“No. No. Shiro wouldn’t talk—talk like—like—who are you?! You—What did you to do with Shiro?!”

The journalist shakes his head. “It’s funny. Up until a few minutes ago, I was stumbling about in the darkness. Then, I remembered I had this match box. The moment I struck the match was the moment it came to me.

“It couldn’t have been the stranger. Not for the old men’s murders. I could believe you losing track of time in the bathroom. But he would’ve had to hide in the Club Room for at least six hours. You’re telling me you didn’t notice him missing for six hours? Not once? Not one glance out the bathroom door. It’s impossible. He couldn’t have done it. Something wasn’t right.

“So… I had a thought. It’d come to me way earlier, but… I… It didn’t matter, then. Now it does.

“I knew the killer took the book. Leaving the cover behind proved it was important in some way. But they wouldn’t have had a chance get rid of the pages. They only got rid of the spine to make it easier to carry around, but what could they do with the pages? Burn them? They couldn’t risk a fire now. Throw them out the window? Any window-opening at this stage of the game would’ve been noticed. And they had no guarantee someone wouldn’t find the pages. They would’ve scattered in the wind almost immediately.”

He raises the stack of papers that sealed the poor woman’s fate. “Simplest explanation. The killer just hid them in their room. As I said. I had to check something. I found them in yours. I skimmed through the pages. Saw the murders. Saw me. You. Almost everyone. And I saw the end. Where you’re in handcuffs, being led away, as you desperately try to justify yourself to me.”

“Shiro—”

He has Shiro’s face, but it can’t be Shiro. Shiro wouldn’t be speaking in this tone. He’d hold her. He’d tell her it’s all okay. There’s something in his voice. It’s all wrong. It’s not like she remembers it. This is some kind of a creature that’s slipped into his skin.

“There’s deviations in here. But if those old men did what they did to… the other version of you, I understand. I understand, Tsujiko. I do.”

No. Wait. No. He understands. He understands…! He’s mad, but it’ll be okay. They’ll get through this. It hurts – it hurts both of them, but there’s still a way!

She falls to her knees. “Oh, Shiro…!”

“But I can’t forgive. What about Kokone? Izuru? The playboy? Framing the man from the plane? Were you going to kill Kaede? How many lives were you ready to ruin? Were you going to lie to me for the rest of your life? Was that fine, hm? To me? Or was I going to be a loose end eventually?”

Oh, God. Oh, no.

“No! No, Shiro, I—I never wanted things to get the way they did! I swear, I—”

She crawls over to him.

As she reaches for his legging, the light in his hand burns out.

She only grasps air.

“S-Shiro…?” she stammers.

“I don’t want anything to do with a murderer.” The cruel voice tells her.

Shiro must already be dead. The dead are just taunting her.

“…What? What? How can you say that? You—No. No! You’d never… say that…! You came all this way… t-to take me away… Please—I’m sorry. I swear I’m sorry. It won’t happen again! I—”

“This isn’t something you just fix.”

The stranger probably killed him. What a crock of shit – couldn’t walk! What are the odds of that? And – a plane crash?!

No.

No, she has to think clearly.

All she has to do is convince him. He doesn’t understand. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t. He needs to her it from her.

In the darkness, she stretches her hand further, slipping, collapsing on the ground entirely. “Please. Please, you promised. Please, you don’t understand. They—You don’t know what they did to me here. I was always in that bedroom. Every year. And they’d—”

“I don’t care.”

Don’t… care?

Don’t care?

“What…?” she asks.

She didn’t hear that. He didn’t say that. It was a trick of the darkness. The ghosts are haunting her. She must’ve already died. This is some kind of purgatory. It’s not real. It’s not him. She’s dead. Or sleeping. And she’ll wake up. And it’ll be over. He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have said that.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs. “As I said. I can understand. But I can’t forgive.”

How? How can he not care?

He said he loved her.

How?

HOW?!

“What… do you mean…?”

He says nothing.

“You… don’t care…?” her voice cracks.

He says nothing.

“You… don’t care.”

She can hear him breathing.

She slams her fists against the floor.

“WELL WHY THE HELL NOT?! HOW CAN YOU CARE FOR THEIR LIVES, BUT NOT FOR MINE?! If it’d been them or me, what would you have picked? Huh?! Huh, you fucking—HYPOCRITE?!” She wails on the ground. “Don’t give me this high and mighty bullshit! You showed up when it was the most convenient for you. I WAITED FOR YEARS. HOPING. BEGGING. PRAYING.”

“For crying out loud—”

“So, it meant nothing? It was all just horseshit?! Is that it?!”

“Get a grip, Tsujiko. There’s a time for sweet talk. Now isn’t it.”

“SWEET TALK?!”

“Okay. Maybe not just—You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t. Please. Go on.”

“I don’t believe this. You’ve literally murdered people, and, somehow, I’m the bad guy.”

“You were all I ever I had. I was waiting all this time. If you’d just showed up a bit earlier, it might never have come this fa—”

“Oh, come on. You ‘waited’ for me? You ran away. You had no right to expect me to even show up here. It’s been years!”

“Oh? But for some reason you were SO SURE I’d take your hand and run away with you. Why? Because I was a loser? A maid? Because I had nothing else to offer? Who’d want me but you, right? I was the perfect retainer.”

He shakes his head. “Look, how can you ever expect me to accept this? You think we’ll just bury the bodies and walk off into the sunset? Are you insane? After you lied to my face? After all this… this bloodshed? The police are going to find out about this, either way. There’s no way to explain a bunch of missing guests and staff. And I’m not getting arrested. Or running away to start a new life. Not for you. Not for anyone. You’ve ruined enough lives.”

Her knee gets scratched as she pushes herself off the floor. “I can still do it.”

“Tsujiko—”

“You think you’re so high and mighty. But what’s one more, right? What makes YOU worthy to live, and them to die? Why should I discriminate? If I’m such a monster.”

“Tsujiko.”

“ANSWER ME.”

He’s had enough. “I had a certain image of you. For all these years. And I was wrong on what that image was. You’ve changed.”

“Fuck you. I’ll kill you. I swear, I’ll kill you.”

“Tsujiko, don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. But it’ll be justified self-defense when I do.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think that’s what I’ll tell the cops.” She sniffs. “Thanks for that. I guess.”

Shiro clicks his tongue. “Tsujiko. You can’t actually fight me. It’s over.”

She doesn’t respond.

The journalist clears his throat. “…Tsujiko?”

He can’t see anything.

He shields himself, preparing to be jumped.

Silence.

Not a creak.

Not a sound.

Not even the sound of her breathing.

The matchbox is still in his hand. If the lights it, it might give her opening. If he doesn’t, though—

Shh. Wait.

Could she be moving around him?

Is that her breath on his ear?

Where?

Where is she?

Where?

Was that a creak? Or did he just do that? Did he step on something?

“Tsujiko!” He groans. “Goddammit! Come on!”

Darkness.

“Tsujiko!”

What if she’s crawled away? What if she’s just going to run?

The venom in her voice, though…

Wait. No.

Where is it?

Where’d he put it?

Where’d he put the shotgun?

What about Kaede? Is she going to go after her?

He grits his teeth.

Shaky arms, he pulls out a match.

A flicker lives.

A flicker dies.

And that’s all it takes.