Everyone went up to the second floor.
Not in hope, not in despair — simply because it had been said:
**"There should be an axe there."**
And yes, it **should have been** there.
But —
it wasn't.
And this "wasn't" turned out louder than any "was."
Glass — shattered.
Axe — vanished.
Logic — stepped out for a smoke.
— W-what the… hell! —
Enua flared up as if the glass from the display case had shattered right inside his skull. — I didn't do this! Up until now, I didn't even know it was **here**!
Anyone who's seen me knows — I never once went up to the second floor!
— Then…
how do you explain the axe disappearing? —
Yahweh asked.
— Agreed, — Hov chimed in, — if you've got an alibi, prove it **wasn't you**.
*"Yeah… sure…"*
I listened, but I already knew where this was headed.
Enua and I had talked about it: Yahweh and Hov's idea to split into groups wasn't strategy — it was quiet sabotage.
They didn't like Enua.
They didn't like **his potential to be the first killer**.
And now they were just using the first chance to pin the blame on him.
— I don't… care if you believe me or not! —
Enua clenched his fists. — You've been against me from the start.
But **why me**?!
Anyone could've done it! You! Hov! Tiamut! Even you, Kamiki!
Why are you pointing at **me**?!
— Because, —
Kamiki paused theatrically, — I **have proof** it could only be you.
— The moment we split into rooms, — he began, — I **immediately** called Hov and Yahweh. I had suspicions. From the very start. That you — were the first who'd kill.
And then… I **kept the line open**. We **never hung up**.
If someone **opened the door**, we'd **hear it**.
A blow. Precise. Cold. Right at the weak spot.
— Our group is above suspicion. But **yours**…
You've got no alibi.
Enua… stayed silent.
Because check.
Because checkmate.
Because he realized:
**he'd just been outplayed**.
*"He planned it all in advance…
Every possibility. Every move.
That bastard wrote the script, and we're just playing our parts…"*
— You've got no proof of your innocence, —
Hov concluded. — Admit it. You killed Gerudo.
— If you confess… —
Yahweh added, — we **won't touch you**. Just take you outside.
And you'll… drift away.
Three against one.
Aragi — the fourth.
The only one who still believed Enua.
But even belief can't replace **proof**.
— Excuse us, —
a voice came from the side, — we woke up… you're being too loud…
On the stairs stood Cheryl and Morgana.
They didn't know yet.
But **now** they would.
They were told everything.
Led to the kitchen.
Shown.
…the first and most painful "incident."
— AHH! Why?! Why him?! —
Morgana screamed. No filters. No masks. Just raw. —
G-Gerudo-sama…
She fell to her knees. Wept.
— Enough. Morgana, it's… —
Cheryl was calm. Too calm.
But in his voice…
…something trembled.
— We'll bury him.
After the rain.
And clean the kitchen.
Forgive her.
An hour passed.
The participants gathered in the living room.
All — except one.
Enua stayed in the bedroom.
— Sorry if I'm intruding, —
I approached the girl sitting on the steps.
— Here, take a handkerchief.
— D-don't trouble yourself over me… Mr. Aragi.
— Oh? What if I want to?
Can anyone just stand and watch a girl **cry** alone on **cold** steps, like some cheap movie?
Sorry, but that's **not my style**.
So take it.
— Th-thank you…
She wiped her eyes.
— Feel better?
— Yes…
I'm alright now. Thank you, Mr. Aragi.
You shouldn't have… for just a tool.
— A *respected* one?
— Oh! Sorry! I didn't —
— It's fine.
Actually.
Forgive **me**.
Seems Gerudo was very dear to you. And I…
I came too late.
— Don't say that. It's not your fault.
Cheryl and I should've been watching. But we went to rest…
And he… stayed. Why did he stay?
— Even if he'd left, —
I looked at her, — it wouldn't have changed anything.
If the witch picks a target…
…she gets it.
— Maybe…
You're right.
We heard your argument…
Sorry.
— Told you — no apologies.
Speak. Whatever's in your heart.
She flushed.
Sat close.
Only now realizing **how close**.
— Sorry… Someone might see…
— Ah-hah-hah.
Let them think what they want.
And me…
I'm glad I chased away the gloom.
Silence.
Calm.
— What was Gerudo to you?
Cheryl's composed. But you… you lost **family**.
— He **was** our family.
He worked here under the first master.
This island — it's named after him.
Gerudo served him alone. For years.
But age made it hard, so he hired us.
Cheryl and I went to a school that turned children into… "tools."
— Tools?
— Yes…
They taught us obedience.
They beat us.
But I don't blame them.
They gave us shelter.
And at twelve — we were sent to St. Olga's School.
Three-year course. The best went to influential families.
We made the list.
And met Gerudo-sama.
He treated us… like his own.
— We've worked here seven years.
He became real family.
— Sorry if I bored you…
— No.
You…
you're strong.
You're **not a tool**.
You're human.
I took her hands.
— You're a real, living person.
With a heart. A soul. Pain and light.
Never. Hear me? Never call yourself a "tool."
**Especially around me.**
— S-sorry…
I pulled my hands back. Flushed.
Classic.
— No apologies.
You… are remarkable.
I didn't think I'd meet someone **like you** in this life.
From now on…
I'm not a tool. I'm a person.
— That's better.
And her face…
…glowed.
As if I hadn't just spoken words, but parted the sky.
If my words could make everyone shine like that…
…I'd say them forever.