The trial had been postponed and William made his way to his dining area. Dejected faces, fear, and uncertainty clouded the players. Sun-young had remained inside and asked William to verbally tell her what happened.

He didn't. Ksenia did.

He cast her look. Her eyes furrowed deep, arms across, she appeared standoff-ish. She didn't want to talk. William obligated that silent request.

"I didn't know him that well," Ksenia began, wall to the window, eyes down. Ksenia clenched her fist. "He was just a guy I was interested in. But that's no reason not to be pissed off. He didn't deserve that."

The body was brought inside and placed in the storage room in the back. Besides the marks left by the rope, there was a massive hole in his chest as if somebody had forcibly gouged out his heart. There was no question that his death had been gruesome. William hoped it hadn't been painful.

Ksenia went on, every word a twist of emotion, "When I trained, boys hated me. When I was in a wheelchair, boys avoided me. Dating and love, I was never good at either. So here, in this world, I promised myself that if I saw a cute boy, I'd ask him out and get him to fall in love with me. It's a damn shame that he had to die. A real shame."

William looked to Sun-young. Was there even a way to comfort her?

'I doubt it. Other than finding the guy responsible…' William swallowed the nerves he had. He would be lying if he said he wasn't rattled. For two days, he had been hanging out with Paul at Kazi's request. He had an incredibly fun time with him too. To call them close would be an exaggeration.

But like Ksenia said—it was a damn shame he had to die. His head was heavy with the short memories they made. The games they played, the banter and jokes between, how was someone that so alive and meek now be at the back of the train, unable to speak ever again? Unable to feel joy ever again?

His head continued to ache and he let out a small groan.

"Why do people have to die," William muttered. Almost everywhere he went, there were bodies. Death.

Was this William's fate? To see death? To taste blood in his nose and feel rotting flesh pressed to his finger tips?

Why him?

His fingers curled. His eyes twitched. His breathing became clunky. For a moment, he wished he had his pills. The tension was creeping down his throat.

The hairs on his arms stood up as the train began to move. Slowly, slowly, slowly, gaining traction and building up speed. There was surprise across the players. They didn't think they would be moving this soon.

"Wait, who activated the train?"

"The train did, of course." Danzaburou and the tanukis were back to the jury's counter. Sitting, relaxing, and, most of all, clearly not at the front of the train. "It's a ghost train. It has a spirit, you know?"

"Y-you didn't mention that," William sputtered. Ghosts were a silly concept. Ghosts were a stupid concept. Still, the fact that the train was moving meant it was possessed, right?

'Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it—'

"Hardly ten minutes have passed," Leon told Danzaburou. "Can't we chill for a second?"

"Nope! Time for the train and the trial to begin anew!" said Danzaburou. "Oh, by the way, no more stops! Anybody who attempts to stop the train again will not be able to."

"Who says?" Ksenia said. "We should keep ourselves docked. The objective is to find the killer before we reach the station. If we stay, we have all the time in the world."

"That's what you think. However, there is a schedule I have to meet. Railroad crosses that will not open if I come late. Every minute you waste here is a minute that the railroad people won't accept. And this ghost train here? It has a strong sense of pride. It let you emergency stop it once but it won't let you do it again."

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"Danzaburou isn't lying for once," Kintaro said. "The train barely even listens to him."

Danzaburou looked offended and cast his coworker an offended look. "Hey! Not true!"

"Great, so we're beefing with a train too?" Leon said.

William muttered, "Apparently."

One by one, players dwindled in. Jules, Matty, the detective, Hugo, Booker, John, and eventually Kazi. The atmosphere almost became tense when he stepped in. He was the star of the show. He was the man fitting the pieces of the puzzle when no one else could.

When he arrived, he went straight to the evidence table, giving it a once over. A strange smile appeared on his face. Honestly, William could never tell what he was thinking.

"Paul's death has been confirmed," Kazi began. "Just as I thought he was."

"Excuse me?" Ksenia said. "What the hell does that mean? You knew he was dead?"

Kazi didn't look at her. Instead, he opened the treasure box he had brought in for evidence. "Detective Matasaburō and I found this. It's, well…quite telling."

William's nose crinkled. The instant the treasure chest opened, the smell of putrid blood spread throughout the room. A sea of blood filled the box and bobbing on the surface was a beating heart.

Eyes went wide. William nearly hurled at the scent of the fresh organ.

"A beating heart. A missing heart. As I am sure some of you noted, Paul's chest was gouged out. This is his heart."

"What the actual f—" Ksenia stepped back, terrified. "What!? WHAT THE HELL!?"

"The reason I didn't show this until now and why I didn't inform you of Paul's death was simple. I didn't know where his body was, I didn't want to spread unnecessary fear, and I wanted to know why the heart was still beating. Could there be magic involved? Could his body still live via some sort of magical spell—"

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Hugo clapped a hand over his mouth. "God—I'm closing that thing! We've seen enough for one day."

Hugo went over and slammed the treasure chest shut. The looks of disgust did not wither away, nor did Kazi's small smile and his focused eyes.

"I know who the killer is," Kazi announced.

The hushes became full-blown conversations. Kazi sliced them apart with a single clap of the hand.

"I'm going to give the killer one last chance to give themselves up. If they don't, I can't promise that you'll go unharmed. There are a lot of players here. You're outnumbered, my friend. Better to come out unscathed than get your ass kicked."

"Hell no!" Hugo slammed the table. "Whoever it is, tell me their names and I'm rocking their shit! End of story!"

"Agreed," Ksenia said, stepping forward. "Tell us who the killer is!"

William discreetly checked his surroundings, and found everyone else was doing the same. There were a few he could cross out. Sun-young, Kazi, John, Hugo, and Ksenia. They were too close by for it to be any of them.

William's assumption, according to Kazi, was wrong. Very, very wrong. The person he accused of being the killer was—

"John," Kazi said. "Would you mind telling us what you do?"

William's stomach dropped and he craned his head over to the man sitting beside him. To his left, not even a foot away.

All the attention, all the suspicion, all of it landed on him: John Smith. Surprisingly, the old man was not baffled by the accusation. His brows knitted, smiling, he said, "Excuse me?" Almost laughing, he turned to Sun-young, who was to his left. "He has a flair for the dramatic, that's for sure," John added.

"Not going to answer the question, John Smith?" Kazi asked, smiling.

"Shit, that does sound like a fake name," Hugo muttered.

"It is my real name," John declared. "I was born in 1945 in the great city of London. I was born in Saint Bartholomew's Hospital two hours before twelve struck and as an adult worked as a police officer—"

"Wrong!" Kazi made a buzz sound. "I noticed this from the very second I saw you. Your stance, the way you walk, the slight Mid-Atlantic accent, the way you keep yourself always ready—you were a part of the British Secret Service."

"Like…James Bond?" Leon asked.

"Exactly," Kazi said. "In his prime, he would have been neck-deep in the Cold War. He was at the forefront of political, scientific, and medical knowledge. Besides me and Booker, he's the only man equipped with the knowledge to concoct that smoky experiment from before."

John seemed utterly unfazed and crossed his legs. "Let us assume I was apart of the British Secret Service—"

"Woah, John, you're actually going along with this?" William asked. "That's quintessential killer behaviour!"

"Let me finish, William." John folded his hands on his crossed knee. "I am merely humouring this deduction of his. Hypothetically, I concocted those drinks. Hypothetically, I was the man responsible for the smoke screen and then stealing evidence. Why would I just leave it there then? In the cabinets? For a Secret Service member, that's quite clumsy of me."

"Because you didn't." Kazi's smile turned into a grin. "You would never make a mistake like that in a million years. You immediately noticed and I noticed that you noticed."

Leon voiced out everyone's confusion. "So...what? He didn't do it?"

The following accusation caused a stir amongst the players. Words that William would never have thought of but Kazi did. "Someone has been lying. Someone has been falsifying evidence and testimony."

John didn't speak. Nobody did.

"What?" Detective Matasaburō joined the rest of them. "What are you talking about?"

"Detective, you've been feeling uneasy this whole time, haven't you? We have evidence that shouldn't exist, yet is still here. Evidence that logically no killer would have ever left behind, as John eloquently stated."

Calmly, Kazi pointed a finger at the jury—at the tanuki leading it all, Danzaburou.

"Am I wrong, Danzaburou-danuki?"

The white in its teeth shifted into a yellow colour and a devilish grin spread across its measly features. "So…you figured it out…"