Whispers filled the room. The snowstorm raged on harder than before, smothering the windows in a layer of ice and the rest of the world beneath a blanket of snow. Everyone had hidden away in their own rooms, but after hours of staring out towards nothing, that feeling of fear and dread melted away.
Iffrah, all alone, worked with a fountain pen and used its sharp tip to try and pierce open the mystery at hand.
How could someone kill, then disappear like that? The doors were all locked by Misha beforehand and the window where the blood led to was locked — something that was impossible to do from the outside. She tried to make a diagram on paper, but the more she planned out the murderer’s movements, the tougher things became.
Maybe they entered through the door Calina was using, killed Aki and Wright, then escaped out the window with Wright’s body carried over their shoulder?
No. The window was locked from the outside, making it impossible to escape that way.
Maybe they entered through the door, killed and fired a blank, then escaped through the same door, creating the blood trail as misdirection?
No. They'd bumped into Calina, Iffrah and Erika who all came through said door once the gunfire was heard. They were all together from start to end.
Maybe they rappelled down from above, shot the two, threw Wright’s corpse out the window, then climbed up to the second floor to ‘disappear’ before hiding said corpse?
No. Misha and Dante were upstairs. While they couldn’t see what was going on on the first floor, they could have seen that happen.
The more her pen wrote, the more and more she realized that there were a thousand possible methods of murder, and yet, every one of them hit a dead end. The further she went down this speculative path, the more she realized that this just wasn’t a possible murder.
Princess Higanbana’s words rang through the castle like the chimes of a church bell, marking every square inch as her territory, and every few hours that cursed bell rang — reminding everyone that time was ticking away.
Her pen wrote and wrote scenarios until finally she gave in.
Only four letters remained.
B is one of them. For sure.
But what about the rest?
B… what could connect to it? Beau? Bela? Bika? Bret?
There were thousands of combinations, but those combinations involved words that just didn’t fit under the terminology of ‘name’. In reality, the fact that the princess gave out the clue of finding her name cut that number down to a couple hundred.
Of course, that meant finding a woman’s name that started with a B and had three following letters. Though, thinking about it now, she realized that it may or may not even be a proper name. A name this short could’ve been an abbreviation, or maybe even a nickname.
But a nickname? That tacked on a million different combinations. Nicknames were as frivolous as they came, with most of them being made up on the spot with no real thought put behind them — as frivolous as a tree shedding red, brown and golden leaves in the autumntime.
The further she dove down that rabbit hole, the further she was dragged into the singular belief that the culprit truly was their supernatural host.
That tore away at her mind, and in due time, she undid the chain and twisted open the lock of her door before sliding it open. With that note in hand, she made her way through the dark halls of the castle. The howling winds deafened the world, and every time she passed by a window in that hall, she was reminded that they were truly trapped in an isolated world.
“Dante Searcher, just who are you?” she heard. It was Erika’s voice through the door of what wasn’t her room.
Eavesdropping in, she heard it.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
At that moment she realized just what was going on. She suspected it from the beginning, but hearing it this way, she couldn’t believe it. Dante truly wasn’t who he made himself out to be.
Of course, that didn’t mean he really was Virgil, but she couldn’t shake the thought.
That’s when she felt a hand grab her wrist, and before she could let out a scream, the other hand covered her mouth.
“Hush,” she heard. It was Misha, and seeing her, she calmed down a bit — enough for her to be ungagged.
“What are you doing, skulking around like this?” Misha asked. “You aren’t planning on finding our killer yourself, are you? You’d just be inviting trouble.”
“I was just going to get myself a drink,” she answered. She wasn’t lying, but at the same time, wasn’t quite telling the truth.
Misha frowned, then let out a sigh, saying, “Let’s discuss this somewhere safe.”
She brought her back to her room which was quite far from Dante’s room, and with the chain set and lock shut, she began the interrogation. Iffrah spilled every last bean, and hearing that, Misha couldn’t help but grow a smile.
“Well, so Dante isn’t who he makes himself out to be, is he?” she asked. “Then, there’s no doubt about it. He’s Virgil’s fake identity and Erika is his beloved princess.”
“I’m not saying that,” Iffrah argued,” but what I heard was true. He’s not who he claims he is — but don’t go thinking you can pin whatever you want on him because you’re probably wrong.”
“Why do you think I’d be wrong?” Misha asked, arrogantly.
“Well, it’s not like you know any of us. You don’t know where we came from and what sorts of backgrounds we have.”
“And that’s where you’re mistaken.”
Misha pulled out a familiar set of items. In her pocket were five letters delivered to the following people.
Misha Asimov; VII
Calina Dostoevsky; VIII
Howell Herman; IX
Baron Gadro; VI
And of course, Shinjiro Aki; V
All five letters rested in her hand, and with that, Misha announced the truth.
“We’re missing the first four,” Misha said, “and thinking about it now, I have to guess that you’re number two, correct?”
Iffrah paused, then revealed her letter. Marked on the page was the letter II.
“I was wondering what it meant,” Iffrah said, “but, the further along things went, the less and less things made sense. There’s no pattern to predict with. The numbers may as well be meaningless.”
“Oh, they have meaning.” and Misha pointed to her pipe, saying, “You are the embodiment of lust, aren’t you?”
“L - Lust!?”
“You were going for a drink, but if I had to guess, you weren’t planning on drinking alone, were you?” Misha asked, definitively.
“So what if I was?” Iffrah asked. “Why, it doesn’t make me any more guilty of anything.” and losing her cool, she threw up her arms, shouting, “I’m sorry for being stressed in this kind of situation! I’ll go ahead and make the princess’ job easier by drowning myself in booze.”
Misha unveiled the letters, digging through them one by one.
“Howell was labeled the ninth after he sold out his battalion of soldiers. Baron was labeled the sixth after using his influence and connection to the Ennian Emperor to hound the Octavian Sect. Aki was labeled the fifth after accidentally killing a schoolmate she hated.” and she turned to her with a frown, looking into her very soul, asking, “Just what did you do to be labeled with the sin of lust?”
“I’ve done nothing,” she answered, all stern, unwilling to cooperate. “I’ve done nothing, and there's nothing for me to be indicted on. I am no criminal, do you understand?”
“I’m not here to indict you. I need to know the contents of your letter, not to criminalize you, but to understand Virgil and his princess better. Depending on what kinds of secrets he knows about us, we might be able to pin his identity down on a single person.”
Hearing that, Erika paused, then turned to her with a frown.
“I’ll confess. So long as you do the same.”
“With pleasure.”
Misha pulled out a badge, then pulled out a revolver of her own. The barrel was dirty with grime and one of the cylinders was shattered — as if a bullet had hit it. Staring down the barrel of the gun, Iffrah froze, until Misha finally returned it to its rightful holster.
“I was a detective. Stopped being one when I killed the chief,” Misha confessed. “In my career I met the worst of criminals, but those folk were nothing compared to the bastards holding office.”
“You killed your boss?”
“The day I learnt of his crimes, I was no longer his employee,” she answered, all too nonchalantly. “I’m a detective. I drag the truth to light. Doesn’t matter who. Doesn’t matter how.”
“Why should I trust you? Why should any of us trust you?” Iffrah asked. “Hell — who’s to say you aren’t actually our Princess Higanbana?”
“Perhaps I am,” she answered, “but you aren’t innocent either, are you?”
Lust. According to the Octavian sect, it was one of the nine infernal sins. Iffrah knew all too well that she partook in that sin, and with every past memory, she felt herself sink deeper into Hell. The feeling welled up in her chest, and finally, she gave in.
“I was wondering about it myself,” Iffrah confessed, “but thinking about it now, I understand. It was my father who always warned me — telling me to do as he said, to forget about a boy I met and fell in love with in favor of an arranged marital partner. He told me that that boy was dead and never coming back, and still…”
Hearing that, Misha’s gaze softened.
“I’m sorry about your loss,” she said, all too softly. Misha reached into the inner pocket of her coat to pull out a small canteen, one she handed to her.
Unscrewing the cap, Iffrah took a sniff before wincing. Whatever it was, it was as harsh as booze came.
“It’s Cliesen vodka,” Misha said. “Drink it. It’s harsh, but it’ll help you sleep.”
Iffrah stared at the bottle, then drowned her sorrows with alcohol.
Morning came. Alone in bed, Dante rose, and staring out the window, he noticed something he never could’ve imagined. For the first time, the snow subsided. The blizzard came to a halt and the world stood still, covered in a blanket of snow. Erika had left and returned to her room after their talk, leaving him alone.
He couldn’t believe his eyes, but when he regained feeling in his body, he hastily undid the chain and made his way towards the others.
Of course, things couldn’t be that simple.
“Dante!” he heard. Running down the hall was Calina who tossed aside a pair of bolt cutters before grabbing him by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Erika!” she cried. “She’s missing!”
Once again, the princess struck. He ran over to find the chain cut and the room Erika slept in completely empty. Before he knew it, Dante found himself flying down the halls with the second master key delivered to him by Calina. According to her, Misha had already gone off to find Erika, leaving the two to search together.
While the snow subsided and the blizzard came to a halt, they couldn’t leave just yet. Not without all of the survivors.
“Erika!? Erika!?” Dante cried, his voice echoing through the halls. With the twist of the key, he passed by empty room after empty room.
That’s when he made his way to the main chamber by the proper entrance of the castle, and there, they found the answer to a question they had asked, but not wanted answered.
They thought he somehow escaped on his own through the locked window — an impossible feat. As punishment, they were forced to bear witness to what remained of him.
Like paint, blood streaked the walls of the room, as if someone had brought a brush and ran down the perimeter, tracing the walls, allowing it to smear down in a macabre display. The scent of iron filled the room and their eyes were dragged to the center where the remains sat.
A chair sat in the center and seated was none other than Wright. Wright stared back at the two, but after a moment, Dante realized that it was one sided. Approaching him, he noticed a glimmer of gold.
First, he saw his teeth. They shone bright, glimmering with gold. Then, he noticed his shoulders. They were unusually bulky, as if something had been stuffed into them. His clothes were warped and his face looked slightly… bloated. It was as if Wright had stuffed his cheeks like a squirrel.
“What the Hell?” Dante muttered, creeping close to the still body.
The body twitched. A single finger shuddered and with it, Wright’s arm dropped to his side, allowing a slew of golden coins to spill out of his sleeve. All sorts of golden jewelry pooled by the legs of the chair, a remarkable, contrasting sight in comparison to the blood that laid, splattered against the walls.
Dante approached, and when he touched his arm, Wright’s head craned back, revealing a wound on his throat. A red IV had been carved into him. Stuffed into Wright’s mouth were golden coins held back by gold teeth that looked like they had been forced into his defanged gums. Shoved into his ears were bundles of golden chains and dug into his fingers were golden rings that were too small for him — small enough to turn his constricted fingers a purplish black in contrast to his pale, bloodless self. Golden nuggets spilled out of his mouth while a pair of golden needles were stuck into his dull irises like throwing darts.
“IV. It is the circle of greed,” Calina whispered. “This is punishment, for sure.”
“Then, does this mean it wasn’t Wright who killed Aki?” Dante asked, and Calina paused.
“Perhaps, but it may not be like that,” she answered. “Maybe there are two culprits.”
Two culprits? Looking back at it now, he went back to the start. Back to Howell. One culprit could’ve distracted everyone inside for long enough while the other hidden person found, killed, and set up Howell’s corpse by the door.
Next came Baron. Baron was a tough man, and being aligned so closely with nobility, he definitely had military training. A second person would be mandatory if any killer wanted to take him down.
And finally, Wright. Seeing as he was marked with the sin of greed, he could’ve been bribed to aid in the murders, and when his usefulness dried up, his partner could’ve gotten rid of him and turned him into an example.
The concept of a second killer was too great and too impactful on what was possibly a murder committed by humans. The idea of a vengeful deity was just plain absurd. There was no way that monsters existed.
At least, that’s what he wanted to believe. Looking at Calina, he noticed something wrong.
“Where’s Iffrah?”
Picking between finding Erika and going back for Iffrah, he chose the woman who wasn’t missing over the girl who was, and that’s when he saw Misha knocking on her door.
“Misha? What’s going on?” Dante asked, and she turned to him with concern on her face.
“Iffrah, she isn’t answering.”
Misha took her master key and unlocked the door.
Right underneath their noses, tied to a rope, Iffrah became the fifth to go. It, however, wasn’t a murder. Rather, a suicide. With a chair kicked aside and a rope up above, she had hanged herself.
Peacefully, she slept. Her black hair ran down like curtains from above, and standing beneath the dangling woman was Dante — too stunned to breath.
That’s when he noticed a piece of paper on the windowsill. Marked on the front was an ominous II. Nothing else was written on it, but with one glance, Misha could gather the clues to a potential motive.
“It’s a suicide letter,” she said. “It’s an apology from her.”
“An apology?”
“Maybe death was her punishment for her own crime, or maybe a way to return to someone she lost.”
“But why?”
Dante stood still, staring at the hanging corpse, unable to believe the sight before him. Dante felt a tug on his hand. Behind was Calina who pulled him to the door.
“Don’t ask questions you won’t get answers to,” Calina said, all too gently. “Come. She would not want you to see her like this, yes?”
Dante was the one to close the door, but for a brief moment he stared at her hanging corpse — too dumbfounded to think.
The three of them stood outside of Calina’s room. He felt the world spin around him, but something tugged on his mind. In the corner of his eye, he saw it. A red petal. On the floor was a torn spider leg of the Higanbana flower.
“This flower,” he said, and when he picked it up, he saw it. “This flower’s wilted.”
“These flowers are bad omens,” Misha said. “Noone’s going out of their way to pick the flower of the other side in Princess Higanbana’s castle.”
“Noone but me,” Dante mumbled.
He looked back. Behind him was Erika’s room. Below him was the petal. Ahead of him must have been where she went.
He followed that trail with Misha parting to search on her own. With Calina, Dante followed a sort of trail made of pieces of Erika’s possessions. First was the flower petal. Next was spilt ash from her tobacco pipe and finally, he came across something deeply concerning.
Blood. Seeing a splash of blood on the ground that was still moist only filled him with dread.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Erika, please be alright,” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t lose anyone else. Of all people, I can’t lose you.”
Now, of all times, they needed faith. Calina chose to stay back and pray for her safety while Dante chose to take matters into his own two hands. Pushing through the halls, he felt the walls of the castle close in on him as if it was alive, but he knew better than to succumb to perception and delusion.
Even if the entire castle and its princess tried to drag him to his knees, he refused to buckle and acknowledge the existence of the supernatural.
No amount of illusions and tricks could convince him. No closed room, no impossible murder, no inhuman crime would go unsolved. Everything had a human solution to them, for sure. It was just a matter of time and sleuthing before he found them.
“Erika!? Erika!” Dante shouted, but before he could go on any further, Calina stopped him, grasping him by the wrist.
“Dante?” she asked. “If we find her, what are you planning to do?”
“Planning to do?” he asked, and he stood firm, saying, “I’m getting her help, and together we’re gonna find the culprit and drag them out.”
“Together?” Calina asked, but she was interrupted by a thud.
Dante ran after that thud, and pushing his way past doors with the master key, he made his way to the source. It was all the way back at the kitchen, and making his way past the stoves, he heard the thud again. It sounded like someone pounding against a door.
“Erika?” he said, and he saw a door shudder from a kick.
With the master key he opened it up, and to his relief, it was Erika. She had been tied and gagged, but other than that, she looked like she was in good condition. Freeing her, she let out a gasp.
“Dante!” she cried, and to his surprise she pulled him into a hug, one that washed away the dread and replaced it with a soft and warm relief. Her Higanbana flower had been damaged, losing most of its petals.
He was just glad to see she was alright, and with an outstretched hand, he pulled her back onto her feet. She stood, stumbled over, and leaned against him — as if her motor functions and balance had been stripped away. She looked paler than usual, and judging from everything about her, she had most likely been drugged or poisoned.
“Calina?” Dante asked. “What sorts of medicine do you have? Anything to help against poison?”
“Calina?” Erika asked, and she peered over his shoulder to find nothing at all.
Calina was gone, and from that point on, Dante knew.
“Calina and Misha,” he whispered. “Virgil and the princess. There’s no other explanation.”
“Don’t tell me —”
“It has to be them,” he said. “There’s no other way. It has to be them.”
“Calina was with you? But if it’s them, then why leave us alive? Why not kill us both while they had the chance?”
“Don’t ask questions like that. You’ll never get a satisfying answer.”
Dante looked out from the safety of the kitchen, then reached down to his pocket.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dante said.
He pulled out his letter. Erika’s eyes widened when he saw it — a mark of ink written in a harsh I.
“You… you’re the first,” Erika whispered.
“I am the first circle — the sin of limbo.”
Dante was taken in by the Octavian Sect and in turn, they taught him all about Heaven and Hell, more precisely the nine circles in which every sinner is sent to. He was expecting it, but couldn’t quite believe that he would be marked with the first circle — the circle of limbo.
There, those who died before being baptized or those who believed in other religions were kept. He didn’t quite believe himself to be a person worthy of being sent to a place as nice as limbo, but he couldn’t argue with it. He refused to be baptized and had always kept the concept of God at an arm’s length — the perfect recipe for a ticket to the first circle.
Dante
Iffrah
Erika
Wright
Aki
Baron
Misha
Calina
Howell
One to nine. Every circle had been assembled.
“This castle,” Erika muttered. “The home of the flower that blooms in Hell. It truly is the other shore.”
“It’s only what you make of it.” and Dante revealed something he couldn’t show to anyone — something he could only reveal now that there were only four people left alive.
“Tell me, Erika. Why are you here? Why exactly did Virgil invite you?”
“To solve the supposed mystery in exchange for gold.”
Dante reached into his coat and pulled out a revolver.
“Virgil invited me here for something else — or rather, he wanted Dante here for another reason.” and he opened up the cylinder to reveal four bullets.
“That gun —”
“He wanted Dante to catch and kill the culprit… but now, there’s no point — no reason to risk our lives.”
In one hand, he carried the gun. In the other, he reached down to take Erika’s hand.
“The snowstorm’s gone. Now’s our chance to escape.”
“Escape? But what about solving the murders? What about catching the culprit?”
“I won’t risk your life for a promise I made to someone else,” he said, and with her hand in his, he helped guide her out the castle.
His revolver was like a torch that lit up the inhospitable castle, giving him the confidence he needed to make his way through and past the rows of Higanbanas. With the snow subsiding, the red spider lilies popped out of the ground once more, surrounding the castle and peeking in through the windows.
Whether the castle was cursed or not, he was focused single mindedly on the human culprits who roamed the princess’ domain. The two moved in rapid succession, hiding behind corners and peeking out before moving from hall to hall. The bitter cold seeped through the walls, turning the castle into a massive freezer. Their breaths fogged before them, a terrible sight.
Just how long could they survive the outdoors? Enough to make it back to the port? Were the gold coins they had enough to purchase a ticket back to Cobell where they belonged? The further he went, the more and more these questions ate away at his mind.
Even if they could escape, there was no telling that they’d make it. Knowing that, Dante held onto her advice and with his eyes shut, he put everything in the hands of fate. Faith and hope were his remaining chess pieces in his game against the culprit.
Of course, the princess did everything to hinder him, and that’s when he felt a thud against his back. Erika stumbled against him and looking at her, he could tell she didn’t have the strength to move on. He was willing to give up life and limb to help her escape, but to his surprise, she looked at him with a wincing frown.
“Leave me and go,” she said. “I’m nothing but dead weight. I’ll slow you down.”
“What are you talking about?” Dante said, and he grasped her wrist, saying, “How could I leave you behind?”
“My legs — they won’t listen to me. There’s no point taking me with you, it’ll just get the both of us killed.”
“Erika,” Dante said, and to her shock, he held her, then brushed a hand through her hair and past the Higanbana flower’s stem.
“I’m a man with no past, present or future. I have nothing, came from nothing, and will disappear into nothingness all the same,” he confessed. “I’ve failed everyone here, but if I could at least save you, I can die knowing I did something good with my life.”
“Dante, I —”
“When this is all over and we make it back to safety, I want to start over,” he said. “No more lies. No more illusions. No more deceptions. When this is over, I want you to give me a new name — a new identity.”
“Dante, please. Don’t say those things.”
“When I leave this castle, I’ll do as Virgil wrote to me and discard the name Dante Searcher,” he stated. “I’ll live a new, renewed life — a new life as Dante Portinari.”
Hearing that, tears welled up in both their eyes. Erika bit down bitterly, then broke out into a genuine smile.
“I told you, you shouldn’t toy with peoples’ hearts like that.”
“From now on, I keep my promises. I won’t let any demonic princess or culprit get in my way.”
That’s right. For you — for us all, I’ll have the faith to live on. Even if I never regain my memories and remember who I was, it won’t matter.
Iffrah’s faith won’t die in vain. He would never, ever believe she died in any other way than murder. The noose was nothing but a red herring — a falsehood to tie her death up in tangles and knots. He didn’t need a blade to sever the knots. He needed only his faith in her.
That faith became action, and with faith, he gripped his revolver tight. He’d have no mercy for the culprit(s).
He gripped not her wrist, but held her hand, and together they retraced their steps, all the way back to the tunnel. There, they passed by the puddle of ice where he smashed open and obtained the master key he held.
Snow piled up against the metal grate entrance, but with all his strength, he managed to yank open the gate. Climbing up against the pile of snow, he pulled Erika over.
Finally, they were outside once more, and with a large shared coat, they huddled together, sharing body warmth against the freezing winds. The princess didn’t want them to leave, but no matter how low the temperature dropped, they refused to turn back.
They trailed out through the ankle deep snow, all the way back to the forest that they came through. The silver lanterns that led them there had all vanished beneath the winter winds and the river froze over, disappearing under a layer of snow.
He saw something strange in the distance. Wrapped around the branches of the barren trees was a sort of string — something like police tape. Upon closer inspection, he saw it. Rope.
Twine rope crept up the trees like vines. Tied to said rope were those familiar sealing talismans. They formed a ring that surrounded the cursed castle, keeping evil spirits in, trapping them for eternity.
Standing before them was a priestess who devoted her life to warding away demons. It was none other than Calina armed with a revolver of her own, and judging from the broken barrel, it was Misha’s.
“Stop!” she cried. “You go no further, Virgil!”
Her voice was different. Her face was different. Everything was different. It was as if her choppy speech and meek self was nothing but an act, a front she tossed aside at the final act.
“Calina!?” Erika said, and Dante was quick to stand in front of her, guarding her from whatever threats filled the forest. He stood firm and unmoving. The fear he felt before had disappeared and in its place was a sort of determination — a faith he held onto in the face of unfavorable odds.
Calina was that unfavorable odd, and with a cold expression, she gripped the gun in one hand.
“So, you think I’m Virgil, is that it?” Dante asked. “You think I’m Virgil and Erika here is the supposed princess?”
“Misha said it,” Calina answered, her accent gone and speech fluent — proof she was faking her inexperience. “She explained everything. She proved that you two are the culprits.”
“If that’s the case, then let’s have a deal,” Dante said, and he lowered his gun to his side, saying, “If you can prove either me or Erika could’ve been responsible for the deaths of everyone here, then I’ll surrender myself to the police and take all the blame.”
“Surrender?”
“However, if you can’t explain how a victim died from humans like us, then you have no choice but to pin the blame on Princess Higanbana.”
Erika winced when she saw Calina pull down the hammer of her revolver, but with a breath in, she gave way.
“Fine. Let’s make a deal.”
“First murder. Howell Herman. We found him dead against the exit door. How could we have possibly killed him?”
“Misha explained this one. She said that you, Erika and Iffrah worked together, killed Howell, and pretended to find him dead,” Calina responded.
“What about the key Iffrah and I found? We found it in the ice. There’s no way we could’ve done all that in that short of a time period, right?” Dante asked, a smirk growing on his face.
Calina, however, wouldn’t be put down that easily.
“Says who?”
“Says who?” Dante repeated, and Calina nodded.
“Who says the key was with Howell? Why should I trust you and Iffrah’s claim when I believe you two are murderers? Why should the police trust what you say?”
It was a fair point. If he was the culprit, he could’ve easily lied about obtaining the key that way. The first murder was proclaimed to be possible and definitely done by a human.
“Second murder,” Dante said, moving forwards. “Baron Gadro. He locked himself in his room, chained himself shut, and yet he was somehow murdered. Only Misha had the keys and the bolt cutters were in the room where said keys were stored. How could a human possibly enter a room that was chained shut, then escape with the chain still set? How could a human possibly commit an impossible closed room murder?”
“The murder was not impossible,” Calina responded. “You were right. Misha and I lied. The chain was never set. Baron did not want to set it because he was afraid of a possible heart attack and did not want the chain stopping us from saving him.”
“So you did lie, but why?” Erika asked.
“It set the precedent,” she answered. “By setting the precedent of impossible murders, the culprits would have to stage more difficult murders to keep up the farce that they are demons, not human.”
“By setting the precedent, the culprit would have to make more and more elaborate murders to have us believe they were a demon,” Erika said. “By doing that, they’d have a lot less leeway in their kills, making them more vulnerable to making mistakes that could unravel their entire game.”
“If the chain really was unset, then I suppose there’s no going around it. The murder really was possible,” Dante said, and he moved onto the next victim.
“How about Iffrah?” Dante asked. “How was I responsible for her death?”
“Suicide is suicide. Even if we do not know why she did it, it doesn’t change the fact that it was most likely the reason behind what happened. You may not be responsible for that, but that does not make a demon the cause of her death.”
With that, Dante’s growing uneasy expression shifted to something different — an expression of both sadness and wrath, but with a breath in, it vanished. He returned to his neutral, unmoving look.
“Next is Wright,” he said, all too calmly. “How did I kill him? How did I splatter his blood all over the walls, stuff him with gold and drag him into the entrance room?”
“You met with him at night, killed him, and went ahead with the rest.”
“At the same time Erika was kidnapped? Shouldn’t I have bumped into her and her kidnapper?”
“She wasn’t kidnapped,” Calina answered. “Since she is your partner, she pretended to be kidnapped to get us to leave and find Wright.”
“Is that what Misha told you, or is that what you truly believe happened?”
Calina looked down the sights of her revolver, and with both hands on the grip, she ensured a fatal shot — one trigger pull away.
“Next victim,” she ordered and Dante obliged.
“Finally, the death of Aki. Misha and I were upstairs, together. You, Erika and Iffrah were together on the first floor. Aki and Wright were together in the gate room where Misha and I were. How was Erika and I responsible for her death?”
“You were working with Wright who killed Aki, then disappeared.”
“Disappear to where?”
Calina grit her teeth. Dante, hearing her hesitate, knew exactly what the situation was. His expression shifted from determination to a gentle smile fit for a priest.
“Tell me, why do you think Erika and I are guilty?”
“Because, Misha convinced me. She gathered and explained all the evidence to me. Following the facts, there’s no way around it. You are the most guilty.”
“Is that what you believe? Is that the conclusion you came to?” Dante asked, and Calina’s face twisted with growing frustration.
“What else am I supposed to believe?” she asked. “With what little in the way of evidence we have, who else am I supposed to convict? Everyone else is dead, and I’ve been with Misha the whole time. It just has to be you.”
“And yet, it just isn’t.”
Dante stepped forwards. Calina stumbled back with shock, then reaffirmed herself, gripping the gun with deadly intent.
“Stay back, murderer!” she cried.
“Calina, I know that deep inside, you are a good woman who believes in the truth.”
Dante took another step forward. A bullet rang out, lodging itself into the tree beside him.
“Get away! I’ve made up my mind already!” she shouted, smoke rising up from the barrel of her gun. “I’m a fraudulent doctor who couldn’t save her patients or the others here, but I won’t give up! I won’t let you trick me!”
“Calina, I —” another bullet flew, grazing past his cheek. It, however, didn’t stop him.
“Don’t look at me like that! Don’t think of me as that sweet, innocent priestess!” she begged. “I’m nothing but a murderer who brought death to her patients! Virgil brought me here knowing that! I won’t let anyone but God bring me judgment!”
Another shot. Another bullet. Three, four, five — and finally six. Every bullet missed, and when the cylinder turned to the sixth shot, she heard a click. The broken cylinder aligned with the barrel, leaving her with one less shot than she thought she’d have.
Her own actions proved how she truly felt. All it took was one question to convince her.
“Calina, do you truly believe I am guilty?”
She looked in her heart, bit down hard, then dropped the gun. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and like lightning before thunder, her resolve broke.
“I don’t,” she confessed. “Even though she tried so hard to convince me, in my heart, I could never believe it.”
“It’s because, even if you don’t know what’s true, you know what isn’t.”
Hearing that, Calina’s tears turned to a smile — one that filled him with relief.
“If you can convince me, maybe you can convince —”
A sixth shot rang out. Dante froze, and watched as Calina touched her chest to find blood on her hands. Like snow, she fell forwards — a drop of red dye in a world of white.
“Stupid, weak willed woman,” Dante heard. He turned to see Misha step out from the forest brush, revolver in hand.
“Misha, you killed her… you killed your partner.”
“She wasn’t my partner. Not after she turned tail and let herself fall for Virgil’s lies.”
“But you’re a detective. You’re supposed to solve cases — to bring criminals to justice,” Dante said, dumbfounded.
Misha looked spiteful, her face full of scorn, her golden hair blowing in the wind with blood smeared across her cheek.
“Stupid, goddamned bastard,” she whispered, then shot daggers at Dante, her eyes brimming with hatred. “You love to play innocent, don’t you? Calina’s fake personality rubbed off on you a little too much?”
“Fake personality?”
“None of us here are innocent,” she proclaimed. “I killed my boss. Baron killed using his influence. Wright murdered Aki for money. Aki killed a classmate of hers. Erika and her gluttony let her father die in vain. Calina killed her patients by accident — and you? You killed Dante Searcher.”
“Killed… Dante Searcher?”
“Stole his name. Stole his identity. Stole his very face,” she answered. “You’re a doppelganger, a double walker — a bad omen. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have come here. Maybe then, they’d have a chance at surviving.”
“A doppelganger,” Dante whispered under his breath, and Misha stood firm, planting her feet and squeezing her revolver.
“It’s over now. It’s just you and me. Detective and culprit.” and she raised her gun to let out a shout.
“Virgil, servant of the Higanbana Princess! I sentence you to death!”
“Misha!” he cried in a mixture of wrath and sorrow, raising his own gun too.
In an instant, two shots rang out.
She couldn’t be convinced. Misha was too ingrained in her position as detective to end the game without a death-sentencing.
Dante couldn’t convince her. The rift between the two detectives was just too great. The two were practically destined to end things like this.
Misha coughed. Blood stained her coat, and in an instant, she fell backwards — a bullet through the heart.
Dante coughed. Blood stained his coat, and in an instant, he fell forwards — forwards into Erika’s arms.
“Erika?” he whispered.
Blood stained his hands, and that blood came from her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a pained smile — blood spilling down her lip. “You were planning on sacrificing yourself for us all — for me — but I couldn’t stand by and let things end like this.”
She coughed. There was nothing that could stop the bleeding — nothing at all.
“Erika, why would you do this? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?”
“Please don’t be sad,” she said. “This was my decision, to save you. You convinced me — gave me hope that when I left this place I’d be able to start life over, but what’s the point if you aren’t there with me? When I saw her raise that gun, I knew that she was going to fire, and knowing that, how could I stand by and let the one I love die?”
She smiled, hiding the pain, but even if she didn’t show it, he could feel it. They were intrinsically connected like the red thread of fate.
“Please, never forget me,” she said. “Never forget my decision. Never forget that I have faith that you’ll find happiness with the life I saved.”
She fell forwards, fell limp, and finally fell victim to the cursed castle.
Dante’s mission was complete. He did as Virgil’s letter asked, even if it was something he never wanted to do.
And that was to kill every other victim.
The castle stood in silence. At that point, there was nothing left to do. All had been lost, and with that, Dante returned to, at least, collect his reward from Virgil. Virgil, however, was nowhere to be seen. All Dante could do was sit back and stare out the window, watching as the snow began to pick up once more.
The moment was brief, but the window of opportunity to escape was there. He didn’t take it, now that he had nothing left to gain.
All he could do was apologize to everyone — to Erika. With a withered and half broken Higanbana in his hand, he spent the remaining hours drinking away.
He had committed the act of treachery, even coming in the first place with the intent of killing the others buried deep in his mind.
He had committed the act of fraud, pretending to be someone he knew he wasn’t.
He had committed the act of violence, killing the true detective.
He had committed the act of heresy, trying to deny the supernatural princess who ruled the castle.
He had committed the act of anger, turning and conspiring against the others he believed was guilty, leading to this very outcome.
He had committed the act of greed, coming here for a potentially large sum of gold — gold bathed in blood.
He had committed the act of gluttony, drinking away his sorrows.
He had committed the act of lust, giving into his feelings and choosing to stay for Erika and the others’ sake, instead of leaving with the life she sacrificed herself to save.
And finally, he was thrown into limbo.
The sun began to set, painting the world in a gentle orange tinged with white. That’s when he heard a voice.
“Dante,” he heard, and he jumped out of his drunken stupor, turning to see a figure standing distantly in the hall.
“Erika? Is that you?”
He recognized the voice as hers, but the figure stood far, and bathed in shadows, she was unrecognizable — nothing more than a silhouette. That’s when he saw the weapon she carried — the chipped katana, the blade of the demon.
“Come with me,” she said, and she vanished around a corner.
He recognized that blade. It belonged to the demon woman who razed the riverside village to ashes. Despite that, he followed the centurion figure out of folklore and mythology, all the way back to the ballroom.
Shadows crept across the walls, but the woman stood by the gate, and with a single hand, she twisted the knobs, forming the correct combination. With the combination inputted, she stepped back, bathing herself in darkness, allowing only a pair of eyes to peer out from the night.
“Go,” she said. “The Higanbana Princess is waiting for you.”
“The princess?”
Before he could get an answer, the woman slipped out of the window where Wright supposedly escaped through. He looked out to find that she was gone. Not a trace was left behind — not even footprints. Even the lock was set from the inside.
At this point, he didn’t care. He didn’t want evidence anymore. He wanted nothing more than the truth. All he wanted was to see Virgil, to see her princess and to get his questions answered.
He turned to the gate to read a four letter code, with the fourth letter halfway turned, one push away from being inputted.
“Bice?” he read, and twisting the ‘E’ into place, the gate shifted, shuddered, and finally opened.
Inside was none other than the Princess of the Higanbana, Beatrice, and with a black notebook in hand and a long stemmed pipe in the other, she asked him one question.
“Do you believe the six victims here are innocent?”
He paused, lowered his head, and voiced the answer his heart screamed out.
“I do.”
Beatrice nodded, drew out a breath of smoke, and threw the notebook to his feet.