Charles walked through the corridor of the building in episode 33. After walking a bit, he saw a lot of children. They either played amongst themselves or wandered in groups, eyeing the outsider, Charles, with curiosity before quickly disappearing.
At that moment, he met an adult woman. She introduced herself as a teacher at the orphanage, wearing a brown top and a white skirt.
“Oh, hello…”
The teacher bowed slightly, probably having heard something from the butler. Charles engaged in a brief conversation to gather information.
The first thing he asked about was the nature of the orphanage.
“Actually, this isn’t just a regular orphanage. Most of the children here have mental issues. Sometimes, even children who aren’t orphans end up here. Parents often bring their kids exhibiting unusual behaviors here for ‘correction’ until it’s completed.”
“Correction?”
“We have a renowned psychiatrist from the Metro Mental Hospital here. This place serves as both a mental treatment center and an orphanage for children with nowhere else to go.”
“Hm.”
It seemed more like a mental hospital for children, given the high walls around it.
“Oh, the psychiatrist should be arriving soon.”
“Who are they?”
“Her name is Mary Wellroad, and she’s a woman.”
“A woman?”
Psychiatrists in this era were mostly men. Being a psychiatrist was a shunned profession regardless of the era, so there weren’t many doctors willing to serve in such harsh places, especially women.
Many might think of an orphanage as a completely closed-off place, but surprisingly, it sees quite a number of visitors, including those who procure food and supplies, teachers, and psychiatrists.
“Who is the head of the orphanage?”
“The butler has taken on that role, saying it’s his responsibility as long as they’re using this mansion.”
“I see.”
Monfer, the butler… It seemed like his duties extended beyond merely managing the house; he took on various responsibilities. He sure felt like Evren Linden’s right-hand man.
“Ah, here they come.”
The teacher pointed to someone entering through the front door on the first floor. Mary Wellroad had a haggard appearance. She probably could look beautiful if she groomed herself, but the deep fatigue under her eyes betrayed her tiredness.
“Hello, Sarah. Who is this?”
The teacher bowed again and replied, “He’s a detective here to find the missing child.”
“Detective…?”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Charles Hexen.”
Charles extended his hand. Mary reluctantly shook it and then turned to the teacher.
“Who is the missing child?”
“Mory.”
“Violin-playing Mory?”
“Yes.”
“Why did that child disappear?”
“I’m not sure…”
Charles interjected in their conversation.
“There was no reason for the child named Mory to disappear?”
“He was a child who didn’t speak much. Besides playing the violin, he didn’t seem to have any other desires.”
“Is the child a savant?”
Having already known about such conditions in modern times, Charles kept quiet and listened to Mary’s explanation.
“The term ‘savant syndrome’ is fairly new, having come out recently from the Metro Mental Health Association, so many might not be familiar with it. The child had severe autism but an extraordinary talent for the violin.”
“Really?”
“We hypothesize that in fetuses with savant syndrome, the right brain develops later than the left brain. If there’s an issue during the left brain’s development, the subsequent left brain damage enhances the right brain’s capabilities, leading to savant syndrome. This is a child requiring careful observation in many ways.”
“Then, it’s not surprising that the child might suddenly disappear.”
Mary nodded in agreement as Charles spoke.
“If he gets fixated on something, he wouldn’t notice anything else. He might even skip meals. Please find him.”
Charles gauged the expressions of the two women. Mary was certainly a psychiatrist, as evidenced by her use of professional jargon and confidence in her words. The teacher? She appeared saddened by the child’s disappearance but seemed clueless about the deeper truth.
After parting ways with the two women, Charles wandered around to familiarize himself with the mansion’s layout. The place had a generally open view with long corridors flanked by several rooms, seemingly housing the children as there were no dedicated classrooms.
During his exploration, Charles found an abandoned storage room. He immediately opened the door and stepped outside through a window with a small ledge, using his fingers to grip and hang onto it. Like a rock climber, he slowly descended and moved sideways.
The distance to the lower floor was substantial but safe enough to jump. He jumped down and grabbed the ledge below, then climbed through another window into the adjacent kitchen pantry.
‘There are no iron bars on the windows.’
Perhaps they didn’t want to give the impression of imprisonment. Taking this opportunity, Charles returned to the kitchen. The kitchen staff seemed to be absent.
The abundance of pineapples beside the kitchen struck him as odd. Why were there so many pineapples?
Having evaded the pursuing butler Monfer, Charles examined the empty kitchen, bothered by something he had noticed there earlier: bloodstains.
Why was there bloodstain? Upon closer inspection, he saw signs of someone wiping it away with a cloth. The brown color indicated some time had passed.
Charles scanned the area and noticed a fireplace next to the oven’s shelf. He unlocked the obstructing metal skewer.
‘Hmmm.’
There was a sack full of charcoal inside. Moving the charcoal aside revealed a handle that could be opened.
– Wow, it’s a secret passage?
– Pagina, you go first.
– Okay.
Pagina Rekor couldn’t stray too far from the magic book, but a few meters were manageable.
– There’s a passage just nearby. But it’s very dark.
– That’s fine.
Charles positioned the charcoal sack to the side, entered the space, crouched, and pulled the charcoal sack back to close the door. It was cramped but unavoidable.
He didn’t want to leave any trace of entering the secret passage.
The passage was only big enough to crawl through. Crawling messed up his clothes, but he continued in regardless. After a while, he reached an oddly shaped corridor.
Despite the darkness, Charles’s spiritual power allowed him to create infra-vision. In the sharpened view, he saw a brick-constructed space.
– Did he go this way?
– Master! Here, here!
Following Pagina Rekor’s gesture led him to an upward passage. Charles swiftly realized where he was.
‘This is the building where Evren Linden lives.’
The secret passage connected the two buildings… Charles exited through the fireplace. It seemed connected from the back of the fireplace. Dusting off the accumulated soot with a cloth, Charles surveyed the surroundings.
It looked like someone’s room, but he couldn’t determine whose. He searched thoroughly to identify the place. It was surely a young woman’s room.
Seeing the hairbrush, ornate accessories, and the Mistweaver University uniform, Charles deduced that it was Cyrilda Linden’s room. Despite her death, the room hadn’t been tidied up. Why was that?
Had they left it intact to preserve memories of their daughter?
A peculiar framed photo on the wall caught his attention. Cyrilda had several siblings, but the photos only included her parents.
‘There are no photos with her siblings. Only with the parents.’
It was known that Linden’s children were numerous, information typically gained while navigating the game. Even though the main story didn’t heavily involve the Linden family, it was essential to know about such wealthy individuals.
Was there discord among siblings? And another oddity.
Cyrilda didn’t seem genuinely smiling in the photo. In stark contrast with her beaming parents, her forced smile gave an impression of reluctance.
Intrigued, Charles ransacked the entire room and found a well-hidden item: a diary.
‘Cyrilda Linden’s diary?’
Cyrilda was the name of the deceased daughter of Evren Linden. Intrigued, Charles pulled out the diary. Although it was locked, he dismantled the lock and opened the book.
He turned to the first page.
‘January 7, 1911, Cloudy.
Today, becoming an adult, I discovered that I am not an offspring of the Linden family. I grew up in an orphanage. Despite having no memories from early childhood, I could trace my records at the orphanage. I was not a Linden. The falling raindrops feel like my heart. Now that I’ve turned eighteen, I’m old enough to accept that I’m not their child. But why don’t my parents tell me the truth?’
‘What!?’
Cyrilda wasn’t their biological daughter? Charles turned to read more entries about her getting accepted into Mistweaver University.
Descriptions of having and breaking up with a boyfriend were included, but no mention of siblings.
Then Charles found a significant entry upon turning the next page.
‘February 7, 1911, Clear.
One day, I will be murdered in a very gruesome way.’
The previous page was filled with curses about her ex-boyfriend. But the next page?
‘Why would she think she’d be murdered in a gruesome way?’
Did she predict her death due to spiritual powers? Charles noticed something peculiar on closer inspection.
‘The page has been ripped.’
Instead of the next page, the prior one was torn out. What could it mean? Typically, mystery investigations face a dead-end here due to a lack of physical evidence.
However, Charles was no ordinary detective. He decided to delve into his psychological realm. Lighting a candle before the grand obelisk, he initiated divination through the residual memories of the past.
The white light Magnus began to illuminate a scene.
It showed Cyrilda. She was late, heading to the living room for dinner. In the living room, she saw her parents, the Lindens, conversing.
“So, how much do you love that child?”
“I love them dearly.”
While Evren Linden’s husband, Door Linden, questioned, Evren replied. Cyrilda felt moved and was about to greet them but stopped.
“Can you kill that child?”
“I couldn’t possibly do it with my own hands.”
Evren covered her face with both hands. Cyrilda couldn’t fathom this conversation.
“You must. If not, our family’s hopes and dreams will come to an end.”
“But… how can… how can we kill them so cruelly and brutally?”
“We can’t. But we can convey the message that those people want a corpse. It seems they desire someone to die.”
“But if we delegate it to them, we won’t get the body back.”
“Don’t worry about that. Monfer will retrieve it.”
“Dear…”
Shocked, Cyrilda fled to her room, her heart pounding. She burrowed under her covers, trembling. What in the world was going on?
She hastily wrote down the conversation in her diary but then tore the page and chewed it up. She then wrote:
‘I will be murdered in a very gruesome way.’
Charles ended the divination and returned to reality.
‘So she knew she was going to die.’
Why didn’t she run or resist? Being aware of her imminent death, what was her mindset?
Now, Charles could not fathom what went through Cyrilda’s mind.
