Blood ran in thin rivers across the cabin floor, snaking around the sharp corners of the rug. Elric Monroe's face was turned slightly, as if he'd tried to look at something—or someone—at the final moment.
Arthur stepped in first, already analyzing.
No signs of struggle.
No weapon.
The card was pinned into the wood behind Elric's head—spiked neatly with a thin metal letter opener. Precise. Intentional.
Luke entered next, glancing at the still form, then up at the card. "Whoever's doing this… they're getting bolder."
"No," Arthur said, crouching. "They're getting closer."
He scanned the body.
Elric's pupils were dilated. A small nick along his temple, faint and nearly hidden beneath his greying hair.
Arthur reached into the man's coat pocket. Inside: a handkerchief soaked in something chemical.
"Chloroform," he muttered. "Knocked out. Then posed."
Luke tilted his head. "He wasn't murdered for silence. He was made into a message."
Arthur nodded once. "The killer wants us to read between the lines."
He stood up, pulling the Queen of Spades from the wall carefully. On the back, written in the same Courier font:
"Two trials passed. Justice waits for three."
Luke read it over his shoulder. "Three? So there's one more?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Maybe."
But his chest felt tight again. That cold, creeping pressure.
The chains.
Every death dragged him deeper—back into the echo of the Argent Line, where he'd once stood amidst bodies, helpless and too late.
He clenched his fists.
No.
Not again.
Later, as the train passed a narrow bridge over a frozen ravine, the lounge was sealed off. The staff, clearly shaken, obeyed Arthur's orders. Luke stood watch near the doors while Arthur gathered the remaining passengers into the forward observation car.
All eyes were on him now.
Captain Reinhart leaned against the frame of a window, arms crossed.
Seraphine Dale sipped from a new glass, her gaze sharpened, like a reader watching the climax unfold.
Evelyn sat near the back, silent.
Arthur stepped into the center.
"The killer is among us," he said simply.
Murmurs erupted, but he raised his hand, and they stopped.
"Fenwick. Elric. Two men with very different pasts. Both dead within hours. Both received cards. And one more…" He held up the third Queen of Spades. "Left behind with a message."
He looked at each of them slowly.
"This is not a random spree. This is a game. And each of you plays a part in it."
Captain Reinhart spoke first. "If you know this is a game, then tell us how to win it."
Arthur's voice was steady. "By surviving."
Seraphine chuckled softly. "And you think talking to us will stop the blade?"
"I think understanding the rules might." Arthur turned to face her. "You called it a recreation. So tell me—who else knows about the Argent Line?"
Seraphine's eyes met his. "More than you think. Less than you fear."
Before he could press further, the conductor burst in.
"Sir—there's something you need to see. In the engine car."
Arthur nodded, following him quickly.
Luke trailed behind without needing to be asked.
The engine car was hot, loud, and filled with the scent of oil and coal. The conductor led them past the engineer to a small locked box embedded into the control panel wall.
It had been pried open.
Inside: a torn page from a passenger manifest. A red X through three names.
Fenwick.
Elric.
And Evelyn Cross.
Arthur stared.
"This is the killer's list," he said.
Luke frowned. "Then Evelyn's next."
"No," Arthur said slowly, looking at the X already slashed over her name. "She was supposed to be next."
He turned toward Luke. "But something changed."
Luke blinked. "You think she was spared?"
Arthur's voice dropped low.
"I think the killer's rules are shifting."
And if that was true…
The third death might not be who they expected at all.