Episode 20. Blue, Old, New (3)
It felt like a splash of cold water had disrupted the previously amicable atmosphere. Something red splattered against the window. Blood. I instinctively knew. The fallen…
James Stranden rushed out in a panic, shouting, “Christine, don’t look!” But I knew it was too late. James Stranden’s fiancée was already staring out the window, her face as pale as a sheet, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I… I saw it. I saw… I saw it all.”
The woman’s face, muttering blankly, was stained with despair.
Liam and I simultaneously jumped up and rushed to the window. I looked down while Liam looked up. Seeing what was sticking out of the flower bed just outside the restaurant, I understood why Liam had been so reluctant to attend this wedding.
It was a person. A man, still barely alive and writhing, murmured something while waving his hand.
“Ugh… ni.”
What? What did he say?
I had a foreboding that this would be an ill-fated wedding.
＊ ＊ ＊
The meal ended shortly after. No one could continue eating after a man fell to his death, and everyone who had witnessed the scene began to rise, overwhelmed by shock.
The almost unconscious bride was helped out by the hands of the guests. James Stranden watched her retreating figure helplessly, his lips moving silently before he leaned against the window frame. His friendly expression was now twisted in sorrow. He let out a deep sigh.
Liam Moore’s demeanor was remarkably dry. Unlike me, who knew this was a game and could think of it as mere data, Liam was different. He was another person living in this world. I wondered if the countless incidents had dulled his human side.
I observed his profile as he stared out the open window, tapping the window frame with his fingernails as if in deep thought. Slowly, he began to speak. He must have organized his thoughts on what to do next.
Although he called me his assistant, most of the cases were solved relying on Liam’s inscrutable brain. I had grown accustomed to letting his complex deductions pass without question. I was more of an observer, listening to his words and marveling at his elaborate reasoning.
“Stranden.”
Now, only the three of us remained in the restaurant. Though we all looked drained, we were certainly better off than the poor soul lying outside. I blinked and listened to Liam.
“You knew this man, didn’t you?”
James rubbed his forehead, then replied, “…He’s my future brother-in-law. Christine’s brother.”
“His name?”
“Justin Besson.”
A bride’s brother dying the day before the wedding! Nothing could be more horrific. I thought this couldn’t have been a voluntary death.
Though I knew from experience that people cornered emotionally could make extreme choices, Justin Besson showed no such signs. His well-groomed appearance suggested he was looking forward to the wedding.
His clothes, neatly pressed and clean, and his manicured nails, along with the corsage on his chest, indicated he was trying on his suit for the wedding. Everyone else was dressed casually, suggesting this.
“Why was he late to the meal?”
Liam asked. Since we arrived last, others must have arrived earlier. Especially the bride’s family, who should have been preparing for the event.
James rolled his eyes, trying to recall. His gaze moved up to the left, and he stroked his chin with his left hand, deep in thought.
“He said he wanted to find something. That he had something for Christine… That’s what I thought, but now…”
I listened to their conversation, watching Liam and James alternately. My senses screamed at me.
This was undoubtedly a murder!
The image of the man’s wide, shocked eyes and his lips trying to say something lingered in my mind.
A person jumping voluntarily would usually throw themselves forward. Even if gravity flipped them mid-fall, this mansion was only about three to four stories high. Guests wouldn’t be put on the fourth floor, so it must have been the second or third floor. That height wouldn’t be enough to reverse the body’s position.
While Liam and James continued their conversation, I reached out to examine the dead body, using a handkerchief to avoid leaving fingerprints. I wasn’t sure if fingerprint analysis existed here, but just in case.
Interestingly, now seemed like the only opportunity to examine the body closely. James Stranden seemed disconcerted by my actions, but I ignored him.
There were no signs of beating or other injuries on Justin Besson, except for some scratches from branches. However, his fingernails had dried blood beneath them, likely a sign of a struggle. Liam Moore would think similarly.
If this hypothesis was correct, this was indeed a murder. The attacker would have scratches from Justin’s defense.
Justin had fought to survive, trying desperately to convey something to me with his last strength.
Strangely, the scene reminded me of Inspector Henry Brixon from Episode 1, moving despite his severe injuries to protect me. A chill ran down my spine. Why did these things feel so real? I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
What I needed to know now was…
Right on cue, the system updated the quest.
[Investigate the Incident:
Visit the room where Justin Besson stayed
Identify suspects (Progress: 0%)]
Suspects.
Nervousness dried my lips, and I spoke to break the tension.
“Is there anyone else on this floor besides Justin Besson?”
“…No. None of the groomsmen arrived earlier in the day. The others sent telegrams saying they’d arrive in the evening. Aside from the servants, it’s just us here.”
So, were the servants not here?
I began to suspect that this was an inside job. Someone Justin Besson would let into his room easily, someone he’d trust, and then resist too late, leaving scratches on their body.
Liam Moore, quietly listening, stroked his chin and looked up. He seemed to understand what I was thinking.
“First, let’s take care of the body. Are you planning to continue the wedding as scheduled?”
“That’s the plan. After that, I’ll take responsibility for my brother-in-law’s… funeral.”
“If that’s your decision.”
I left them to their conversation and returned to my room. There was nothing more I could learn by staying, and I needed to quickly organize what I had found.
＊ ＊ ＊
The corridor felt colder, perhaps because of the death. I quickly returned to my room and locked the door firmly. Liam Moore would send a signal if he needed me, so there was no problem. Left alone, I finally relaxed.
Until now, I had been focusing entirely on my surroundings, looking for more evidence, ensuring I missed nothing (as an observant but ordinary person, I could miss a lot, so I had to pay extra attention). I tried to catch any discrepancies in the expressions and words of those I spoke to.
In fact, I found it easier to analyze letters or statements, where repeated words or the longest sentences often revealed what the writer meant. But spoken words were like trying to catch the flowing wind, requiring me to recall and review them through memory. Memory could be contaminated, and without a recording device, I had to trust my recollection and verify it repeatedly.
I opened my notebook and began listing what I had understood so far.
Justin Besson seemed to be looking forward to the wedding but ended up dead. Pushed by someone? If so, who?
He was a slim young man. What kind of strength would it take to push him over?
Cause of death. Impact from the fall? Massive bleeding?
Then, I felt the same chill from earlier.