After the recent murder, sleep became something one couldn't afford even on credit. No, none of us slept. Sleep is, of course, wonderful, especially in a good bed, but now it seemed like some kind of… crime against common sense. We were sitting in the living room, divided into groups, like islands in an archipelago of distrust.
Cheryl announced that Gerudo's body would be buried at first light. No one objected. No one really argued much at all, it's surprising how death can temporarily balance even the most contradictory.
Morgana… she had already managed to pull herself together. Or at least learned to pretend she had. Appearance is also a skill. Her conversation with Aragi, like a drop of oil in water, had spread in ripples across her inner world.
— At the moment, Morgana together with Cheryl are cleaning the kitchen, they've been there for a whole hour, perhaps it requires great effort.
The voice sounded mundane. So matter-of-factly that it was even frightening in its normality. But…
— Considering that the blood wasn't dry at all and the murder happened not long before we noticed it, it shouldn't have taken them this long. I suppose they are mourning his body or preparing it for a swift burial.
— You are mistaken.
The word, like a shard of glass, cut into the conversation. It was spoken by Aragi. He had been in the kitchen all this time. And not just been there, but helping, not for gratitude. Just… helping. Like that. Without explanations, without applause.
— Despite the freshness of the murder, there was too much blood, scattered all over the kitchen. It was on the dishes too. We had to clean every compartment. And we wrapped the body long ago.
He said it so simply. Without pathos, without intonation. Just stated a fact and, of course, it couldn't go without a comment.
— It's great, of course, that you're so eager to help everyone, showing your nature, but it shouldn't concern us, the participants of the great game with the cursed witch of Ryujima.
Kamiki. His tone, like a glass filled with indifference mixed with fine wine. He spoke lightly, as if nothing more troubling than a wine stain on a tablecloth had happened in the world. He continued to drink carefreely, elegantly, as if every sip was a verdict for the others.
— You wouldn't think by looking at you that anything here bothers you at all. An hour ago you turned the other participants against Enua, and now you're carefreely drinking alcohol here? What if you set it all up? The murder, the missing axe, and everything else?
— Aha-ha-ha… Calm down, Aragi. I am relaxed only because we already know who killed the cook, and he has nowhere to run.
Laughter. Crystal and dangerous, like a glass in a maniac's hand.
— He couldn't prove his alibi, unlike me and the other participants. Why such theories about me? It's foolish to rely only on words that have no clear proof.
— Everything has meaning, whether you have an alibi or not. Devilish assertions can be built on anything.
Ah, there it is, the key word. Philosophy amidst chaos. A diamond in a pile of ashes.
— Ooh… so you know about the devil's assertion? Didn't expect that from you.
— What assertions are these?
This question was asked by Yahweh, who until now had been standing aside with Hov, like two commas in a sentence no one finished reading.
— The devil's assertion is merely a concept for arguing with someone about the possible and the actual.
A pause, thin as a blade. And then:
— I'll show you with an example of a locked box. Imagine there's something alive in the box: a cat, a dog, a snake, doesn't matter.
And yes, this is not that famous Schrödinger's cat paradox, this is much worse. It's philosophy turned inside out.
— You are sure there's something alive in it, and another person is sure there isn't. You both heard rustling, saw the box move. But then silence. Emptiness. Static.
— The other asserts that there was nothing in the box. Everything you heard is an illusion. A deception. The devil whispered to you, and you believed it. That is the devil's assertion.
— An illusion presented as reality sometimes convinces more strongly than reality itself. And when the devil argues, he doesn't argue for the truth, he argues for you. To make you believe that truth doesn't exist at all.
— I see… but what does it have to do with anything?
— Aragi found a reason to start discussing this out of nowhere, saying I could have been involved in the murder, but alas, no matter how much you wanted it… you have no proof!
Words, sharp as needles. But Aragi didn't flinch.
— I meant something completely different, but you weren't going to listen to me anyway...
— Listen, Yahweh, I understand your dislike for your former enemy. You gave your whole life just to defeat Enua, went against your own ideals, that's why you agreed with everything Kamiki presented to you, pointing out that Enua was involved in the murder.
Aragi's voice didn't sound like an accuser's voice. No. It was the voice of… elusive hope. A broken umbrella of logic in the rain of suspicion.
— However, I refuse to accept it. None of you even considered that the killer could be the witch!
Words like sharp pebbles underfoot. Not painful until you step on them. And when you step, it's too late.
— No, you are mistaken, Aragi. The first thing I thought of was her, just like everyone else. Indeed, she is participating in this game as an observer and as a killer, however, even she did not stipulate in the game rules that the servants are also participants!
Yahweh's speech sounded like a prosecutor's monologue who already knows the verdict.
— What sense does it make to kill someone who wasn't even included in the game rules? It only benefits us, to get rid of competitors.
Rules. Murder. Competitors. It's all logical. Logical, like a poorly written script: it seems everything adds up, but you still don't believe it.
— Remember the rules: the answer to any question and a wish will be granted to only one, meaning only one of us can be the winner!
— And you really believed that nonsense? That she wouldn't kill someone not on the participant list just because of the rules?! How stupid…
Stupid. But stupid doesn't mean untrue, the truth can be stupid. And stupidity can be true, this is… the damned duality of reason.
— Everything has a reason to be… Those are your words, Aragi. Let's agree to disagree. We will surely find out everything soon if we work together.
Aragi was silent. A pause. Then:
— You are the only one who disagreed that Enua killed Gerudo, and you have no proof of his innocence. Alas, we cannot blindly believe you.
Damn. It was as if a switch clicked inside him. Not from anger. From helplessness.
«Damn! What did I need to do to make them believe me… I could really use your help right now… Tsubasa».
The night, as if hearing his internal monologue, finally dissolved.
The next morning.
The rain was gone. As if it had never been. The clouds parted, and light with a foolish optimism began to seep into the mansion's rooms.
Ironic. After the funeral, a ray of sun.
Alarm clocks, they all rang simultaneously. As if someone's sick humor decided to wake them up for a rehearsal of normal life.
— Aragi, apparently you tolerate alarm sounds easily, since you continue to sleep so soundly.
— Get up already, who promised to help the young lady first thing, holding her hands?
A provocative phrase. And, of course, it worked. The young man jumped up as if someone had put a piano under him.
— So you saw everything?! And she, remember, said that we might be seen and misunderstood…
— Ah-hah…
— Sorry, I was just passing by and saw the two of you on the steps discussing something. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
— Hey, just so you know, there's nothing like that between us, not even close, don't think…
— I get it, why are you so worked up in the morning. But you really did promise to help them before anyone else.
— What time is it?
— Seven in the morning. — Enua answered.
— I see. I'll go wash up quickly. Where are the others now?
— I just woke up myself, and I'm not eager to go out to them, you know that. I refuse from this moment to have conversations with any of them.
— Ah… I completely forgot. I will definitely find a way to prove your non-involvement in the murder.
— Just go already.
The others were already gathered in the living room. Cheryl was with them. It all looked like a scene in a theater where no one knows what play is being staged.
On his way out, Aragi met Morgana.
— Good morning, Mister Aragi… How did you sleep?
— Good morning, Morgana, didn't feel much discomfort. Just give me a reason to sleep, and I'll fall asleep anywhere.
— But we agreed that from now on you would drop these formalities when addressing me.
— Sorry, I really tried, but it seems it's not that easy. We were taught since childhood to address all guests respectfully.
— Alright, it's fine. Are the others waiting in the living room?
— Yes. We were only waiting for your group. But I suppose Mister Enua will not be participating…
— Sorry. He's in a difficult situation right now. They are set against him. I will find a way to prove his innocence. I am more than sure that he is not the killer.
— I believe you. Of all the other participants, you seemed different to me from the start…
She stopped. As if choosing between sincerity and reason. And chose the former.
— I don't know what this feeling is, but it was as if I felt kindness emanating from you…
— And since you believe in your comrade's non-involvement, I will support you too!
The determination in her voice wasn't feigned. It was… dangerous. Because when a servant starts to believe more than the master — it changes the rules of the game.
Thank you… now I am more than sure that I will succeed.
The funeral.
A cool wind, mud underfoot. A splash of flowers in the garden, unexpectedly alive against the backdrop of death.
— Didn't even think there was such a place here.
— Obviously, according to stories, all this was made for the witch, with whom the first master of this island was head over heels in love.
— Not surprising to see such a garden here. Girls like that sort of thing.
— Kkh… Yahweh, don't act as if you know women's preferences. I don't recall you being an expert in that matter.
— Hey, just because I spent my whole life hunting and killing gods doesn't mean I didn't have other interests!
— We're at a funeral now, no time for arguments here!
— Cheryl, your arms are too thin, this work will be too much for you.
— We will help you, you just stand aside for now. We didn't gather here for nothing.
Yahweh and Hov took the shovels. After 15 minutes the hole was ready. Three meters. Cold, silent, final.
— I think that's enough, considering his height of 4 cubits.
A strange feeling. I had never participated in someone's funeral before, maybe that's why I feel nothing.
Even if I didn't know him, this is a deceased innocent person. One should regret… probably.
But I wasn't thinking about that. All this time I was looking at Morgana.
She… was holding a handkerchief, trying to hold back tears. And I suddenly understood, I only regret it for her sake.
We are standing here for decency's sake. No more. None of us are experiencing real emotions.
When a loved one of your acquaintance dies, you don't regret the deceased. You regret the acquaintance.
You sympathize not because of the death, but because of the life that remains.
— We're done. And without power, you start to understand what it's like to work using only physical effort.
— Yes, I'm tired too. Let's return to the mansion, we could catch a cold like this.
They left. Only Morgana and Cheryl remained. Aragi had almost left… but looked up.
«That's… the witch of Ryujima, Mariana!»
On the second floor, behind the window, she stood and smiled, a glass in her hands. Indifference in her eyes.
«I need to check this place».
He ran upstairs. Stopped in front of a massive door.
«This door is too big. As if hiding not just a room. But a whole meaning».
He reached for the handle… Locked.
«Damn. Of course. But you won't hide, Ryujima».
— Mister Aragi, did you forget something here?
He shuddered. Morgana, she had already returned.
— You scared me, don't appear so suddenly…
— Sorry, I called you several times before coming up. But you were standing by the door and didn't hear anything.
«Was I really so intrigued…»
— So what did you forget here?
— Nothing much… just decided to look around the second floor. Better tell me, what is this door?
— This is the library. It holds all the books, even magical ones. Some of them contain power that's hard to describe in words.
— The first master had… a hobby. He collected thousands. But the library has been locked for a long time. Even we can't enter.
— So even you don't have a key…
— Uh-huh. Only Gerudo-sama had it. But we don't know where he kept it.
«That feels like a knife to the heart».
— I see. Then we have no business here.
— The others are waiting for you in the living room. It seems they want to discuss something very important among themselves.
«Probably the situation with Enua. I need to find a way to prove his innocence quickly. Otherwise…»
Aragi has no intention of giving up. Not for victory, not for the game, not for the witch. He is doing it for a comrade. Because sometimes, even in a game of survival, the most important thing is simply not to lose oneself.