Still bedazzled by this strange encounter who basically openly admitted committing genocide over multiple generations as if it was the most natural thing in the world without anyone caring, I take down the corridor to the twilight wing. Another bunch of somewhat colorful characters come my way, sweat glistening on their skin, chatting happily. The pass me by without the slightest sign of worry on their faces. Either these people don’t know that there’s been a murder nearby or they just don’t care. I seriously hope it’s the first, because the implications of the latter are staggering.

I move the thought to the back of my mind. Whilst its true that everyone in this strange house is a suspect, I won’t get anywhere by just accusing anyone who crosses my path and does not behave how I expect them to.

After arriving at room 404, I immediately notice something being off. The door looks the same as all the others, but the air permeating the door feels distinctively different. I’ve long since learned to trust my gut instinct and right now my instinct is telling me, that something about this place is very, very wrong, although I cannot put my finger on it. By force of habit my hand wanders beneath my coat doesn’t find what it is looking for. Strange...the movement felt so natural like my body remembered something I had forgotten. I guess in my actual life I carried a gun beneath my coat...which would also explain why it hadn’t occurred to me to take it off until now. To be able to pull a weapon the enemy doesn’t know about can give you a life-saving edge in a tight spot. But apparently, whatever circumstance brought me here also was thoughtful enough to strip me of my most potent means of defense.

I shake my head...no use crying over guns not being where they are supposed to be. I mean, this is probably a dream to begin with, so what’s the worst that can happen? After reassuring myself that I should be fine even if there’s some sort of threat behind this door with the ominous feeling, I reach out to the handle. Just then, I catch a small light shining from beneath my sleeve as the light on the door switched from ‘Red’ to ‘Green’ and the door unlocks. I pull back the sleeve and look at the bracelet that apparently just unlocked the door. Since when did I wear this? Has it been there when I entered this floor? The pub? Where does this thing suddenly come from? Guns that are not where they should be and bracelets being where they are not supposed to be. This whole thing really feels like I should rather focus on solving my own case rather than the murder that’s supposed to have taken place behind this door...but then again, there’s this inexplicable feeling that the solution of one will also be the solution of the other.

I sigh and add another oddity to my mental things to wonder about when I find the time. As I push down the handle, the ominous feeling of something being out of place intensifies by a magnitude and just for a moment I believe to actually see some kind of distortion in the air, but just as quickly as it rose, the feeling and the sight is gone again.
A reasonable man would probably close this door again and hightail out of here as fast as possible, but reasonable men don’t choose detective as their profession. For we peer into the abyss that is humanity. We deal with the scum of society and go where few dare tread.

After taking another deep breath, taking in the distinctive smell of death and setting in decay, I open the door, step into the room and close it behind me, taking note of the humming noise of the door lock moving back into place.

The room’s light flickered to life the moment I entered, illuminating the place. I do not examine the body right away, but much rather try to take in the scene in its entirety. More often than not, the answer lies in a minute detail the perpetrator did overlook.

The surprisingly sizable room seems to be an arena of some sort with a circular platform on the ground, akin to what you see at Sumo tournaments, but much larger. The body lies sprawled out face down in the dead center of the circle. Aside from the circle, various melee weapons ranging from sticks to actual swords and maces are outlined in cases on the side walls. I walk down the walls, but there are no traces of any actual use to commit the murder. The cabinets open without any sort of resistance and before I know it, I have a bona fide sword in my hands, the sensation feeling alien to the touch. When I trace the edge with my finger I can feel its evident sharpness and a trace of blood trickles down from the cut. The thing is actually real and ready to chop someone’s head! What in the world is this place?! How is it that they are not swimming in corpses?!

I hurry to put the blade back into its cabinet and by the time I pull my hands back, the cut is already gone again. What in the world...I mean okay, it was just a small cut, but it shouldn’t be healing this fast. Wait...didn’t someone say that ‘dying’ is impossible in here? Or much rather ‘should be impossible’, considering the body. There seems to be some kind of force to be at work here I don’t understand. Cuts do heal fast, but not that fast.

I turn back to face the body again. I’ll still have time to investigate the remaining scene of the crime later after all. For now, I should get an idea about who the victim was.

After stepping on the platform, the outer ring lights up briefly and a strange sensation creeps up my spine, catching me off guard. I involuntarily stumble back and hit an invisible wall and immediately feel trapped, cursing myself for having been so careless. I walk around the perimeter, but the wall extends around the entire arena. So, in addition to being amnesic and unarmed, I am now also trapped in an arena with a dead body. Can this day get any better?

Okay, calm down. This place is built for fighting each other, that much is obvious. Meaning the invisible wall is some kind of magic equivalent to a cage, protecting both the room and the potential audience.

I shudder. Did I actually just call this place ‘magic’? I never believed in magic, did I? But then again, what other explanation is there for all the things that have been happening? Either this place is magical or the technology is so far ahead of everything I know it might as well be magic.

I shake my head again and turn to face the body again. I came here for a reason, so I should get to it, even if only to distract myself from the wacky situation I’ve gotten myself into this time.

The victim appears to have been a young woman in her early twenties. Short. Her long blonde hair has a pink streak extending all the way down to her rear. She is wearing a red shirt and some kind of triangular metallic insignia is attached to her chest. Her eyes seem rather large in comparison to the ‘normal’ people I’ve seen thus far...normal being a very relative term as I’ve already learned. In fact, her entire build is reminiscent of a comic or anime character. She seems cute and almost like she’s only sleeping peacefully, but something about her entire being feels off. I’ve clearly found the source of the ominous feeling I’ve been getting ever since I entered the room. She’s emanating it. Wait a second...that smell...is that...sandalwood? How in the world is this corpse smelling like sandalwood? And how is it that she looks to be in perfect condition despite having been here for who knows how long? Wait...the entire room seems different now. Brighter. Almost cheerful.

I get up and take a few steps away from her and, sure enough, the room returns to normal and the smell of sandalwood gets replaced with the musky smell of decay. If this isn’t the strangest corpse I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what. Wait, that must be it...there must be some hallucinogenic substance at work here. I mean, from my distance, it is apparent that her head has been bashed in, but upon getting closer, she becomes almost entrancingly beautiful.

I shake my head to clear up the impression. How am I supposed to solve this case if I can’t even get close without starting to hallucinate?

“I see you already made contact,” an old and raspy voice suddenly said, prompting me to yell out, “Jesus Christ!” while hurling around.
The man, apparently in his 60s smiles mildly amused and says, “I wish. The keeper sent me up to give you a little hand if you need it.”
“Um...yeah...thanks I guess,”I respond, completely caught off guard. Damn it, I really must be losing my touch. When did this guy even enter? I should have heard the door...right?
“So what’s your first impression? Do you already know who did it?”
“...that’s not how it works, you know?” I complain, suddenly feeling annoyed by this man. I mean honestly, do people expect me to just glance at the corpse and suddenly know everything? Being a detective is hard work for crying out loud!
The man laughs and steps on the platform as if the wall didn’t even exist, but it’s already too late for me to warn him and the circle lights up behind him.
“Oh great, now we’re both trapped here…” I mutter.
“Trapped? Oh wait, you mean the wall? Not a problem,” the man says, raises his left arm which features a bracelet that’s very similar to my own, taps on the light and a holographic screen starts floating. He presses a button and the light of the circle dies.
I quickly step outside, breathing a sigh of relief to be able to leave after all.
The man walks up to me and asks, “You okay? Cause you don’t look so good.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Either way, who are you?”
“Impolite much? How about introducing yourself first?” the man replies, crossing his arms.
“...I would if I could. I only know that I’m a detective and that’s pretty much it.”
“Ah yes, the old man did mention that you were a bit lost. The name’s John. And though I may not look like it, back in the day I was a detective myself.”
“You don’t say,” I respond, sounding a bit more bitter than I had intended.
John laughs and says, “I know what you’re thinking. ‘If they already have a detective here, what the heck am I doing here?’. Am I right?”
“...the thought did cross my mind. So? Your answer?”
“She’s the reason. Of course, when I heard about the murder, I immediately came here. But...well, best if I show you.”

John walked towards the center of the circle and upon reaching out for the girl, he suddenly got thrown back against the wall like a ragdoll, crashing against it hard, coughing up blood from the impact. After recovering from the immediate backlash, he came back to me as if nothing ever happened and explains, “That’s what happens if anyone from this place tries to approach the body. Not even the Keeper can get closer than half a meter. And the reaction is different each and every time. For some reason she reacts violently to me. Guess she doesn’t like old men.”
“But...how is that even possible? She’s dead...right?”
“As far as I know she is, yes. But the thing is...there’s something about her that repels our reality here. How’d she react to you?”

I consider telling him that I actually found myself attracted to her instead of repelled, but decide against it. If I admit being affected by her like that, it stands to reason that I would be deemed unfit to investigate this case.
“No reaction? That’s splendid! Then you really may just be what we need! Alright, we should make haste then before whatever she is decides to dislike you too.”

I really don’t want to get close to that body again, at least not before understanding what’s going on, but I need an excuse.
Hence I ask, “John, a question...have you been asking around whether anyone knew the girl?”
“Looking for the motive, eh? Sadly enough, nobody seems to know here. She just showed up here from nowhere and now she’s dead. That’s all I learned thus far.”
“Okay, different question. Whom of the people here would you even think capable of bashing someone’s head in?”
John laughs heartily and then says, “You want the guest list of the house of dreams? I was sure that the barkeeper gave it to you when you arrived, but we can go down and ask.”
“No, I wanted to know…” I start, my voice trailing off as I connect the dots.
“Seems like you got it. This whole place is filled with people who’ve been through all kinds of hardships. And most of them have tasted blood before. So if you ask me who is ‘capable of bashing someone else’s head in’, I’d have to say ‘all of them’.”

So much for narrowing down the suspects.