**The participants gathered around the untranslated glyphs, as if collective bewilderment could somehow birth comprehension.**
— Aragi, why're you frozen? — Hov called from behind. — We're about to break into the library. Still figuring out *how*, though.
— The door's too massive, — Kamiki said, — we can't budge it. Feels like solid metal — no breaking through.
Frankly, options dwindled just *looking* at that door.
Now I finally understood: **that hadn't been a dream.**
This was reality. The kind where you lose even when you're meant to be the protector. Even when you're *supposed* to outplay the game's mistress herself.
I still felt that pain — not metaphorically. It lingered, as if the blade still pierced my flesh.
Had we truly returned to the second day? Everything carried that faint, half-washed familiarity — **déjà vu.**
No mistake. I'd lost to her… that first night.
Gerudo's murder.
I'd failed to prove Enua's alibi. But… had there ever been a chance? She'd played on her own turf.
She'd **resurrected the victim** — and that corpse, dragged back from death, had refuted my arguments. As if the game itself rejected my rules.
Was Enua truly the killer?
**No.** I'd never believe it. Not when my enemy was a witch. Creatures like her were, by nature, **too deceitful** to speak plainly.
Then it struck me. A thought too simple to be false. Too true to be convenient:
*The witch spoke through the victim.*
To deceive. To force checkmate. She'd known she couldn't counter me otherwise. So she
**revived the dead.**
Made them her witness.
And puppeteered their words.
My thoughts cut off abruptly, like someone hit pause.
That "someone" was Hov. His hand gripped my shoulder.
— You okay? We called you like, five times. You were… drowning in your head.
— Sorry. Guess I was, — I exhaled. — Didn't hear you.
— Thoughts *not* about how to open the door?
— Actually, yes. Though the silence suggests you're stumped too.
Yahweh was shoulder-checking the door with stubborn futility, as if brute force could solve a logic puzzle.
— Mr. Aragi, are you alright? — Morgana approached. — You looked… troubled.
— You noticed? Don't worry. I'm fine. Just… lost in thought. But they vanished the moment a lovely lady stood beside me.
Unused to such blatant flirting, she flushed and quickly turned away.
— We have the key, — Yahweh interjected. — But according to Cheryl, there's a spell on the door. It won't open.
— So what's the plan? — Kamiki asked. — At this rate, we'll never decipher those lines.
— **I'll try opening it,** — came a voice from behind.
The group stilled. All eyes turned to **Cheryl.**
— Ahem… we appreciate the offer, — Yahweh mumbled, — but you're the, uh, *physically weakest* here. No offense.
— **Shut it, Yahweh,** — Hov said coldly. — Fine. No other options. Try it.
*Last time, Yahweh opened it. So the scenario shifts based on our choices.*
Yet… I wasn't even surprised when Cheryl swung the door open like it was never locked.
— Ah-ha… — A stifled laugh. — **See your face, Yahweh?** Guess you're weaker than a kid half your size!
— Drop it. I was wrong.
— Get inside, — Cheryl said flatly. — We're losing daylight.