The question hung in the air, a phantom limb of complexity, intricate beyond imdiate comprehension.
The question was simply too intricate...
Yet, paradoxically, I knew the answer.
It had been there, a cold, hard truth, since the very beginning. But I stayed silent. My tongue, a stubborn sentinel, cleaved to the roof of my mouth. I was silent because of logic, a cold, calculating force that weighed outcos and possibilities.
Silent because of survival instinct, a primal hum that whispered cautions of self-preservation. And most profoundly, silently, because of fear.
A gnawing, visceral terror that clung to my bones like a shroud.
That unfamiliar voice erged from the crowd, almost imperceptible if you weren’t truly paying attention. But I was paying attention. From the very first second that special guest entered this hall.
From the mont their smile felt unnervingly symtrical.
From the mont their eyes never truly saw anyone. From the mont their footsteps were silent—and that’s precisely what made them stand out.
And then, as if a switch had been flipped on a ticulously orchestrated stage, everything exploded—quite literally.
A concussive force that rattled the very foundations of the hall, tearing at the fabric of reality itself. In that blinding flash, amidst the searing heat and the chaotic cacophony, I saw everything.
And when everything exploded—quite literally—I saw it all.
Again, it wasn’t just the explosion itself, not just the blood and fragnts of flesh scattered across the stage floor, but the screen behind it.
A na blazed forth for rely a fraction of a second before dying.
ARCHAZER
And one more:
Akuma didn’t press the button.
Everything happened a bit too all of a sudden.
But regardless, it was more than enough for to figure out the culprit.
"Co on now, aren’t you just bursting with curiosity? You simply must be curious! After all, this is what we call a quiz, isn’t it, darling?"
Akuma’s voice was as usual, light, like poisonous bubblegum.
She took small steps across the stage, as if this were a variety show.
Her hand, slender and elegant, twirled the microphone with practiced ease, a dancer’s flourish. But her eyes... her eyes, devoid of mirth, were fixed, unblinking, directly on .
A cold, unwavering gaze that seed to bore into my very soul.
She knew.
"Soone must have seen sothing, surely. Or... perhaps they’re cunningly hiding sothing?"
There was a pause.
I didn’t move. No one moved.
"It’d be such a terrible sha, wouldn’t it, if everyone had to die just because one person kept their mouth firmly shut~"
And that’s when she raised the control device. A small black box, with a large, glaring red button in the centre. It looked like a cheap, garish prop, a ludicrous contrivance from so shoddy old film. But everyone present knew, with a horrifying certainty, that it was utterly, terrifyingly real. Far too real.
"Five..."
I stayed silent. My eyes, unwavering, were locked onto hers.
And around , I could feel it, the collective weight of every single eye in the room, now fixed on her, on that ominous device.
"Four..."
I could hear stifled breaths. So participants began to shift restlessly. Fulltal, standing by the side of the stage, cast a sharp, piercing gaze at . Whether it was because he was suspicious, or because he knew too, I couldn’t tell.
"Three..."
I bit my tongue. Just a fraction. The tallic taste of blood reminded that I was still alive. For now.
"Two..."
I turned my head towards Velvet. She was already looking at .
Her hand lifted slightly, making a firm gesture as if to signal, "Don’t."
I was montarily transfixed. But before I could fully weigh the aning of that movent, she sighed and covered her face with one hand. A facepalm. Frustration? Anger? Or... fear?
I didn’t know what she ant.
"One—"
My hand went up.
I didn’t even realise when my fingers began to rise. My body moved on its own. Instinct, perhaps. Or desperation.
My steps propelled forward, cutting through the crowd of other participants who stood silent as statues. The stage was now just a few steps away. Fulltal turned, vigilant. But he didn’t stop . Akuma smiled broadly, as if this was precisely what she had been waiting for.
I stepped onto the stage. My boots made a soft thud as they t the wooden floor, which still carried the lingering scent of gunpowder. I stood in the middle. Between Akuma and Fulltal. In the empty spot that felt far too brightly lit.
"Finally," Akuma uttered. Her voice was low, filled with a note of satisfaction. "The mysterious Midnight finally decides to play along. I was rather worried you wouldn’t bother."
I offered no reply. My eyes were still fixed on the control device in her hand.
"What did you see?" she asked. Her voice was now deeper, serious, wiping all traces of laughter from her previous expression.
I knew, one answer could be a bullet. But it could also be a door.
I took a breath.
"I saw... the na on the screen. ARCHAZER. And you didn’t press the button."
Silence. Brief, yet deadly.
Fulltal tensed. Akuma slowly lowered the control device.
But her smile didn’t disappear.
"Interesting," she murmured.
"Very interesting. But that hasn’t quite answered my question, has it?"
I frowned. "Then what is the question?"
She smirked. "The question is: Who killed the guest?"
I closed my eyes. The fragnts of information I’d gathered previously resurfaced. The unfamiliar movents. The voice I’d never heard. The location of the explosion.
The cara going dark for a second.
The na ARCHAZER. And Akuma’s expression, far too clean.
I opened my eyes.
And I said:
"Not you."
"Oh my! HAHAHAHAHAHA~"
Akuma laughed. Loudly. Awkwardly.
"That’s funny. But I’ll certainly take the credit for it," she said.
And before I could ask what she ant, the lights on the stage went out. The entire hall was swallowed by darkness.
And in that dark, only one question echoed in my head:
What would happen next...?
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