William sat in the high-class compartment, away from the blood and investigation. He didn't need it. He didn't need any of it.

"Are you alright?" Beside him was Sun-young, an arm draped over her stomach. Ordinarily, one would assume simple exhaustion. William didn't. Her baggy eyes and sweat seemed to run much deeper than mere weariness.

"You're asking me?" William replied in a low whisper. "Sun-young, you really need to see a healer."

"I did. Marta saw me. She did everything she could. She healed me. But the wound returned anyway." Sun-young drew in an erratic breath. "I'm okay.

'I'm okay. She keeps saying that.' William pursed his lips. 'What happened when I was gone? Did Kazi lie to me? He didn't mention anything about Sun-young's injury.'

He recollected the previous Gate and winced. Tony was dead. The man William had briefly fought was murdered. He could feel waves of suspicion, not just from the others, but from himself. William knew he didn't do it, he knew that, but…

'Why is my memory so shotty?' William put a hand to his forehead. 'The previous Gate and when we were gunning through the tunnel…my head starts acting up when I think about those two things.'

"Are you okay?" Sun-young asked again.

"Again, I feel like I should be asking you."

"What are you two whispering about?" The daunting Dariush stood over William, his gaze skeptical. Neither tall nor broad, his intimidation came from the Level 18 hovering above him and his Intermediate Shieldman Class. "Speak up."

"She's not feeling well," William explained. "Sickness—"

"Sickness? Or injury?" Dariush pressed.

"...sickness."

They were suspicious enough. Any more and they would get locked up with no way to move.

Dariush glared down at them. "You better not be lying. You and your friend Kazi are our biggest suspects."

"Because what? We fought against Tony and Nash in the previous Gate?" William's response was either too defensive or too full of bite. Other players interfered.

"C-come on, everyone." Pauline, the frail girl, actually tried to get between them. "We should sit tight and wait for the evidence to come. We have an actual detective on board. I'm sure he's keeping watching."

"And what if that Kazi kills the detective? Then what?" Dariush asked. "We will be back to nothing."

"If he responds with violence, so will we," said John, acting as the source of reason. "The main objective was quite simple: whoever figures out and captures the killer will reap the rewards."

"Question?" A chiselled jaw, grey eyes, and a long neck, Asher Trent raised an innocent question. "Is the killer another player or a monster? Because the objective doesn't specify."

"Correct. If it is the former, then I am sure we can quickly deduce which of us are real players," John said. "Sun-young, William, and Kazi, funnily enough, are safe in that regard. I have met them in a previous Gate."

"I don't know anyone here," Dariush muttered.

"I knew Paul," said Pauline. "But he's…gone, I think."

Dariush's head whipped towards Pauline, then everyone else. "Wait, a player has gone missing? Why didn't anyone say that?"

John grimaced. "He's been gone for a while, in fact. When I heard of a murder, I instinctively thought it would be him."

"Who said the killer only had to kill once?" Asher pointed out.

Ksenia interjected, flaring with irritation, "Paul is not dead."

"He could be—"

"He's not. I just know it."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Woah, woah." Asher put his arms up. "Calm down, lady, stop getting so worked up."

"Yo, yo, yo," Leon—when did he get here—announced, "So we have one person dead, one person missing. What if Paul is the killer?"

Ksenia crossed her arms. "That's not possible—"

At that point, the conversation turned into an argument. With Leon and his flashy way of talking, he practically invited conflict. Asher, Ksenia, Leon, Pauline (who tried to break it up), John, Dariush, there were so many people. More were coming as they grew louder and louder. William could feel a headache coming up—

BAM!

A thunderous bang reverberated through the car, sending a shower of plaster raining down. William ducked down, ears covered. There was a buzz in his ear. The sudden eruption silenced the argument, leaving only the echo of the gunshot hanging in the air. Smoke lingered from the tip of the pistol.

The man responsible? He casually checked his expensive watch, spun on the gun on his finger, and sighed. "Everybody…please shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

He sat at the table to the left of William, alone and in view of the crowded area. William barely caught his name.

"Excuse me?"

"What the hell was that?"

"You just shot a gun!"

Complaints started to rise, their anger directed to the gunslinger whose feet were kicked up on the table.

"That was a joke." It didn't look like one. One hand busy with a gun, the other grabbing his unkempt locs and casually pulling them into a low ponytail; then to boot, he yawned. "So…we're all hot and bothered and hating each other. Why don't we just get naked and make out? Get it over with?"

Silence. Complete, utter silence.

"No? Okay, pretend I didn't say that. Just erase it from your memory." His name was Booker and his level was unknown. He put his feet down. "Ideas, ideas…it's simple: we hold a trial. Tell Danzaburou to announce it. We get everyone together and figure out the murderer. Honestly, it reminds me of that one game with the panda." The gun spinning on his index finger dissipated into nothing. "For legal reasons, that was a joke."

"As…pompous as that was," John began, "Booker has a valid point. An open trial is the best way to go about this. Once the detective returns with the evidence, we can each give our testimony."

"Who will be the judge?" Dariush asked. "If so, as an objective member—"

"You're a suspect, friend, just like everyone else," John calmly interjected. "I believe the tanukis can serve as the jury."

"Really?" William asked. "A bunch of raccoons?"

"Really. We don't have a choice. Every human here is a suspect."

"Why can't they be the killers? Actually, wait, dumb question." William rubbed the sides of his temple. The tanukis were level 5. William vividly recalled Tony and he was leagues above the raccoons. There was no way they killed him.

"Everybody will have their suspects," said Booker, "so let's save for the trial, shall we? Gather up your evidence, your testimony or whatever. We'll reconvene in an hour."

"We should go in groups too, just so that there's a smaller chance of evidence being manipulated," Dariush added. Noor, Lala, and Nash were guarding the body. That was fair.

"Should we get going?" William asked Sun-young. The players were starting their investigations.

"You go. I can't move," Sun-young said.

"Well, if you're not going, I'm not—"

"You should," Sun-young said. "Right now, I'm a huge liability. Not just as a fighter but as a participant. I'm injured and we lied about it. We will have to gather evidence to disprove it. We can't just rely on Kazi."

William pursed his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Sun-young let out a sound. A small gasp of pain. "Now go, William."

William nodded and ran after Dariush and John. The pair were going to the kitchen to search for evidence. Asher, Pauline, and Ksenia were already inside and searching through the cabinets. John suggested they search the trash.

"Really?" William grumbled.

"We will cover more ground this way." There was the trash bin and three large bags filled with trash against the walls. Dariush already went to the bin, leaving John and William to deal with the white bags smelling like utter shit. Ripping the plastic apart, getting the smell deep in his nose, William felt like a homeless guy. If there was a caveat, it was the fact that somebody had already opened the bags so the holes were already there.

But then he flinched. A new scent introduced itself in the midst of all the food waste. A coppery smell that William was all too familiar with. Swallowing, he dug through the trash with both hands. Dariush came by, noticing his sudden enthusiasm.

"Did you find something?"

"I smell something," William replied. Eventually, he found it. A black box, locked, and bloodied at the corner. "A chess set?" He opened it up. The chess pieces were in-place. William did a double-take. "With…blood?"

"That's not ketchup?" Dariush asked, too honest for his own good.

"No, it's not," William said, taking a whiff. "It's blood."

"That's impossible." John frowned. "The weapon was a knife, not a chess set. I don't recall seeing any head injuries either."

"Unless…" William's mouth went dry. "There's a second victim. Paul."

The air went cold and eerie. The mere existence of the blooded chess box introduced a second victim. Their swirling thoughts were interrupted by the second group in the kitchen: Asher and Ksenia, who were surrounding the crouching Pauline, bewildered.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who found something. Come on," Dariush said.

They went over and checked to see what was up. In the cabinet Pauline had opened, there was a spilled bottle all by its lonesome, as if somebody had rushed to put it there.

Pauline was holding a smaller bottle. "This is hair dye," she said, "and the spilled bottle is sake alcohol."

"Just sake." John's brows narrowed. "But how did this get in here…"

"It's like…" Pauline gulped. "Somebody was trying to make a new chemical compound."

Her remark sped up William's heart. Seeing the body, he thought maybe, just maybe, the killer didn't exist. That this was some sort of illusion or accident. But this confirmed it: somebody had deliberately intended to kill someone. This was planned.