What now? The thought hovered like cold mist under a street lamp.

Go out, find the dead? The idea felt like stepping onto thin ice, a move that hands your blade to another.

Lucimia kept the victory clauses clear, etched like ink on bamboo.

[Investigator] victory: you must present ironclad proof, use it to name the killer; or make the law believe your naming, and you win.

[Serial Killer] victory: kill the designated seven by any means. Their deaths must tie to you out of necessity. No proof can catch you, or the law can’t confirm you as the killer, and you win.

Both roles carry two paths to victory, like a river splitting around a rock.

Beyond the core task, the second path is to cloud the law’s eyes, fog over the river’s bank.

In other words, both can claim they’re the Investigator, smear the other as the Serial Killer; if the proof is hard as iron and the enforcers buy it, the gavel falls, and you win.

So seeking out the dead first becomes bait, a bright lure in dark water.

Yet Auril clearly foresaw both sides spamming that route, so he set the Serial Killer’s kills to a three-day interval, a drumbeat that can’t be rushed.

That makes the early stage of the Duel a headwind for the Serial Killer, even a field of thorns.

Because the Serial Killer must kill within three days. If she smears and calls the other the killer, but she’s the real one, and the smear fails, she loses, clean as a snapped string.

The Serial Killer needs her own identity confirmed more than the Investigator does. She even has to confirm which seven faces are marked, names like lanterns in fog.

Not only that, the Investigator can confirm herself more easily, like reading clear ink.

Why? Because… the Imagerecording Stone… a mirror polished with memory.

Lucimia noticed a thread of light.

She has an Imagerecording Stone; she can think to use it, a pebble to weigh the truth. Then what about Anliena, her name like a bright seal?

Anliena is a professor at the magic academy; the Stone is costly, but she’d have one, a jade kept close.

If she’s the Investigator, she could sit at home in her bedroom, place a Stone facing herself, a watcher like a quiet candle.

When the first person dies and memories get wiped, she just reviews the Stone; if she did nothing, then the water clears—she’s the Investigator.

But Lucimia didn’t do that. She and Rexi stepped out, like two shadows slipping past paper doors.

So… am I the Serial Killer? The question bit like winter wind.

Lucimia frowned, and made a first sketch of her identity, ink darkening along the brush.

If she were the Investigator, she’d likely do exactly that. The advantage is a mountain—no need to leave the path and wander into brambles.

An Investigator going out is gilding a lily, a dragon painted with too many scales.

By confirming with the Imagerecording Stone, you fix your identity earlier than the Serial Killer. Then hunt for the killer’s proof. Or use words and other means to sway the enforcers, like leading them across a bridge. Make them believe the other is the killer.

The whole board tilts to your side, wind at your back.

Thinking that way, the chance I’m the Serial Killer looms large, a shadow swelling over the wall.

Lucimia fell quiet, then turned her blade of thought. But this Duel has four participants. The identity only attaches to one person, like a mask fitted to one face. That means someone can ignore identity rules and obey only the shared ones, a free piece on the board.

That second person acts more like the identity carrier’s helper, doing what the carrier’s hands can’t reach, a second lantern lit in the dark.

Then the Serial Killer can let her partner stay in the house, use a Stone to record, while she goes hunting with a silent knife.

After the wipe, she checks the record, thinks she’s the Investigator, snow hiding the tracks.

But what good is that to the Serial Killer? The question clinked like metal in a bowl.

In the headwind, the Serial Killer’s best move is to confirm identity faster, cleaner, instead of juggling fancy tricks, fireworks in the rain.

Fancy breaks easy, a teacup dropped on tiles.

Lucimia used the Stone and confirmed both she and Rexi went out. Was that the breadcrumb she left herself, a hint that she’s the Serial Killer, a reed tied to the riverbank?

Of course, it’s only reference, a first pass, not iron proof, ink still drying.

Because both the Serial Killer and the Investigator can play tricks, masks over masks.

But Lucimia couldn’t find the motive for the masks, a knot with no loose end.

Only in one case do you choose scheming. Even with the Stone’s proper process, you still can’t win, still can’t seize the advantage, a boat stuck in mud.

Only with that possibility in mind would anyone reach for other tools, hidden blades under sleeves.

Lucimia felt a wrongness here, a chill like water seeping under the door.

Auril stated it clearly. To stop a confirmed identity from tailing forever, he needed to simulate a real Investigator versus an unknown Serial Killer. So he chose memory wipe, a gust that scatters fallen leaves.

If he thought of that, he couldn’t have missed the Imagerecording Stone, a pebble in plain view.

And even with identity confirmed, the Serial Killer remains in a headwind. She still must find the designated seven, faces like stars you must name.

If she can’t find them, she can only smear the Investigator, throw ink at a wall.

The Investigator will think of that, and prepare counters, nets hung before dawn.

Then this Duel turns simple, most rules gathering dust. It might as well be called Killer Smears Investigator, a banner flapping in a dry breeze.

Unless the Serial Killer has another way to remind herself she’s the killer, and at the same time point at the next target, arrows painted on stone.

With Lucimia and Anliena’s level of magic, killing would be easy as snapping twigs. If targets appear quickly, two days might finish all. The rules say no cooldown on kills, a storm without breaks.

I remember the Serial Killer’s rules… the ink lines on bamboo.

Rule one: the interval between murders can’t exceed three days, a metronome ticking like rain.

Rule two: the Serial Killer is very, very proud. She leaves a personal mark at the scene, and intentionally drops clues to make the Investigator chase, footprints drawn on fresh snow.

If that mark could make the Serial Killer instantly know who to kill next, like a lantern lighting the next gate?

Then both sides enter a game of go, black and white stones clicking.

Do you bet the Serial Killer’s hint fails, both follow the normal flow, confirm identity early, then play smear, smoke over water?

Or do you assume the Serial Killer learns targets fast? Then the Investigator must prevent the Serial Killer from confirming she’s the Serial Killer, cut the thread before it knots.

For now, suppose the Serial Killer stays the course and chooses to hint herself, carving signs into bark.

Then the Investigator must consider that those hints reveal both identity and targets, two birds with one feather.

The Investigator’s strategy changes. Don’t stay in the bedroom to confirm. Step out too, so your wiped self thinks she’s the Serial Killer, a mask worn over a mask.

At the same time, you must keep the Serial Killer from confirming she’s the Serial Killer, cover the mirror with cloth.

Say the Investigator believes she’s the Serial Killer; then the killer’s hints would speak to her as well, drums heard through the wall.

…Wait. No. The thought snagged like a fishhook.

Lucimia’s brows knit, a small storm under her fringe.

She found a logic crack while tracing the lines, a fissure in glazed tile.

Suppose the Investigator really makes her wiped self think she’s the Serial Killer. The Serial Killer stays on plan and thinks the same, a hall of mirrors.

Two Serial Killers, both will have to kill within three days, the drum still beating.

If the mistaken Investigator actually goes to kill, she loses on the spot, a candle snuffed.

Besides, the Serial Killer doesn’t know the other thinks she’s the Serial Killer. If the Serial Killer simply goes and kills, she wins, a blade cleanly drawn.