Morimens story · Special Ops
Happy Hunting!
13 scenes, 1,033 lines
1. Uninvited Guest, before the fight
95 linesAll kinds of animals make their home here, and now and then, a demon or two.
Ring-ring-ring...
Mmh... so tired. Leave me alone.
...
Oh no, the Introduction to Dissolution exam is today. What time is it...
6:37. Plenty of time...
You fumble for the alarm, switch it off, and sink back into sleep.
...
Wait. What if it's already evening?!
You roll out of bed, find your pen, scratch paper, and eraser without missing a beat, and cram them all into your bag.
Everything ready, you take a deep breath and pull open the dorm door...
Huh...? This isn't my school.
...
Oh, I get it, this is a dream! Great. Back to bed, then...
You spin around, but the door is gone, the whole dormitory is gone.
...
You have no choice but to turn back to the street in front of you.
Anybody there, Hello...
Good morning, good afternoon, good evening...
Gurgle, gurgle!
Thank God, something finally answered me!
You rush toward the sound, only to find a small red mailbox standing there.
Gurgle, gurgle... indigestion... help... hel...
Uuurgh, bleagh!!
The mailbox twitches and writhes, then spits out a soggy letter.
Is that for me? It looks kind of disgusting...
It is a windless night. The buildings bathe in dark red moonlight, their doors shut tight against anyone who might try to enter.
You are the only living thing for miles around.
Open the envelope
Doing your best to ignore the slime on your fingertips, you carefully open the envelope.
To the recipient afar: Please arrive at Frandel Manor before midnight. Be punctual, or suffer the consequences (your brain @2blown into@3)! Manor address: classified. -▼-
Frandel Manor? That's one of Mr. Dexter's properties, if I remember right. Since when did he take up practical jokes...
Besides, I don't have a watch on me, I don't even know what time it is...
Tick. Tock.
At some point a giant clock has appeared in the sky, its hour and minute hands frozen at exactly eleven.
Only the slender second hand keeps moving, cold and precise, never breaking its pace.
What... is going on...
Oh? You got the same letter I did?
Who's there?!
Sorry, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper! You seemed pretty focused. I called you several times...
You don't remember me? I'm Elsa. We took Miss Doll's Introduction to Dissolution together.
Elsa... Right, I remember you. You were always borrowing Ramona's notes.
Sorry, that's because I kept failing...
Elsa hangs her head and hugs the heart-shaped pillow tighter against her chest.
Don't feel bad, Miss Elsa. Nearly every investigator fails Miss Doll's class at least once.
Anyway, you said you got the same letter. Can you see it too?
You point up at the huge clock hanging above the full moon.
I can see it. But I'm lost, I can't find the right direction no matter what I do, and now I have less than a minute left.
Strange. My countdown still has an hour on it. Is that because you got into this world before me?
I don't know... It's just a prank, right, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%?
I've never been out on a field assignment. I have no experience with anomalies...
Honestly, this is a first for me too.
Countdown ends in: 5 seconds
You gently take Elsa's hand.
One minute left. Not even a time machine would make it in time. But don't be afraid.
Countdown ends in: 0 seconds
Whatever comes next, I'll protect...
Your...
Elsa's head burst into a warm mass of brain matter. The viscous liquid splattered onto your face, filling the air with the metallic smell of blood.
%player%@2, save @3...
Black slime keeps welling out of the severed neck, and out of it another face forms, pale, and no one you know.
<Change>Save me, please, save me...
Miss Elsa?! What... what's happening...
The beast blade cuts the air, and "Elsa" comes apart at the waist, black D-Slime pouring out like blood.
No use. She lost her mind a long time ago.
Mr. Ryker?!
Ryker puts away his claws and comes over to you, light on his feet.
Why the face? Look like you're about to cry. Relax, this place is probably somebody's Domain.
A Domain...?
Right. Which means the real Elsa is most likely alive and well.
Figured it out at a glance, you really are the detective. What tipped you off?
The first time I met Elsa, it was a night just like this one.
She had a pack of Dissolutes on her heels, closing fast. I'd just stumbled out of a tavern, so I pointed her a way out and cut down the ones that caught up.
Just now we met again. Same hour, same street, except this time I sent her the wrong way and got her head blown open. Which means...
Which means?
My luck's gone! And that simply doesn't happen, so I'd say it's fair to conclude this isn't reality.
Or you could slap me a couple of times and we'll find out whether it's a dream. I've tried it on myself already. Didn't do a thing.
...
All I know is, Domain or reality, I'd rather not watch my own head get blown open.
Then you need my help more than ever! I passed plenty of poor souls on the way here, all running late just like Elsa. We're better off going by air.
Ryker nods toward the rooftops nearby.
You mean fly over the rooftops?
Sorry to disappoint, but I'm just an ordinary Keeper. I can't go bounding across rooftops with you...
The next second, Ryker slings you onto his back and launches into the air.
Hold on tight, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%!
Waaaaahhh!!
You clutch at Ryker's collar in terror. Low and hunched, the detective clears one eave after another, weaving through the crowded rooftops of Londinium.
Man and wolf race on beneath the quiet moon.
Nothing but clean wind in your ears. You duck low and press yourself into the soft fur beneath you.
Well? Having fun?
I had no idea you could do this... Slow down, I am formally requesting you slow down!
Ryker roars with laughter, his whole chest shaking, as if every cell in him were cheering.
This is what a wolf's meant to do! I'm just back at the old trade, see?
I said, slow down!!
Easy! Quit yanking on my fur!
2. None Survived, before the fight
131 linesFrandel Manor 11:30 PM
Yee-haw! Stuck the landing~
You're sure Dexter lives in a dump like this? Don't tell me he went broke.
Sorry to disappoint, but this is the shabbiest of the fifty-odd properties in his name.
Hsss... I've just had a brilliant idea...
Let me stop you there. No funny business with Mr. Dexter. He has no interest in gambling, questionable investments, or risky ventures of any kind.
Cut off without mercy, the detective pulls his hand back with a sulk, then stubbornly jerks his chin toward the manor up ahead.
Ahem. Where's your mind gone? I only meant we should get inside early, find a good spot to lie low, and dig up some information...
Frandel Manor 11:45 PM
The heavy wooden door swings open. Ryker throws his arms wide and sweeps into the hall with rather theatrical warmth.
Dexter, my old friend! It's been what, a few days? And you already couldn't wait to have us over to rekindle the romance?
Though I feel obliged to mention it, your chosen method of invitation was a touch extreme.
Hey, what happened to lying low!
I know what you're all getting at, it wasn't me.
Dexter sits stiffly at the far end of the long table, raking a hand through his disheveled hair with obvious impatience.
Ramona did mention something about Mr. Dexter's temper turning foul whenever his sleep gets interrupted...
I was sound asleep at home when a whole crowd of people turned up banging on my door, and every last servant had vanished.
I still have no idea what happened.
A whole crowd...?
Click!
A white flash lights the room for an instant, and then the silence settles back in.
Um... still nothing on the film. I knew this place wasn't right...
Hannah?! What are you doing here?
Heh-heh! I didn't get made Vice President of the Reasoning Society for nothing! Finding my way around is what I do best.
Good evening, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%, good evening, boss!
Mm-hmm.
Boss...? I had no idea you two knew each other.
Mr. Ryker is the most famous detective in the East District, and the two of us work like clockwork, crooks take one look at us and cross the street!
Ahem. Rein in the reporter's instincts, would you? You're not writing a column here.
Ryker gives you a helpless shrug.
I have her run errands for me on a few cases, and in exchange she wheedles plenty of information out of me. Mutual benefit, more or less.
Speaking of mutual benefit, I hear someone else here is rather cozy with Mythag as well?
You follow Ryker's eyes to the shadows in the corner, where a richly dressed woman raises her wine glass and smiles at you in greeting.
We meet again, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Lady Sorel?! You, how could you also...
A pity. I had hoped our next meeting would be on a rather more formal occasion.
Alas, all we have here is a manor in the middle of nowhere and an empty glass. However shall we pass the time?
Fill it up and drink till dawn, of course~!
As the bright, merry voice rings out, the wine in Sorel's glass rises miraculously back to the brim.
How astonishing, it even tastes of Chardonnay... How did you manage that?
Hee hee, that's nothing. Watch this...
Casiah taps the rim of the glass with her cane, and the wine bursts into crimson roses, quivering in the lamplight.
She plucks the loveliest of them and tucks it behind Sorel's ear.
The loveliest rose, for the loveliest beauty in Londinium.
Absolutely marvelous, Miss Magician! Tell me, have you any interest in a position at court? I simply must present you to Her Majesty the Queen.
For the right price, anything can be arranged...
Hmm, isn't this our {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper and Mr. Detective?
Casiah looks startled, as though she had only just noticed you.
Ever since we parted in Aram, I've thought about you every single day.
...
...
Hold on! I didn't kill William. Casiah's just a poor girl earning a wage. You'd rather not start a bloodbath in this gentleman's house, would you?
Not at all. I'd be happy to step outside and discuss it properly.
Hsss... Fair warning: I've had every inch of this place mapped out for a long time.
If I can't win, I can always run...
Dong, dong,
An enormous clock hangs suddenly above their heads, its hands resting on exactly midnight.
Ladies and gentlemen, good evening! Welcome to my Paradise!
Aaahh! That kid doesn't have a face!
That outfit, that feeling... don't tell me...
Congratulations, everyone! Your cleverness and your fine spirit of cooperation have carried you past the first little problem I set for you.
The warm-up is over. Now, on to the main event...
BANG!
The bullet punches clean through the mysterious little man's face, leaving a gaping hole where it had been.
Sorry about that. My pistol went off. Enjoying your little game of house, N?
So it really is Him...
The black mist still clinging to N's face writhes and stretches, and the hole is gone in an instant.
How dull. You all worked it out so quickly.
Mr. Ryker looked like he was having a marvelous time, racing about under the moon. Did you like the game of house I tailored just for you?
Heh... Nothing special. So this is your Domain?
Naturally. If you want out, you'll stay in this house and solve the puzzles I've laid out for you like good children.
Now hold on, this is my house. Does no one intend to ask my opinion?
Skrrrk... skrrrk...
BOOM!!
Splendid. My little assistant has just finished sawing through the only bridge to the outside world.
Which means none of you are going anywhere!
What?! Let's get out there and look...
Silence hangs over everything. You stand at the cliff's edge before the broken bridge, none of you saying a word.
Somewhere along the way a heavy snow has begun, thick flakes drifting down through the air.
You grip the dull Silver Key at your chest. The moment you set foot in this place, your link to it has been severed completely.
It won't do you any good, you know. I've already cut you off from @2. Right now, not one of you has a single ability beyond an ordinary person's.
So it was you all along...
Relax. Glaring at me won't help, not even if your eyes pop right out.
A true hero should solve problems the way an ordinary person would. Isn't that right, Erica?
Erica...?
Mechanical footsteps come from the corner.
Erica raises an enormous chainsaw and snaps her arm out. The cable linking her prosthetic stretches an impossible distance, far enough to cut through the bridge on the far side as well.
...?
That mechanical arm of hers is fascinating. I'll have to find a way to get hold of it...
Erica shuts off the chainsaw, steps in behind "N", and even bows deferentially.
Reporting, Master. The only passage connecting Ferrand to the outside world has been destroyed. Total time elapsed: 5 minutes and 40 seconds. Power consumed...
You... what did you do to Miss Erica?!
"N" hops lightly onto Erica's shoulder and settles in, crossing one leg over the other.
Relax, I only used a bit of my personal charm to nudge her mind along. Allow me to introduce my new assistant, Erica.
Erica, say good evening to everyone.
Good evening. From this point on, Erica will be responsible for supervising and attending to all of you. Please follow me back to the mansion.
A word of warning beforehand, should anyone dare to defy my newly hired little assistant...
"N" lightly presses the switch on the chainsaw in Erica's hands, and the deafening roar has everyone clapping their hands over their ears at once.
Fine, fine, fine, we'll do whatever you say...
Splendid. Erica will keep you all entertained from here on. I still have 1,124 creatures waiting to sign demonic pacts with me.
Remember...
There's a villain hiding among you, you know. Don't trust anyone.
?!
Oh? Then do tell, what were you planning to do?
Marvelous! Please, keep that quarreling spirit alive, don't let my presence cramp your style!
Rule one of our code of conduct: chaos! Rule two: chaos! Rule three...
Let me guess. Chaos again?
Wrong! It's endless chaos!
...
Well then, have fun, everyone~
With that, "N" dissolves into thick black mist and is gone, leaving the rest of you staring at one another.
%player%, where did that obnoxious little pest even crawl out of? You two seem to know Him already?
You hesitate, weighing whether to tell Hannah everything you know. But you soon realize there is nothing to weigh.
About "N", you know just as little as she does.
Sorry, I don't know what He really is either. Ever since He took on that new shape, He's gotten even more...
You almost say "playful," then swallow the word.
...even more insufferable.
So if I've got this right, we solve the puzzles and find the Final Truth. That the idea?
Mm... Yes, that's it exactly.
One small problem. He seems to have forgotten to tell us what the puzzle actually is.
Endless chaos, all right.
You look ahead at the bridge, shattered beyond any hope of repair. The pitch-black valley below yawns like a bottomless abyss, cutting you off completely from the island in the distance.
Mr. Dexter, are you certain this is the only way out?
Dexter shrugs, resigned.
I took a liking to this place precisely because it was remote enough to spare me a great deal of pointless socializing and attention.
It seems that plan has rather backfired.
The snow keeps falling, and before long the ruined bridge lies buried beneath it.
Achoo! A blizzard, a manor in the middle of nowhere, and a group of strangers thrown together for no good reason...
I've got a bad feeling about this.
3. Haunted House, before the fight
86 linesFrandel Manor Two Hours Later
It would seem Lady Luck isn't smiling on you tonight, Mr. Ryker.
The pot is already over ten thousand Leonian Florins. Do you still wish to raise?
...Of course.
I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Ryker. Once we're out of the Domain, I'll have my butler send every last bill your way.
Send ours along to him too, while you're at it, hehehe~
Damn it! That "N", he must have rigged something...
Sorry to interrupt...
The game at the card table is in full swing. No one pays your little question any mind.
Sorry to spoil the fun!
Does anyone still remember that we're trapped in the Domain of some damned, deranged god?
Correction: a deranged and forgetful god. So all we have to do is save our strength and wait until He remembers to hand us the puzzle. Right?
Straight flush! Beautiful.
...
Never mind. I'll go look around.
Frandel Manor First Floor Study
Hmm... Just as I thought. Every book here is a deluxe hardcover that's never once been opened. I have no idea how he ever became a professor of Mythag.
Huh? What's this?
In a corner no one has been watching, a black coffin catches your eye.
Intricate patterns and symbols are painted in gold along both sides, and a thick black mist seeps out of the seam down the middle.
Ugh, It won't budge.
Looks like something in the style of Remouahe. Where did Dexter get this from?
Curious, you reach out and run your fingers over the gilded scrollwork on the lid, but then...
Apophis, this black pharaoh is Karnak. You give him offerings, and he lives, he lives, he lives.
Apophis, he isn't dead, he isn't dead, Apophis.
...
What's the matter, my lord? You've gone so pale.
Forgive me. Something urgent has come up, I must excuse myself for a moment.
There goes another one, and I was just about to break even... So where'd the robot assistant and the magician get to?
Um, I saw Miss Erica go upstairs a little while ago. As for Miss Casiah, nobody's laid eyes on her since we got back.
I'm rather tired myself. I think I'll step out for some air.
But it's snowing heavily outside. You'll catch a cold, Lady Sorel!
This is not the real world, so why stand on ceremony? And besides, a little snow is pleasant to look at now and then, wouldn't you say?
Sorel sweeps out with elegant, unhurried steps, and the hall that had been so lively a moment ago goes quiet.
Boss, the card game was just a front, right? I knew you had a plan all along!
Uh...
That's right! Mr. Dexter reacted strangely just now. Come on, let's take a look at his bedroom.
Whoa, got it! The detective game is finally on!
Frandel Manor Staircase Landing
Boss, are you sure Mr. Dexter went to his bedroom? I could've sworn he headed for the study.
Hmm... I'd have a hard time walking you through how I got there. Call it a strange sort of intuition.
I see! So this is the legendary intuition of a great detective!!
Relax, boss. I won't question a single word of it.
Hannah thumps her chest, then pulls out the magnifying glass she carries everywhere and starts poking around.
Investigation number two hundred fifteen, officially underway! First, the staircase before us, carved from ebony, understated, luxurious, above all worldly concerns...
Ever thought about changing careers, Miss Hannah? It just struck me that you'd do rather well selling advertisements for Heinz & Co.
Please don't interrupt a detective at work! And finally, the carved window at the top of the stairs...
...
Just beyond the lens, a dim shape flits past the window and is gone.
AAAAAAH! A gh-ghost!!
Try saying that in a way I can follow, Miss Hannah.
Mr. Dexter's ghost! Right there at the top of the stairs! It flew up, flew off into the sky!
Ryker crosses to the window and pushes it open. The wind howls, and snow whirls through the air, drifting down without aim.
He looks up. Warm lamplight from the second floor washes the falling snow in a faint orange.
Interesting. More than one room has its lights on... Let's go up and take a look.
Frandel Manor Second Floor Corridor
Huh? The door's locked.
Mr. Dexter, are you in there? Are you feeling any better?
The room is deathly silent. Then, after a long while, Dexter's muffled voice comes through the door.
Sorry, I'm not feeling well at the moment. Could I have a little time to rest?
You called it, he really is in there. So what now?
Let's pull back. This is a nobleman's manor; the least we can do is mind our manners.
Even as he says it, Ryker backs away a few paces.
Then he lunges forward and drives his boot into the door...
Splash!!
The solid oak bursts open around a gaping hole. Ryker reaches through, finds the handle without trouble, and calmly swings the door open.
Ladies first, please...
...
Wh-What happened to minding our manners?
Sorry. What little breeding I have only extends to humans. Open your eyes and look, what is that?
Hannah follows his eyes. Beside the desk stands an upright gramophone, a black record turning slowly on it.
Sorry, I'm not feeling very well just now. Might I rest for a little while?
Sorry@2not feeling well... rest...
Rest-est@2est...
Please depart as soon as you are able, and do not disturb Mr. Dexter's rest.
Waaah!! When did you even...
Miss Erica, I know he's already turned you into an idiot, but allow me to point something out...
There isn't so much as a hair of Dexter's in this place.
Please depart as soon as you are able, and do not...
Never mind, forget about her for now. What's the deal with this gramophone?
Simple. Someone's building an alibi. Shame for them I saw through it right away.
Ohhh. I get it! In detective novels, wherever there's an alibi, there's a murd...
BANG!
A gunshot tears through the silence of the night.
That came from... d-downstairs...
Let's take a look. I'm afraid the game... has already begun.
4. Coffin Wall, before the fight
93 lines...
This is where we part ways. You still set on finding that Wall of Truth of yours?
"You" nod.
Then I won't try to talk you out of it. Truth is, I never could figure you out... You look young, but you carry yourself like you've been alive a few thousand years.
Anyway, thanks. I've got what I need to break the seal. Next stop's Rome, to let that beast out...
The sorcerer wrestles his bags together, takes a few steps, then turns back.
Hey, you never told me your name.
The wind lifts the fine golden sand in gusts. The ragged sorcerer stands against the blue sky, and for once something kind shows on his ruddy face.
This will surely be the last time you ever meet, yet nothing stirs in you.
...
Karnak. My name is Karnak.
!!
Ugh... what a strange dream. And why am I out in the hallway... Ever since I touched that coffin, my head's been a mess.
Thud, thud, thud.
Hurried footsteps rush closer, and you collide head-on with a dark shape.
Ouch! Don't block the way... Hmm, it's actually {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper!
Phew... Good, you're alright. I thought...
What are you two doing here? Has something happened?
Just between us, the hunt has already begun~
A slender shape cuts through the darkness, and Casiah alights in front of you, light as a conjuring trick.
I know where that gunshot came from. Care to go take a look with me? Going alone is a little scary.
Where did you spring from...
Casiah was up on the chandelier this whole time, having a nice nap. As they say, the higher you sit, the more you see...
And I saw absolutely everything~
With that, Casiah grins and blows you a coy wink.
...
Why are you all just standing there? Don't you want to be the first ones at the scene?
Frandel Manor First Floor Study
You shove the study door open.
Wh-what is this...?
Mr. Dexter?!
The man hangs from the rafter by a rope, swaying like a leaf in the wind. His face is mottled purple, his eyes all but bulging from their sockets.
Please stay calm, everyone, so that the scene is not disturbed.
A crime... scene?
Don't bother staring, he's dead as they come. Let me guess: this is the puzzle we've been left with?
Some sort of detective mystery?
Bingo! Right you are~!
So who was it, on a night of such lovely falling snow, who so cruelly murdered a charming noble gentleman?
Do try to find the truth, my dear detectives.
How odd. Wouldn't the prime suspect be you, dear Mr. "N"?
Ahem. Allow me to be more precise, find the murderer, who is one of my other selves in disguise!
Standing right here among you!
Dead silence.
Fear and unease creep through the crowd. Eyes slide over the others as if by accident, everyone silently weighing how much truth there is in what "N" has said.
And if we refuse to play?
Do you know what matters most to a game designer as full of vision and passion as I am?
Player engagement, of course! If nobody's interested, then I'm afraid I'll simply have to declare the game over!
No one answers. They are all waiting for the "but" that has to be coming...
But!
Poor Mr. Dexter and Miss Elsa will have to say goodbye to you all. Forever.
Mythag Infirmary Meanwhile...
What's the situation?
Bad. Elsa has severe intracranial bleeding, her cerebrospinal fluid pressure keeps rising, and her temperature hasn't dropped below 100°F.
The Keeper and Hannah are in some kind of delirium. Neither will wake, but every vital sign reads normal.
Understood. And... him?
She doesn't give a name, but everyone in the room knows who she means.
Mr. Dexter... Preliminary diagnosis is reflex cardiac arrest from nerve compression. As if he'd been mechanically asphyxiated.
Cardiac arrest?
Winkle nods.
Resuscitation failed. He stopped breathing five minutes ago. Which means, technically...
He's already dead.
Frandel Manor First Floor Study
So if we don't play by your rules, anyone who dies in here never wakes up in the real world either?
N nods, satisfied.
I knew it, nobody understands me better than you!
...Heh. That's not something I take pride in.
And what if that's just a bluff? How do you prove you're not lying?
Oh, I could prove it easily, I just don't want to. Hehe.
Or you could always gamble on it. End the game right now, go back to your dear little world, and nothing will have changed at all.
Warm beds, exams right on schedule, everyone alive and well.
N turns to Ryker and flings his little arms wide, brimming with enthusiasm.
Well? Care to place a bet? It is what you do best.
Sorry. I never bet with other people's lives.
The game's only just started! Ending it this soon would be no fun at all!
Casiah straightens up and shoots her right hand into the air.
Beep beep! I vote we keep playing~!
After some discussion, and for very different reasons, everyone actually agrees for once.
How moving! Thank you all for respecting my handiwork without question!
Then I hereby declare: the second trial has officially begun!
You'll have a whole two hours to crack the puzzle~
Two hours? That's nowhere near enough...
Ohoho, while a certain someone was questioning the esteemed Lord N, another ten whole seconds have passed.
Well then, do have fun~
With that, "N" dissolves into black smoke and is gone without a sound.
...
Ryker is quiet for a moment, then suddenly reaches over and pinches your cheek.
Ow... Hey, what was that for?!
Easy. Just checking you're not a fake.
Hmm. A little caution never hurts. In that case...
You seize a tuft of the fluffy fur on Ryker's face and yank a few strands right out.
Ssss!!
Sniff, sniff... smells like the real thing.
Don't mention it, they're all yours. Just remember to wash them, hang them out to dry, and keep them somewhere safe.
5. First Meeting, before the fight
82 linesFrandel Manor, First Floor Study Time left before the case closes: 90 minutes
I was wandering around outside, looking for some way out of this place.
So, no alibi. Noting that down, noting that down... And did you ever find a way out, Miss Casiah?
Use that little head of yours, Miss Detective. If I had, would I still be standing here in front of you?
Uh... fair point.
The kitchen, on the first floor. The master asked me to prepare food for everyone.
And no one else went to the kitchen, which means Miss Erica has no alibi either...
I'm afraid it cuts both ways, Miss Detective. From where we stand, you, the Keeper, and Mr. Ryker look rather suspicious yourselves~
B-but I was with Mr. Ryker the whole time. Right, boss?
No one answers. Her voice wavers a little as she asks, too.
At the far end of the house, the detective and his temporary assistant have already begun going over the scene.
Both shoes are gone. And there are two ligature marks on the neck. Strange.
You go over the two ligature marks on Mr. Dexter's neck with your magnifying glass. They run in nearly the same direction, differing only in the angle of the tilt.
The weave patterns don't match either. The inner mark is a neat diamond lattice, the outer one much coarser...
Maybe the rope snapped partway through, maybe it got bloody. Either way, the murderer switched to a second one.
Whichever it was, both marks run from the front of the throat, up past the jaw, behind the ears, and fade out toward the crown of the head...
Those are the marks you get from hanging yourself.
No, that's not it... There are scratches around the marks. He struggled, and struggled hard.
Or he changed his mind after he kicked the chair away? I've heard of cases like that.
Without that vinyl record, nine coppers out of ten would stop right here and write it up as a suicide.
And I'm the tenth, the one with eyes sharp enough to know better!
A vinyl record?
{Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper was not at the scene then! There was a vinyl record constantly looping Mr. Dexter's voice, like a ghost...
Hannah, who has shoved her way in between the two of you, spins out every lurid detail, then shivers in spite of herself.
Boss, we searched everywhere but couldn't find Lady Sorel. Could she already be...
Ryker waves the question off, all confidence.
You'll know where it is soon enough. This case is nearly identical to the first murder I ever worked.
So that's where the boss's precious "intuition" came from...
Ahem. My apologies. You're quite right.
A vinyl record, an abandoned manor, the master of the house mysteriously hanged... Hannah remembers now too!
"Mysterious Dog-Headed Man Cracks High Society Scandal", I can still recite that headline word for word!
Dog-headed? You made that headline up yourself. In public I've always cut the figure of a perfect gentleman.
The mention of Ryker's past piques your interest at once, and you pull Hannah aside.
Now that I think about it, I've always had my doubts about this guy being a detective.
In Londinium, solving an entire case pays less than ten minutes at a gambling table.
Maybe the whole detective business is just a front...
I'll ask you to withdraw that slander, Keeper %player%. Even a gambler is allowed his hobbies and a career.
Huh, why is there a coffin in here? Can't say much for Dexter's taste.
!!!
Don't touch that!
Too late, the detective has already given the coffin a couple of idle kicks. The only answer is a dead silence.
Odd... it doesn't react to you at all?
Oh? Then tell me, what sort of reaction were you expecting?
You tell Ryker everything that has happened to you so far.
So that's it... Now I understand!
There's got to be a mysterious, all-powerful, magic-wielding supreme mummy inside this thing!
Ryker suddenly crouches down and begins speaking a "foreign language" you can't follow at all.
Helo! Sou gled tu meet yu@3!
...What are you saying?
Remouahe, obviously. Mai naem iz Raiker, hwat iz yor naem?
The black coffin receives the friendly, if barely intelligible, greeting in solemn silence.
All right, that's enough. I've heard ancient Aramite spoken before, and it sounds nothing like that.
Tch. No fun at all. Back to work, then.
Ryker gets to his feet, stretches lazily, and snaps his fingers twice in the air.
All right, everyone. I know who the murderer is. In the interest of time, I'll skip the deduction and take you straight to the arrest.
...?
Pfft. If a novelist dared to move a plot along the way Mr. Ryker does, furious readers would have strung him up from a lamppost long ago.
Not even one little hint?
Ryker rakes a hand through his hair, irritated.
The vinyl record. It was almost certainly there to give the murderer an alibi, to push back the apparent time of death.
Which means that while the record was playing the victim's voice, the murderer was standing right here at the scene.
A clever trick. Unfortunately, I didn't follow the script. When I heard the voice, I didn't walk away, I kicked the door in.
A competent detective takes a criminal's alibi apart. An exceptional detective strangles it before it's ever born!
Got that pearl of wisdom written down, Hannah?
Huh? W-Written down, boss!
But boss, you just said the murderer was right here at the scene... so that means...
Ryker draws his pistol and strolls forward without a care.
And now, allow me to introduce the lady who hasn't shown her face since the murder, the one cowering in the dark this whole time.
The detective stops in front of the wardrobe and raps twice on the door.
Still hiding till the last second? Then don't blame me for what comes next...
Looking rather put out, the detective rubs the barrel against his temple, then wrenches the wardrobe open.
Lady Sorel!!!
No clumsy excuses, no frantic hiding, no tearful confession.
There is only Sorel's body, propped quietly in the corner, the bullet hole between her brows impossible to look away from, as if it were mocking the detective's smug little performance.
No... this can't be...
Ta-da-daaa!
I do believe I just heard someone give the wrong answer!
Framing an innocent little human is an unforgivable crime, you know. Which means it's punishment time!
N cups His round chin, looking mildly troubled. Whenever He is thinking, the mist churning across His face slows down as well.
Punishment, punishment... now, who should I kill?
6. Beneath Reality, before the fight
86 linesWho should I kill...
W-We're terribly sorry, Mr. "N"! That deduction was just him spouting nonsense, none of us agreed with a word of it!
I wanted to argue with him from the start, I just never got the chance...
Miss Hannah, surely you don't agree with Mr. Ryker's deduction either?
Ah... I-I don't agree either! Only a raving lunatic could dream up something like that!
...A raving lunatic?
Shut up.
You stomp down hard on the detective's foot, but he is too set on winning to take the hint.
He pulls his foot free without hesitation and steps up to "N".
A wrong deduction? Not a chance. You rigged something somewhere.
Those two different ligature marks, and the shoes that went missing, have you forgotten all about them?
I could give you dozens of possibilities on the spot, but do they actually matter? Or maybe they never mattered at all, and it's only because you arranged them that way...
"Never"? How curious. If the puzzle I set is to uncover the truth of the Domain, then the Domain is the only truth, the only frame of reference you have at this very moment.
Why does a certain someone keep clinging to this so-called "past"~
!!
Perhaps in the past you cracked this case beautifully, won yourself a pitiful scrap of vanity and significance, and you've been savoring it ever since.
But sadly, in here, you've botched it completely. Detective.
"N" slowly raises a hand and gives a light snap of his fingers.
...Huh?
The next second, wisps of black mist begin seeping out of Casiah, who until then has been watching the show from the side.
It's decided. The punishment starts with you.
Hey... it was that guy who botched the deduction, wasn't it? So why does Casiah have to pay for it!
No... it hurts...
You see? Every foolish call you make, someone else settles the bill. Just like in the real world.
?!
Waaah, I wasn't done playing yet... this isn't even my fault...
Casiah shoots Ryker a furious glare and flings her cane at him.
It's all your fault! You idiot, Aah!
Before she can finish, Casiah vanishes right in front of you, as though someone had taken an eraser to her and rubbed her off the page.
Miss Casiah!!
Sniff... she promised to teach me a few magic tricks...
All right, everyone. You have one hour left. If there's nothing else, then...
...Hold on.
The detective claps you on the shoulder and steps forward.
%player%, you lot keep digging. I've got a few things to say to our friend here.
...Understood.
The crowd scatters again, and thick, clinging darkness wells up, eating away at the Domain until nothing is left.
There. Now we can speak freely. So, what did you think of my new little disguise?
I'm more used to the face you're wearing now.
A pity. I've been giving it a great deal of thought lately, whether my face is simply too dreadful, and that's why everyone's so frightened of me.
Trust me, drop those dark, twisted little games of yours and you'd be far more popular. No need to go swapping heads.
I'm afraid that's out of the question. Would you give up breathing?
...
Fine. Let's get back to business.
You said... everyone would pay for my mistake, just like they did in the real world.
Care to explain that?
"N" tilts His head, and the black mist closes in tight around Him.
A moment later, He is wearing a different shape.
You really want to know? Fair warning, no sniveling once you do. I can't stand human tears!
Ryker folds his arms and watches "N", his face empty.
Hmph. I can never say no to you. Now where to begin... Ah, yes, do you remember that girl, Elsa?
In the story, the brave detective showed the girl the way, then helped her fight off the Dissolute monster.
But in reality, the girl followed the detective's directions straight into a dead end, and the Dissolution monster on her heels killed her there.
?!
Shh... quiet, let me finish. In the story, a gambler passing through solved the murders at the mysterious mansion and became a great detective overnight.
But in reality, the gambler pinned it on an innocent man and let the real murderer walk free.
I could go on like this all night. Tell me, Detective, has it never occurred to you that the "luck" you live by isn't what brought you this far, but what came of it?
The result...?
A result that's been rewritten. When a god grants one mortal good fortune, the price is that everyone else suffers in his place.
As I told you before, the Domain is your reality.
You're saying everything I won with my luck, everyone I ever helped... none of it was real?
Oh, come now, no need to look like you're about to cry. Living in a lie is its own kind of happiness, you know.
If you don't believe me, come and see what Aram, the place you saved, really looks like...
Flames lick at the sky. The screaming and the stench of burning skin make his head swim.
Crimson veins of clotted blood branch out from the foot of the Mother Tree, racing gleefully toward a horizon with no end.
Severed limbs are piled high, a colossal shrine beneath the jaundiced sky, swallowing even the daylight.
At the center of that shrine, Ryker sees his own face. Ashen, the eyelids drooping softly over the eyes, it looks utterly docile.
If not for the half of its skull shorn away, laying bare a brainstem crawling with maggots, the face would have been flawless, the face of a saint.
The true story: You didn't stop Casiah. You didn't stop Herbert. You never even reached the camp in Aram.
In fact, you did nothing at all. And because you did nothing, Aram became this.
Is this the reality you still want, my dear Mr. Gambler?
...
The "reality" drains away like a tide, leaving Ryker alone in the dark.
Heh. So you went to all this trouble building a game like this just to remind me that I failed?
No need. If this world has taught me any truths at all, it's these three: I'm worthless. I'm sorry. How unfortunate.
Call it a small warning. What happened back in Aram, I'd rather not watch it happen twice.
Pull another dull little trick like putting your own life on the table, and it won't just be these few who vanish. Understood?
...Got it.
The detective keeps his head down and answers lazily.
The darkness draws back like a curtain, and he is standing in his familiar study again.
Phew... you're finally awake! You just froze there, standing stock-still, you scared us half to death!
What happened, Mr. Ryker? You look awful.
Nothing. I just need to be alone for a bit. I'll be back soon.
The detective looks perfectly calm, he even gives you a friendly smile.
Then he walks off without so much as a glance back.
Mr. Ryker...?
7. Next Monday, Sir, before the fight
59 linesOutside Frandel Manor 60 minutes until the case closes
Achoo... Achoo!
Hannah huddles up against you, a kerosene lamp swinging from one hand.
Oh no, there's not a single footprint left! We came out too late.
We've picked the house clean already. All that's left is to come out here and try our luck.
Sigh... I wish Mr. Ryker were here. He'd know what to do.
He said he wanted to be alone for a while, and then he just vanished.
Come to think of it, I only ever knew Mr. Ryker as a gambler. I never would've guessed his detective business was doing this well...
That's because he's the East District's famous "Lucky Detective"!
Any case he takes, the clues practically sprout legs and come running, and no murderer stays hidden more than three days!
Some people even swear they picked up ten Leonian Florins in a single day just from tagging along with Mr. Ryker. Anyway, he's everybody's lucky star.
It's just that his luck isn't worth much in here...
I hear this case is a lot like one Mr. Ryker worked before?
It is. He'd never admit it out loud, but that case matters a great deal to him.
You know, he used to go by another nickname: Next Monday, Sir.
Next Monday, Sir...?
Hannah clears her throat and launches into a theatrical voice.
"Ryker, when are you paying off those gambling debts?" "Next Monday!"
"Ryker, when are you getting a job?" "Next Monday!"
"Ryker, when are you dropping dead?" "Next Monday!"
There, that's how it went. Everyone laughed at him back then. Kids pulled faces behind his back. Barkeeps reached for a chair the second he walked in...
Nobody had a shred of respect for him.
...Until he cracked that case.
Exactly! After that, his life might as well have been enchanted. Every bit of luck came knocking on his door, and people liked him more and more.
Strange. Does magic like that really exist?
Who knows? Nothing much surprises anyone in a world like ours, Huh? What's that?
In the corner ahead, against the wall, a black leather men's shoe lies half-buried in the soft snow.
Whoa, look at that detailing. Something I couldn't afford in a lifetime...
!!!
That's Mr. Dexter's shoe.
You look up. The cold gray wall climbs toward the sky, the dim yellow lights hanging in it like distant lighthouses.
That's where Dexter's bedroom is.
You lower your eyes. The study is straight ahead. Through the carved window, Dexter's hanging shadow stares silently back at you.
The two rooms sit directly one above the other.
Hannah... I've just had an idea.
You shove the shoe into Hannah's hands.
Come on. Back to the study.
Frandel Manor, First Floor Study Time until the case closes: 30 minutes
You take hold of the handle and pull the door open.
What kept you? Don't tell me the two of you went out shopping.
Mr. Ryker?! But weren't you...
That's right. I was so shattered I went off to a corner and had myself a good cry.
You take in that slouching, couldn't-care-less posture of his, then give his shoulder a pat.
Glad you're okay.
Tch. What's with that sickening look on your face...
Alright, enough muttering, we don't have time! Mr. Ryker, we found something big downstairs!
You run Ryker through everything you saw downstairs.
...I see.
Ryker steps up to the study window. A faint, smudged shoe print sits on the white frame.
He leans out and glances up.
?!
But before that, there's something I want to check...
The detective crosses to Sorel's body and studies the bullet wound in her forehead for a long moment.
Heavy soot around the edges, and powder burns, the murderer fired from up close, straight into her face.
Huh... And what's that supposed to tell us?
The detective bursts out laughing, the first time he has laughed like that since they set foot in the mansion.
It tells us everything. Come on. Time for a little deduction show.
8. Tragedy Show, before the fight
139 linesAchoo... Achoo!
This Domain sure keeps the chill on. Boss, couldn't we do our deducing indoors, by the fire?
Relax. I won't keep anyone long.
First, the shoe out there in the snow. Question: what has to happen for a shoe to end up outside?
Um... the victim went out and had an accident?
That's certainly one possibility. But when we compared them, the tread on that shoe matched the print on the window frame exactly.
So Lord Dexter, a man who never let go of propriety, climbed out a window in his own home? With the door lock perfectly intact?
He saw something outside and rushed out?
I have my own view on that, but let's set it aside for now. And after that? What happened to Mr. Dexter once he was outside?
...!!
Remember the ghost I saw by the stairs? Floating in midair, a ghost, hanging... Could it be...
Exactly. Here's the truth: someone drew Mr. Dexter's attention first, and the instant he leaned out, they slipped a rope around his neck and hauled it up, hard...
Ryker tips his head back and points up at the second-floor bedroom.
The murderer was inside Mr. Dexter's bedroom the whole time. Those two rooms line up perfectly.
Brilliant! That explains the ghost, and the footprints on the window frame too, Mr. Dexter was thrashing for his life once the rope went around him.
But that would take enormous arm strength and a dead-on read of the angle. Everyone here has had their abilities sealed, how could anyone possibly...
Hannah stops short, a suspicion half-formed in her mind.
But... we went straight up to the bedroom after the ghost. We didn't hear a single other sound in between, so the murderer should still have been in there.
And apart from that gramophone, we didn't find anything out of place... Achoo! Achoo!
Hannah wipes away two glistening streaks of snot in one swipe.
All-Father above, how can you catch a cold inside a Domain?!
...
That settles everything outside. Now let's get to the inside...
Think back again, carefully. What happened after we kicked the door in?
What happened...
Sorry, I'm not feeling too well just now. Could I rest a while?
Sorry@2not feeling well... rest...
Rest-est-@2est...
Please depart at your earliest convenience. Do not disturb Mr. Dexter's rest.
Waaah!! When did you...
Just as I thought...
Hannah's head snaps up, and she stares straight at Erica, who stands behind them all.
You didn't arrive later. You were in the room the whole time... hiding behind the door, perhaps. And once the gramophone had all our attention...
Objection. Erica cannot be in two places at once, which fails to explain how the victim came to be in the study.
That's right. You can't be in two places at once. Which means you had help.
!!
Strangling a grown man in midair with an extendable mechanical arm would be effortless for Miss Erica.
Just like when you stretched that arm out to saw through the wooden bridge.
Once Mr. Dexter stopped breathing, you dropped him, and your accomplice, waiting below all along, dragged the body into the study for you.
That also explains the two ligature marks on the body, and the damp clothes, he'd been dragged across the snow.
Which leaves only one candidate for the accomplice: the one person with no alibi between the gunshot and the discovery of the body...
As he speaks, Ryker looks toward the wardrobe in the corner of the study.
Lady Sorel.
So that's it. I'd worked out that Mr. Dexter was strangled in midair, but I never once imagined there was an accomplice.
Objection. Everything you have said is conjecture. There is no actual evidence to support it.
The two marks don't match either. The inner one is a neat diamond weave; the outer one is much rougher...
Maybe the rope snapped partway through, maybe it got soaked with blood. Either way, the murderer switched to a second one.
!!
Neat diamonds. Miss Erica, would you extend your mechanical arm and show everyone the pattern on the retractable cord inside?
...
Dropping a noose around the neck of a wary grown man from the second floor, with that kind of accuracy? Look at it any way you like, it's next to impossible.
But if the rope was part of your own body all along, everything fits.
So it was you after all, Miss Erica...
Erica slowly extends her right arm. Under the lamplight, the retractable cord linking her forearm to her hand gives off a cold, sinister gleam.
Those diamond-shaped patterns are arranged in neat rows, like the scales of a fish from the deep sea.
It really is... exactly the same...
Erica says nothing. Black mist seeps out of her in wisps, thinning to reveal another familiar figure.
Beautiful deduction!
So this so-called Miss Erica was just a double of yours... which means the real Miss Erica is safe and sound!
You lot will never understand the joy of playing a part. Hee hee.
Tell me, was that little deduction your final answer?
...Yes.
...
Heh heh... Then I'm afraid you've come up one step short.
That isn't the final truth, and so...
N snaps his fingers, and wisps of black mist begin pouring out of Hannah, drifting through the study.
She grabs at Ryker's coat in panic.
That can't be! Miss Erica never denied it, did she?!
...
Tsk, tsk, tsk, your Keeper buddy is too hasty, remember to speak before {Male=he,Female=she} next time~
I'm sorry, Hannah. I...
Help me...! I haven't even heard the truth yet, no...
A second later, Hannah is gone too.
No, it's my fault... I rushed it.
Well now, that leaves just the three of us. As for the others, I'm afraid they're all suffering back in the real world.
Hee hee hee, delightful. Simply delightful!
Mythag Infirmary Meanwhile...
What's the situation?
Miss Hannah and the Keeper are both starting to deteriorate as well. Somehow Miss Hannah has suffered multiple ruptured organs, and there are signs of internal bleeding.
The Keeper has developed severe symptoms of asphyxiation. If this drags on much longer...
We've spoken with a great many students, and our colleagues from the MTC Dep. of Science and Technology are combing through every facility. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.
To pull off something like this right under everyone's noses...
Then what do we do? We haven't got a single countermeasure...
Doll runs a hand over the round brain canister she carries and lets out a soft sigh.
The one thing we can be sure of is that He's in no hurry to take the Keeper's life just yet.
As for the rest... I suggest you pray with me.
There. Now that the extras have cleared out, we can be honest with each other.
An eerie mist pours out of "N", smothering His face layer by layer, until the last of it peels away to reveal His true form.
And that isn't all, the room around you vanishes as well, replaced by that all too familiar opera house.
Forgive me. I'm not fond of cramped spaces.
It's been a long time, my old friends.
What did you mean just now? This isn't the final truth...?
Because you haven't identified the real killer of Lady Sorel. Your deductions deliberately avoid her death, don't they?
What is it you're afraid of?
...
A pity, you've lost another friend. Perhaps the luck in this world is a fixed quantity.
You take the good fortune, your life goes from strength to strength, and someone else is ruined to pay for it.
An unseen rule hangs over every head. Can you truly accept that with a clear conscience?
Heh... Rule, my arse. It's just your own little game.
Your malice toward me is as guileless and endearing as ever. It makes one sigh.
You did fail to solve every puzzle, it's true, but I have always been a forgiving sort...
"N" lifts a finger, and the thick black mist surges at you and coils tight.
No... Mmgh!
!!
Mr. "N", I know what I did in Aram angered you, and I offer you my sincere apology.
You can punish me however you want, but there's no need to go after {Male=him,Female=her}.
Such an impatient detective. Hear me out. I've saved one last puzzle for you.
...Fine. I'm listening.
A very simple multiple choice: Kill %player%, and I'll bring back every last person who died.
Everything goes back to the way it was. No one gets hurt, no one but that poor wretch beside you.
Or you can choose not to kill %player%, and the two of you walk out of the Domain safe and sound.
Well? Simple enough, isn't it?
?!
...
You've still got your pistol on you, haven't you? The countdown starts now. 10.
No, you can't...
9...
Ryker looks at you, lost, like a child who knows he's done something wrong.
Never mind me, *cough, cough*... Who knows, maybe Mythag will make an Awakener out of me once I'm dead.
You force every muscle in your face to obey and manage a thin smile for Ryker.
...Do it.
6...
Ryker walks toward you slowly, his eyes calm, without a ripple.
Your vision blurs. You look into his eyes, and fragments of all the time you've spent together flash through your mind.
There are times spent chasing each other playfully through the desert, escaping together from the Aramites' ■■ gathering, and him using his life as bait to blighten Casiah...
There are so many memories between you.
Somehow, without your noticing, Ryker is standing right in front of you. You can't make out his face, but you know he's hurting no less than you are.
Then he raises his pistol.
You know... I never doubted you. Not once. So...
The shot rings out and takes you square in the heart.
What...?
Ryker stands over you, a mocking smile at the corner of his mouth.
I've waited a long time for this, Keeper.
9. A Truth, before the fight
71 linesNo... why...
You drop to your knees. A dull pain throbs in your chest, and dark blood soaks through your uniform coat.
You fool... what are you talking about...
Ryker studies the finely made pistol in his hand and blows idly across the muzzle.
At the sight of you in such a sorry state, he breaks into a wicked grin.
I didn't stop you from sending Hannah away because I doubted she could bear a truth like this. She's just an ordinary student, after all.
And you, my friend...
I knew you'd never be able to resist the urge to put on a show. So tell me, was the performance fun?
!!
And you were the one in such a hurry to cut me off before I could name the truth about Sorel's death. You didn't honestly think I'd drop my guard just because of the skin you're wearing, did you?
My dear Mr. "N"?
...
The bleeding stops. The blood turns to pitch-black mist and closes over "you."
At last the curly-haired student is gone, and every last wisp of the mist pours into "N"'s body.
You seemed to be enjoying your own little performance well enough, old friend.
Just a bit of inspiration I picked up from you. We're much alike, you and I.
Fascinating... truly fascinating. How did you know?
Didn't you say it yourself at the very start? Trust no one. I don't have many vices, but a suspicious nature is one I'll never be rid of.
I first had my doubts when I saw Sorel's body. Shot from the front, and not another mark on her.
The bullet wound on her forehead was thick with soot and powder burns. That tells us two things.
One: whoever shot her did it from very close range.
And the second?
Which means the murderer was someone the victim trusted completely, someone he'd never think to guard himself against. And the only person here who fits that is %player%.
You were in such a hurry to kill her because I'd worked out the secret of the vinyl record.
And you didn't want the game ending so soon. Am I wrong?
"N" gives an indifferent shrug.
A few suspicions that don't even hold up, and you steel yourself to put a bullet in the Keeper? You really are the gambler I picked.
If I were that {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%, at this moment I would shed tears for your ruthlessness.
Heh. I'd never gamble with {Male=his,Female=her} life. There was only one reason I dared shoot you...
I've long known where {Male=he,Female=she} is.
?!
It happened just an hour ago.
Frandel Manor, Inside the Coffin One Hour Earlier
A chaos both primordial and warm.
You close your eyes and let your mind sink lower, deeper, all the way to the bottom.
And at the very end, "you" come to stand at the foot of the great wall.
This is the Wall of Truth. The veil before your eyes conceals it, and only during the rite held once every few years is a corner of it lifted.
It buries the past, records the present, and foretells the future.
With that, the priest kneels before you in reverence.
And among the things it foretold, Karnak, was your coming.
It begins to rain.
You fall to your knees before the vast scroll, and the sound that comes out of you is the groan of a caged beast finally loosed. Rain runs down your brows and your eyes, and your tears run down with it.
Thousands of years pass, and at last you become the Pharaoh of Remouahe.
Your fate has come for you at last.
Afterward...
Out of my way. I will tear these damned veils apart, every last one of them!
Exalted Son of Amun, this is no place for you. He who defies the commandments of the Wall of Truth, upon his head the god of death shall spread his wings and descend.
Heh. First the plague, then the famine, and now Apophis's army stands outside my walls. Open your eyes and look at the world, blind priest, death descended long ago.
I followed this wall's every instruction in perfect devotion, and all I brought to a people who have lived along the river for generations was ruin. That is what blind obedience buys.
Patience, young lord of Remouahe. What has been done belongs to the afterlife; what is yet to be done belongs to eternity. The afterlife is only daylight. Eternity is the night.
The Wall of Truth gives honey and papyrus, and it gives serpents and plague alike.
Only by enacting its will can our souls pass safely over the river of night, and on that distant shore become eternal...
I have no use for the "eternity" promised by lying bloodsuckers like you. All I see is the land I bled to conquer slipping away in a single night, and my people dying one after another.
Even my most trusted general, Apophis, has turned his blade against me. He stands outside now, waiting to take my head and mount it high on the wall.
I have nothing left, priest. If this is the fate the Wall of Truth has written for me, then I will keep my eyes open and watch it die.
With that, "you" shove the aged priest aside and tear the veil down.
And so the truth of the world unfolds before "you".
One, two...
Crude smiling faces daubed in brick-red dye, thousands upon thousands of them, mouths split wide and garish, all laughing at "your" despair.
So that's it. That is the truth. Heh... hahahaha...
Absurdity. Contempt. That is the truth of the world.
!!!
In the next instant the mural is gone, and the darkness returns.
No desert, no priest, no mural. You are lying alone in a pitch-black coffin.
Your mind is still caught in Karnak's memories, and an endless grief settles over you.
The tears won't stop, rain with no end in sight.
<Change>No... I...
<Change>I only wanted to live...
Knock. Knock, knock.
The knocking comes from somewhere far away, breaking the endless rhythm of this ocean of sorrow. Then you hear a voice you know...
Hey, friend in the coffin. You still with us?
10. Inverse Deduction, before the fight
56 linesThe knocking goes on.
Hey, friend in the coffin. You still with us?
The voice is light, easy, almost cheerful, and like some kind of magic, it stops your tears at once.
Sorry about the harsh words earlier.
But I've got a lot of questions now, and I'd like some answers. Can't talk at the moment?
<Change>Yes!!
You force out every bit of strength you have, but the words dissolve into a slurred mumble before they reach your lips.
That does complicate things... Wait. Can you still move your hands?
Knock once for yes, twice for no. Think you can manage that?
Through the thick sandalwood lid, Ryker's voice sounds gentle in a way that hardly seems real.
You knock once, softly.
Wonderful! It's simple, really, I've only got three questions.
Question one: is something holding you in there?
Thud.
Question two: are you one of us? And by "us," I mean everyone who walked into that fellow's Domain.
Thud.
You rap hard on the coffin lid, and a soft laugh answers from outside.
I knew it. Don't be scared, I'll crack every puzzle here and get you out. You sit tight in there. Understood?
Thud.
Good. Until later, my friend.
Cloth rustles somewhere close by, and the footsteps draw away.
You let out a long breath and close your eyes. Before long, though, the footsteps come back.
Sorry. I clean forgot the most important question, and it decides everything I do next.
You wait quietly for that "important question."
Do you trust me?
What kind of question is that...
You smile and run your hand along the smooth inside of the coffin.
Thump.
I believe you.
I see. Your instincts have always been sharp.
Unfortunately...{Male=he,Female=she} is trapped by the consciousness of that guy, even if you uncover the final truth, it's of no avail.
The reality is, {Male=he,Female=she} will be forever trapped in the meticulously selected consciousness of the container.
The black mist streaming slowly across N's face curls in contentment, as though savoring a rare delicacy.
Heh... I've never seen that look on your face before. A pity, anger solves nothing.
I only promised to lift the Domain. I never said everyone would come out of it unharmed.
Say goodbye to your little friends, my dear detective.
N lifts a finger, but in the next instant...
The nightmare is over. Open your eyes.
Rumble...
The floor splits open underfoot, and the black serpent king shoots up out of the bottomless abyss, driving clean through "N"'s body.
...?
Allow me to explain: eighty percent of this body is mist. The other twenty percent is also mist. So these futile little tricks...
A silver glow flares up, like stage lights announcing that the performance has officially begun.
The curly-haired student steps out of the shadows, one hand kneading a stiff shoulder, the other closed around the Silver Key.
Phew... made it in time.
Just what I'd expect from the one I bet on! I knew a cage like that wouldn't hold you.
Mm-hm. Naturally.
I had some help from the new friends I made in the coffin.
Hsssss...
A snake...?
...
It's been a long time, Apophis.
11. Final Salute, before the fight
43 linesEarlier...
BANG!
Somewhere far off, a gun goes off.
You open your eyes. The wall is still there in front of you, covered in twisted symbols.
At some point, it begins to rain.
A dense black fog hovers beside you. You can't make out its shape, yet it feels strangely familiar, it's Karnak.
The rain keeps falling, and silence settles between you.
Strange. The first time I saw this wall, and the last, the same rain was falling.
Like tears.
And then? After you saw... the so-called truth.
Then... I crushed the rebellion. I turned Apophis into a serpent, to coil at my feet for all eternity.
I had the Wall of Truth sealed away for good, and began a reign of my own.
No doctrines, no institutions, no council... I drew up a list at random, exiled everyone on it one by one, and seized their property.
I handed out medals to any subject who had visited the casinos more than fifty times. I ordered a glass pyramid built in the capital that could never be finished...
Fate made a fool of you, so you chose to become a tyrant. And then, were you overthrown?
Quite the opposite. My kingdom prospered. Do you know why?
You shake your head. The black fog laughs, delighted.
Because even the smallest war a rational tyrant might wage would cost my people a thousand times more than all my whims ever did.
...
But you're not happy. And your people can't have been satisfied with all that caprice either. So what was the point?
The point? To chase after happiness, after purpose, that is precisely the trap that Great One lays. I am neither happy nor sad.
I merely play Fate faithfully. I play the part He needs me to play, nothing more.
He...?
You look at the graffiti in front of you, vicious, and strangely familiar, and all at once it makes sense.
So it was "N" all along...
So you ended up another casualty of that thing's whims. And now the two of us are stuck here, unable to do a thing...
Did you hear that? That gunshot just now, your friend hasn't given up.
While you were reading my memories, I was reading yours. You and that detective... in His eyes, you are different.
So I don't mind giving Him a little surprise.
The black mist around Karnak churns and churns, then slowly draws itself together into a pitch-black king cobra.
You had best not be disturbing my sleep out of idleness, my old friend.
Long time no see, Apophis. This is a new friend of mine, {Male=he,Female=she} needs your help.
Apophis rises gracefully upright, his neck falling soft, his emerald slit pupils watching you in silence.
The secret of eternal life is none other than forgetting. My master has forgotten you once again, just as he doesn't remember his past in Taranto.
But your soul I know, pale Pupil-less Eye.
You've... seen me before?
Take %player% from this place, Apophis.
The black serpent coils gently around you, and mist pours into your body.
You close your eyes. A wordless awareness fills your hollow body, and the Silver Key shines once more.
The next moment the coffin is gone. You stand in a corner of the theater, looking straight at Ryker and "N" at center stage.
A gentle, reasoning whisper rises from deep in your mind.
I have brought you to this place, as my lord commanded.
The nightmare has ended. Open your eyes.
12. Final Salute, after the fight
26 linesNow, Apophis!
At your command, the pitch-black serpent king shoots forward, passes clean through "N", and winds around Him coil after coil.
The dark mist pouring out of the serpent king mingles with "N"'s own, and bit by bit it gives Him a body.
Long time no see, Karnak's little pet. Has your master still not cooled off?
My lord bears you no hatred. What he did, You Yourself allowed. We have only followed the script, faithfully.
Is that so... How interesting. Even I hadn't realized that about myself.
The serpent king's slender tongue flicks in and out, and his low, unhurried voice reaches your ears.
I can hold His projection inside the Domain for only so long. Once the projection fades, the Domain breaks at once.
What comes after that... I leave to you.
Step by step, Ryker walks up to "N".
Looks like Lady Luck decided to smile on me after all.
Careful, Detective. For a hopeless gambler, the most terrifying way a game can end isn't losing. It's winning.
If you don't believe me, ask the master of this black serpent.
Seems you still don't know me all that well. But you did get one thing right.
Ryker raises his pistol and levels it at the churning mist of "N"'s face.
I am a hopeless gambler, no question. Luck's got nothing to do with it. Even knowing I'd walk away with nothing, I'd sit down at the table gladly.
Only betting when Fate hands you the luck? That's a normal man, not a gambler. Isn't that exactly what you saw in me when you picked me?
Heh... hahaha... A madman after all. The way you wallow in your own base appetites is foolish and naive, Mr. Gambler.
Right back at you. And I've got one great advantage over every other gambler...
A bet's a bet. I lost, so I'll pay.
His finger tightens on the trigger.
A gunshot rings out, and "N"'s head lolls gently to one side.
So impatient. I was going to send you on your way regardless.
Before you go, let me tell you a secret...
The truth is, I never rewrote your fate. Not once. Where would be the fun in cheating at a game this delightful?
Until we meet again, Detective.
13. Good Luck!, before the fight
66 linesMythag Campus One Week Later
...
Feeling any better? Miss Sylvia says you've hardly been eating.
Being strangled to death and dragged back isn't a pleasant business. My throat still feels packed with stones.
Cough, cough, cough...
Dexter punctuates the remark with a few theatrical coughs.
Then you'll live. To business, in that case: what is that coffin doing in your house?
If I'm right, it belonged to Karnak, the last Pharaoh of Remouahe.
Dexter spreads his hands, all innocence.
I'd like to know that myself. Before you put me under interrogation, do try to sort out the difference between reality and a Domain.
After all, in reality, no murder has ever taken place in my house. Has it?
I never imagined Mr. Ryker had admirers... How surprising.
He's the one who saved her from that monster back then. And if you must know...
Elsa chose to study at Mythag because she hoped that one day she could be like Mr. Ryker...
Become a gambling addict?
Help other people.
Mr. Ryker doesn't like staying at school. As for %player%... {Male=he,Female=she} left early in the morning, saying there was something urgent.
Besides... something about this doesn't sit right with me. Did "N" really build this Domain just to toy with Ryker?
Maybe. Maybe not. That question is about as solvable as the double-slit experiment. I think we'd do better to think about something practical.
Such as what to do about Hannah's awful cold.
In the endless dark of the cavern, countless eyes open and close slowly, like will-o'-the-wisps flickering in the night.
A cold wind sweeps through. At the center of the cavern, a thin mass of black mist writhes, barely gathering itself into a wavering human shape.
<Change>Nnngh... Master... it hurts...
It's been a while, my loathsome, beloved children. Centuries, since I last set foot here.
Let me see how much you've grown... Oh. Forgive me. I'd forgotten there's nothing left of you but eyes.
<Change>Master... love...
Now, now. Save the reunion for another time. I've confirmed something rather interesting today.
That Keeper truly can resonate with Karnak's consciousness... Fascinating.
<Change>Hee hee... la la la...
What a racket... Still, my projection is wounded. It could use a little mending.
Silence, all of you.
!!
Amid shrill whimpering, every last eye is crushed to pulp, and blood drips slowly to the ground.
The black mist swells at once, greedily drinking in the bloody haze that fills the air. Little by little, the shape that had been no more than a wisp takes on substance.
Dreadful flavor...
Highgate Cemetery East District, Londinium, County of Kent
There. The first poor bastard I ever put behind bars is buried right here.
You both stop before a lone headstone tucked away in the corner.
If we go by the reasoning back in the Domain, you may have put the wrong man away. You still can't explain those two ligature marks, or the missing shoes.
I disagree. How do you know the rope wasn't swapped out in a hurry because it had the murderer's blood on it?
And the missing shoes, odd, sure. But is going barefoot in your own house late at night really so strange?
Besides, think of the strength and precision it would take to haul a grown man up through a ground-floor window. That night, everyone in the house but the victim was a woman or a child.
Mm-hm. Fair enough.
So there you have it...
Ryker grins and pats you on the head.
The real world isn't a detective novel, Keeper. Nobody kills anyone in such a roundabout way.
Tch. Not a detective novel, then, just your luck?
Maybe. Care to guess how I happened to stumble across every last one of those clues? Did they sprout legs and walk over to me?
Watch a mathematician crack a problem and everyone marvels at his genius. But genius is only being one step quicker than the rest.
Ryker laughs and throws a victory sign at some invisible point in the distance.
My money says you're the same, aren't you?
No one answers the detective's childish little gesture. A breeze moves through, the leaves rustle softly, and the sky slowly darkens.
Boring. Looks like rain's coming. Let's go.
You and Ryker make your way through the cemetery, one behind the other, dead leaves crunching underfoot. Neither of you says a word.
You know... we've been through a lot together. If this were a novel, wouldn't this be the part where you tell me about your past?
Where you grew up, say. How you ended up hooked on gambling...
Hey...
Sorry to disappoint, but my past is every bit as unremarkable as that case. Tell you about it and I'd lose whatever mystique I still have with you.
Heh. Your sense of yourself is as muddled as ever. See? That's exactly the part I keep wondering about.
You're impossible. All right, if you insist, we'll find a café and take our time with it...
The laughter dies away, and the cemetery goes quiet again.
A faint black mist drifts in the air, like invisible particles that had lain hidden in the world since the dawn of time.
The mist watches the detective and the Keeper go, swells once with pleasure, then withdraws and thins away, reluctant to let them leave.
As if it had never been there at all.