After hastily rushing out of the library — thirst wasn't the most logical reason to leave a murder scene, but seemed the only acceptable excuse at the moment — Morgana, Cheryl and I headed to Enua's room.
He'd flatly refused to stay with the others. Understandable, yet suspicious. But what could we do? Nerves were frayed. Except...
...he wasn't in his room.
— Hmm, — Morgana broke the silence first. — Things are escalating. Where'd he go?
An excellent question. The kind you dread answering.
— No blood or signs of struggle, — I added, scanning the room. — So he wasn't killed.
If he'd been killed, we'd have noticed. Probably. Hopefully.
— The only unchecked area is the second floor, — Cheryl suggested.
— Pointless, — I shook my head. — We'd have seen him immediately.
— Forgot... — I muttered. — The library we just left is on the second floor. The opposite wing's visible too.
Convenient sightlines. Slipping away unnoticed would be... challenging.
— Theories? — Cheryl turned to us.
— He couldn't have gone outside. It's dark, and no sane person would leave the mansion on this island, — Morgana said.
I agreed entirely. Night here wasn't just darkness—it was nightmare material draped over the island.
— Brother, — Morgana suddenly said, — let's check the storage shed!
— Hey! — Cheryl snapped. — I told you—no "brother" during operations. Especially in front of guests.
— Relax, — I said calmly. — It's fine. I already knew you're siblings.
Wait.
Wait—what?!
— Guess that's why he felt comfortable saying it around us, — Aragi added.
— When did you tell him that?!
— Sorry... — Morgana winced. — I might've... mentioned it to Aragi without thinking...
— Don't apologize for something so trivial, — I shrugged. — Would've found out eventually. You... kinda look alike.
Lie. Absolute lie. Zero resemblance. But you don't say that to people's faces.
— Really? — Cheryl's eyebrows shot up. — You're the first to say that.
*"Because I'm lying."*
— Just observant, — I said, avoiding eye contact.
— Anyway, — Cheryl refocused. — Storage shed. Let's go.
— Thought we ruled out him going outside, — I noted.
— Still do, — he said. — But I get Morgana's point.
— Besides food and alcohol, — he explained, — there's a shotgun in there. With spare shells. Belonged to Gerudo-sama.
A shotgun.
On this island.
Where only we exist.
Perfect. Just perfect.
— Why would he need a shotgun with no one around? — I asked, pretending this was hypothetical.
— Maybe he shot seagulls for fun, — Cheryl offered.
— Disturbing hobby, — I concluded. And we went.
Minutes later, we reached the shed. Outside, rain fell—not a storm, just a melancholic drizzle. This island apparently doesn't do weather normally.
— He's not here, — Morgana confirmed after checking inside.
— So someone took the shotgun? — I feigned surprise.
— Unlikely, — she shook her head. — Only we and Gerudo-sama knew about it. And we have the only key.
— Then where is it? Maybe you misremembered the location?
— The shed's tiny, — Cheryl shrugged. — Every shelf is packed with food. Hard to miss.
— Let's head back, — I suggested. — Standing here solves nothing.
Back inside. Same walls. Same oppressive air—like each step leaves footprints in the atmosphere itself. No gun. No duplicate keys. Meaning no participant could've accessed it.
Theoretically.
— I'll recheck our rooms, — I said. — You two report to the others in the library.
— But you—? — Cheryl hesitated. — I can't leave you alone. It's too dangerous.
— I'll manage. Quick sweep. I can defend myself if needed.
— Fine. Don't linger. I'll return after updating them, — Cheryl said, leaving.
Well then...
Time to recheck every room. He could be anywhere now. But the missing gun... that's not Enua's doing. I'm certain. The real question is—who?
I never reached the bedrooms.
Because I heard it.
Gunshots.
— ?!
*"What was that?! Gunfire?! Don't tell me—"*
I sprinted upstairs. Straight to the library.
And...
...I saw it.
Blood.
Everywhere.
Participants' bodies. Staff who'd just arrived. All on the floor. Pools of crimson silence.
Shattered skulls.
Torn ribcages.
This wasn't an attack. Not a threat. This was an *execution*. Death. No chances. Zero.
*"I can't believe... Who did this?!"*
The room spun. I swayed like a paper soldier in a hurricane. Couldn't stand. Everything blurred.
What is this...?
This feeling...?
The world dissolved. Warped. Folded like paper into a singularity.
And I found myself...
...in white space.
No mistakes. No doubts.
I was back with the witch.