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 — 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 — one that unlocks any door in this building.”

Silence. Everyone stared at the key, only for Misha to step up and snap her fingers — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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.

*

“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 — the two rooms being next to one another. Misha stuck out both her hands and into her palms the two dropped their keys.

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“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 — 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 — vibrations that might have been coming from the earth below.

Mid-thought, he heard a tap. It came from the wall next to him — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — eavesdropping, if you will,” Iffrah confessed. “He spat out a thousand different names, then asked that one single question — 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 — 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 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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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.