| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Epilogue |
| Stone of Truth | Investigation Notes | ||||
Deception Concealed in Darkness[]
4-1 Enlightenment Ritual[]
| (Following the Astrologer's counsel, the devotees who had previously undergone the trial could now decide the order of their participation in the night's divination ritual, based on the outcome of their celestial cards.) (The gentlemen, led by the Clerk, wasted no time in beginning their game at the card table.) (To everyone's surprise, the Clerk triumphed in the first round of play.) | |
| I've won... I've truly won?! Does this mean I am at last to receive the fortune I have always longed for? | |
| Congratulations, Mr. Clerk. | |
| Humph! Don't start thinking you're the bees knees just yet. | |
| I yield with honor, and trust that fortune will favor you henceforth, sir. | |
| I commend you for being the first to hear the stars. Come, follow me to the rooftop. I request that the rest of you remain here. You may either continue the game or wait in silence. The tower's rooftop shall remain closed until the ritual reaches its end. | |
| (With these words, the Astrologer led the Clerk up the staircase, his face alight with glee.) (I stood in quiet contemplation, hidden in a dark corner, my mind still reeling from the unanswered riddle that had left me so uneasy.) (What startled me was that D.M. had taken the initiative to invite me into the next round of cards.) | |
| Mr. Inference, are you not curious about the celestial divine's insights? Perhaps you would like to try a round of celestial cards? | |
| (I fixed Mélodis with a probing gaze, seeking to uncover the secrets behind his sly smile.) (Indeed, from the moment he appeared tonight until now, he had not once acted in a manner that might raise suspicion.) (Yet, it was precisely this detached indifference, this lack of concern, that made his demeanor all the more unsettling.) (It occurred to me that perhaps the most prudent course of action would be to accept his invitation, allowing the cards themselves to guide me toward his hidden intentions.) | |
| My sincerest congratulations, Mr. Inference, you have won the game! | |
| It would seem, Detective, you are the second person to be favored by fortune tonight. My heartfelt congratulations. | |
| It may well be that this game's outcome was determined by divine providence. I sincerely wish you success in the ritual this evening, Mr. Inference. | |
| (The win came with such bewilderment that I could offer a polite smile, though I was not moved by it.) (Shortly thereafter, a swift, rhythmic pounding of feet could be heard from upstairs—it was the Clerk, no doubt, making his way down after completing the ritual.) (His countenance was illuminated with utter fulfillment and fervor, as though he had just been privy to some thrilling, sublime encounter.) | |
| Good gracious! What a marvelous, awe-inspiring ritual this is! Words fail to do it justice! My good friends, I stand on the threshold of a new beginning, ready to bid adieu to the tiresome, uninspired days of my past! Blessed be the celestial divine! Never before have I seen the world with such clarity—I can even glimpse the very future that awaits me! Friends, let us raise out glasses beforehand. To the birth of a new Frank Gaudy! | |
| (The Clerk laughed as he returned to the hall; his earlier melancholia vanished entirely, now replaced by boundless energy and an unstoppable stream of words.) (He seemed as though he were a completely new person... Could this be the power of the divine?) (Though others saw me as the next "lucky one" favored by the celestial divine, I was left with nothing but a deep sense of bewilderment and uncertainty.) | |
| |
| |
| (I accompanied Mr. Duval to the tower's pinnacle, where a vast terrace lay beneath the sweeping brilliance of the star-filled sky.) (With deliberate steps, I ascended the immense circular stage, my senses alert as I studied the items around the divination table with both wonder and wariness.) | |
| |
| (Atop the divination table stood a towering candelabrum, its flames burning with a scent that seemed oddly captivating.) (It was reminiscent of the heavy fragrant scent in my own room, yet there it seemed tinged with a peculiar, acidic edge.) | |
| |
| (There on the table lay a clear vial, filled with a deep red liquid, its strange allure impossible to ignore.) (One could only pray that this wasn't the substance one would be expected to drink during the ritual.) | |
| |
| (A gleaming crystal ball sat upon the divination table, its translucent surface hinting at the mysterious power the Astrologer might use to peer into the future.) (In addition, the table was laden with numerous heavy, old books, no doubt ancient tomes for scholarly inquiry.) | |
| |
| (The table was surrounded by four bizarre stones, each of a distinct color, their faint glow flickering softly in the starlight.) (It made me think of the evidence the Sheriff had discovered—there seemed to be an eerie connection between the two.) Mr. Astrologer, I must admit, I'm intrigued... What purpose do these stones serve? | |
| I procured these meteorites from a collector, hailing from the very stars above us. These four meteorites were divided into pieces and placed here to help me better channel the cosmic forces of the stars. These four colors symbolize the four elements of astrology—earth, fire, air, and water—known collectively as the cardinal elements. | |
| Ah, I see now... In that case, I surmise this crimson-hued meteorite must represent the element of fire. (As my eyes fell upon the rest stone, its soft, pulsating glow seemed to call to me, and an inexplicable urge to place my hand upon it rose within me.) (My hand almost of its own accord, began to reach out, but before I could proceed, the Astrologer's voice, heavy with warning, brought me to a sudden halt.) | |
| Do be cautious, Mr. Inference. The stones are coated with a peculiar glowing powder. Once it settles on any surface, cleaning it off is nigh impossible. Be it out of reverence for the celestial divine or for your own case, I would counsel against laying a hand upon them. | |
| (Without a word, I drew my hand back, but the Astrologer's mention of phosphorescent powder remained firmly etched in my thoughts.) (This, for the moment, was the sole clue linked to the "Star Sacrificer" case. It seemed wise to devise a plan to investigate it further.) | |
| Let our conversation cease here. Now, lay your hand upon this book of divination, and I shall grant you access to the gateway of the stars. Fear not, for as long as one's heart is pure and untainted by lies, the celestial divine shall not withhold His blessings. | |
| (Lies? The strange, luminous warning on the first-floor wall flashed in my mind, stirring a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts.) (Before I knew it, I felt my mind unraveling, a dizziness closing in, and a phantom ache began to throb through every fiber of my being.) (Just before the pain overwhelmed me, I sensed a cold, liquid substance being forced into my mouth.) | |
| Surrender your thoughts, do not fight it... Venture into the innermost mysteries of your heart, reflect on what you seek, and the stars shall provide answers and illumination. | |
| |
| (As those far-off memories slowly dissipated, my muddled mind regain its lucidity once more.) (I realized, with sudden clarity, that the pain had ceased, and I was no immersed in a profound state of peace.) (The chaos in my mind settled, my thoughts aligned with clarity, and numerous faint details that had escaped me were now brought into sharp focus.) (This unfamiliar and odd sensation aroused a wave of discomfort within me. In instinctively furrowed my brow, turning my gaze to the Astrologer, who say composed beside me.) Astrologer... what in the world just happened? | |
| Congratulations, the stars have bestowed their favor upon you. The ritual is complete. | |
| |
4-2 The Curse Unraveled[]
| (Upon returning to the hall, I found all eyes upon me, almost urging with questions and curiosity.) (Still reeling from that bizarre vision, I found it difficult to adjust to the weight of so many prying eyes upon me.) (In complete contrast to the Clerk's lively chatter, my quiet demeanor left many to adopt expressions of uncertainty and worry.) | |
| Mr. Inference, do you feel alright? | |
| If you're feeling... unwell, Elsa and I can escort you back to your room. | |
| Thank you, but I feel perfectly fine. I just need some time alone to recover. | |
| I'm glad to hear that... We were all expecting you to be excited, much like Mr. Gaudy was after the ritual. When you descended without a word, we feared something had gone amiss... | |
| It appears that the effect of this ritual differs from person to person. Hmm, how fascinating. Now, I'm intrigued to see what sort of reaction the Poet will experience after his ritual concludes. | |
| Is it the Poet who will be next to undergo divination? (I glanced at the brooding youth, encircled by the crowd, and clearly remembered the wish he had uttered before the Stone of Truth.) | |
| |
| I desire... the blessing of the celestial divine, that I may be cured of this wretched affliction of scales that plague my body. I have also come here to meet someone, a friend and mentor, who is incredibly important to me. That is the reason I stand before you. | |
| (Standing at the brink of this long-awaited ritual, should he not by joyful at the thought of his wish being realized?) (Oddly enough, his countenance seemed devoid of any extraordinary joy, even exuding a strange sense of calmness.) (As I gazed upon him climbing the stairs, a familiar breeze brushed my skin, and instantly, a sudden recollection struck me.) (I blocked the young Poet's path to the stairs, fixing him with a penetrating stare, as if attempting to peer into his very soul.) | |
| P-Pardon me, Mr. Inference... What exactly are you doing? | |
| (I looked at his hand, where, partially hidden by his sleeve, a faint greenish glow marred his skin.) (As expected... he had gone down to the basement!) (Yet, why did Dr. Goodwin hear him in his room? What crucial detail had I failed to notice?) Mr. Poet, when the ritual is complete, seek me out at once. I have urgent matters to discuss with you. (The young Poet met my gaze willfully, offering no further inquiry. He agreed, then proceeded up the stairs.) (I observed his shadow cast on the wall by the lights above, growing increasingly blurred and warped as he rounded the corner until it slowly disappeared.) (Soon after, the crisp sound of the metal chains on his cloak vanished, fading with each step until it was entirely gone.) (As time drifted on, the female student and the Seer continued their conversation on astronomy and astrology by the bookshelf for quite some time.) (The Sheriff and the Boxer, having patiently endured the Clerk's lofty talk on stock investments repeated countless times, could hardly hide their fatigue.) (As for the others, they had began the next round at the card table, and the match appeared evenly pissed.) (Only I kept my gaze unwaveringly fixed on the stairs, awaiting the Poet's return.) | |
| I never imagined that one day, you, Mr. Inference, would wait so intently, your gaze fixed as though seeing into the distance—and that it would not be for a lady. Could it be that there is something about this particular person that has captured your interest? Some kind of unique discovery, perhaps? | |
| Mr. Mélodis, are you truly without anything to do this evening? | |
| You think too highly of me, Mr. Inference—I'm nothing but a well-off, carefree fop. There's no need for someone like me to get involved in such affairs. | |
| Are even the matters of your own family beneath your concern? As I understand it, this case involves four lost lives. (Upon hearing this, D.M. dropped his playful grin. His eyes narrowed, filled with both caution and curiosity.) | |
| Are you investigating me? | |
| Indeed, the matter I'm investigating does concern you. It was only after I tracked your movements that I came here. Our meeting is no mere accident, Mr. Mélodis. Thus, our meeting here is no mere accident, Mr. Mélodis. | |
| You came for me? Is it the "Star Sacrificer" case you're investigating? Could it be that... you suspect me? | |
| There are whispers that you've been experimenting with different drugs in your search for a unique formula—and that those who died fell victim to your poison. My sources tell me that tonight, you will conduct the final experiment with your concoction in this tower. | |
| A deadly concoction? Hah! How utterly absurd. You don't honestly believe such a thing, do you? | |
| Until I find critical evidence, I believe nothing anyone says. My trust lies only in my own observations and deductions. | |
| I see now... the ill-fated Poet on the rooftop is the "critical evidence" you've uncovered. | |
| Whether he shall provide me with this critical evidence or not, I cannot say at this juncture. But it is certainly not without relevance to the matter at hand. | |
| Oh? It appears you have found something after all. The curious thing is, the "critical evidence" I believed to be most crucial also happens to lie right here, atop this roof. | |
| (I couldn't say what D.M. meant by "critical evidence," but it was apparent that we were both intent on solving the riddle tonight.) In that case, let us both see what unfolds. | |
| With pleasure. | |
| (To make the waiting more bearable, I began to glance around the hall, taking in every corner.) | |
| |
| I remembered that the phonograph had been set up against the wall, but now it looked slightly crooked.) (What is this...? In the dim light, the needle and the corner of the cabinet seemed to bear faint, glowing marks.) (Could it be more phosphorescent dust? Does this mean... the phonograph has been moved?) (I suddenly recalled Dr. Goodwin had mentioned a response, and in an instant, the mystery that had perplexed me unraveled.) (At that precise moment, footsteps began to echo from upstairs, accompanied by the familiar jingle of metal chains.) (I watched as the Poet's shadow drifted across the wall, followed by the faint sound of a door shutting on the second floor.) (Perhaps the effects of the ritual left him feeling unwell, for after he returned to his room, he didn't emerge again for some time.) (While I hesitated on whether to head upstairs to find him, the unmistakable sound of footsteps came from above.) (This time, descending the stairs was none other than Mr. Duval, the Astrologer.) | |
| Will the next guest partake in the divination follow me upstairs? | |
| (Hearing this, the Goodwins, the winners of the fourth round of cards, immediately stepped forward from the crowd.) | |
| Mr. Astrologer, might I accompany my husband? I find myself concerned for his well-being... | |
| Forgive me, Mrs. Goodwin, but only one person may receive the blessing during each divination ritual. I ask for your patience as you wait here. | |
| (Before he left, Isaac gave his wife's hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her not to be overly concerned.) | |
| Elsa... I'll be alright, I promise. You don't need to worry. I'll do as the Astrologer tells me... and I'll get better. Stay here and wait for me, just as... I'll wait for you. | |
| (Dr. Goodwin nodded, and despite the overwhelming worry and reluctance in her eyes, she had no choice but to release her husband's hand.) | |
| Do not worry. I have no doubt that Mr. Goodwin can take proper care of himself. We should stay here and wait for him together. | |
| (Dr. Goodwin nodded, and with Aurore's quiet reassurance, she returned to her place at the table.) (Much like Mrs. Goodwin, I, too, was filled with unease, my eyes still fixed on the door, waiting for the Poet.) (It was strange... The fourth round of the divination was already underway, yet Mr. Assaf had yet to emerge from his room.) (If the ritual caused him discomfort, it seemed only logical to accompany Dr. Goodwin and investigate the matter further...) (I relayed my worries to Dr. Goodwin, and she responded with a quick nod of comprehension.) | |
| You concern is well-founded—I, too, feel somewhat ill at ease. Allow me to accompany you upstairs to check on the situation for myself. | |
| (With our plan settled, we proceeded to ascend the stairs, bound for the room on the second floor.) (However, to our shock, a tortured cry pierced the air the very next instant, emanating from the top of the tower.) (Dr. Goodwin was momentarily stunned. Her voice quivering with terror, she shook as she spoke.) | |
| That's... Isaac?! | |
| (Without hesitation, she rushed ahead, and I followed in her wake as we raced toward the tower's rooftop.) | |
|
| |
| (Upon reaching the top of the tower, we saw Isaac collapsed on the ground, writhing in agony and utterly insensible.) | |
| Isaac... what's wrong? Mr. Astrologer, what happened? | |
| I am terribly sorry, but Isaac's mind reacted to the ritual with violent intensity. In the face of his mental resistance, I was compelled to halt the treatment immediately. | |
| Mental resistance? | |
| Exactly, both the celestial divine and I were unable to reach him. A barrier stands in the way. | |
| How could this be? Isaac had always shown a willingness to cooperate with the treatment. | |
| I cannot speak to the reason for such an outcome, for this is the first time I've encountered a situation of this nature. I fear it may be the consequence of some deep-seated wound upon his memory. I heard him, in his stupor, uttering the same words repeatedly, as though caught in some nightmarish recollection... I caught the faintest trace of a word—something akin to... "Mis... t?" | |
| Mistro? | |
| Yes, that was it... | |
| As Mr. Goodwin remains unconscious at present, we can discuss the matter once he awakens. In the meantime, I will escort him back to his room to rest. | |
| I'd suggest we not take him back to his room. Isaac's sensitivity to the scent there could worsen his condition. It would be best to return him to the first-floor hall to rest. I will make sure he is well tended to. | |
|
| |
| (Acting on Dr. Goodwin's advice, I quickly returned Isaac to the hall to rest.) (The unexpected turn of events caused the others to crowd around, their eyes full of concern as they looked on.) (Upon hearing that the mishap had occurred during the ritual, a momentary flash of surprise flickered across several faces.) (Lady Aurore alone furrowed her brow, leaning in to take a careful look before expertly assessing his physical condition.) | |
| Mr. Goodwin exhibits signs of mild poisoning, which would account for the disorientation he's experiencing. Have him drink some water, then monitor for any vomiting. Be careful that the vomit doesn't block his airways—he could choke. | |
| Poisoning? That's impossible... Isaac hasn't eaten anything since he arrived. | |
| (Only then did I notice that Isaac's lips had taken on a distinct, purplish hue, and there appeared to be some liquid residue at the corners of his mouth.) | |
| Could it have been something he drank just now? We'll need to ask the Astrologer to enlighten us on the matter | |
| (With a single flippant sentence, D.M. pointed the finger squarely at the Astrologer, causing every eye in the room to turn toward him with suspicion.) (However, the young Astrologer met Mélodis's accusation with complete composure, betraying no sign of fear.) | |
| It's true. I did indeed give Mr. Goodwin the Water of Purification, but I can guarantee it was free of any poison. This is an integral part of the ritual. Every guest seeking blessings has imbibed it, and I can assure you, there is nothing amiss. | |
| That's right! The Astrologer made me drink something, but I've experienced no adverse effects, and neither has Mr. Inference. | |
4-3 The Vanished Poet[]
| And what of the Poet? | |
| I suddenly recall drinking something in a haze of confusion, but clearly, unlike Mr. Goodwin, I haven't suffered any ill effects. (D.M.'s words brought forth a troubling realization—after retiring to his room, the Poet had not reemerged, raising a new wave of suspicions.) | |
| Allow me to investigate the matter. | |
| (With that, he immediately ascended to the second floor. After a brief yet anxious wait, the Sheriff returned, his face marked by a somber expression and a hint of uncertainty.) | |
| He's not in his room. Does anyone recall when the Poet might have left? | |
| We conversed with Herschel near the stairs and didn't observe anyone coming down. | |
| How unusual... his things are all accounted for, and he hasn't even taken his coat. He couldn't have gone anywhere. As it's clear he didn't come down, let's all go upstairs and search for him. | |
| (After thoroughly checking all the rooms upstairs and finding no trace of the Poet, a growing sense of unease began to take hold.) | |
| How bizarre... How could he simply vanished? Are we certain every room has been checked? | |
| We've gone through every room, but there's no sign of him. | |
| Not all rooms have been searched—the tenth floor remains unexamined. | |
| Exactly. As Mr. Duval mentioned earlier, access to that floor is strictly prohibited | |
| Surely, this rule could be temporarily set aside in light of this sudden disappearance? | |
| Hold on, now! Have you all so quickly dismissed what just happened? The unexplained blackout and the ominous writings on the wall? Who's to say this isn't the celestial divine's punishment for someone breaking the sacred rule? A warning... and now the Poet is gone! | |
| No, neither the power outage nor the writing on the wall were signs from above. This was no divine warning but an event orchestrated by human hands. | |
| Are you suggesting someone intentionally cut the power and left those writings on the wall to strike fear into our hearts? | |
| Precisely. If my theory proves accurate, the missing Poet himself is the architect of this scheme. | |
| Was it him? | |
| (D.M.'s expression tightened, his brow knitting slightly, as though my deduction had been wholly unexpected.) | |
| By what reasoning do you assert this with such certainty? | |
| The basement door's handle is marked with a unique fluorescent substance, inevitably leaving traces on anyone who crosses its threshold. Besides the Sheriff, who handled the electrical repairs, I found the same fluorescent residue only on the Poet's hands just a moment ago. | |
| So your theory is that the Poet, lodging on the second floor, managed to sneak into the basement unnoticed and shut off the power? | |
| Precisely. If my deduction is correct, the writings on the wall are also his doing. | |
| But I distinctly recall confirming that he was in his room when the power went out. Isaac also heard him. Even if he dashed back from the basement the moment the lights went out, it would've been impossible for him to reach his room before Isaac and I descended. Furthermore, I'm convinced he was inside when the lights went out. That voice... I know what I heard, and I wouldn't be mistaken. | |
| Odd, indeed... Could it be that the man has a double? | |
| We are neglecting an object the Poet brought along—one that might very well have served as his double. | |
| (I led everyone to the gramophone and ensured it was properly connected to the power supply.) (I placed the tonearm a the record's rim and drew down the lever behind it. The needle descended slowly, producing a faint, whispering hiss as it met the grooves.) (Time passed, yet the gramophone produced only a steady crackling noise. The sound everyone had been expecting remained absent.) | |
| Mr. Inference, could it be that the record is defective? What exactly are you trying to reveal to us? | |
| Steady on, now... I urge you all to wait just a while longer. (over two minutes passed in tense silence, the gramophone offering nothing but its ceaseless crackling—until, at last, a voice, unmistakable and known to all, filled the air.) | |
| What's going on? Someone, tell me what is happening out there. What on earth is going on? Could it be a power failure? I must admit, I'm a little afraid... Could someone check the basement and find out what is happening? | |
| Is this... Mr. Assaf's voice? Yes, it's identical to what I head outside his door during the power outage. Then the voice I heard at the time came from this phonograph?! | |
| I think the phonograph could be used in such a cunning way. No wonder he went to such lengths to bring it here with him. His face was the very picture of sincerity—I never suspected for a moment that the phonograph was anything but a gift for the Astrologer. | |
| In light of all this, I'm left wondering—just how much of what he said to the Astrologer was the truth, and how much was a lie? | |
| That's right. In hindsight, his words before the Stone of Truth were evasive, laced with ambiguity, and practically impossible to decipher. | |
| Precisely! I thought it was peculiar even then—everyone here was a stranger to him, and yet he spoke of seeing a friend? | |
| As he used it, the term friend sounds like a vague and elusive concept. | |
| Still, I'd wager you lot haven't been entirely honest either. | |
| (At the Boxer's unexpected comment, the gathered few hesitated, the mood dipping into a brief and uncomfortable hush.) (The Astrologer regarded the room in measured silence, his gaze as deep as the firmament and as cold as a star's argent glow.) | |
| The truth is evident at last. Mr. Assaf, masquerading as a disciple of the celestial divine, has come here under false pretenses. Taking advantage of our faith and kindness, he was willfully sown chaos this evening, seeking to disrupt the participation of others in the divination ritual. It may well be that the incident during Mr. Goodwin's ritual was, in truth, the consequence of an unspoken dread taking root in his unconscious mind. Witnessing Mr. Goodwin's ill fate, he was seized by a guilty conscience and stole away unnoticed, which explains his sudden disappearance. | |
| With all due respect, Mr. Astrologer, I find myself inclined to differ. At first glance, the inscription on the wall seems to be nothing but a menace and malediction, yet one might also discern a cautionary light—a subtle warning rather than a curse. Indeed, one cannot ignore the fact that not every guest present this evening harbors a spirit of genuine piety and veneration. The evidence is before us—Mr. Goodwin, in the throes of the ceremony, narrowly escaped a fate most dire. What if the markings upon the wall were never meant as a threat, but as an earnest admonition we failed to heed? In addition, while inspecting the rooms, the Sheriff remarked that the Poet's belongings, including his coat, had not been removed. However desperate his escape, no man in his right mind would leave behind his overcoat on a night as cold and dark as this. The key point is undeniable—there is only one way in or out of this tower: through the hall. The windows in each room are securely fastened. No route remained open to him except the main doorway, yet it is beyond question that he never descended the stairs. we can draw is this: he must be hiding on the tower's tenth floor, the one place still unexplored. | |
| That floor houses but a single room, sealed off for a hundred years or more. Not even I have the means to open it. If he set foot inside, he would quickly realize there was nowhere to hide. I do not believe he stayed there, and I must warn you not to venture too close. | |
| Tell me, Mr. Astrologer—are you reluctant to let us approach the room because it was once the prison of "Goatee" himself? | |
| Quite so... The tale was passed on to me when I took ownership of this place... of the Devil's Cell that once served as the prison of something monstrous. | |
| They say that eerie laughter, agonized shrieks, and mournful wails would echo from behind that door when midnight fell. Come dawn, the prison would be rife with grim discoveries—prisoners inexplicably injured, some raving in madness, other found dead. Not long after "Goatee" escaped, the prison warden met a grim fate, his body discovered within the very building. Since that fateful night, the chamber has remained locked, untouched and undisturbed as the prison crumbled into ruin, decaying into the hollow shell it is today. | |
| (The Astrologer's words left the gathered company speechless, and a heavy silence fell over them, their fear of what lay on the tenth floor deepening.) | |
| Be it a rumor or a reality, that chamber hardly seems like a refuge. Could we extend our search beyond the tower, perhaps outside its walls? | |
| Outside? Do you mean to suggest that the Poet somehow managed to execute a daring escape, like something out of a play, slipping away through a secret tunnel? | |
| What do you think, Mr. Inference? | |
| In the absence of a clear solution, a thorough process of elimination is a method in itself. Having scoured every corner of this tower, it would be folly to ignore the one place that has yet to be searched. If those ghastly rumors truly frighten you, then allow me to go alone. | |
| Fear? You'll find no such word in my vocabulary. No lock shall keep us out! We'll find something strong enough to bring that door down! | |
| |
| (With a powerful blow that shook the walls, the forbidden room atop the tower was finally forced open.) | |
| |
| (No sooner than the iron door swung ajar than my eyes landed on the Poet. He sat motionless in a chair, silent and utterly still.) (But what no one could have foreseen was the dreadful reality of the scene. The poor Poet has already breathed his last.) | |
