Bailonz Street 13

It was a dark scene. A desolate landscape greeted me with emptiness.

The ground was covered in a warm liquid that splashed with every step I took, soaking my feet. I now know it was blood—both its taste and the texture when it touched my tongue matched.

And the whispers that filled this place.

I let out a small laugh. Maybe I even felt a bit relieved. The situation was already surreal, and another layer of unreality wouldn’t change much. I couldn’t afford to cry or be terrified by mere whispers.

I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. To do that, I had to stay sane. I couldn’t have another seizure like the one I had earlier.

I heard the whispers.

[…]

“I can’t hear you.”

[…]

[…]

“Is this your doing? Making the voices clear, erasing in-game time, and removing interaction buttons? Is this all your work? Did you trap me here?”

No answer came this time. The previous pressure was gone, and only the sound of breathing remained. By now, I couldn’t tell if it was my own breathing or the whispers.

I stomped the ground nervously.

“I’m asking you!”

A moment of silence. Then the air began to vibrate. It felt as if the entire space… was laughing. A colossal, vast vibration that shook my skull and brain reverberated far, far away.

It loved me. I could sense that. Simultaneously, something intangible brushed softly against my cheek.

The whispers came again. This time, I could understand one word.

[Jane.]

＊ ＊ ＊

It was blinding. I mumbled.

“Sorry.”

An apology quickly followed, and then I heard the rustle of curtains being drawn. The man was still sitting next to me. Perhaps… Herschel had closed them instead. I wasn’t sure.

“What happened?”

I asked. Liam Moore frowned slightly, then smiled. As if relieved, he rested his forehead near my shoulder. Freshly washed. I could smell soap, or maybe it was perfume or oil. It was the familiar scent he always carried. Strangely, it calmed me. He murmured,

“It was my fault for not considering your stress. Dealing with extraordinary people, I couldn’t predict how you’d react.”

His voice was low.

“It happens.”

I murmured back. Slowly, I got up. Liam tried to dissuade me, saying, “You should lie down a bit more.” But I wanted to get up.

We had arrived at the hotel. People must have been quite alarmed when I collapsed on the train.

“I need to wash up.”

“Do you need warm water? Should I request it?”

“No. Cold water will do.”

Only after soaking in cold water did I come to my senses. The anxiety crushing my chest disappeared, but… I wasn’t sure. It felt like I was losing my mind.

Maybe I really was Jane Osmond. Born to a middle-class family in London with my parents and younger brother.

The quest list was no longer visible. All I had left was a notebook and the map in the upper right corner.

Who would help me? Liam Moore?

What more do I have to do here? I’ve done all I could. I worked through the episodes, striving to see the end. And all for this? To be trapped in a lousy game, unable to die?

Do you want that?

A surge of anger rose within me toward the intangible being. Whatever it was, if I found the entity that trapped me, I would kill it.

I am not a kind, good-natured person. I just try to act morally, not wanting to oppress others with my better traits. If I can do something, I believe I should, and it brings me joy if others are saved by it.

Do I seem pretentious? I turned my gaze to an entity surely watching me from somewhere. I asked, do I look hypocritical?

Fine. I admit it. Some might point fingers and call me a hypocrite. Or maybe an insane killer with dual personalities? This is a bit of a stretch.

Anyway, I did what I had to do as the only person from the 21st century in this morally devoid 19th century. And that thought won’t change. If I can save one person by dying once, it’s worth it.

And I said aloud something I must never forget.

“This is a game.”

Then I plunged my head into the cold water and lifted it. Water trickled down my eyelids. It tasted a bit salty, or maybe that was just my imagination.

Yes, this is a game, Jane.

I sighed, took the notebook and pen from the pile of clothes beside me. These things would no longer change me. This notebook, unchanged by numerous retries and reloads, was my last bastion. I started writing down my remaining memories on its blank pages.

There wasn’t much to write. Tragic, really.

Things I like. After hesitating for a long while, I started moving my hand.

…home-cooked meals, kimchi, spicy ramen… Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I liked them, but I wrote down any food that came to mind. As a secret, I even jotted down some food brands.

And finally, something I must never forget and must not be discovered.

This is all a damn game.

＊ ＊ ＊

I don’t remember much after that.

We stayed one night, then returned to the train. The hotel was cozy, but that was all. I slept and woke up, then slept again, hoping that something might change when I opened my notebook. Progress, normal. Me, normal. Herschel urged me to speak up whenever the stress became too much, but I would never confide in him.

Honestly, I never got the chance. Soon enough, the auction began.

The invitation gleamed. The letters moved as if alive. Reality was being reversed. Watching a new reality overlay itself, I laughed. The spectacle was too grand. It was as if they were boasting.

“Why do criminals always hide their actions yet still want to show off?”

Liam, who had stepped into the space that opened around the invitation, shook his head.

“Who knows….”

“Maybe they thought they wouldn’t get caught. I probably will never understand their minds.”

And then, as if deeming it safe inside, he extended his hand to me.

What if it hadn’t been safe?

I wondered briefly, but took his hand, which felt strangely unfamiliar, and followed him into the crafted reality.

It felt like passing through a thin membrane. It was cold and damp. I rubbed my cheek, shivering. The air here was different, I realized for the first time.

“Isn’t analyzing a crime from the perspective of a criminal enough?”

I asked.

“With criminal profiling, we might never fully understand those filthy rats. Their malice is beyond imagination. Even now, look. Oh. This is interesting.”

Of course, I felt more disgusted than interested.

It was the train, specifically our compartment. A familiar space, yet unfamiliar at the same time. And there stood the man I had saved before.

“Welcome to the auction.”

…Ah. So this is how it’s going to be.

“Welcome, Jane Osmond, and Liam Moore.”

Our disguises had been pointless. The enemy already knew us. Especially me, which was curious. How? Being less known compared to Liam Moore had been a significant advantage in solving cases. I couldn’t guess how much they knew.

The man bowed gracefully and kissed the back of my hand. The damp sensation sent chills down my spine. Did the nature of a space follow its creator? I couldn’t help but wonder.

“Due to the previous commotion, it seems you couldn’t obtain what you desired. Hence, this meeting. Stepping out before fully recovering was quite painful.”

He was right. The host still had lingering effects from the blood drained by the Star of… Ah. Initially, he had gained a bit of weight, but he was still gaunt and seemed to struggle with every word, taking a deep breath between sentences. Although he was smiling, his face was drenched in cold sweat, and his eyes gleamed with fever.

I looked at the man and spat out,

“Liar.”