The conference shut down and a thousand people left, a little more satisfied than they were before. Even the representatives of both truth and reality left with the realization that, fiction or nonfiction, the tragedy was to be taken seriously and the victims be given the humanity they deserved.

Virgil left the conference with his revolver on his hip. There, standing outside, he flipped a gold coin — one with the Jiyo brand of a bear’s paw stamped onto the front. Outside, he noticed a group of eight people who looked awfully familiar.

A trio left the conference. One was an Ennian nobleman, an elderly fellow, and the second a younger Cobellian man accompanied by a Zahnnian woman who wore quite the fancy kimono.

Another trio left. Two of them were Cliesen women and trailing behind them was a Sulphuran woman clad head to toe in a warm burka, her face exposed for all to see her vibrant and warm smile.

Finally, smoke filled the air as another couple left the conference hall, a man and woman. They were two Cobellians. One carried a smoking pipe while the other offered her his hand — ring fitted to his finger. He reached into her hair to brush past a half withered spider lily.

All nine victims, with the truth revealed, were freed from the limbo of uncertainty, freed from lust, freed from gluttony, freed from greed, freed from anger, freed from heresy, freed from violence, freed from fraud and of course, freed from treachery. The flames of the inferno came to a cool when the snowstorm subsided.

With that, the case came to its conclusion. Sen, with his own strength, carried himself with his crutches towards the vault door. He looked the wall up and down one last time, then turned to Beatrice with a smile.

“The case comes to an end,” he announced. “My dear detective, do tell. Who are the culprits?”

Beatrice stood, her notepad in hand. In it were notes written three years prior — a conclusion she came to with her own investigative skills.

“The three culprits are obvious, but before we do so, let us go through an autopsy listing each and every murder in detail.”

“With pleasure,” he said. “Tell me, how did the first death, Howell Herman, play out?”

“Faked. He planted a false corpse, one that was so frozen that it was impossible to peel off the clothing and reveal that it was a fake corpse underneath,” she responded. “Though, if you want to go a more superstitious route, you could say that the picking of the Higanbana flower… raised the dead.”

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“Second death. Baron Gadro.”

“He was murdered by the culprit’s accomplice, Wright Bernstein. He arranged a bloody scene so gruesome that only a supernatural demon could do something so cruel. The closed room was facilitated by Misha and Calina’s lie.”

“Third death. Shinjiro Aki.”

“She was murdered by Wright, accompanied by Howell. Howell came in through a window Wright had unlocked. Wright held her against the door where Howell killed Aki, then escaped out said window, leaving blood in his trail as a red herring. There, Wright locked said window before disappearing.”

“Disappearing where?”

“Into the vault, of course. After all, he knew the code all along. I figured that out when Wright asked Aki directly to help him solve the code. He was a wolf who invited a sheep into his den.”

Sen smirked, then moved on.

“Fourth death. Iffrah Pezra.”

“Murdered by Howell Herman. When she eavesdropped on Dante and Erika, Howell snuck inside her room and proceeded to strangle, then hang her after she and Misha talked, disguising the murder as suicide.”

“Fifth death. Wright Berstein.”

“Murdered by Howell Herman. He brought Wright into the room by the entrance, offered him gold for his services, then killed him — spreading his blood across the walls and stuffing him with gold as punishment for his greed.”

“Sixth death. Calina Yekov.”

“Murdered by Misha Asimov. She had been turned to the side of the culprit, and thus, the detective killed her for betraying the side of justice.”

“Seventh death, Erika Portinari.”

“Murdered by Misha Asimov. An accidental death after having been tricked into protecting the culprit. Although, in the mind of the culprit, it was all planned out through devilish seduction.”

“Eighth death. Misha Asimov.”

“Murdered by Virgil. Shot through the heart and left to rot in the snowy wasteland.”

Hearing that, a satisfied, cruel smile grew on Sen’s face — a smile that congratulated her for discovering the truth. An equally satisfied smile grew on Beatrice’s face, one of betrayal — betrayal she committed against the world, tricking them into believing a falsehood.

“And the ninth and final death, Howell Herman. How did he die?”

“Murdered by Virgil.”

When Dante returned to the castle, he didn’t return to grieve.

No. He returned to tie up the loose ends.

He opened the vault with ease. Then, he met with his accomplice — the man who helped him the most. His accomplice was waiting for his reward and Dante was more than willing to give an unexpected reward.

That reward was a silver bullet through the heart.

“Then it’s final,” Sen proclaimed, and she nodded.

“Dante Searcher is Virgil.”