The Inspector summoned everyone to the dining room, blustered and bellowed at them, then questioned each person in turn.
In the end, nothing was uncovered, and everyone drifted back to their rooms.
As for the paper in the dining room — those who could read it understood it, and those who couldn’t simply ignored it.
Bai Youwei and Zhu Shu remained in the lobby, sitting across from the Inspector and the doctor, passing the time while half-listening to the two NPCs exchange meaningless lines of dialogue.
On Bai Youwei’s suggestion, Zhu Shu would stay close to the Inspector from here on out, to avoid being framed again should another murder occur.
Zhu Shu understood, but there was one thing she couldn’t quite work out.
That morning, the woman from Room 405 had died in Lu Yuwen’s room. Going by the one-death-per-day rule, would something really happen again today?
Bai Youwei said, “Don’t forget — Lu Yuwen said the tarot card woman was already dead when she came in.”
She blinked at Zhu Shu, then lowered her voice. “Who’s to say whether she died today, or yesterday…”
“You mean… last night?” Zhu Shu thought it over. “I did hear some movement outside my door last night.”
“No — it probably wasn’t last night.” Bai Youwei said. “The timing would be earlier than that.”
“Earlier meaning…” Zhu Shu furrowed her brow slightly, thinking carefully back.
If earlier, then wouldn’t that mean… at that moment?
She found it hard to believe, and looked at Bai Youwei in astonishment.
Bai Youwei gave a small nod. “That’s right — exactly what you’re thinking. That was when the kitchen caught fire.”
At the time, nearly every guest had run downstairs — but had the tarot card woman come down? Now that she thought back on it, there was no memory of it at all.
No one had seen her.
From the end of breakfast onward, that woman had stayed in her room without coming out!
“Who could have done it?” Zhu Shu’s heart tightened as she murmured, “Could it have been that man?… Room 404 — the one called Karl?”
“His room and the middle-aged woman’s were the closest to the inner corridor — he’d be the most natural person to make a move. As for method…” Bai Youwei tilted her head toward the staircase and smiled faintly. “With that kind of anesthetic in hand, it would be entirely possible to do everything without a sound. Afterward he could have made a show of rushing downstairs in a panic. I remember… he was the last one to come down, wasn’t he?”
Zhu Shu nodded. “Yes, he was the last.”
“This team of theirs does cooperate quite well — it’s just a shame their opponents are even better.” Thinking of what might be about to unfold, Bai Youwei couldn’t help feeling a gleeful satisfaction. “I’m really looking forward to it… I wonder if Robert will manage to strike back?”
As she thought about all of this with amusement, Bai Youwei glanced over and noticed Zhu Shu watching her, and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Zhu Shu opened her mouth, her voice tentative. “Weiwei… do you actually find this game… fun?”
Bai Youwei blinked.
Fun?
A teammate under arrest. Safety uncertain. Two players already dead nearby. Still unknown who else might die next. Everyone on edge — and in an atmosphere like this… would someone actually find it fun?
Bai Youwei was silent for a moment, then explained: “No — what I was thinking about was… when the clam and the heron battle, the fisherman profits. The more fiercely they fight, the better our chances of winning. That’s why I was pleased just now.”
“I see.” Zhu Shu nodded. “You really do always find a way.”
Bai Youwei smiled faintly.
After a silence, the thought still lingering, Bai Youwei chose her words carefully and asked Zhu Shu: “Do you think… there are normal people who actually enjoy these games?”
Zhu Shu thought for a moment and quietly replied: “There probably are… but a person who enjoys these games must be someone with tremendous ability.”
Zhu Shu gave Bai Youwei a small smile, and made a self-deprecating comment: “Someone like me, who’s destined to be crushed in a game — I could never enjoy it. Isn’t that obvious?”
—