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Game Over

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Translator: Kell

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—Monologue 4—

I shoved the heart-shaped pendant into my pocket and stood up. Slowly, I padded down the dark staircase back to the corridor.

But as I made it halfway down, something unexpected occurred.

Screams and gunshots sounded from a distance.

I ran, scrambling down the stairs, and leaped into the poorly-lit, shabby corridor.

What I saw froze me in place.

“…Huey!”

The others were lying on top of each other in the hallway. The small French girl was face-down, protecting Lee. The stocky Italian boy had his back against the wall, staring mutely at the blood trickling from his shoulder. The skinny and curly-haired American boy was lying on his back, moaning. Yang was standing in front of them, blood dripping from his arms.

A skinny boy—Huey—stood amid the pandemonium.

When he heard my voice, he slowly turned around. I swallowed. There was no expression on his pale face. He looked like a horrifying marionette manipulated by some great power, not by his own will.

“Found the Hare,” he mumbled, grinning.

He was holding a machine gun in one hand. I surmised that he took it from the boys who drowned.

What they said last made sense now.

“Th-There’s a ghost!”

“It took the gun from us and threw us in here!”

They took the supposedly dead Huey as a ghost.

My friends were lying on the ground, bleeding all over.

Anger flared within me. I took out the gun in my pocket and aimed it at Huey’s chest.

“Put the gun down, Huey!”

“…How about you put yours down?”

Smiling, Huey pulled the trigger.

I felt a sharp sting on my right shoulder. By the time I realized I was shot, I was already kneeling on the floor. My gun rolled from my hand. Cold beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I felt a chill.

Huey cheerfully sauntered toward me, and pointed the gun’s muzzle at my head.

“Stop!”

Yang, his arm bleeding profusely, stood up and stepped between me and Huey. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you don’t point a gun at a girl,” he said, his voice shaking with anger.

“Whether you’re a boy or a girl doesn’t matter inside this box.” Huey’s voice was shaky, too. His eyes quievered, like he was scared of something. “Gender is irrelevant. It’s your nationality that matters.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I’m a collaborator. You are the Hares and I am the Hound. I’ve been ordered to gnaw you guys to death. I’m doing this for my country. And I’ll finish the job!”

“Huey…?”

His enigmatic rambling and the sorrowful look on his face left me confused. All I could do was stare at him.

Huey raised the machine gun. “What happened here is the future. It’s inevitable!”

Yang pounced. Huey pressed the muzzle to his chest and pulled the trigger.

A spray of blood splashed onto my face as Yang’s body was blown back. The point-blank shot tore a huge hole in his chest. He fell to the floor with a loud thud you wouldn’t expect from his small build. Blood poured out of him, quickly turning the old dark carpet a bright red.

I screamed.

Huey pointed the gun at me, and smiled. “Beg for your life.”

I shot him a glare. His expression remain unchanged.

“…No,” I said.

“Then die!”

The gun closed in on me. I shut my eyes.

When he pulled the trigger, there was a small click. I opened my eyes.

He had ran out of bullets. I immediately picked up the gun I had dropped and gripped it with my left hand.

Huey spun and started running. I pulled the trigger, aiming at him.

I fired over and over, but none of the shots hit. I was losing consciousness from the bleeding on my shoulder.

The next thing I knew, I was crying my eyes out, my shoulders quavering. With each pull of the trigger, tears flooded my vision.

I glanced at the dead Yang, then stood up and tottered toward the others.

The American and Italian boys had been shot in the side and shoulder, respectively, but the bullets only grazed them; they managed to stand up when I called out to them. The French girl only fainted from shock.

When all three of them stood up, I carried Lee, who fell unconscious again from the blood loss. Her heart-shaped pendant was still in my pocket. I had to return it to her. We started walking again.

The Italian boy began talking to the wobbly American boy, as if to give him strength. He talked about his homeland. Not the kind of topic to be had in this situation.

“I used to live very close to the market. In the mornings, I would work at the stalls to earn some money. The stalls loaded with colorful vegetables were a sight to behold. I thought the taste and beauty of summer vegetables was second to none.”

The American boy gave a weak smile in agreement.

Suddenly, the French girl groaned. “How…?” The boys looked at her. She forced the words out of her mouth. “How is he alive? He was supposed to be dead…”

No one said a word.

No one knew the answer.

I went over it in my head countless times like a madman. Huey had no pulse back then.

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Chapter 5: Game Over

After leaving the harbor, Julie Guile hailed a horse-drawn carriage in town. Her long raven hair bounced in the breeze, draping over her pallid face, then drifted again. The carriage rocked.

Julie was wearing a distant look, thinking. “Yes…” she muttered out loud. “I was the one who took Huey’s pulse. I was sure his pulse had stopped. Ever since then, I’ve been wondering how.”

It grew more and more noisy outside. The crowd of people in the city gave Julie relief. She had exacted her revenge, and successfully escaped.

“A beautiful day, wouldn’t you agree, young lady?” the driver said in a cheery voice.

Julie ignored him.

“It was cloudy just a while ago,” he continued nevertheless. “It’s going to be a good day.”

“…I suppose,” Julie replied in a low voice.

She beamed. Remembering Victorique brought a smile to her face. She probably didn’t know it, but in just an instant, that odd, beautiful girl answered the question she had been asking herself for ten years.

The tennis ball lying on the floor where Huey had supposedly collapsed.

Huey must have used the same trick ten years ago to fake his death. He instilled terror on the kids and became one of the reasons for their infighting. After that, he left the group and killed them one by one.

“I see now…”

She squeezed the heart-shaped pendant on her chest tight.

She got her revenge. The adults who locked the Hares in that Box and tortured them to death, as well as the Hound, were gone. It was all over. All she had to do now was go somewhere far away.

Suddenly, Julie noticed something strange.

The carriage was running on a different street, not to the station where Julie was to catch a train to a foreign country. The station was moving farther away.

“Where are you going?!” she asked the driver.

“Where, you ask?” The driver turned around.

He was a handsome young man, with the elegant features of a noble. There was a cynical twist to his mouth. He was wrapped in an overcoat that was too fine for a coachman, and wore an expensive-looking silk tie around his neck.

“Who are you?!” Julie exclaimed. His odd, drill-shaped hairstyle—she had never seen such hairdo before—arrested her attention.

“My name is Grevil.”

“Grevil, who?”

“Grevil the great inspector.”

“What?”

The driver pulled hard on the reins. The horse neighed and stopped in its tracks.

Footsteps clattered outside. Julie gulped. Before she knew it, several policemen had surrounded the carriage.

She looked around. She was in front of a police station. It was a square building with square windows lined with iron bars. The historic building had an intimidating vibe reminiscent of a prison. The dull orange brick walls seemed to be slowly closing in on her.

Julie looked closer.

A boy and a girl were standing in front of the station. An oriental boy—he said he was the third son of an imperial soldier—Kazuya Kujou, and the noble blonde girl, Victorique, whom Julie herself called a little detective. Holding hands, they were staring at her.

Julie shrugged. She turned to the driver and smiled. “I suppose it’s game over.”

“Looks like it,” the coachman replied.

He jumped down from the carriage, opened the door, and gracefully held out his hand to Julie. His pointy hair almost poked her on the face. Julie took his hand and stepped down the carriage.

“Julie Guile,” he said, throwing his chest out. “You’re under arrest for murder!”

Julie smiled for just a moment. Then her face turned ice-cold and expressionless as she walked toward the police station.

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In a room at the police station, Julie Guile sat in front of Inspector Blois, Victorique, and Kazuya.

The inspector’s two subordinates were locked outside, standing in front of the door, holding hands.

This police station was outside Inspector Blois’ jurisdiction, but Victorique’s tip urged him to take action. His distinguished background allowed him to act like he owned the place.

The room was poorly-lit and incredibly spacious. There was a plain long table in the middle of the room. The source of light was an incandescent lamp with focus solely on its functionality. The crude wooden chairs provided for them made squeaking noises with every little movement.

Julie Guile was sitting in one such chair with a curious look on her face. She turned to Victorique. “How did you know it was me?”

For some reason, Victorique and Inspector Blois opened their bags at almost the same time, took out their pipes, and put them in their mouths. After lighting them up, they each took one puff. Victorique regarded Julie, while the Inspector watched Victorique.

“The Wellspring of Wisdom,” Victorique said curtly. When she noticed Julie, the inspector, and even Kazuya staring at her, she brushed back her long, golden hair and added, “Let me verbalize it, then. First and foremost, you lied.”

“I lied?” Julie blinked a few times.

Victorique nodded. “You introduced yourself as the daughter of a wealthy family who grew up in a big mansion.”

“How’d you know that was a lie?” Kazuya asked.

“Kujou, do you remember? She has a habit when deep in thought.”

Victorique stood up and, mimicking Julie, started walking, fiddling with the pendant on her chest. She took five steps, stopped, and turned around. Another five steps, and turned. After doing it a few times, she lifted her head.

“…Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘hmm’?”

The puzzled looks on their faces irritated Victorique. “Think, you three, think. Would someone who grew up in a large mansion move like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a habit of people who live in a small place. So small that you can only take five steps before you bump into a wall.”

“So she lived in a small room?”

“That’s a possibility, but you can narrow it down some more.” Victorique sat back in her chair. In her husky voice, she continued, “For example, a prison cell. Or a hospital room. A mansion’s attic. It’s what happens when you don’t go outside for a long time.”

Inspector Blois shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

Victorique cast him a sidelong glance. “I was talking generally. Don’t read too much into it.”

The Inspector didn’t respond.

“I appreciate the permission to leave,” she added.

Kazuya eyed them both, bewildered by the strange atmosphere between them.

Victorique turned to Julie. “You lied about your identity. There’s one more important thing. You had a weapon on you the whole time.”

Kazuya gasped. “She did?”

“Yes. When Maurice found a weapon and tried to use it, she took out her own gun and shot the man dead. She said that she just found the gun, but that was also a lie.”

“How did you know?”

“Because of the weight of her bag.” Victorique pointed to Julie’s handbag. “When we first met you, that bag was very heavy. Kujou, do you remember getting hit by that bag? It made a loud thud.”

“Of course.”

“The gun was inside the bag then. That’s why it was heavy. After throwing the gun away, she accidentally dropped the bag, and I picked it up.”

“Yeah…”

Kazuya remembered when Victorique picked up the bag and tossed it to Julie. It flew softly through the air.

“Ned Baxter didn’t try to kill us because he was the culprit. I suspect he was also involved in the incident ten years ago. Like Maurice, he was scared because he believed that there was a Hare in our midst who wanted revenge. And he wanted to kill them before they killed him.”

Silence descended in the room.

Eventually, Julie nodded. “That’s right.” Her expression was strangely bright. She looked relieved that she was caught and her crimes exposed. “I did it,” she said bluntly. “I prepared the ship and wrote the invitations. I was going to kill them all and sink the ship. But there was an unexpected miscalculation. Roxane was already dead, and two unrelated individuals came on board instead. I panicked. I couldn’t let you die, so I was on edge the whole time.”

Julie gave a thin smile. “Looking at you two reminded me of the past. There was a Chinese boy named Yang. He was kind and reliable. He really helped us a lot. Unfortunately, he was killed by Ned Baxter. Kujou, you remind me of him.”

“Can you tell us what happened ten years ago?” Inspector Blois interrupted.

Julied nodded. “Sure.”

Julie Guile began to speak.

One night, ten years ago. How she was taken from the streets of this town and thrown into a black carriage with iron bars. Waking up on a ship, the real Queen Berry, with several other kids. The beginning of a night of horror.

The deaths of her friends. Huey’s betrayal. Leading her wounded friends up to the deck.

And what the surviving Hares found there.

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