"So, York, what should we..."

"Everyone stays in the hall. No one leaves. We hold our ground. The killer is one of us. Keep your distance, watch Molly closely, and give the murderer no opening. The Harvest Festival only lasts three days—they’re running out of time. When the deadline nears, they’ll either strike recklessly and expose themselves... or give up. Either way, if we stay put and stay sharp till the end, this’ll unravel itself."

A passive strategy.

But undeniably safe.

---

Damn it.

Damn it all!

*He* ground his teeth in the shadows.

This was exactly the scenario he’d dreaded most.

Yes, every move carried risk. Yes, failure could strike anytime.

But two critical steps—*disposing of the Shadow Attendants’ bodies* and *disposing of Anhans’ body*—had both failed. Steps meant to sow chaos and confusion.

*(Is someone sabotaging me? No... If the plan leaked, they’d have stopped me from the start. Unless—)*

A double-cross?

Someone else knew about the Great Secret Treasure hidden in the mansion, waiting to reap the spoils—

*(No. That doesn’t fit!)*

If *he* failed, *they’d* fail too. A true opportunist would help him, not hinder him.

Contradiction.

Eliminate that possibility. Then...

*(Tch... So it really is about that, isn’t it?)*

---

"Flames shall stand guard at the threshold! Banish evil with firelight! Purge impurities with searing heat... Flame Guardian Seal!"

Clusters of fire dotted the hall’s walls—frozen mid-flicker like icy sculptures.

Chloe’s magic. It would repel any outsider approaching the hall and react instantly to threats within.

"RAH!!!"

Ellen swung her Greatsword fiercely before each door, as if venting her fury. Her strikes left no damage—only silver-white streaks etched into the wood. A special skill: storing slashes on the doors, ready to wound anyone who touched them.

Everyone now huddled in the hall, seated at self-chosen spots with small piles of belongings before them.

Staying put meant no leaving—not even for essentials. So they’d made one last dash, supervised and efficient: a quick sweep of each room to grab bare necessities. It took time, but it was worth it.

They kept their distance, wary and silent.

York and Lux sat near each other on opposite ends of a long sofa. Liliana and Nia huddled in a corner, pressed together—Nia still hiding behind Liliana, who clutched a cushion from her room, her face pale. Chloe sat cross-legged by the main entrance, eyes darting between the wards and the others. Ellen perched on a sofa near the inner doors, her sword within arm’s reach. Nerlis occupied a chair on the far side, fiddling with her "personal items."

"U-uh... h-hic..."

Molly, the likeliest next target, curled up alone at the hall’s center—watched by every pair of eyes. Fear of death and the weight of suspicion had drained her. She couldn’t sleep, only tremble and flinch at every shadow.

Time crawled. The air grew heavier.

Ellen and Chloe—the strongest—radiated misery. Ellen’s fingers kept tracing her sword hilt, itching to carve the killer apart. Chloe sat rigid, her gaze hollow, her ward-checks mechanical. Their clashing auras poisoned the room.

York’s eyes scanned the group. No one seemed suspicious... or rather, *everyone* did. He almost spoke—to ease the tension—but bit his tongue. What comfort could he offer?

*(Hm?)*

His gaze snagged on Nerlis. Something felt... off. The silver-gray-haired girl sat perfectly poised, yet... different. But how?

*(...?)*

A stare pinned him. He turned. Liliana quickly looked away, her expression darkening.

*(What’s with that look? ...Better ask.)*

"Liliana. Something on your mind?"

"—!"

Every eye snapped to her. She flinched, eyes darting. "N-nothing... I was just..."

*Gurgle-gurgle-gurgle!*

A loud rumble cut her off—from behind her.

Nia clutched her stomach, face crimson, shrinking deeper behind Liliana.

"U-um... sorry... Liliana and I... we’re just..."

Then—

*Gurgle!*

"......"

York frowned, rubbing his own stomach.

"...Seems Lux is hungry too."

"Eh? That was *you*—"

"*Ahem*. Point is... dinner time’s long past. Hunger’s natural. So..."

Silence. Eyes shifted. After a full minute, Lux broke it.

"Seriously? It’s just dinner. Everyone brought supplies." He pulled a small pouch from his pile. "We all watched each other pack. These hard biscuits? I keep them for late-night accounting."

He opened it. Dry but high-quality biscuits filled the bag.

"I swear they’re untampered... though I doubt anyone’ll trust my word."

"...Eat your own rations," York said flatly. He pulled out a bag of crackers and jerky. He and Lux often worked late, stocking simple dry goods to avoid summoning servants.

As for the others—

"...Not hungry."

"...No appetite."

Ellen and Chloe refused. Understandable, given their moods. York and Lux turned to the rest.

Molly nodded silently—she’d brought homemade cookies as a guest.

Liliana and Nia had nothing. They’d only been allowed to grab items from their own rooms.

"Need some?" York shook his crackers. Their eyes lit up—then hardened. They turned away. Too tense. Too distrustful. They’d starve before accepting food from others.

York sighed, about to eat—then paused. He pulled a small vial from his coat and dripped liquid into the cracker bag.

"An alchemical toxin tester?" Lux leaned in.

"Always carry one."

"Hah. Prepared as ever."

"...What’s that supposed to mean?"

"...Nothing. Just an observation."

"If I’m suspected, I won’t complain. Until the truth’s out, anyone could be the killer."

"Ah—sorry. Poor phrasing..."

"No harm. Eat up. Want the tester?"

"Might as well..."

"It detects most common poisons. Though I can’t *prove* I didn’t poison the tester itself."

"...I’ll pass."

Silence returned.

York and Lux crunched through their bland meal. Molly nibbled leftover festival cookies. Liliana and Nia watched, lips bitten raw. Ellen and Chloe remained untouched.

"...Hm?"

York realized he’d missed someone. Lux noticed too.

"Hey... Nerlis? What are *you* eating?"