The mansion trembled as if it had just taken a breath.
The last echo of Tsubasa's death still hung in the air—thick, heavy, impossible to ignore. Blood had dried into the cracks of the stage floor, and the smell of smoke and copper clung to their lungs like rot.
No one spoke.
Yume clung to Toru's arm, her candle shaking in her grip.
Ayaka kept staring at the door Grimm had opened for them, her eyes glassy, unfocused.
Sayaka sat on the floor, muttering to herself—half laughter, half broken prayer.
Reina watched her with quiet amusement.
And Ms. Kaori stood between them all, trying to breathe like a teacher again, even though her legs trembled with every step.
"Please," she whispered, voice cracking. "No one gets left behind. We move together."
Her words barely reached anyone.
From far away came the echo of shouting—men's voices, violent and raw.
Kaito.
Junpei.
The sound of something shattering. A single scream.
Then Grimm's voice purred through the walls, smooth as silk.
"Ahhh… north wing, what a tragedy. Such passion, such heat. And now, such silence."
A faint pop followed, like a candle snuffed by unseen fingers.
Ms. Kaori flinched. "God… another one's gone."
Sayaka laughed, hollow. "Perfect. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll all kill each other before it's our turn."
"Sayaka—" Yume started, but Toru held her arm, shaking his head. "Let her talk," he murmured. "It's the only thing keeping her sane."
The corridor ahead groaned. Dust rained from the ceiling. They had reached the west wing—long, narrow, lined with paintings that hadn't been there before.
Portraits.
Each canvas showed one of them, standing inside the mansion, but the faces were… wrong. Smiles stretched too wide. Eyes too bright. And next to each portrait, a candle painted in exquisite detail—some already blackened out.
Mina whimpered, hiding behind Ayaka. "I-I don't like this…"
Reina's smile returned, soft, cruel. "I do. It's art."
"Don't touch anything," Toru warned.
Sayaka's eyes locked on one particular painting—herself, standing beside Toru, their hands almost touching. The candle between them was still burning bright white.
Her laughter came out sharp. "Even the damn paintings ship us. What a joke."
"Stop," Ms. Kaori said, weakly but firm. "No more fighting. Please."
The speaker above them hissed.
"No more fighting?" Grimm's voice stretched the words, tasting them. "But that's the best part of the show."
The lights flickered. For a heartbeat, every portrait blinked—eyes shifting, following them.
Ayaka gasped, backing away. "Did you—did you see that?"
Yume tightened her grip on Toru. "They're watching us."
The chandeliers flared blood-red, spilling crimson light down the hallway. A deep hum rolled through the floor, like a heartbeat.
"Lesson Four," Grimm announced, voice almost cheerful. "The Puppet's Shadow."
One of the portraits—Reina's—rippled. Its surface bubbled, paint melting like wax. From within, a black silhouette began to crawl out, dripping color like blood.
A humanoid shape hit the floor with a wet thud. Its head lifted. It had Reina's outline—same hair, same slender frame—but its face was smooth, blank, featureless.
It stood perfectly still.
Reina's smile faltered. "That's… me."
The shadow tilted its head, exactly the way she did.
Everyone stepped back. Mina sobbed quietly. Ayaka clutched her candle to her chest.
"Tonight's rule," Grimm purred. "One of you has lost their reflection. Find out who wears the shadow's face before the flame runs dry… or the house will choose for you."
Sayaka's voice cracked. "And if we guess wrong?"
"Then your tongues shall pay the price."
The shadow's neck jerked sideways, a crack echoing through the hall. Then it began to move—staggering, twitching, mimicking Reina's gestures, but with broken rhythm, like a puppet dancing on tangled strings.
Reina forced a laugh. "Well… this is new."
"Don't move," Toru said sharply. "It's copying you exactly."
Reina froze, raising her hands slowly. The shadow mirrored her perfectly.
Grimm laughed, delighted.
"Ahh, so obedient! I do love a reflection that knows its master."
The candles along the corridor flared, one by one, until only Toru's remained steady.
Then, distant—another voice screamed through the mansion. A girl this time.
"East hall performance over," Grimm whispered. "Two more candles gone. The house thanks them for their devotion."
Ayaka covered her mouth. "They're dying everywhere…"
Ms. Kaori took a trembling step forward. "Grimm, stop this! Please! They're just children—"
"Children?" Grimm mused. "No. Actors. And the play is far from over."
The lights dimmed again. The shadow turned its head toward Toru now.
For the first time, it moved without Reina.
Toru's candle flared white-hot in his grip.
And in that instant, everyone understood.
The trial had begun.
The shadow stood motionless, its faceless head tilting toward Reina like a broken puppet waiting for someone to pull the strings.
No one dared to breathe. The air was heavy, thick with fear and candle smoke. Grimm's voice drifted through the walls, smooth and sharp as a knife drawn over silk.
"Find the one who lost their reflection before midnight… or I will choose myself."