Five years had passed, and with her graduation from the Gold Academy — with a nearly perfect average grade, to boot — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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 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 — 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 trait fit for a detective.

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“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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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 —”

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 — 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 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?”