The noose was nothing but a red herring ¡ª a falsehood to tie her death up in tangles and knots. He didn¡¯t need a blade to sever the knots. He needed only his faith in her.


    That faith became action, and with faith, he gripped his revolver tight. He¡¯d have no mercy for the culprit(s).


    He gripped not her wrist, but held her hand, and together they retraced their steps, all the way back to the tunnel. There, they passed by the puddle of ice where he smashed open and obtained the master key he held.


    Snow piled up against the metal grate entrance, but with all his strength, he managed to yank open the gate. Climbing up against the pile of snow, he pulled Erika over.


    Finally, they were outside once more, and with a large shared coat, they huddled together, sharing body warmth against the freezing winds. The princess didn¡¯t want them to leave, but no matter how low the temperature dropped, they refused to turn back.


    They trailed out through the ankle deep snow, all the way back to the forest that they came through. The silver lanterns that led them there had all vanished beneath the winter winds and the river froze over, disappearing under a layer of snow.


    He saw something strange in the distance. Wrapped around the branches of the barren trees was a sort of string ¡ª something like police tape. Upon closer inspection, he saw it. Rope.


    Twine rope crept up the trees like vines. Tied to said rope were those familiar sealing talismans. They formed a ring that surrounded the cursed castle, keeping evil spirits in, trapping them for eternity.


    Standing before them was a priestess who devoted her life to warding away demons. It was none other than Calina armed with a revolver of her own, and judging from the broken barrel, it was Misha¡¯s.


    ¡°Stop!¡± she cried. ¡°You go no further, Virgil!¡±


    Her voice was different. Her face was different. Everything was different. It was as if her choppy speech and meek self was nothing but an act, a front she tossed aside at the final act.


    ¡°Calina!?¡± Erika said, and Dante was quick to stand in front of her, guarding her from whatever threats filled the forest. He stood firm and unmoving. The fear he felt before had disappeared and in its place was a sort of determination ¡ª a faith he held onto in the face of unfavorable odds.


    Calina was that unfavorable odd, and with a cold expression, she gripped the gun in one hand.


    ¡°So, you think I¡¯m Virgil, is that it?¡± Dante asked. ¡°You think I¡¯m Virgil and Erika here is the supposed princess?¡±


    ¡°Misha said it,¡± Calina answered, her accent gone and speech fluent ¡ª proof she was faking her inexperience. ¡°She explained everything. She proved that you two are the culprits.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then let¡¯s have a deal,¡± Dante said, and he lowered his gun to his side, saying, ¡°If you can prove either me or Erika could¡¯ve been responsible for the deaths of everyone here, then I¡¯ll surrender myself to the police and take all the blame.¡±


    ¡°Surrender?¡±


    ¡°However, if you can¡¯t explain how a victim died from humans like us, then you have no choice but to pin the blame on Princess Higanbana.¡±


    Erika winced when she saw Calina pull down the hammer of her revolver, but with a breath in, she gave way.


    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s make a deal.¡±


    ¡°First murder. Howell Herman. We found him dead against the exit door. How could we have possibly killed him?¡±


    ¡°Misha explained this one. She said that you, Erika and Iffrah worked together, killed Howell, and pretended to find him dead,¡± Calina responded.


    ¡°What about the key Iffrah and I found? We found it in the ice. There¡¯s no way we could¡¯ve done all that in that short of a time period, right?¡± Dante asked, a smirk growing on his face.


    Calina, however, wouldn¡¯t be put down that easily.


    ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°Says who?¡± Dante repeated, and Calina nodded.


    ¡°Who says the key was with Howell? Why should I trust you and Iffrah¡¯s claim when I believe you two are murderers? Why should the police trust what you say?¡±


    It was a fair point. If he was the culprit, he could¡¯ve easily lied about obtaining the key that way. The first murder was proclaimed to be possible and definitely done by a human.


    ¡°Second murder,¡± Dante said, moving forwards. ¡°Baron Gadro. He locked himself in his room, chained himself shut, and yet he was somehow murdered. Only Misha had the keys and the bolt cutters were in the room where said keys were stored. How could a human possibly enter a room that was chained shut, then escape with the chain still set? How could a human possibly commit an impossible closed room murder?¡±


    ¡°The murder was not impossible,¡± Calina responded. ¡°You were right. Misha and I lied. The chain was never set. Baron did not want to set it because he was afraid of a possible heart attack and did not want the chain stopping us from saving him.¡±


    ¡°So you did lie, but why?¡± Erika asked.


    ¡°It set the precedent,¡± she answered. ¡°By setting the precedent of impossible murders, the culprits would have to stage more difficult murders to keep up the farce that they are demons, not human.¡±


    ¡°By setting the precedent, the culprit would have to make more and more elaborate murders to have us believe they were a demon,¡± Erika said. ¡°By doing that, they¡¯d have a lot less leeway in their kills, making them more vulnerable to making mistakes that could unravel their entire game.¡±


    ¡°If the chain really was unset, then I suppose there¡¯s no going around it. The murder really was possible,¡± Dante said, and he moved onto the next victim.


    ¡°How about Iffrah?¡± Dante asked. ¡°How was I responsible for her death?¡±


    ¡°Suicide is suicide. Even if we do not know why she did it, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that it was most likely the reason behind what happened. You may not be responsible for that, but that does not make a demon the cause of her death.¡±


    With that, Dante¡¯s growing uneasy expression shifted to something different ¡ª an expression of both sadness and wrath, but with a breath in, it vanished. He returned to his neutral, unmoving look.


    ¡°Next is Wright,¡± he said, all too calmly. ¡°How did I kill him? How did I splatter his blood all over the walls, stuff him with gold and drag him into the entrance room?¡±


    ¡°You met with him at night, killed him, and went ahead with the rest.¡±


    ¡°At the same time Erika was kidnapped? Shouldn¡¯t I have bumped into her and her kidnapper?¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t kidnapped,¡± Calina answered. ¡°Since she is your partner, she pretended to be kidnapped to get us to leave and find Wright.¡±


    ¡°Is that what Misha told you, or is that what you truly believe happened?¡±


    Calina looked down the sights of her revolver, and with both hands on the grip, she ensured a fatal shot ¡ª one trigger pull away.


    ¡°Next victim,¡± she ordered and Dante obliged.


    ¡°Finally, the death of Aki. Misha and I were upstairs, together. You, Erika and Iffrah were together on the first floor. Aki and Wright were together in the gate room where Misha and I were. How was Erika and I responsible for her death?¡±


    ¡°You were working with Wright who killed Aki, then disappeared.¡±


    ¡°Disappear to where?¡±


    Calina grit her teeth. Dante, hearing her hesitate, knew exactly what the situation was. His expression shifted from determination to a gentle smile fit for a priest.


    ¡°Tell me, why do you think Erika and I are guilty?¡±


    ¡°Because, Misha convinced me. She gathered and explained all the evidence to me. Following the facts, there¡¯s no way around it. You are the most guilty.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you believe? Is that the conclusion you came to?¡± Dante asked, and Calina¡¯s face twisted with growing frustration.


    ¡°What else am I supposed to believe?¡± she asked. ¡°With what little in the way of evidence we have, who else am I supposed to convict? Everyone else is dead, and I¡¯ve been with Misha the whole time. It just has to be you.¡±


    ¡°And yet, it just isn¡¯t.¡±


    Dante stepped forwards. Calina stumbled back with shock, then reaffirmed herself, gripping the gun with deadly intent.


    ¡°Stay back, murderer!¡± she cried.


    ¡°Calina, I know that deep inside, you are a good woman who believes in the truth.¡±


    Dante took another step forward. A bullet rang out, lodging itself into the tree beside him.


    ¡°Get away! I¡¯ve made up my mind already!¡± she shouted, smoke rising up from the barrel of her gun. ¡°I¡¯m a fraudulent doctor who couldn¡¯t save her patients or the others here, but I won¡¯t give up! I won¡¯t let you trick me!¡±


    ¡°Calina, I ¡ª¡± another bullet flew, grazing past his cheek. It, however, didn¡¯t stop him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! Don¡¯t think of me as that sweet, innocent priestess!¡± she begged. ¡°I¡¯m nothing but a murderer who brought death to her patients! Virgil brought me here knowing that! I won¡¯t let anyone but God bring me judgment!¡±


    Another shot. Another bullet. Three, four, five ¡ª and finally six. Every bullet missed, and when the cylinder turned to the sixth shot, she heard a click. The broken cylinder aligned with the barrel, leaving her with one less shot than she thought she¡¯d have.


    Her own actions proved how she truly felt. All it took was one question to convince her.


    ¡°Calina, do you truly believe I am guilty?¡±


    She looked in her heart, bit down hard, then dropped the gun. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and like lightning before thunder, her resolve broke.


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± she confessed. ¡°Even though she tried so hard to convince me, in my heart, I could never believe it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because, even if you don¡¯t know what¡¯s true, you know what isn¡¯t.¡±


    Hearing that, Calina¡¯s tears turned to a smile ¡ª one that filled him with relief.


    ¡°If you can convince me, maybe you can convince ¡ª¡±


    A sixth shot rang out. Dante froze, and watched as Calina touched her chest to find blood on her hands. Like snow, she fell forwards ¡ª a drop of red dye in a world of white.


    ¡°Stupid, weak willed woman,¡± Dante heard. He turned to see Misha step out from the forest brush, revolver in hand.


    ¡°Misha, you killed her¡­ you killed your partner.¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t my partner. Not after she turned tail and let herself fall for Virgil¡¯s lies.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re a detective. You¡¯re supposed to solve cases ¡ª to bring criminals to justice,¡± Dante said, dumbfounded.


    Misha looked spiteful, her face full of scorn, her golden hair blowing in the wind with blood smeared across her cheek.


    ¡°Stupid, goddamned bastard,¡± she whispered, then shot daggers at Dante, her eyes brimming with hatred. ¡°You love to play innocent, don¡¯t you? Calina¡¯s fake personality rubbed off on you a little too much?¡±


    ¡°Fake personality?¡±


    ¡°None of us here are innocent,¡± she proclaimed. ¡°I killed my boss. Baron killed using his influence. Wright murdered Aki for money. Aki killed a classmate of hers. Erika and her gluttony let her father die in vain. Calina killed her patients by accident ¡ª and you? You killed Dante Searcher.¡±


    ¡°Killed¡­ Dante Searcher?¡±


    ¡°Stole his name. Stole his identity. Stole his very face,¡± she answered. ¡°You¡¯re a doppelganger, a double walker ¡ª a bad omen. You were right when you said you shouldn¡¯t have come here. Maybe then, they¡¯d have a chance at surviving.¡±


    ¡°A doppelganger,¡± Dante whispered under his breath, and Misha stood firm, planting her feet and squeezing her revolver.


    ¡°It¡¯s over now. It¡¯s just you and me. Detective and culprit.¡± and she raised her gun to let out a shout.


    ¡°Virgil, servant of the Higanbana Princess! I sentence you to death!¡±


    ¡°Misha!¡± he cried in a mixture of wrath and sorrow, raising his own gun too.


    In an instant, two shots rang out.


    She couldn¡¯t be convinced. Misha was too ingrained in her position as detective to end the game without a death-sentencing.


    Dante couldn¡¯t convince her. The rift between the two detectives was just too great. The two were practically destined to end things like this.


    Misha coughed. Blood stained her coat, and in an instant, she fell backwards ¡ª a bullet through the heart.


    Dante coughed. Blood stained his coat, and in an instant, he fell forwards ¡ª forwards into Erika¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Erika?¡± he whispered.


    Blood stained his hands, and that blood came from her chest.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said with a pained smile ¡ª blood spilling down her lip. ¡°You were planning on sacrificing yourself for us all ¡ª for me ¡ª but I couldn¡¯t stand by and let things end like this.¡±


    She coughed. There was nothing that could stop the bleeding ¡ª nothing at all.


    ¡°Erika, why would you do this? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t be sad,¡± she said. ¡°This was my decision, to save you. You convinced me ¡ª gave me hope that when I left this place I¡¯d be able to start life over, but what¡¯s the point if you aren¡¯t there with me? When I saw her raise that gun, I knew that she was going to fire, and knowing that, how could I stand by and let the one I love die?¡±


    She smiled, hiding the pain, but even if she didn¡¯t show it, he could feel it. They were intrinsically connected like the red thread of fate.


    ¡°Please, never forget me,¡± she said. ¡°Never forget my decision. Never forget that I have faith that you¡¯ll find happiness with the life I saved.¡±


    She fell forwards, fell limp, and finally fell victim to the cursed castle.


    Dante¡¯s mission was complete. He did as Virgil¡¯s letter asked, even if it was something he never wanted to do.


    And that was to kill every other victim.


    The castle stood in silence. At that point, there was nothing left to do. All had been lost, and with that, Dante returned to, at least, collect his reward from Virgil. Virgil, however, was nowhere to be seen. All Dante could do was sit back and stare out the window, watching as the snow began to pick up once more.


    The moment was brief, but the window of opportunity to escape was there. He didn¡¯t take it, now that he had nothing left to gain.


    All he could do was apologize to everyone ¡ª to Erika. With a withered and half broken Higanbana in his hand, he spent the remaining hours drinking away.


    He had committed the act of treachery, even coming in the first place with the intent of killing the others buried deep in his mind.


    He had committed the act of fraud, pretending to be someone he knew he wasn¡¯t.


    He had committed the act of violence, killing the true detective.


    He had committed the act of heresy, trying to deny the supernatural princess who ruled the castle.


    He had committed the act of anger, turning and conspiring against the others he believed was guilty, leading to this very outcome.


    He had committed the act of greed, coming here for a potentially large sum of gold ¡ª gold bathed in blood.


    He had committed the act of gluttony, drinking away his sorrows.


    He had committed the act of lust, giving into his feelings and choosing to stay for Erika and the others¡¯ sake, instead of leaving with the life she sacrificed herself to save.


    And finally, he was thrown into limbo.


    The sun began to set, painting the world in a gentle orange tinged with white. That¡¯s when he heard a voice.


    ¡°Dante,¡± he heard, and he jumped out of his drunken stupor, turning to see a figure standing distantly in the hall.


    ¡°Erika? Is that you?¡±


    He recognized the voice as hers, but the figure stood far, and bathed in shadows, she was unrecognizable ¡ª nothing more than a silhouette. That¡¯s when he saw the weapon she carried ¡ª the chipped katana, the blade of the demon.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± she said, and she vanished around a corner.


    He recognized that blade. It belonged to the demon woman who razed the riverside village to ashes. Despite that, he followed the centurion figure out of folklore and mythology, all the way back to the ballroom.


    Shadows crept across the walls, but the woman stood by the gate, and with a single hand, she twisted the knobs, forming the correct combination. With the combination inputted, she stepped back, bathing herself in darkness, allowing only a pair of eyes to peer out from the night.


    ¡°Go,¡± she said. ¡°The Higanbana Princess is waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°The princess?¡±


    Before he could get an answer, the woman slipped out of the window where Wright supposedly escaped through. He looked out to find that she was gone. Not a trace was left behind ¡ª not even footprints. Even the lock was set from the inside.


    At this point, he didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t want evidence anymore. He wanted nothing more than the truth. All he wanted was to see Virgil, to see her princess and to get his questions answered.


    He turned to the gate to read a four letter code, with the fourth letter halfway turned, one push away from being inputted.


    ¡°Bice?¡± he read, and twisting the ¡®E¡¯ into place, the gate shifted, shuddered, and finally opened.


    Inside was none other than the Princess of the Higanbana, Beatrice, and with a black notebook in hand and a long stemmed pipe in the other, she asked him one question.


    ¡°Do you believe the six victims here are innocent?¡±


    He paused, lowered his head, and voiced the answer his heart screamed out.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    Beatrice nodded, drew out a breath of smoke, and threw the notebook to his feet.

 Chapter 7 :

    The incident, online, was dubbed ¡®The Death of Dante Searcher.¡¯ Thirty years ago, the time that the mystery originated, the rumor of Princess Higanbana spread all over the continent, even going as far as to become a phenomena in the underground circles of wannabe detectives and fans of horror and mystery. All over the world, Dante¡¯s death spread, and a thousand questions arose from minds all alike.


    Who was Dante Searcher?


    The police had an answer. He didn¡¯t exist. More specifically, none of the victims existed. Matching records from where all of the victims originated from, it was proven that none of them existed. Additionally, some of the victims who were present in the story matched descriptions of historic people who died hundreds of years prior, further disproving the story.


    In short, the story was a forgery. A fake. The events could not have happened. Additionally, there were no bodies present in the castle, nor were there any evidence left behind. On top of that, many different ¡®variations¡¯ of said story existed ¡ª tales spun and woven by all sorts of people who had their own takes on the events. Many existed, but only a few made their way into the mainstream, a few tales that became the battleground of truth and illusions.


    But the mystery, in the face of endless criticism and debunking, survived. The public eye looked away from the tragedy and only the most fanatical followers of murder mysteries clung on.


    They clung onto the woman they called Beatrice.


    She kept the secrets of the tragedy to herself. Locked away in a vault, she made sure no one could ever lay eyes upon the testimony which holds the true series of events that played out. The hum of a bell filled the day, ringing away till the night. Inside that vault and behind the gate, she sat and waited with the three books.


    They hadn¡¯t been opened in years, and Beatrice made sure things stayed that way. With a pipe in hand and a phone in the other, she stood up to leave the vault which housed the three books. The door locked behind her ¡ª shut and locked, and on the front, on the four letters, she left the code BICE.


    It was time to leave, and Beatrice spent her days quietly enjoying a gentle cup of tea outside of a cafe in the inner city of Southern Hesha ¡ª a technological hub where the nation¡¯s internet sprung forth like a spring. It was the internet, after all, which made her both famous and infamous.


    With a cup of scarlet tea in her hand and Higanbana flowers adorned in her hair, she lived up to her name. She was the scarlet, macabre princess who roamed the city and the people there knew that all too well ¡ª to the point that they went up to her with no regard for privacy.


    That day, a trio of girls ran up to her ¡ª highschoolers who spent their time both studying and theorizing. They were online friends who traveled from all over the globe, wherever the mystery had spread to, and they ran up to Beatrice with notebooks in hand.


    ¡°Princess Higanbana!¡± they cried. ¡°Please look over our notes and tell us if we¡¯re one step closer to the truth!¡±


    It was mostly the younger teens who played wannabe detective, and like a caretaker with rowdy kids to watch over, Beatrice obliged. The trio dumped their notebooks onto her coffee table, nearly spilling her tea. They watched as she picked between the three and opened up their renditions of ¡®The Death of Dante Searcher¡¯.


    The first copy was written by a local south Heshan girl ¡ª a highschooler, and judging from the fact she wrote in Cobellian, she was most likely a student studying to go overseas.


    ¡°The Death of Dante Searcher, case analysis by Maya08,¡± Beatrice read, and she was quick to skim over the entire case file ¡ª a trait she developed over the years.


    ¡°I read over the big three versions of the case again and again, and after careful consideration of the events that played out,¡± the girl said. ¡°I believe that this has to be the most accurate portrayal of events.¡±


    ¡°I hear that a lot,¡± Beatrice said, and she finished up ¡ª clearing the five page summary and filing before closing it shut.


    ¡°I looked it over, and I believe that the real culprit was Calina,¡± Maya proclaimed. ¡°Think about it. She¡¯s the self proclaimed innocent priestess who wants to do nothing but heal others, right? That¡¯s a massive red flag, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is. She makes for an obvious twist culprit.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why I think she did it alone using black magic, hidden away in the depths of the Octavian sect ¡ª magic only a priest or priestess could get their hands on.¡±


    Beatrice nodded, then pushed the case file back to Maya08, the girl¡¯s online username.


    ¡°Well? Is this correct? Did I crack the code?¡± Maya asked, proudly. Beatrice simply smirked.


    ¡°It¡¯s up to you to decide for yourself how the events truly played out.¡±


    Maya looked a little disappointed by the answer and took her notebook back. Next was a Zahnian girl from the central continent, and with her notebook set in the second position, Beatrice began her skimming.


    ¡°The Death of Dante Searcher and the Case for Why Howell Herman is Guilty, by StanAki221,¡± Beatrice read. The girl was clearly a fan of Aki¡¯s.


    ¡°Personally, I believe Howell Herman is guilty of the crimes,¡± she claimed. ¡°While he did die in the start, I think his spirit remained ¡ª and through supernatural means, I think he managed to slaughter the rest of the victims.¡±


    ¡°A spirit?¡± Beatrice asked, and the girl nodded fiercely.


    ¡°Think about it. From the impossible closed room murder in the ballroom to Dante seeing Bibi ¡ª it all makes sense. It has to have been done by the princess and her magic.¡±


    Beatrice, hearing that, smirked. She pulled out a notepad and a pen of red ink, then began drawing a transmutation circle. The sight of it made the fangirl shiver.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the girl asked, and Beatrice finished up with a few ominous symbols.


    ¡°A transmutation circle, one that turns lead into gold,¡± she answered, and when she pulled out a short, sacrificial dagger, the girl looked terrified. Alongside that, she brought out a coin made of lead.


    ¡°If you believe in magic, then you must believe in alchemy as well, do you?¡± Beatrice asked. ¡°If you truly do, then cut your hand and use your blood to activate the transmutation circle.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± she whispered, and unconsciously, her hand moved towards the dagger Beatrice offered ¡ª but in an instant, she took it away.


    ¡°Just kidding,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°The circle wouldn¡¯t transmute lead to gold.¡±


    ¡°Really? So it was a fake?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. In the business, we call them alchemist traps as it only sacrifices the activator¡¯s soul, turning them into a philosopher¡¯s stone.¡±


    Hearing that, the girl shuddered and Beatrice broke her calm and cool demeanor to let out a cackle of a laugh. With that, she pocketed the transmutation circle, dagger and coin to move onto the third theory.


    The third girl had gone into the cafe and returned with a tray of drinks, three ice teas and a fourth one ¡ª a boba filled drink, one she offered to Beatrice. It seemed like the girl had done her homework and knew that she¡¯d get a better response if she bribed Beatrice with her favorite drink. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The girl with glasses as thick as a soda can approached her with a nervous look.


    ¡°I¡¯m known online as DanteXHowellLover, and this is my testimony,¡± she proclaimed, pushing forward her book.


    Beatrice saw the cover and gawked at it ¡ª utterly shocked. On the cover was the title, The Death of Dante Searcher, A Forbidden Romance, and drawn in pencil was a pair of men holding one another provocatively, a sight that made passerby stop and stare out of shock. The two resembled Dante and Howell, the two of them drawn in an anime style called Shonen-ai. The piece could be classified as BL fanfic.


    ¡°I believe that Dante and Howell are secret gay lovers, and they had to kill everyone together to hide their secret,¡± the shipper explained.


    Beatrice froze, then bounced back to life when she realized the girl was serious.


    ¡°What evidence would you say supports that theory?¡±


    ¡°Well, the online testimonies can all be classified as fakes, so until you release the real one, we can assume that all of them are forgeries, right?¡± she asked. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then that means anything is possible, and anything could¡¯ve happened ¡ª including a world where Howell and Dante really were gay lovers.¡±


    ¡°You realize that these might be real people you¡¯re shipping, right?¡±


    The three looked at Beatrice like she was the strange one, then turned to whisper to one another before looking back at her with smiles.


    ¡°Well¡­ they¡¯re real in a way,¡± the first girl said.


    ¡°They¡¯re real to some people,¡± the second said.


    And the third burst into an apology, shouting, ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I should¡¯ve asked you before shipping your characters together!¡±


    Hearing that, Beatrice shut her eyes, then nodded in acceptance. The three left with smiles, all while Beatrice sat alone, staring blankly as a thousand thoughts ran through her head. The police had made their statements clear. The case of Dante Searcher did not happen. There was no proof that it happened. The victims were all people who only exist in historical textbooks separated by centuries.


    In other words, it didn¡¯t happen because there was no proof that it could have happened. Nonexistent until proven otherwise. The police had long dropped the case, leaving it to eccentrics and wannabe detectives.


    Beatrice clung onto impossible odds, and with her pipe in hand, she let out a drag of smoke. Of course, her morning tea was reserved only for her mornings. She had an event to appear in later in the afternoon, and with a briefcase by her side, she made her way to the city¡¯s convention center.


    The police did shut the case down, but that applied only to their offices and branches. The people clung onto the story, gathering twice a year at ¡®Mystery Con¡¯, a convention held specifically for this niche. The convention spawned around her and the testimony she owned and kept under lock and key.


    There, on a stage and under natural lighting, a crowd of people sat in the audience seats while a pair sat on the stage. The two were the head figures of truth and lies ¡ª the elected figureheads who represented either side. Sat in the middle on a fancy couch chair was Beatrice, their mediator.


    On the left was the representative of truth, or so he claimed. He was a middle aged man, a little chubby and stubbly in the chin region, but he made up for it with one Hell of a tailored suit.


    On the right was the representative of reality, or so he claimed. He was a little older, a little chubbier and a little more stubbly in the chin region, but he made up for it with an even fancier tailored suit ¡ª one he flaunted.


    The two were clearly rivals, and with microphones in both their hands, they began their debate.


    ¡°First murder,¡± the man on the left said. ¡°The death of Howell Herman. We¡¯ll be playing under orthodox rules, which means only the three highest rated versions of the case will be used.¡±


    There were many fakes and forgeries, so the community created their own guidelines which separated the wheat from the chaff. It cut out thousands of fanmade and false accounts of the events, leaving a trio which, while different in their own ways, were rated highly following the guideline.


    The three were the most trustworthy versions of the story, and thus, were dubbed the ¡®orthodox method¡¯ of sleuthing.


    The other debater nodded in agreement, saying, ¡°We¡¯ll use orthodox rules and the victims will be named in order for simplicity¡¯s sake.¡±


    With that in place, a projector flicked on, revealing the layout of the castle and the back entrance where victim one died. All three stories came to the same conclusion. Howell¡¯s corpse was found outside the door, propped up against it. Howell was represented by an X placed on the other side of a door.


    The three had the same outcomes in terms of victims and deaths, but the evidence surrounding them were different. All three were written from Dante¡¯s perspective, but the evidence provided from his thoughts and observations led to wildly different results.


    And with wild differences, it led to a piling up of nonsense and bad faith arguments to either prove or disprove theories.


    Beatrice sat, pipe in hand, watching blankly as the two argued over every detail, occasionally turning to the crowd for inputs. Finally, the two turned to Beatrice for her input.


    She was the only one who knew the truth and she was the only one preventing them from obtaining the closure of an ending. She carried Dante¡¯s written testimony, the key to it all.


    ¡°Is it true?¡± they asked. ¡°Was Misha correct? In one of the three versions, Dante claimed to have killed Howell before planting his corpse by the door. Is that true?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t say,¡± Beatrice replied. It was her usual response, and her blank poker face eliminated attempts at reading her body language.


    This ¡®game¡¯ played out and the two churned through each victim, treating them like a puzzle to solve. Beatrice stood firm in her denying of input, and while some people questioned why she was even invited on, a single question reminded them of her significance.


    ¡°Princess Higanbana? When will you release the true testimony?¡± the left man asked. ¡°It¡¯d be so much easier to solve this case if we had all the facts straight.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because she¡¯s a fraud,¡± the right man answered. ¡°By holding back the truth, she can hold onto her infamy for much longer. This case is a zombie case. Dead, and we all know it. All we can do is either wait for the true testimony to be revealed, or move on to better things to waste our life on.¡± and he turned to Beatrice to ask, ¡°Just when are you gonna release the case? Or are you gonna hold on till the fame dries up?¡±


    Beatrice, hearing that, turned to him with that same, unfeeling expression, then smirked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about releasing it for some time now, but because of your rude comments, I¡¯m thinking about holding on for another thousand years.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± he asked, with devastation on his face. Beatrice returned to her neutral expression and shrugged.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she answered.


    With that, they dug through every victim, picking apart the bones for their marrow, ripping out the entrails and guts of the story for any hint of a clue ¡ª anything that would lead to an ending.


    Beatrice clung on, and when it was all over, she bowed and left. She made her way out, pipe in hand, and a trail of followers ran after her like paparazzi ¡ª and that included the actual paparazzi. Cameras snapped, microphones shot up and questions rang out like a hail of bullets.


    ¡°Beatrice! Beatrice!¡±


    ¡°Please! Tell us! Is the story real!? Are the victims real!?¡±


    ¡°Were the police wrong!? Or are they hiding the truth from us!?¡±


    ¡°Is this all a conspiracy!? Are you part of the New World Order!?¡±


    ¡®Beatrice! Beatrice!¡¯ they¡¯d cry, and when she was younger, she appreciated the attention, but now that she was eighteen, it became a hassle. She walked, facing forwards, answering to no one. Not even to the figurehead of reality who came, notepad in hand, demanding answers despite having called her a fraud.


    ¡°First victim! Howell!¡± they cried. ¡°Was he killed by Dante!? Was he killed by Wright!? Or maybe, is he even dead at all!?¡±


    No response. They moved on.


    ¡°Second victim! Baron Gadro! Was he killed by Wright!? Was he killed by Calina with poison disguised as medicine!? Or maybe, was he killed by Misha, who he trusted!?¡±


    No response. Next victim.


    ¡°Third victim! Shinjiro Aki! Was she killed by Wright!? Was she actually shot!? Is her corpse actually a fake!?¡±


    Next victim.


    ¡°Fourth victim! Wright Bernstein! Was he killed by Dante!? Was he actually the second culprit who was killed by his partner!?


    Fifth victim! Iffrah Pezra! Did she commit suicide after cheating on her long lost fiance!? Or was she killed by Dante, then hanged to look like a suicide!?¡±


    ¡°You may believe what you like,¡± Beatrice said as an answer to every question. The figurehead tried to stop her from moving by getting in her way. He turned to see a limousine speed by, and he narrowly avoided getting hit by leaping away ¡ª landing in an autumn puddle by the road.


    ¡°Beatrice! Please! Tell us the truth!¡± he cried, all while the door opened and a pair of bodyguards stepped out.


    Beatrice turned to him and smiled.


    ¡°One day, I¡¯ll release the truth. I swear it.¡±

 Chapter 8 :

    The limousine came to a halt, bringing her to her final destination for the day ¡ª a small hospital lost in the center of a bamboo forest. Talismans hung down from the maple and cherry blossom trees, weighing down the limbs, allowing the cherries to hang low enough to be picked with ease.


    A dirt road led her down to that hospital, and inside, Beatrice walked past the secretary slash doctor. She was an old woman dressed in a sterile white kimono, an ex surgeon and a certified hermit who enjoyed the quiet of the forest. The hospital itself was small, stuffed inside of an untouched traditional home.


    The old doctor sat behind a table, enjoying a newspaper lit by natural lighting while drinking tea from a bowl. When Beatrice stepped in through the sliding entrance door, she gave her a smile.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Miss Beatrice. Come to visit?¡± the doctor asked in Heshan, and Beatrice bowed ¡ª a part of the nation¡¯s culture and tradition.


    ¡°I¡¯m here for a checkup,¡± she answered, and the old lady nodded, standing up with a huff before guiding her along and down the hall of the home.


    She walked past storerooms full of grains and rice and a bedroom with a futon bed. At the end of the hall was a pair of rooms ¡ª one filled with a tank of IV fluid and the other closed with a lock. An electrical wire laid by their feet, snaking its way into the locked room.


    Beatrice took a key of her own and made her way inside, sliding the door open.


    A sterility filled that room, a sterility that killed off all life. A layer of plastic covered every surface, keeping contaminants out, forming a sort of bubble that trapped a singular drop of life inside. That electrical wire passed by her feet, connecting to a machine that worked solo to keep him alive.


    A constant beeping filled the room, the beating of a heart monitor. A ventilator pushed away, pumping into a pair of lungs that hadn¡¯t been used in five years. Resting in a white coffin was once a young boy, now old enough to earn his diploma and wave goodbye to his childhood.


    Of course, that wouldn¡¯t happen. Not anytime soon. One year, five years, a hundred ¡ª it made no difference. He was as still as a corpse. After so long, his muscles no longer had their occasional spasm. If she had counted, it¡¯d have to have been years since she saw any form of movement.


    His name was Sen, and as far as the world knew, he was dead. The machine kept him in limbo for what felt like an eternity, but so long as the ventilator could draw him breath and the IV tubes could keep his mitochondria burning, he wouldn¡¯t be granted the ending that is death.


    Some would call it cruel and others would call it a necessary medical procedure. Beatrice didn¡¯t think much of it. Every day for the past three years, Beatrice would come without fail, and be by Sen¡¯s side.


    ¡°His vital signs are relatively normal, enough for me to leave him alone for now,¡± the doctor said, all while she stood in the doorway. ¡°If you¡¯d like, I can get you some tea.¡±


    ¡°No thanks. I¡¯d like to be left alone for a while.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± and she closed the door behind her, allowing Beatrice a private moment.


    It was like this every single day. After an aristocratic morning and a paparazzi filled afternoon, she could rely on her evenings growing quiet and calm. There, she stood over the sleeping boy, now eighteen.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I last attended those yearly conferences, and from the arguing the two ¡®figureheads¡¯ had, it looks like they¡¯re still as clueless as ever,¡± Beatrice said, and she leaned backwards, falling into the bed to sit by his side.


    ¡°They still believe that the culprit is among the nine,¡± she said, ¡°but, it¡¯s like the detective said. He doesn¡¯t believe any of the nine are the culprit, and so long as they read testimonies written from his perspective, they¡¯ll never find the truth.¡±


    Sen laid still. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Unthinking. It was normal, at this point, and while it was essentially Beatrice talking to herself, she felt like he was listening.


    ¡°That detective, he¡¯s a strange person,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s strange enough for all these possible outcomes ¡ª and for three of them to be validated as testimonies. He¡¯s strange enough for the first, where he¡¯s innocent and witnesses a demonic princess killing off the others, strange enough to be the detective chasing after a duo of killers and strange enough to be the killer himself, and admit it in his so-called testimony.¡±


    She sucked in a breath, then laid back to lie down on the wide bed, leaving little room between her and the comatose boy.


    ¡°He¡¯s a convenient piece,¡± she confessed. ¡°He came from nothing, and now he¡¯s returned to nothing. No evidence of his existence remains ¡ª nothing but our testimony.¡±


    Sen laid still, but that was okay. So long as he lived, she could keep moving forwards ¡ª even if it was in a twisted, suspended animation.


    ¡°Then there¡¯s the first victim, whose backstory can be molded onto any wealthy individual.


    Then there¡¯s the second, who can be pushed onto anybody with relations to the Ennian Emperor who famously had many, many friends who died in mysterious ways.


    Then there¡¯s the third, and seeing as there are plenty of Zahnian international students to pick and choose from, she could be anyone.


    Then, the fourth. A Sulphuran princess is more difficult to pick from, but seeing as the Shah has many wives, he has an equal number of children ¡ª many of which have gone missing and end up in the castle with the rest.


    Then, the fifth. He was nothing special. Just another criminal. Anyone could fit his description.¡±


    With all of the victims laid out, Beatrice turned to face Sen whose face was covered with a ventilator mask. Seeing that, she softened, using a single finger to play with his long, black hair ¡ª uncut after years of being in a coma.


    ¡°All of the victims could have existed. The only reason the police dropped the case and called it fraudulent was because they had names tied to them,¡± she confessed, ¡°but even if the names were fake, that doesn¡¯t mean the people tied to them are also fakes.¡±


    She reached behind Sen to a nightstand. There, a pile of books sat, all with bookmarks. She took them and opened them up to reveal nine names.


    First victim. Howell Herman. He really was a rich gentleman who died mysteriously on an island supposedly inhabited by an Ennian imperial princess. He existed in a detective magazine.


    Second victim. Baron Gadro. He was a nobleman with ties to the Ennian Emperor, who died on that same island. He existed in that same magazine, the next page from Howell.


    Third victim. Shinjiro Aki. She was a samurai of old, sailed in from Zahna to southern Hesha ¡ª a woman of legends penned hundreds of years ago. She existed in a history textbook, an old, beaten down book.


    Fourth victim. Iffrah Pezra. She was a Sulphuran alchemist born a thousand years ago who was burned for her crimes against God. She existed in a science textbook as an example of pseudo-science of the past ¡ª alchemy.


    Fifth victim. Wright Bernstein. He was a Cobellian assassin who masqueraded as a shop clerk, who died ten years before the events that took place in the castle. The detective-work around his death, however, was sloppy at best. He existed in police records with both a mugshot and description.


    Sixth victim. Calina Yekov. She was a semi important figure in the Cliesen uprising and the establishment of the socialist government. She existed in a political science textbook.


    Seventh victim. Erika Portinari. A painter of old who had a habit of smoking ¡ª heavily ¡ª to the point that her lungs gave way and her body was thrown to the ash heap of history, leaving only a single, semi valuable, semi obscure painting in an art museum. She existed on an info label tied to her painting at said museum.


    Finally, all that was left were the two ¡®detectives¡¯.


    Misha Asimov, a female soldier who fought in the North Heshan civil war that occurred over a hundred years ago.


    And of course, Dante Searcher.


    He was born in the mind of an author and thrown into the limbo that was the eternal murder mystery series. He was an obscure piece of fiction brought to life by a true and genuine tragedy, a tragedy that was as tragic as it was vague. His name would forever be tied to his ¡®death¡¯, which was ¡ª in a twisted way ¡ª his birth into the public limelight.


    Obscurity to reality. Fiction turned fact. She could call it one thing.


    Magic.


    ¡°I did well,¡± she said. ¡°I did as you would¡¯ve wanted me to. I brought the world together to solve this impossible to solve case. If you were awake, you¡¯d be proud of me, right?¡±


    She squeezed his cold hand, then chuckled to herself.


    ¡°Although, you¡¯d want me to release that testimony and give these poor people an actual fighting chance, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Her fingers interlocked with his, and with shut eyes, her voice vanished to whispers.


    ¡°But, that will never happen. I¡¯ll never let the world solve this case and bring the true culprit to light ¡ª not until you¡¯re awake to see it.¡±


    Three years ago he was put into his medically induced coma, but eight years ago was when the two first met. It was in the depths of the Falling Forest that is said to be roamed by an immortal witch who¡¯d fly over those foolish enough to enter her domain. According to local rumors, when you heard the flap of ashen-black wings, misfortune would follow. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    That forest just happened to surround the Mira Academy, a prestigious boarding school, and there, a new ten year old student was brought in. She was a blond foreign girl who wore the school¡¯s uniform topped with a beret ¡ª a beret marked with a crest, the mark of a bear¡¯s paw. It was the crest of the Jiyo family, a centuries old merchant family that survived regime changes and coups, though it wasn¡¯t like the kids there knew that.


    All they knew was that she had the white skin and facial features of a foreigner, and thus, she was an outsider. Heshan culture, being known as the walled continent, made their people¡¯s feelings clear. They didn¡¯t like foreigners.


    The moment she stepped into that class, the teacher snapped her fingers, getting every student¡¯s attention immediately.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a new student, everyone,¡± the teacher announced before patting her on the back ¡ª quite hard ¡ª hard enough to nearly send her falling forwards.


    ¡°Go on,¡± the teacher said. ¡°Introduce yourself to everyone.¡±


    ¡°Good morning,¡± the girl said, all nervous-like. ¡°I am Jiyo Beatrice, and I would be glad to be acquainted with all of you.¡±


    The girl bowed, but the class snickered. Beatrice was stiff and nervous, and when she heard the crack of the teacher¡¯s cane, she shuddered ¡ª electricity running up her spine.


    ¡°Sit in the back corner. No speaking in my class unless spoken to. Punishment will be doled out without exception,¡± the teacher said, and Beatrice was quick to comply, scampering off and away from the stick which every student feared.


    In the back seat, she noticed something off. The seat next to her was empty, and with the beginning of class came attendance.


    The teacher ran through every student, including Beatrice, and finally came to a halt. The old lady looked a little annoyed, but not surprised, as if an old itch had resurfaced ¡ª an annoyance she grew accustomed to.


    ¡°Ieri Sen? Is Sen present?¡± she asked, and the kids whipped up a storm of whispering. Her attention focused on a pair.


    ¡°Where¡¯d he run off to again?¡±


    ¡°I heard he hangs out in the forest.¡±


    ¡°What? Is he playing detective again, searching for the witch?¡±


    Witch? The word stuck with her, but before she could eavesdrop any further, she heard the crack of a cane.


    ¡°Sen is absent, as usual,¡± the teacher announced. ¡°I¡¯ll have to phone his parents. Will one of you take the attendance down to the main office?¡±


    The teacher waved the attendance, and before one of the classmates could take it, someone burst through the door. Beatrice didn¡¯t think much of the class until she laid eyes on the peculiar case that was that boy.


    Raven dark hair, the classical deerstalker detective cap and a magnifying lens. The boy was as striking as he was strange.


    ¡°Teacher! I¡¯ve returned with a clue,¡± he announced. In his hand ¡ª the other one, not the one carrying the magnifying lens ¡ª was a black feather.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come one step closer to solving the mystery.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± the teacher asked, all miffed and annoyed.


    ¡°Why, the case of the witch that roams in the Falling Forest.¡± and he presented the feather to the teacher, saying, ¡°This right here is proof that a witch exists. Judging from the local birds, I ¡ª¡±


    The teacher gave him a wallop, then sent him to his desk. With the beginning of class came a brutal math lesson and when lunch began, Beatrice walked out with a head full of hard-to-grasp concepts and learned what students meant when they brought up paddles.


    Of course, lunch was no break.


    The school was designed to be tough on the kids under the assumption that the more difficult their education and childhood, the easier their adult lives will be. The teachers were hand picked disciplinaries that just-so happened to be able to ¡®teach¡¯. It was less about having the kids learn and more about instilling discipline into the children.


    That discipline reflected in the children¡¯s actions, and seeing the straight, single file line that stuck out of the cafeteria, Beatrice found herself at the end.


    There was a reason she was sent to this school, and that was to be disciplined. No matter how rich her family was, they refused to budge and grant her a single amenity. She¡¯d have to live like every other student, staying in the dorm they provided and eating the meals they gave out.


    Of course, she stuck out. She was the sore thumb of her class and the red hat of the school. No matter how hard she would try, there was no getting around it. She¡¯d always be different.


    Looking at the crowds of kids sitting inside, eating their meals, she took it upon herself to step out the doors and eat on an outside bench. Underneath the black shingles of the traditional architecture and the cherry blossoms, she ate alone.


    It wasn¡¯t like she tried to get along with the others, but when she looked at them and they looked back with their cautious expressions, she knew she would be excluded.


    With that assumption made, she sat alone and ate her meal of rice, baked fish and an assortment of pickled greens. Meanwhile, she stared out, past a fence, and towards a forest turned amber with the autumn season.


    ¡°Morning sunshine.¡±


    She was shocked to hear someone speak in Cobellian ¡ª and although it was with a heavy accent, it was still recognizably correct. She turned to see that strange boy, dressed head to toe like a detective. At least, as much as he could get away without completely breaking the dress code.


    Sen stood with a chocolate pretzel stick in his mouth like a cigarette and stared off to that same forest. He had a half tired, half interested expression on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m Ieri Sen, and what you¡¯re staring at is the Falling Forest, love,¡± he said. He said the ¡®love¡¯ part in Cobellian, which she assumed was a sort of catch phrase he came up with ¡ª the quip of an eccentric.


    ¡°The Falling Forest?¡± she asked, and he shrugged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me how it got its name, but if I had to guess, it¡¯s probably because of all the falling trees. Most people would assume it¡¯s an old, dying forest preparing for a reincarnation ¡ª but I think not.¡± and he took off his cap, then looked her in the eyes to ask, ¡°Do you believe in the supernatural?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she answered. Swift and stern. Immediate shutdown of his questioning. In fact, the way he talked and acted, it was all over the top, dramatic ¡ª but most of all, annoying.


    He, however, stood firm ¡ª unwilling to bend to her assumptions about reality itself.


    ¡°I¡¯ve studied the local ecology, and doing that, I¡¯ve narrowed down the options,¡± he explained. ¡°I cut down the bird population to a set of species.¡± and he pulled out the feather to say, ¡°This feather, however, belongs to none of them.¡±


    ¡°And that explains what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°That the immortal witch, who can transform herself into a bird, is not of the native species here. Thus, this foreign feather belongs to her.¡±


    Beatrice paused, her mouth hanging open with her chopsticks waiting for another bite. She put them down and turned to him with suspicion in her eyes.


    ¡°So because you found a non native feather in the forest, that means it belongs to the witch? Isn¡¯t that kind of a stretch?¡±


    ¡°Stretch me out all you want. It doesn¡¯t change the fact that this feather came from this forest.¡± and he sat down next to her on the bench to ask, ¡°Now, do you believe in the supernatural?¡±


    Who is this boy? She found herself shocked by how upfront and bold he was, and with that, she felt a tinge of stubbornness. That stubbornness bore itself on her face through a pout.


    ¡°I refuse to believe that.¡±


    ¡°What sort of evidence would I need to show you to get you to believe that witches exist?¡±


    ¡°What sort of evidence?¡± and she looked at him like he was mad, then shook her head, saying, ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do to make me believe. I refuse to believe in the supernatural.¡±


    ¡°Then come with me,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the Falling Forest together. I¡¯m sure the witch would be delighted to meet you.¡±


    He offered his hand and she found herself trembling at the thought. That trembling made Sen smirk.


    ¡°You¡¯re afraid, but why?¡± he asked, and he poked fun at her, revealing, ¡°Why, it¡¯s because you do believe, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No I don¡¯t,¡± she said with a bigger, poutier pout. He couldn¡¯t hold back his laughter.


    ¡°Yeah, you do. You believe so much that you¡¯re too afraid to step foot into the forest.¡±


    She found herself overwhelmed by frustration ¡ª enough to make her shout.


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid!¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s because there¡¯s nothing to be afraid of.¡±


    He took that feather, then snapped it in half like a twig. Awe painted Beatrice¡¯s face, all while a satisfied smile rose on his.


    ¡°That¡¯s because this feather belongs to no bird. It¡¯s a fake.¡±


    ¡°A fake?¡± and he nodded.


    Seeing him nod filled her with confusion. Her anger and frustration vanished into thin air, leaving behind a quiet questioning that asked, what just happened.


    ¡°You see, no matter how much evidence I provide, the others flat out refuse to believe that a witch exists, though when I asked, they all refused to enter said forest,¡± he confessed. ¡°You, on the other hand, ate it up. You let yourself believe, and in turn, that belief became a fear of the forest.¡±


    ¡°Ate it up?¡± she asked, and she frowned, asking, ¡°What? Are you saying I¡¯m stupid?¡±


    ¡°Not stupid. The opposite.¡± and he crunched a bite of his pretzel stick, saying, ¡°You¡¯re flexible. With the right evidence, you could solve any case. All you need is to be able to parse out truth from fiction.¡±


    Sen reached out a hand to her, extending an eternal vow.


    ¡°Beatrice,¡± he asked. ¡°Will you be my detective?¡±


    She took his hand and shook it, and from then on out, the two kids began their game of cat and mouse.


    Science class began straight after lunch. Beatrice had the entire year scheduled by the school, leaving her with only lunch and bedtime for time to herself. The rest of the day was reserved strictly for studying and learning. As usual, every teacher carried their punishment sticks and smacked away, both at the blackboard and at their students.


    Carbon chains filled her eyes like a kaleidoscope and a mind numbing buzz droned on in her mind. That buzz grew louder and louder, blocking out the teacher¡¯s voice.


    That was until she felt a tap. It was from the student next to her, one of the normal kids. He had a folded note which he passed on to her ¡ª hidden from the teacher, of course. She kept it hidden and read it in silence.


    ¡°To my Dear Detective,


    Welcome to the Mira Academy, and while I know you have a ton on your plate already, I ask of you one thing. Solve the following murders and bring the killer to justice. After class, when the school bell tolls, you will find a note slipped under your dorm room door.


    Whatever you do, do not open it.


    Tomorrow, I will explain further during lunch. Till then, I hope you can be patient.


    Yours truly,


    The Culprit.¡±


    The word eccentric just didn¡¯t cut it. Ieri Sen was something else entirely. She stared at the note, baffled, and filed it away in the back of her mind. The rest of the school day passed by in the blink of an eye, and with classes finished, she headed down to the female dormitory.


    The other students weren¡¯t outright hostile or mean, but from the way they looked at her and distanced themselves, she knew she¡¯d be reminded daily that she was an outsider. At that point, she was too tired to think. She fumbled with her keys to find Sen¡¯s promise to have come true.


    As he stated, there laid a note on the floor, most likely passed through and under the door. As far as she knew, he had no way of entering the girl¡¯s dorm without severe corporal punishment and expulsion.


    All Beatrice could do was lock herself in her dorm, split open her notebooks and begin her ¡®rest of the day¡¯ homework ¡ª all while that note stared at her from the corner of her table.


    Don¡¯t open it, he had told her, but as the night dragged on and the studies wore away at her psyche, she found herself laying, head down, peering up towards that note.


    She could poke and prod at it as much as she wanted, so long as she didn¡¯t open it up. She laid, head down, staring sideways at the note. The light stand lit up the sheet, revealing ink through the folded page.


    Beatrice couldn¡¯t tell if it was an accident or her own curiosity surfacing as uncontrollable, unconscious action, but the note slipped between her fingers, landing before her vision.


    Written inside was a simple message.


    Sen has found his new victim.

 Chapter 9 :

    The words filled her head. The next morning, she found herself sitting in math class with a sense of dread. The seat next to her, however, was empty. Class went on as usual, but the further she thought, the further that dread filled her.


    A singular thought filled her mind. What it meant by victim. Why was it called the Falling Forest? Just what sorts of misdeeds went on in those woods?


    That¡¯s when the door flung open and he stepped inside. The detective persona he wore the previous day vanished and in its place was a new identity. His deerstalker hat and magnifying lens were both gone. The boy allowed his long, dark hair to let loose, like black curtains around a mysterious and youthful smile.


    Compared to the other plain looking students, Sen had the air of a pretty boy ¡ª fit to be a future fashion model. He had the confident yet playful smile that expressed a dangerous air of charisma and intrigue.


    He stepped into the class, turned to face everyone, then bowed his head.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said in Cobellian, his accent cutting through each and every letter. ¡°I am your new transfer student.¡±


    ¡°New transfer student?¡± the teacher muttered out loud, and he nodded.


    ¡°I am no longer Ieri Sen,¡± he stated. ¡°Rather, I am Searcher.¡±


    ¡°Searcher?¡± Beatrice said, and he looked at her and smiled.


    ¡°Dante Searcher.¡±


    For that display, he was smacked once more on the back of the head, then sent to sit down. He strolled down with a sort of ¡®grandeur¡¯ before seating himself down. Sitting down, he was quick to turn to her with a smirk of a smile.


    ¡°Morning, sunshine,¡± he said, brushing his hair back with his hand before tying it into a low ponytail. ¡°You got that note, didn¡¯t you? If you will, I¡¯d like for you to hand it to me. By the way, you didn¡¯t read it, did you?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she answered, all nervous. She was quick to hand him the note, and Sen ¡ª or Dante, as he called himself ¡ª took that note and lifted it up above his head and towards the ceiling lights that shone down.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± he said to himself. ¡°It looks like they got the same kind of paper I use for writing notes.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ what do you mean by ¡®they¡¯?¡±


    He turned to her with a smile, saying, ¡°Indeed. If that hint wasn¡¯t enough for you, I will confess it myself. This note wasn¡¯t written by me. Rather, it was by one of the girls in your dormitory.¡±


    ¡°What!? By the other girls?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s shocking, I know, but the girls ¡ª they look kind on the outside, but they have their own way of bullying as opposed to the boys. Boys will beat each other up physically, but the girls play a different game ¡ª a social game.¡± and he folded the note in half, saying, ¡°They wrote this note to try and play a prank on you. They even went as far as to get the same kind of paper I use.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fake?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible it¡¯s a fake, but since you are my detective, I know for a fact that you are smarter than that. My detective would never take things at face value,¡± he said, half sarcastically, as if it was a reminder for her.


    Hearing that, she learnt a valuable lesson in the form of a reminder. Sen ¡ª or Dante, as he called himself ¡ª was not a person to take lightly.


    With that, class continued on as normal and midway the teacher ordered them to pair up. Immediately, Sen turned his desk towards hers. Beatrice found his enthusiasm a bit odd, but in a way it was comforting, knowing there would always be someone who¡¯d welcome her in with a smile.


    Of course, she had her own questions, beginning with his general demeanor.


    ¡°Sen?¡± she asked. ¡°Just how do you get away with¡­ all of this?¡±


    ¡°All of what?¡±


    ¡°The hat, the outfits ¡ª the different personalities. A regular school would kick you out for disrupting class like that.¡±


    He smirked, then pulled out a piece of paper from his bag ¡ª his pride. It was the results of an entrance exam and marked on the front was a big fat hundred.


    ¡°A perfect score like this does wonders.¡±


    A perfect score? She remembered studying day and night just to get a passing grade ¡ª a fifty percent. It was a sort of public barometer that measured all subjects, sifting between the dull and the genius.


    Getting a forty nine meant you were smart, but didn¡¯t make the cut. Meanwhile, getting below forty five placed you above average, but not above enough. However, getting a fifty one meant you were in the top percentile of all people. The average grade of her class on that exam was a fifty two ¡ª a humbling reminder that they, while smart, had a lot of diligent work to do.


    The thought of anyone getting a hundred was sickening ¡ª a compound sickness brought forth by the sheer difficulty of the exam she took combined with the incomprehensible thought that was getting a perfect score.


    If she had to guess, his score placed him in the top percentile of all people, the top percentile of the intelligence quotient.


    ¡°Between you and me, I want you to keep this a secret,¡± Sen said, and he leaned it close to whisper, ¡°I cheated on the exam.¡±


    ¡°You cheated!?¡±


    ¡°Or perhaps I didn¡¯t,¡± he answered, as playful as always.


    Thinking about it now, it probably was impossible to get a hundred percent score without cheating as a way of humbling kids with a harsh but passing score. However, Sen made the answer obscure as always. Whether he cheated or not, his score was taken in and made valid, allowing him special privileges from intelligence alone.


    Sen, however, didn¡¯t seem to use that intelligence very well. He was like a legendary hero using a mythical blade as a tool to cut carrots. He used that intelligence to play with the other students the only way he wanted to.


    And that was by leaning in and beginning a new game.


    ¡°Tell me, Beatrice,¡± he asked. ¡°What brought you to this school?¡±


    ¡°My parents,¡± she answered, swift and immediate like always. ¡°They wanted me to attend a prestigious boarding school, and so they did.¡±


    ¡°Well, I came here because I was bored.¡±


    ¡°Bored?¡± she asked, and while she never asked him why he came to said school, she was interested in learning just why he¡¯d say something as frivolous as ¡®bored¡¯.


    ¡°Bored of the regular kids back in the plain old public school I attended,¡± he answered. ¡°Noone there could entertain me. Noone there wanted to do anything more than get a good grade, get into a good school and get a good job. They were like robots, pre-programmed to do as they were told.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not their fault,¡± she answered. ¡°They want to get a good job, that way they can live a better life.¡±


    Hearing that, Sen paused, then stared off and out the window with a different, more serious expression.


    ¡°If only life were that simple.¡± and with that, he pulled out a black fountain pen and spilled ink into splotches.


    He dug into the first of many questions, and together, they spent that class chipping away at the mountain of studies and homework that was to come. He cut through the questions in a breeze, meanwhile it took the rest of the class the entire class to do a fraction of what he completed in just ten minutes.


    Sen was a computational machine, and Beatrice discovered the benefits of a partner like him. She completed her work ten minutes before the end of class. For the first time in a while, she found she had time for herself. She turned to Sen who, despite having finished his work, scribbled away at a notebook.


    ¡°What are you doing? Studying for another subject?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t study, I cheat on every test,¡± he answered. ¡°Instead, I spend my time preparing for my future career.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Future career? Like what? An engineer, scientist, or maybe even a doctor?¡±


    ¡°None of those. Instead, I¡¯m studying to become the world¡¯s greatest serial killer,¡± he said, and he pushed a novel he brought out from his desk towards her, saying, ¡°This is my killer¡¯s tome where magic is born.¡±


    A serial killer? The words shocked her until she took that novel and looked at the cover.


    It was a cheesy looking detective fiction novel. Marked on the front was a man in that familiar deerstalker hat with a magnifying glass in his hand. The title was ¡®Dante Searcher and the Case of the Big Earner¡¯, with Dante being a distinguished looking gentleman with one Hell of a mustache.


    She looked at him with a disappointed look, asking, ¡°Is this what you mean by Dante Searcher?¡± and she threw up her arms, saying, ¡°This novel looks cliche as Hell. I can¡¯t believe someone as smart as you enjoys something as cheesy as this.¡±


    He put a hand to his chin, then shrugged.


    ¡°Cheesy or not, I enjoyed it. Even if the world thinks it¡¯s worthless, so long as I enjoy it, it carries value ¡ª does it not?¡±


    Before she could answer, the bell rang. They would have to continue their conversation for later. Later at lunch, however, Sen was nowhere to be seen. Sitting outside, all alone, Beatrice watched as the sun shone over the school. Sitting alone reminded her of one thing.


    Just why was she here?


    Why, of all places, come to a nation where she would be treated like a foreigner and excluded? No amount of high quality education could outweigh the damage that came with that sort of isolation. If anything, she longed to be in a school full of people like her.


    In the end, it was all the fault of her genetics. The blame laid at the feet of her being two ends of the world combined together oh so crudely. Now, she suffered the consequence that was that split heritage.


    Sitting alone at lunch, she could do nothing but lament ¡ª lament the fact that her father carelessly stuck her in a school where she¡¯d stick out like a sore thumb. That¡¯s when her hand brushed against the book Sen gave her.


    Dante Searcher¡­ that¡¯s when she noticed it was written in Cobellian. The inner text, too, was all in that ¡®foreign¡¯ language.


    The realization dragged her attention over to the first page, and soon, she found herself plunged into a mystery ¡ª the story of the Big Earner and how the ¡®dear detective¡¯ caught the culprit.


    At first, she thought it was cheesy and heavy handed with its cliches, but for some strange reason she couldn¡¯t put it down.


    I wonder, why can¡¯t I put it down?


    Why, it¡¯s because it¡¯s fun.


    It was good, lighthearted fun, and the lunch break flew by like a whirlwind, forcing her to shut the book close or else risk losing the pages. She worked through the other classes without Sen¡¯s help ¡ª which dropped her back down to the speed of the other students ¡ª and eventually the day came to a close.


    For once, she found herself enthusiastic to come back to the dormitory where she was excluded as a foreigner. Once she made her way back inside her room, she threw her schoolwork onto her table and threw herself in bed ¡ª book in hand.


    She took care of all her schoolwork, excluding math, seeing as she had a smart partner to fill in the gaps for her. With the free time that was spared, she tore away at the novel with ferocity, all the way till she reached the ending.


    But for whatever reason, she couldn¡¯t push forward. It was as if her pride prevented her from being spoon fed the answer.


    The next day came, and with it, Sen helped her get a better grasp on the math subject they were currently learning. He was quite the expert ¡ª probably better than the teacher ¡ª but he had one problem. He loved to be vague. He sat next to her, and he noticed something peeking out of her bag. It was the novel.


    Seeing that, he opened up his notebook and began drawing a rectangle, then a strange quarter circle. That¡¯s when she recognized it.


    ¡°Is that ¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the diagram of the victim in his room,¡± Sen answered. It had a doorway in, a window and a bed and closet duo. In the bed, he drew a stick figure with a big fat X on its head. ¡°In the case of the Big Earner, we¡¯ve got ourselves the classic closed room mystery,¡± he said. ¡°In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, the culprit came and killed our victim. The question is how?¡±


    ¡°There was a suppressed pistol in the room along with a gunshot wound to the head,¡± she said, ¡°but from the way things were set, it looked like a sort of suicide. The gun, however, had fingerprints that matched one of the passengers on board.¡±


    The murder was set on a small boat filled to the brim with the board of directors for a powerful company. The victim was none other than the CEO who invited them all on that boat ride with him. Other than the nine board members including the CEO, the only other people on the boat were the captain and a secret eleventh passenger, Dante Searcher. Dante was a veteran homicide detective and he was brought on via an invitation from the CEO himself.


    ¡°Dante was brought on by the CEO, as if the CEO knew he was going to be murdered that night,¡± Beatrice said, and Sen nodded.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried and rich enough, you can hire as many hands as you want,¡± Sen said. ¡°Makes you wonder, though.¡±


    ¡°Wonder?¡±


    ¡°Why bring a detective? A single unarmed man at that, too.¡±


    Following the murder, the next morning the body was discovered. When the eight gathered together to find their CEO¡¯s corpse, Dante made himself present ¡ª pipe in hand. He did the forensic work, all while the eight members stopped the Captain, forcing him to stay away from shore, that way the culprit couldn''t escape.


    The ten were trapped on that boat in the middle of the sea, and all together, Dante grew suspect.


    ¡°At first glance, it looked like the nine company members were all on good terms, but after Dante interrogated them all, he discovered that there was a bit of animosity between them all,¡± Beatrice explained. ¡°The fingerprints on the gun belonged to one of the members, though Dante kept that fact a secret.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s also another problem,¡± Sen said, and she nodded.


    ¡°The CEO¡¯s room was special. It had a chain which was reportedly set.¡±


    She looked at the diagram, then pointed to the bed. The bed was placed in a position where, even if the door was opened, the gunman couldn¡¯t shoot the victim without entering completely.


    Looking at the situation at hand, it was plainly impossible. There was no way for a killer to enter, chain the door shut, and vanish, leaving a locked window and door.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°There¡¯s no way for the killer to get away with this. There¡¯s no way they left the room. This murder was impossible. I stopped before the end. There shouldn¡¯t be any more clues left for me to work with.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t thinking of giving up here, are you? You¡¯re free to flip the page and read the ending, but if I were you, I¡¯d mull over the details one last time.¡±


    ¡°One last time?¡±


    With that, she pulled out her own notebook where a thousand clues laid.


    ¡°First clue,¡± she stated. ¡°The CEO¡¯s relationship with the others. He had a strained relationship with the other eight, but most importantly, he had a particularly bad time with the one whose fingerprints were found on the gun. It suggests a motive.¡±


    ¡°Second clue,¡± Sen read. ¡°Our suspect is close friends with one of the eight directors, close enough to have their families marry into one another¡¯s. Essentially, they¡¯re brothers in law.¡±


    ¡°Third clue. The holster,¡± she said. ¡°The suspect has an empty holster where the gun he owned was kept, meaning the gun used to kill the victim was definitely his. Additionally, the gun he owned was given to him by the CEO, as a sort of business present. It looks to me like he was killed by his own gift.¡±


    ¡°Fourth clue, blackmail,¡± Sen said. ¡°The suspect confessed to having blackmailed the CEO, which he used to his favor, causing the CEO to lose almost all of his own personal assets. Their business relationship was strained before, but after that, it was ruined for good.¡±


    ¡°Final clue. Gloves,¡± she said. ¡°Everyone there was wearing gloves, including the CEO whose body was found wearing gloves.¡±


    The clues were all laid out. Now all that was left was to convict their suspect with hard evidence.


    ¡°The problem is, the room was a locked room,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°No way in, no way out. It was reported by one of the eight directors who went to wake the CEO up for breakfast. The murder was proven to be impossible.¡±


    ¡°Proven?¡± Sen asked, and she looked at him like he was mad.


    ¡°Proven? Of course. They said it themselves, that it was a locked room.¡±


    ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°Says the director¡­ who was the suspect¡¯s brother-in-law.¡±


    The gears began to turn, and immediately, she realized what was going on. The director lied about the chain. He must have cut the chain himself to create the illusion of a closed room to protect the real suspect.


    ¡°Then the suspect really was the killer, with his brother in law as an accomplice!¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    She stopped and turned to Sen who sat, arms crossed.


    ¡°What motive did the suspect have to kill?¡±


    ¡°His blackmail, of course.¡±


    ¡°He blackmailed the victim, not the other way around. Did you forget about the very beginning?¡±


    ¡°The CEO, he invited them all ¡ª including the detective,¡± she said, and she put a hand to her chin to ask, ¡°but why? If he was worried, then why not hire bodyguards? Why even host this party in the first place?¡±


    ¡°Because he knew he was going to be killed.¡±


    There was something she overlooked, and that was the detective himself. At the very beginning, when the body was discovered, Dante said something strange.


    He said that, no matter what evidence comes out, that they were all innocent of any crimes committed on that boat.


    It was a premonition ¡ª not some grandeur statement with no backing.


    ¡°The suspect wasn¡¯t guilty,¡± Beatrice said, realization striking her. ¡°That¡¯s because the CEO wasn¡¯t killed. He committed suicide.¡±


    The silenced pistol, the gloved hands, the easy-to-access room of his.


    It was all a set up, an open and shut case, hand delivered to their dear detective who the CEO himself invited.


    She took the novel, then flipped open the ending.


    It was like she said.


    The CEO lied and framed the director who blackmailed him as a means of revenge, giving him a gun, getting it covered with the director¡¯s fingerprints before stealing it back ¡ª using it to commit suicide. The director¡¯s brother-in-law took it upon himself to protect him by creating a closed room murder through a single lie.


    And it was the detective who shed light upon both lies, reaching the singular conclusion.


    No one was guilty of any crimes committed on that boat.


    ¡°The case of the Big Earner has come to an end,¡± Sen said, and he pulled her hand into a handshake to say, ¡°Congratulations, detective. You solved this impossible case of murder. How could I possibly ever thank you?¡±


    She was shocked at the twist of an ending. At one point she was stumped by the impossible case, then electrified by the realization of the in-law¡¯s lie, then trumped by the truth that was the second lie that started everything.


    She understood how it felt to solve ¡ª to detect. And with that, she twirled her own hair as if it was a mustache to say, ¡°It¡¯s all in a day¡¯s work.¡±

 Chapter 10 :

    Five years had passed, and with her graduation from the Gold Academy ¡ª with a nearly perfect average grade, to boot ¡ª Beatrice made her way to what was arguably one of the most prestigious high schools in the world, the Dedard Academy, a western style school set in the east. Just being in that school meant an instant acceptance into whatever university she pleased. The hard work that went into getting into both academies was well worth the freedom that brought.


    The other students, all homogenous, like a sea of black hair, spilled into the school for their first day. Noone dared break the status quo and stick out ¡ª leaving Beatrice alone as a single dot of gold-blonde in that ocean.


    That fact used to bother her in the past, but now it became something she accepted. To be an outlier, to be different, was what it meant to be unique.


    Knowing she was, by definition, unique alleviated the stress that came with being different. By being different, it only opened up more paths for herself ¡ª paths normal people couldn¡¯t ever consider. That path led her down the cobble road that led to the school and towards an unexpected sight.


    Out of all the students, a single boy had been swarmed. From his long, mysterious dark hair to his perfectly symmetrical face, wherever and whoever he looked at always found themselves freezing in place for a moment, asking themselves if they really did see such an otherworldly person.


    He was fit to be a front cover model ¡ª and seeing as he had already been hounded by talent agents in the past, he had trouble staying out of the public eye.


    Beatrice, however, knew his dark secret. The popular boy who stood, trapped in a sea of attention was none other than the world¡¯s greatest serial killer. And unlucky for him, he had a rival who had the clairvoyance to trace his future footsteps.


    She was his detective, and when the two walked past one another they exchanged glances and smiles ¡ª a reminder to the both of them of their roles.


    Either one was the cat and either one was the mouse. All that mattered were the current rules of engagement for their game.


    Over the years, Sen created mysterious scenarios filled to the brim with impossible murders and double-triple crossers. Beatrice, in the face of unsolvable crimes, parsed through each and every detail to discover the truth.


    She spoke the language of detection better than her native tongue, and with a pen and notebook, she strung up her suspects and convicts in a reverse-web of truth.


    Currently, she was studying to become a real detective, choosing to go into the field of police work. All the while, she prayed Sen wasn¡¯t actually planning on becoming a serial killer.


    The two were enrolled in similar classes, and while they had different teachers, Sen didn¡¯t let that stop him. With the beginning of class, she found a note inside her desk that read,


    ¡°To my Dear Detective,


    Welcome to the Dedard Academy. Well done working hard to earn your place in this school, and even if it did take some cheating to pull yourself to the top percentile, there¡¯s no harder worker than a cheater, am I right?


    I know you will be busy this year with schoolwork, but I have a request for you.


    There was a reason I decided to pick this school, and while the education here is top notch, that wasn¡¯t why I came here.


    Surrounding this school is the Dark Forest, and deep inside said forest is an abandoned castle where my greatest crime will take place. Tonight, I invite you in as the tenth, and final human.


    The Higanbana Princess and her devoted servant, Virgil, welcomes you to a night of death and mystery.


    From,


    Dante Searcher.¡±


    With that note read, she knew what to do. Tonight, she¡¯d have a mystery to solve, and later that night she made her way out of school and instead of heading home to her student apartment, she followed a trail of silver lanterns. She passed under wreathes of seals and talismans that all laid, tied to ropes tied to trees. Clearly, they were set by the local folk who believed in the supernatural.


    Those silver lanterns led her up and past a river where, at the top, she saw it.


    It was like he said. An abandoned castle stood deep in that lantern-lit forest. The river passed through the side of the castle and bent towards the back where an entrance lay behind an iron gate. The gate was left unlocked, and with gloved hands she gently made her way inside the sewer-esque back entrance.


    The gentle tapping of falling droplets filled the cavernous sewer, and slowly she made her way towards an entrance. There, a strange object laid before the door. Upon closer inspection, it was a corpse. Not a human one, but rather a test dummy that was used to resemble a victim.


    The dummy was covered head to toe in warm, winter clothing that obscured every surface of skin. A red IX marked his back.


    Inside, she saw the whirlwind of murder that took place in that castle. She passed through what looked like a ballroom filled with ancient-styled paintings. On one of the walls was what looked like a giant lock, and lying before that lock was another corpse ¡ª this time a wooden mannequin.


    Then, deeper inside she found another mannequin sitting in a chair set in the entrance by the proper doorway inside the castle. Then, another mannequin laying in a room with a cut chain. Then, in another room, one mannequin hanged from the ceiling in a noose.


    She looked all around the house but could only find five ¡®corpses¡¯, leading her back to the ballroom where she stood and looked the lock up and down. When she went ahead to touch it, she felt something wrap around her.


    ¡°Morning, sunshine.¡±


    Shock turned to realization, realization turned to embarrassment and that embarrassment made her shrug him off of her. Even if the entire school swooned over him, she kept her composure ¡ª a trait fit for a detective. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°And a good evening to you, monsieur,¡± she replied, and she turned to see Sen.


    He wore his school uniform which consisted of a western outfit. He wore a dress shirt with ironed black pants kept up with suspenders, and over his shoulders was a warm, autumn coat. All he was missing was a fancy bow tie to complete the look.


    She walked up to him, then patted his side to pull out a revolver hidden in his waistband. It was a BB gun, of course, but was placed there purposefully for her to search and discover.


    ¡°Before you ask, there are three more corpses, but they all died outside so you might¡¯ve missed them,¡± Sen explained, and she nodded.


    ¡°Eight corpses, a few suspects and one detective.¡± and she twirled the gun in her hand to say, ¡°However you put things, there¡¯s no way around it.¡±


    ¡°Around what?¡±


    ¡°The fact that the killer is standing right before me.¡±


    And she pointed the gun towards his head, then let out a ¡®bang¡¯ from her lips. She couldn¡¯t help but smirk after that, to which he laughed.


    ¡°Shame you came so late. With deductive skills like yours, you could¡¯ve saved the other eight, you know that?¡± he said, and he threw up his arms to shout, ¡°But! Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself. I haven¡¯t told you anything yet.¡±


    ¡°What is there to be told? Haven¡¯t I already solved the puzzle?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid this tale isn¡¯t so simple.¡± and with the flick of his fingers, he inputted BICE, unlocking the door and allowing her entrance.


    Inside that room was a black book along with another mannequin. It looked lonely, all alone, with no one to share its tale with.


    Her eyes opened when she heard a gentle beep. Beatrice found herself in that isolated hospital, laying in bed next to the one person she ever felt fully accepted and truly loved by. Of course, Sen was still fast asleep, drifting away in an eternal coma.


    Morning shone through, and before she could tell him good morning, the door behind them opened up.


    ¡°Come on now, princess,¡± the doctor said. ¡°Visitation hours are over.¡±


    Beatrice did as she was asked and left the room, moving to another room where a table sat. On it was a laptop and a router that allowed her internet access from the remote hospital. There, she became a spectator of her own legacy, watching quietly as people online continued to buzz over the impossible murder mystery.


    Whether it was discussion over the events, new interpretations and forgeries of the events or even fanfiction depicting the people in unique situations, there was something clear about the whole situation.


    People wanted to know what really happened, and they became more and more fervent as time passed by.


    They even went as far as to create a profile for her, one that tried to collect as much information on their ¡®Higanbana Princess¡¯. The people managed to create a database around the story, a database that created a sort of continuity for the events that took place.


    According to locals who lived around the castle, there were rumors of a demon destroying an unnamed, riverside village. When asked, they responded with something strange ¡ª that the castle seemingly appeared out of the blue. There were no records of it being built, of material being purchased, or workers being hired and of blueprints being drawn.


    Additionally, a few older people mentioned that they remember seeing foreigners one day arriving at the seaside port and disappearing. On top of that, the silver lanterns did exist, and did lead people to said castle. Beatrice, however, took precautionary measures, going as far as to purchase the castle from the local, municipal government for quite the cheap price and renovating it to become livable.


    Maybe they wanted to get rid of a seemingly haunted castle, or maybe they wanted to see it refurbished and restored. Regardless, there were a set of facts that could not be overlooked.


    The municipal government had no records of the castle. According to government officials, it was most likely built by a nobleman from a bygone era, one who lived under a different, now toppled dynasty whose land ownership records were burned in coups and wars.


    The castle, now, was her home and around it was a steel tipped fence, keeping intruders out. Regardless, she saw photos on the website ¡ª photos taken from the outside, peeking in through dark, tinted windows. She saw herself and her security bodyguards in those photos, though by the way the pictures were taken, it seemed like those photos were of ghosts who roamed the grounds.


    The photo takers had no sense of privacy and some went as far as to record themselves sneaking onto the grounds and skulking around the castle. Some went in groups, working together to break into the morgue to find that there really were three caskets, though they were unnamed and empty, with nothing but withered flowers laid inside them.


    They even tried to lockpick their way into the main castle, only to be met at the end of a barrel. One of her bodyguards had come out and shooed them off with a double barreled shotgun ¡ª and in the corner of the video, she saw herself peeking out of the window, watching as the recorders all ran for their lives.


    The people online lovingly referred to her as Princess Higanbana. Even if those people vehemently denied the existence of the supernatural, by calling her that over and over, they slowly acclimated themselves into believing that demons could exist.


    The mystery of the murders, of the castle and of herself ¡ª they all worked in tandem to create illusions that kept people clinging to the questions they asked a thousand times.


    And every time they asked, she¡¯d answer with a shrug and a ¡®perhaps it did, perhaps it didn¡¯t¡¯.


    But too much time had passed, and the longer it dragged out, the more of a burden it became. But still, she couldn¡¯t release it. She couldn¡¯t unveil the truth and allow her tower of cards to fall just yet. Not until he finally wakes up.


    That¡¯s when the doctor stepped into her room. She had a stern look with an underlying hint of misfortune. Seeing that, Beatrice couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the boy,¡± she said. ¡°It was in remission before, but now ¡ª¡±


    The doctor¡¯s words turned to static. Beatrice stood, shocked, as if her whole world came crashing down like a glass chandelier. She could see the doctor¡¯s lips move as she spoke, but no words were needed for her to understand.


    ¡°Beatrice? Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Is he going to make it?¡± she asked, and the doctor couldn¡¯t quite answer.


    ¡°Under current circumstances, the best option he has is to go under the knife, but in his condition it can be life threatening,¡± the doctor said, ¡°and even if it¡¯s successful, there¡¯s a high chance of permanent damage.¡±


    ¡°Permanent damage?¡±


    ¡°Judging by his current fragile state, I predict there¡¯s a 90% chance he¡¯ll die ¡ª and if he does survive, he may wake up with a complete loss of memory. When he wakes up, he might be an entirely different person.¡±


    Hearing that, she was brought to her knees. Meanwhile, the doctor took out a phone to contact his parents. Of course, the option to go through with said surgery wasn¡¯t in her hands, though that didn¡¯t change the fact that she funded the experimental treatment he was put through for an otherwise terminal illness.


    The doctor was quick to call, but to her surprise, they didn¡¯t pick up.


    ¡°His parents aren¡¯t picking up, and seeing as I can¡¯t get their response, I¡¯m afraid the responsibility lies in the closest person¡¯s hands.¡±


    Beatrice stood, frozen, staring dully towards nothing. She was lost in her mind, all while the doctor stood, waiting for an answer. A thousand memories passed her by ¡ª a thousand memories that would soon be thrown to the past. Love cannot exist with one person alone, and staring at the still waters of uncertainty, she stared at a person, someone who had Sen¡¯s face and body, but when she asked if they were him, the person simply shrugged and answered, ¡®Maybe I am. Maybe I¡¯m not.¡¯


    She was left with one realistic answer.


    ¡°Beatrice?¡± the doctor asked. ¡°Shall I go through with this procedure?¡±

 Chapter 11 :

    The people¡¯s wishes would be granted. In the middle of the night on a Sunday, no less, an announcement was made ¡ª one that was advertised to the whole world, a campaign funded by the Jiyo family. Dante Searcher¡¯s testimony would be released three days from now in a dramatic reading at the mystery conference. Noone knew why the infamously uncooperative princess changed her mind, but regardless, excitement brewed.


    Finally, they¡¯d be free from the uncertainty that came with the reliance on material whose canon was dubious at best. Now, they¡¯d get the real thing ¡ª the last and final breath the long overstayed mystery would let out. Finally, the story could be laid to rest and the three years of mystery and illusions could reach its dramatic conclusion.


    Everyone was shocked by the announcement and the conference center, which had already been cleaned up after the third year of debate, had scrambled to prepare for a massive influx of guests.


    Beatrice stood at the helm of this event, and under lock and key, she made sure none of the material would be leaked before the release date. She prepared everything ¡ª from diagrams and blueprints of rooms to a dramatic, thunderous reading of a gruesome string of serial murders.


    She stayed home at the castle where those murders were committed, and with pen and keyboard, she prepared every slide, every page and every corner of her script.


    It was up to her to make it as impactful as she could ¡ª to leave behind a proper, satisfying conclusion, one that would immortalize its creator. It wasn¡¯t for her own sake, but his. It was her final thank you to the only boy who knew how to make her smile.


    At least, that¡¯s what she told herself.


    A single question crept into her mind. What was the point of it all if he wasn¡¯t there to see how the world reacted to his greatest murder mystery? After all, he had no intent of sharing it with the world. It was her selfish desire and decision to spread the preexisting rumors of murders online ¡ª the action that started it all.


    This whole time, Beatrice did nothing but follow his script, answering questions people asked through the testimony. From the very beginning, she followed it under the belief that it was him who wrote it.


    But now that she thought about it, she looked at the testimony which sat next to her laptop. The more she thought, the sooner she realized a possibility.


    Perhaps this testimony really was written by ¡®Dante Searcher¡¯. To go ahead and spread that rumor online, lead people on for three years, then release it would be a massive violation of ¡®Dante¡¯ and the other victims¡¯ privacy.


    To build a legacy off the backs of people who were mercilessly slaughtered in some cruel game ¡ª the thought filled her with disgust, and for what? To satiate the curiosity of strangers online?


    Could she truly and honestly stand up and allow that to happen?


    Looking online, she saw it again. Some people argued over who really died and who didn¡¯t. Some people went around, harassing people who they believed were tied to the murders that took place. Some people treated these real people like characters, toying with their lives in their own twisted versions of the mystery and others paired them together romantically, like children playing with dolls.


    The people cared more about solving the case more than they sympathized with the victims of said case. How did she know that? Because that¡¯s how she felt when she was first introduced to the case by Sen himself.


    Everyone treated the victims like chess pieces to play with, to disgrace after their gruesome, bloody deaths. Realizing that, Beatrice¡¯s eyes wandered from the testimony and to the fireplace that gently lit her room with an orange, sunset glow.


    It was immoral of her to spread this story in the first place, and the only person who definitively knew the legitimacy of the story had drifted away from her three years ago. Now, she truly realized how it felt to be alone, like Dante wandering through the castle after being left as the final survivor.


    Spreading it online ¡ª she realized it was a mistake. It had done nothing but drag the victims¡¯ corpses out of their graves and onto the autopsy table for wannabe detectives to dissect and disembowel. They had already died and the police had already dismissed the case. Either way, there was no way the victims would get justice.


    For whose sake was this all for?


    It wasn¡¯t for Sen, who could neither take credit or enjoy the show.


    It wasn¡¯t for the victims, who could never get justice for their killer who was long gone at this point.


    And it surely wasn¡¯t for herself who grew tired of the entire debacle, silently regretting ever publicizing the mystery.


    That¡¯s when her phone rang, and picking up, she heard the doctor on the other end.


    ¡°Sen¡¯s parents, I tried contacting them but I¡¯m getting sent to voicemail,¡± the old lady said. ¡°Have you seen them recently? Have you contacted them and told them about the procedure?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t. In fact, she hadn¡¯t seen them in two years. They stuck around for a year, watching over their son, but in the blink of an eye they had vanished. Ever since, she was the only one who ever paid Sen any attention. Though, she did remember the air ¡ª how it was charged with the strong emotions that came with every stage of grief.


    To have their brilliantly bright son fall terminally ill so young ¡ª it¡¯d drive any parent crazy, and the last time she saw them, she remembered it distinctly.


    They were no longer sad or upset. At that point, they had brought a pair of Higanbana flowers, which they left by his bedside. Looking back on it now, it seemed like they had come to accept that it was over and laid their son to rest.


    ¡°Beatrice?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve said their goodbyes,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°The only one clinging on is me, now. I¡¯m the last person who still cares for him.¡±


    Beatrice heard the beeping of machinery on the other end of the phone. The doctor was clearly beginning the procedure.


    ¡°Is there anything you¡¯d like for me to do before I go through with this?¡± she asked, and Beatrice sucked in a breath, then picked up the testimony.


    ¡°I want you to abort the procedure.¡±


    ¡°You want me to give up?¡±


    She took that testimony, turned to the fireplace, and stared as the flames flickered. Staring at the book, she held it tight.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point holding on anymore. I¡¯ve done nothing but desecrate his image, forcing him to stay alive for my sake,¡± she answered. ¡°It¡¯s time for me to say goodbye, to lay him to rest.¡±


    ¡°Beatrice¡­¡±


    She took that testimony and read it over once more.


    ¡°There¡¯s no more reason to hold onto hope,¡± she whispered. ¡°It¡¯s about time I finally let him go to his final resting place.¡±


    Tears stained those pages, but it was all over now. She took the testimony, then let it rest ¡ª being absorbed by the scarlet petals of the fireplace. Each leaf of paper turned to embers and the souls of so, so many were freed all at once.


    To all the victims, innocent or not, may they rest in peace.


    There were only two days left before the reveal, but after having burned the true testimony, Beatrice sat outside that cafe, staring off to nowhere in particular. It was about time she shut this chapter of her life and laid the one she loved to rest.


    Of course, being out in the public only elicited excitement in the form of both fans, haters and the paparazzi media who wanted to slice up the story and profits among themselves and their constituents. While she sat, tea by her side, she was hounded by a swarm of people who wielded their own theories, notebooks and microphones like swords.


    A thousand questions flew like arrows, but the killer¡¯s advocate, Beatrice, sat firm ¡ª her lips sealed. She grew accustomed to being in the limelight and gained an uncanny ability to stare off at noone in particular and drown out all the noise.


    Questions, rumors, mysteries, theories, accusations, fanfiction ¡ª she had heard it all. A more humble person would¡¯ve been flattered and open to answering their questions, but that just wasn¡¯t her.


    The crowd grew so noisy that nearby police officers had to break them up. Beatrice had grown secluded, making herself impossible to reach online. Their only way of speaking to her was in person and that had its own caveats. The crowd was broken up, all until a single person stepped in. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    They had hair as gray as the clouds above, wore the suit and tie of a foreigner and over their eye was a black eyepatch. She saw them, froze in place, and silently watched as they parted the sea of people. The figure stood before her, looking her up and down with a tired eye before bowing.


    ¡°Princess Higanbana, I¡¯ve heard all about you,¡± they said. ¡°It is my pleasure to finally meet you in person.¡±


    ¡°You ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Before you even ask, allow me to answer your question,¡± he said, and he placed a gloved hand over his heart to say, ¡°I am Virgil ¡ª your humble servant.¡±


    Beatrice sat in shock. A figure from a murder that took place thirty years ago stood in front of her. Even the surrounding people stood, shocked, unable to fully grasp the idea that a victim ¡ª or perpetrator ¡ª had come to say hello. Whispers filled the air, and Beatrice took it upon herself to realize the most likely outcome.


    She stood up, then smiled.


    ¡°Why, that is quite the cosplay you have, old man,¡± she said, and she slowly clapped her hands, saying, ¡°Well done. You¡¯ve fooled me. For a second there I thought I saw a ghost.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps a ghost is the most correct descriptor,¡± Virgil said, and he reached into his suit shirt to pull out a cup of bubble tea, a drink he pushed towards her alongside a sealed straw. It was a bribe.


    ¡°Princess, I must ask, is it true you had renamed all of the victims to hide their real identities?¡±


    She normally gave vague answers to questions like those, but for some reason, the answer spilled out of her.


    ¡°Indeed. I wanted to protect their identities, and in turn, their families and relatives. I didn¡¯t want them to be hounded by readers.¡±


    ¡°How kind of you, princess,¡± Virgil said, ¡°but I must ask ¡ª why did you change every victim¡¯s name except mine?¡±


    Beatrice found herself shuddering at his words and her fingers curling up ¡ª her nails digging into her palms. Just who was this person? From the way they spoke, it was as if they were really Virgil. From the look of him, he fit the image of an old butler serving a cruel, sadistic princess ¡ª a butler who had grown in the thirty years that had passed since then.


    Virgil scanned her expression-filled face and simply smiled.


    ¡°It looks like my hunch was correct. You are not the writer of this story. After all, you lack the cruel, sadistic nature required to be a serial killer.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying that you¡¯re far too kind to create this sort of story,¡± Virgil claimed. ¡°If I had to guess, you align more with the detective.¡±


    Virgil systematically broke apart the image she built around herself ¡ª the mysterious noblewoman who may or may not have sadistically murdered nine victims in her castle and gotten away with it. She built the image of a serial killer who got away with murder and gloated, spreading the story all over the internet for strangers to try and solve.


    To have someone deny that and say she aligned more with the detective ¡ª the one who was meant to solve said mystery ¡ª was both revealing and insulting.


    ¡°What? Are you calling me a fraud?¡± Beatrice asked, and she scoffed, saying, ¡°You come here, claiming you are Virgil, when in reality I already have a Virgil of my own. If anything, you are the fraudulent one here.¡±


    ¡°Princess Higanbana, have you earnestly not considered the possibility that there could be two Virgils?¡±


    Two Virgils? Why, her Virgil was in the withdrawn hospital hidden in the middle of the forest. What sort of claim was that, to say there were two?


    ¡°What sort of proof do you have to support your claim?¡± Beatrice asked, her face growing red ¡ª flushed with blood.


    ¡°I believe this will do,¡± Virgil said, and he pulled out a tape recorder. With a single finger, he pressed down on play.


    ¡°Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I¡¯m sure you had a lovely, lovely rest. Please, allow me to welcome you all in.¡±


    It was the voice of a woman ¡ª of Princess Higanbana. That woman, clearly, wasn¡¯t Beatrice.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Beatrice whispered. ¡°How did you get your hands on that tape? I had locked it away in my vault for years.¡±


    ¡°You locked your copy of the tape in your vault, all while I held onto mine.¡±


    It was impossible. How could he have his own copy?


    That¡¯s when a single realization popped into her head. The set of murders wasn¡¯t a story written up by Sen. Rather, they were events that truly did occur ¡ª a string of murders so perfectly impossible that the culprit managed to completely evade punishment.


    Now, thirty years later, that murder mystery reemerged long after the statute of limitations had passed on the case and here he was. The culprit. And he stood before her with a gentle smile ¡ª gloating over a string of murders he could never be prosecuted for.


    But, there was no real evidence towards it. The most that existed was the tape he carried and the claims he made which were of information only those involved could know.


    The castle¡¯s age was unknown, all while it was made clear that the murders took place thirty years ago. In that time, there¡¯s a chance someone could¡¯ve cracked the safe and entered before Beatrice or Sen ever did.


    If that person did exist, it had to be the man standing before her.


    The crowd suddenly dispersed, being pushed off the street by a limousine. Virgil, like the gentleman he was, stepped aside, granting her access to her vehicle.


    ¡°It seems like your ride has come,¡± Virgil said, and he bowed as if he were one of her servants, saying, ¡°Go on ahead. Don¡¯t let us common folk slow you down.¡±


    Beatrice stood, but before she could enter the car, Virgil shook her cup of bubble tea ¡ª catching her attention with the jingle of the ice inside.


    ¡°Princess,¡± he asked. ¡°Before you go, I must tell you one thing.¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    ¡°When the day the truth is finally revealed, I want the true author to be our orator.¡±


    She paused, then gave in.


    ¡°I will,¡± she answered ¡ª her voice soft as whispers. ¡°When the day comes, he will be there.¡±


    Her usual calm demeanor had been blown away. She sat in the back seat of the limousine, unable to look the crowd in the eye before vanishing down the road.


    She had already completed everything that went towards the finale. All she had left to do was give her final goodbyes. She got off the limousine early, just to spend a few precious minutes walking through the gentle, silent forest.


    The world stood still that day, like time had paused. The moment she saw the hospital, she took her time. She admired the wooden walls of the house¡¯s exterior, the slightly rusted handle of the front door and the smell of fragrant tea escaping out the windows. She took her time, so that his life may be that bit longer.


    Sen¡¯s parents hadn¡¯t picked up. Not once, not ever. It seems like they had long given up. Now, it was her time to follow the lead they left her. It was a clue so obvious, only a professional detective could miss it.


    She walked through those quiet halls, all the way until she could hear that familiar beep. Pushing past the unlocked door, she saw the doctor for what was meant to be the last time.


    ¡°Are you really going through with this?¡± the doctor asked, and Beatrice nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time I let go of this childish belief ¡ª a belief that there ever was hope in the first place.¡±


    The doctor looked a bit disappointed, hearing that, but respected her wishes ¡ª stepping out of the room to give her the privacy she needed. There, she stood over Sen who continuously drifted. He had been put under more intensive care with his mouth and nose covered with an oxygen mask, every vein pierced by a different drip bag and a variety of machines set around him.


    It was a pitiful state of being. She couldn¡¯t help but feel awful for forcing him to live so long that his body degraded to such an extent.


    ¡°Sen, can you hear me?¡± she asked. ¡°I realized, after so long, that what I did was wrong. Spreading your story online without your permission has done nothing but spread my misery to others.¡±


    She leaned in, looked down to his pierced arm, and reached for his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing but lead people on. I¡¯m nothing more than a fraud, living off the back of your work.¡± and she squeezed his hand tight to ask, ¡°At least, it is your work, is it? There weren¡¯t actual murders that took place in the castle, were there?¡±


    Beatrice let his hand go, allowing his fingers to curl naturally, tightening as if rigor mortis was settling into his joints.


    ¡°I met a man who claimed to be Virgil today. That can¡¯t be right, can it? This work is nothing but fiction, is it? I haven¡¯t been allowing people to desecrate the story of the victims, have I?¡±


    No response. Sen¡¯s body was still. He couldn¡¯t be classified as a body ¡ª rather, a corpse.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what happened, was it? I haven¡¯t been disrespecting the dead, have I? If I have, then I suppose this is an appropriate punishment.¡± and she lowered her head, resting on his chest which breathed in and out ¡ª assisted by a ventilator.


    ¡°This punishment. It doesn¡¯t fit you,¡± she whispered, and her tears wet his frozen heart ¡ª the warmth thawing it ever so slightly.


    ¡°Please, God. Punish me in his place.¡± and she lifted her head up and out the window, towards the dying afternoon light.


    ¡°Howell, Baron, Aki, Iffrah, Wright, Calina, Erika and Misha,¡± she whispered. ¡°To all of you and the real people behind these fake identities, I apologize for everything I¡¯ve done to the memories of your lives.¡±


    She reached down and squeezed his hand one last time. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she whispered to herself.


    ¡°And of course, my apologies to you, Dante Searcher.¡±


    She looked to Sen, then to the outlet where all of the machinery was connected ¡ª the single outlet that kept him alive for so long past his logical death.


    ¡°I¡¯ll lay the mystery to rest, and in turn, I lay you to rest as well.¡±


    A thousand memories passed her by. From the first mystery to the last time she saw him. It all ended in the image of his smile.


    ¡°Goodbye, Sen. It¡¯s time I let go.¡±


    She reached out and grabbed the plug.


    Then, she pulled. Millimeter by millimeter, the cord pulled out.


    ¡°Beatrice?¡±


    Her hand froze. She felt his hand, for the first time in years, tighten in its grasp.


    It came out in whispers ¡ª whispers so subtle that she couldn¡¯t tell if his lips, obscured by the foggy oxygen mask, were moving. For the first time in three years, she heard him speak.


    ¡°Sen?¡± she asked, but there was no response.


    She looked at every machine and piece of technology in that room. Every single one of them suggested that what just happened was nothing more than a trick of her own mind. A sort of lasting guilt, one that manifested in a fake, physical lie.


    That¡¯s when she felt something brush past her leg and fall to the floor. She didn¡¯t know where it came from, or how, but on the floor was a familiar black feather.


    Even if the feather was a fake, that didn¡¯t rule out the possibility of a witch. That¡¯s what he argued all those years ago, and while she used to argue against him in opposition of the witch¡¯s existence, now she stood at a standstill.


    She let go of that cord to grip the feather, then took it to the window where she let it free ¡ª free to fly away, picked up by the autumn breeze for it to get caught in the brush of the forest for someone else to stumble across.

 Chapter 12 :

    The day had come, and in that familiar stage were a thousand people who wanted to finally hear the truth after three years of vague responses and sidestepping. Standing in the crowd was the man who claimed to be Virgil who stood alongside the two representatives who, caught up in the suspense of the soon-to-be revealed truth, bickered among one another.


    A thousand people stood among one another, crowded in that conference center, surrounded by banners and posters of the upcoming event. They had been given only three days to prepare for the big event, and despite that, people came in the masses. Some recorded on their phones while others brought tripods and cameras to stream it live.


    There was no way around it. It was an event big enough that the internet had its eyes on her. It felt like the entire world was waiting for an answer. Of course, they would have to wait ¡ª longer than they expected to.


    The representative of truth stood, checked his watch, and let out a sigh.


    ¡°She¡¯s five minutes late. What¡¯s taking her so long? Wasn¡¯t she supposed to start the reveal today?¡±


    The representative of reality turned to his opponent and scoffed.


    ¡°She¡¯s been holding onto the truth of the events for the past three years. If you can wait three years, you can wait five minutes more.¡±


    Mister Truth shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s unacceptable. Knowing her and her track record, it wouldn¡¯t be too far off to believe that she¡¯s led us all on,¡± he said, and he turned to Virgil to say, ¡°Additionally, it looks like we¡¯ve gotten a new player in this game ¡ª one who¡¯s tight lipped as the princess herself.¡±


    Mister Reality turned to Virgil to ask, ¡°Mister Virgil, are you really who you claim to be? Because, as the representative of reality, I have to ask ¡ª who are you really? Are you one of the nine victims? Or is Virgil a tenth person?¡±


    ¡°I am who I am,¡± Virgil responded. ¡°As to your question, I refuse to answer whether or not there were more than nine people present at the time of the murders.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re no different from the princess,¡± Mister Reality said with a frown.


    Virgil simply shrugged at his response, upsetting the two who flew into a storm of questions. They interrogated Virgil, all while murmurs escaped from behind the scenes.


    Sitting alone in a staff room was Beatrice, and while the conference waited for her to finally reveal the truth, she worked away with a pen and a black notebook. The minutes passed her by ¡ª leaving it up to a member of staff to come get her.


    They had a key, and when they unlocked the door, they opened it ¡ª only to find that it had been chained shut.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Beatrice asked, obscured by the body of the door itself.


    ¡°You¡¯re five minutes late. The crowd has been patiently waiting for you to begin.¡±


    ¡°Let me put in the final finishing touches.¡±


    ¡°Finishing touches? What are you doing in there?¡±


    She scribbled in the last touches, and with the notebook shut tight, she stood up straight. The notebook was kept close to her chest, and with a breath in, she unlatched the lock.


    The staff member guided her down the familiar hall, all the way towards a familiar podium. A thousand pairs of eyes watched her, and that familiar sensation from years ago returned ¡ª the feeling of being the center of attention. She stood, notebook in hand, and bowed to the people who went out of their ways to hear the truth. It must¡¯ve been shocking to see the sadistic and cruel Higanbana princess bow before them so respectfully, and knowing that, she felt a bit lighter at heart.


    ¡°Before we begin, I¡¯d like to thank you all for coming,¡± Beatrice said, the gratitude in her voice genuine. ¡°I¡¯ve spent so long leading people on and dragging out a mystery that should¡¯ve been solved years ago, but now, it all comes to its conclusion. In those three years, I¡¯ve received thousands of messages from people online and have received numerous notebooks in person ¡ª notebooks filled with theories, examinations and fan media. In the past, I never quite realized how much all of this meant to you. In the past, I often brushed things off immaturely, but now I know that all of it is important.¡±


    For the first time, the public heard Beatrice apologize. She was only eighteen, and yet, she held herself to a high standard ¡ª a standard she had to make up for for her immaturity in the past.


    ¡°To everyone who has come and shared with me their own theories, fiction and investigations ¡ª I thank you. Because of all of your love and support, I¡¯ve been able to cope with events and the personal tragedies that come with life. At first, I thought this was a parasocial relationship between celebrity and fan, but now I realize this passion goes both ways.¡±


    The crowd seemed honestly shocked by her apology, but that wasn¡¯t something she hadn¡¯t expected. After all, she was a detective with a firm grasp on action and reaction.


    ¡°Today, things come to an end. Finally, we reach the conclusion.¡± and she pressed a button on the podium, starting up a projector which lit up the wall behind her.


    She had, in actuality, prepared a presentation for the case years ago. Only those in her school knew about it since it was actually an assignment she had handed in. Despite that, she had banked on the assumption that no one would remember one of many school projects.


    Projected on the wall were photographs taken of the castle, pictures taken years ago, a sweeping shot that illustrated just what sort of castle it was. From the sliding traditional doors to the setsugekka snow-moon-flower styled paintings on the walls, the castle¡¯s interiors were covered with ink-brush branches. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Every inch of the castle¡¯s interior was carefully hand painted ¡ª an art that most likely took years, all done with one painter¡¯s hand. The result was an atmosphere of peace that was unmatched, surviving to the modern day under her care.


    Finally, the entrance of the castle stood before the crowd ¡ª a familiar image that had been posted a countless amount of times on the internet.


    With the architecture and scene-setting out of the way, nine peoples¡¯ faces flashed before them.


    Nailed to the wall were nine hand painted portraits. A stage light lit them up for the crowd to see. The nine paintings depicted the victims as close to the source material, with every one of them sitting on a sofa chair almost regally ¡ª as if to oppose the belief that they were all victims.


    Seeing them sitting on their thrones, their expressions oh so sullen and brooding, filled her mind with countless ideas. Seeing them so dignified made her believe that any one of them could¡¯ve been the culprit.


    After all, that was her intention. Beatrice was both a detective and a skilled painter, going as far as to honor Sen¡¯s story with her two hands and a palette that brought color to the dreary murder mystery.


    Cameras snapped, flashing at the paintings that were fit to be exhibited in some sort of museum memorializing the mystery. The presentation hadn¡¯t even started yet, and the excitement had reached its peak.


    But like a black bird in a flock of doves, she had to bow her head and reveal the truth.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you all love my hand painted artwork and photography, but I¡¯m afraid the presentation must come to an end, early.¡±


    Ending things early? The crowd grew wild at the suggestion of ending it before it even began, but Beatrice had to do what¡¯s right.


    ¡°I must do the right thing and relinquish ownership of this story,¡± Beatrice announced. ¡°For the past three years, I have been lying to you all.¡±


    Lies?


    ¡°Yes. I am a liar. A fraud. A plagiarizer,¡± she said. ¡°I had no right to introduce to the world this mystery and I have no right to reveal the truth to you all now.¡±


    The crowd grew mad. They knew deep down there was a possibility that she was just some figurehead representing the real killer, but this was too much. A growing rage filled the crowd, all while Beatrice simply bowed.


    ¡°My apologies to you all,¡± she said. ¡°If the staff wishes to go through with this, then they shall go through it without me. The testimony has been placed on the podium, ready for anyone to read and unveil the truth. I¡¯m afraid I have other places to be ¡ª by the side of someone else.¡±


    She saw the anger in the crowd, how they shouted. She couldn¡¯t blame them. She had been jerking them around for years, and now, at the climax of the tale, she bailed on them. After all, it was in her sadistic persona to do so. She might¡¯ve actually been a sweet, caring girl but years of wearing this identity molded her into the personality of the Higanbana Princess.


    Beatrice completed her respectful bow, but before she could turn and vanish behind the curtains, she heard a familiar voice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you¡¯ve drawn this game out for far too long, darling?¡±


    She froze in place, but instead of turning to see who they were, she felt a tear spill down her cheek. She didn¡¯t need to turn. She had faith it was who she thought it was.


    The crowd looked shocked. The last thing they were expecting to see was an elderly woman pushing a wheelchair. It creaked and rolled, all the way to her side.


    She saw that familiar plumage of black hair and she heard his sigh.


    ¡°This game wasn¡¯t meant to be drawn out for three years. Look at the mess that¡¯s come of it.¡±


    He acted disappointed, but in reality she knew he was happy.


    ¡°The last thing I expected out of this story was to have the whole world wrapped around your finger. Looks like you led em on real good, my darling detective.¡±


    Her hand rested by her side ¡ª a hand he took and squeezed.


    ¡°Leave the rest to me,¡± he told her. ¡°I¡¯ll take things from here.¡±


    The surgeon brought over a pair of crutches, and the boy turned to her with an embarrassed smile.


    ¡°Beatrice, darling?¡± he asked. ¡°Could you give me a hand?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t just a hand. It was a whole hug. Three years was more than enough grief and pain for one girl. Sen simply chuckled, then hugged her back with what strength he had in his arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s over now,¡± he said. ¡°No more tears. The tragedy, today, comes to its conclusion.¡±


    Beatrice pulled him up onto his feet and perched him atop the crutches. There, he brought light to the truth.


    ¡°Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I am Ieri Sen, your host tonight, and it is with utmost pleasure to see you all. It¡¯s been quite a rough ride, being in a coma for the past three years, so I hope you all can forgive my darling princess who was in my stead.¡±


    Realization filled the faces of the people, and after hearing of how he was in a coma for the past three years, they grew more lenient towards Beatrice and her wishy-washiness. With that said, he grabbed onto the podium while barely keeping himself standing. There, he saw the book and simply smiled to himself.


    ¡°It looks to me that the testimony looks a bit different than I remember.¡±


    Hearing that, the crowd grew wild. That statement meant that Beatrice may have forged the testimony, and that meant that the truth was ¡ª once again ¡ª out of their grasps.


    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding, folks,¡± Sen said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that to you all. It¡¯d be too cruel of me to introduce uncertainty, now, would it? Now, the question arises. Is this story fiction or nonfiction? It¡¯s time I revealed that to you all, and the truth is¡­¡±


    Anticipation filled the crowd, and Sen¡¯s only response was to smirk oh, so cruelly.


    ¡°This story is not fiction¡­ written by Beatrice.¡±


    It¡¯s not fiction, written by Beatrice? Or is it not fiction written by Beatrice?


    Beatrice herself grew confused by this ¡®either or¡¯ statement in terms of fiction versus nonfiction. The original testimony wasn¡¯t written by her, but the testimony sitting before Sen was written by her in a last minute effort ¡ª though, that doesn¡¯t overrule the fact that the testimony could be real, meaning her forgery was as real as the original.


    Either way, both interpretations of the statement could be true.


    Sen seemed to get a kick from confusing and baffling the crowd, and of course, he turned to her with that playful look. While the crowd was distracted by their own arguing, Beatrice took the moment to finally ask the question.


    ¡°Sen? Is it true? Did the murders really occur?¡±


    His response was to smile softly, then answer her with a question of his own.


    ¡°Even if the feather was fake, does that rule out the possibility that a witch roams the falling forest?¡±

 The End : Reveal of the True Culprit

    The conference shut down and a thousand people left, a little more satisfied than they were before. Even the representatives of both truth and reality left with the realization that, fiction or nonfiction, the tragedy was to be taken seriously and the victims be given the humanity they deserved.


    Virgil left the conference with his revolver on his hip. There, standing outside, he flipped a gold coin ¡ª one with the Jiyo brand of a bear¡¯s paw stamped onto the front. Outside, he noticed a group of eight people who looked awfully familiar.


    A trio left the conference. One was an Ennian nobleman, an elderly fellow, and the second a younger Cobellian man accompanied by a Zahnnian woman who wore quite the fancy kimono.


    Another trio left. Two of them were Cliesen women and trailing behind them was a Sulphuran woman clad head to toe in a warm burka, her face exposed for all to see her vibrant and warm smile.


    Finally, smoke filled the air as another couple left the conference hall, a man and woman. They were two Cobellians. One carried a smoking pipe while the other offered her his hand ¡ª ring fitted to his finger. He reached into her hair to brush past a half withered spider lily.


    All nine victims, with the truth revealed, were freed from the limbo of uncertainty, freed from lust, freed from gluttony, freed from greed, freed from anger, freed from heresy, freed from violence, freed from fraud and of course, freed from treachery. The flames of the inferno came to a cool when the snowstorm subsided.


    With that, the case came to its conclusion. Sen, with his own strength, carried himself with his crutches towards the vault door. He looked the wall up and down one last time, then turned to Beatrice with a smile.


    ¡°The case comes to an end,¡± he announced. ¡°My dear detective, do tell. Who are the culprits?¡±


    Beatrice stood, her notepad in hand. In it were notes written three years prior ¡ª a conclusion she came to with her own investigative skills.


    ¡°The three culprits are obvious, but before we do so, let us go through an autopsy listing each and every murder in detail.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure,¡± he said. ¡°Tell me, how did the first death, Howell Herman, play out?¡±


    ¡°Faked. He planted a false corpse, one that was so frozen that it was impossible to peel off the clothing and reveal that it was a fake corpse underneath,¡± she responded. ¡°Though, if you want to go a more superstitious route, you could say that the picking of the Higanbana flower¡­ raised the dead.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Second death. Baron Gadro.¡±


    ¡°He was murdered by the culprit¡¯s accomplice, Wright Bernstein. He arranged a bloody scene so gruesome that only a supernatural demon could do something so cruel. The closed room was facilitated by Misha and Calina¡¯s lie.¡±


    ¡°Third death. Shinjiro Aki.¡±


    ¡°She was murdered by Wright, accompanied by Howell. Howell came in through a window Wright had unlocked. Wright held her against the door where Howell killed Aki, then escaped out said window, leaving blood in his trail as a red herring. There, Wright locked said window before disappearing.¡±


    ¡°Disappearing where?¡±


    ¡°Into the vault, of course. After all, he knew the code all along. I figured that out when Wright asked Aki directly to help him solve the code. He was a wolf who invited a sheep into his den.¡±


    Sen smirked, then moved on.


    ¡°Fourth death. Iffrah Pezra.¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Howell Herman. When she eavesdropped on Dante and Erika, Howell snuck inside her room and proceeded to strangle, then hang her after she and Misha talked, disguising the murder as suicide.¡±


    ¡°Fifth death. Wright Berstein.¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Howell Herman. He brought Wright into the room by the entrance, offered him gold for his services, then killed him ¡ª spreading his blood across the walls and stuffing him with gold as punishment for his greed.¡±


    ¡°Sixth death. Calina Yekov.¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Misha Asimov. She had been turned to the side of the culprit, and thus, the detective killed her for betraying the side of justice.¡±


    ¡°Seventh death, Erika Portinari.¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Misha Asimov. An accidental death after having been tricked into protecting the culprit. Although, in the mind of the culprit, it was all planned out through devilish seduction.¡±


    ¡°Eighth death. Misha Asimov.¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Virgil. Shot through the heart and left to rot in the snowy wasteland.¡±


    Hearing that, a satisfied, cruel smile grew on Sen¡¯s face ¡ª a smile that congratulated her for discovering the truth. An equally satisfied smile grew on Beatrice¡¯s face, one of betrayal ¡ª betrayal she committed against the world, tricking them into believing a falsehood.


    ¡°And the ninth and final death, Howell Herman. How did he die?¡±


    ¡°Murdered by Virgil.¡±


    When Dante returned to the castle, he didn¡¯t return to grieve.


    No. He returned to tie up the loose ends.


    He opened the vault with ease. Then, he met with his accomplice ¡ª the man who helped him the most. His accomplice was waiting for his reward and Dante was more than willing to give an unexpected reward.


    That reward was a silver bullet through the heart.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s final,¡± Sen proclaimed, and she nodded.


    ¡°Dante Searcher is Virgil.¡±