The next morning, I look at the clothes John pulled from his cabinet for me and something in my stomach knots. A red shirt and black pants. Much like what the victim was wearing.

I shake my head and pick them up. Don’t be silly. It’s not like she died because she wore a red shirt or something. I mean, that’d be just crazy. To kill someone because of the clothes they wear.

I leave the bathroom and ask, “Say John, where do you even get these clothes?”
“From the cabinet over there. To be honest, I was a little surprised when those showed up today. I would’ve thought you’d get another clean suit like yesterday.”
“Wait, you mean you don’t even get to choose?”
“Stuff in there is different just about every time you open the door, pal. Seems like the cabinet wants you to go casual today. And I must say, you look snazzy in those.”
“...gee, thanks. Speaking of which, you only ever wear the same clothes, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I don’t really change much. Seeing how I wake with my clothes in mint condition, I really don’t see the point. It’s always the same perfect temperature and humidity in here too, so you don’t really need to change anything...well, unless you’re you that is.”

I scratch my head. Come to think of it, a lot of people seemed to be wearing clothes that felt ‘out of place’. Like this Simon guy. Didn’t he wear some sort of armor? Who wears armor in a bar? And didn’t that Sirus wear some sort of fur mantle? Crudely made too?

“Could it be that most people here wear what they did when they died?” I think aloud.
“A good observation. You’re right, most of the people wear what they had on them when they came in here. Most likely to connect to the world they left behind. Either that, or they never bothered to check the cabinet in their rooms. Or they don’t even have one.”

Ah yes...that’s right. The rooms somehow adapt to the needs and wants of their residents. That’s why John’s room looks like a detective’s office from one of the old movies. Because that’s the way he imagined his life to be. Just...without the beautiful women promising trouble walking in.

“Alright, since you’re now ready to go, let’s go over the upcoming day,” John says, waving his notes through the air, “I’ll be going to find this Luzifer guy and ask him about what he knows. I think you should try to get a hold of Terra. She lives in D-203 with her family. They’ve been here a very long time too and like to keep their ear to the ground. Maybe they know something.”

Sounds like a good enough plan I can agree to. However it keeps me wondering, just how many residents this house really has.

A little later, I stand in front of D-203 and knock against the door, but nothing happens. I try once more, but still, no response. Just as I want to turn to walk away, a frail looking guy with long ears comes walking down the corridor and asks, “Oh, a visitor? What brings you here?”
“Oh, err...I wanted to visit Miss...Terra? But nobody’s opening.”
The man laughs and slides the door to the side, revealing a wide and dense forest through which a path leads towards what appears to be a whole village.
“What in the…”
“Knocking is not going to help you any at this door, human. Please, come along.”

As we walk down the forest path, I cannot help but marvel at the dimension of this ‘room’. I thought Miranda’s room was already impressive, but this here beats it by a tenfold.

“Halt! Who goes there!” a voice suddenly calls out and I quickly find myself surrounded by five men looking a lot like my guide, bows with arrow in hand.
“It’s just a visitor. He wants to see Mistress Terra,” my guide explains.

The apparent leader of the guard detail puts down his bow, jumps down from his position of the tree, and approaches the two of us, “A visitor you say? And you are vouching for him?”

For an uncomfortably long time, nobody moves, but then the leader laughs and the other people put down their bows as well. He walks up to me and hits me on my shoulder with a surprisingly strong hand one would not expect from his stature, “Just pulling your leg, human. Welcome to the village.”

I let out a sigh of relief and reply, “Thank you.”
“So...I take it you’re that detective we heard about?”
Word sure travels fast…
“Yes. I was told that…‘Mistress Terra’ might know something.”
“Terra’s currently in the forbidden cavern, convening with the darkness. We do not go there.”
Forbidden cavern? Convening with the darkness? What in the world did I walk in on here?!
“Stop scaring him already, Fargus!” a female voice suddenly rings out and a beautiful and well-endowed girl walks down the path with resolute steps, wearing brilliant white clothes underlining her pale complexion. She couldn’t have been much older than 18, yet she exudes an air of authority and maturity that defies her looks.
“M-Mistress Celestia, saviour of the realm! I beg your forgiveness, I never meant to…” Fargus stutters, falling to his knees immediately.
“Soothe yourself, Fargus,” Celestia says before addressing me, “Now, what brings you to our village?”
I take a deep breath, trying to tear myself away from her otherworldly beauty. Be a professional, you dingus! You didn’t come here to gawk at pretty ladies, did you?!

After my pulse calmed down a little, I explain who I am and why I came.

“I see. A noble cause, to be sure. Of course we will help the best we can, however little it may be.”
She then turns to face this Fargus guy still groveling on the ground and says, “Take him to our house. We will be there shortly.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Fargus replies, bowing just a tad deeper, “your wish is my command.”

Celestia then turns around and disappears into the forest and before you know it, despite her wearing white, she’s gone without a trace. I cannot help but wonder if I just saw a ghost.

Fargus gets back to his feet and his less pleasant demeanor, “You heard the lady. Move it.”

Why do I feel like I’ve suddenly gone from being a visitor to being a prisoner of some sort?