Enlightenment Under the Stars/Chapter 4

Prologue	Chapter 1	Chapter 2	Chapter 3	Chapter 4	Epilogue
Stone of Truth			Investigation Notes

The Judgment of the Stars

5-1 Crime Scene Investigation

Mr. Inference	(As a detective, with my guard firmly raised, I instructed the Sheriff to ensure no one left the tower hall.) (While the others hastily withdrew, D.M. chose to accompany me in investigating the scene on the tenth floor.) (After receiving the Sheriff's approval, we began the investigation together.)
Mr. Inference	His lips are tinged with an unnatural purplish hue, unmistakable signs of poisoning—similar to those observed in the "Star Sacrificer" case. However, the state of the body suggests death occurred no more than an hour ago.
D.M.	A wound, approximately 4 to 5 centimeters wide, lies on his chest, near the heart—likely the fatal injury.
Mr. Inference	There is no blade in sight that could have caused such a wound. If he indeed take his own life, where has the weapon gone?
Mr. Inference	There seems to be something concealed within his clothing...
Mr. Inference	A blank letter... or perhaps not—there's writing, obscured by blood, in the upper-left corner. To my dear friend... Amicitia... This must be the friend he mentioned earlier. Given the coloring and marks, the paper has likely been specially treated, suggesting he intended the message to remain concealed.
D.M.	Yet, this page reveals much—these distinct patterns, the unusual treasure... and even this peculiar font. These are unmistakably signs of the Ulliel lineage.
Mr. Inference	Ulliel? That's one of the Nine Families tied to the serial murders... But how did you determine that Assaf belonged to the Ulliel family? This letter could easily be from someone else.
D.M.	Indeed, it's possible someone else gave him this note, but the handwriting leaves no room for doubt.
Mr. Inference	The handwritings?
D.M.	Not only do these families craft unique heraldic symbols, but they also enforce a uniform style of handwriting among their members. This isn't just ceremonial vanity—it's a subtle method of confirming kinship. Exactly. While other evidence can be forged, handwriting is remarkably difficult to imitate on short notice. Moreover, if you examine the words on the wall closely, you'll see that the handwriting of each of the eight letters is entirely distinct. Each belongs to one of the families, but Ulliel's style is the only one missing.
Mr. Inference	You're suggesting... Assaf deliberately left those words on the wall in different scripts to warn the members of the Nine Families? So, the words be scrawled on the wall were a message for the other families to leave?
D.M.	Precisely. I believe he had already deduced that the murderer behind the serial killings was one of us, and so, he left behind this cryptic warning. Regrettably, even when someone—like myself—deciphered this subtle hint, they still chose not to leave.
Mr. Inference	Then may I ask, Mr. Mélodis, why did you choose not to leave?
D.M.	I'm afraid I cannot share that just yet. But rest assured, it has nothing to do with any nonsensical occult games or the ramblings of fanatics.
Mr. Inference	In that case, I cannot leave this letter with you until you reveal your true intentions.
D.M.	Fear not. I'm hardly concerned with the secrets of others.
Mr. Inference	(In the dim light, green fluorescent traces were clearly visible on the body's palm, confirming my previous theory.) There are no defensive wounds on his hands. Strange.
D.M.	Perhaps he was attacked after losing consciousness, or there may be another explanation.
Mr. Inference	I found a vial hidden in his clothing—the color appears to match the purification water from the rooftop.
D.M.	Once we test it, we'll know if the two substances are identical.
Mr. Inference	The notebook on the table is filled with intricate chemical formulas...
D.M.	These notes are highly specialized. Perhaps Dr. Goodwin could assist us in reviewing them shortly.
Mr. Inference	Several vials are arranged on the table, and three appear to be empty. The label appears to read... Hydra? Could that be the name of this concoction?
Mr. Inference	There seems to be some glowing green powder on the lock, likely left behind by the Lady of Dawn when she secretly investigated this place.
Mr. Inference	(After completing out investigation, D.M. and I made our way downstairs.) (According to the Astrologer's investigation, the vial found on the Poet indeed contained purification water.) (This confirmed my theory he had stolen it during the blackout.) (However, since the water itself is non-toxic, the cause of both his and Isaac's poisoning remains a mystery.) Dr. Goodwin, how is Mr. Goodwin faring now?
Elsa Goodwin	He's regained consciousness, and his condition is stable. He seems in much better spirits. However, he was willing to return to his room and showed discomfort in crowded place, so I suggest he take some fresh air on the rooftop.
Mr. Inference	I'd like to see him there and perhaps ask him about his experience earlier.
Elsa Goodwin	Very well, I can accompany you.
Mr. Inference	(When Dr. Goodwin and I arrived on the rooftop, Isaac was quietly staring at the stars, much like a child lost in thought.) (Despite his unchanged expression, Isaac now seemed subtly different than before.)
Issac Goodwin	Elsa... you're here.
Elsa Goodwin	Mr. Inference has some questions for you. Will you be able to assist him?
Issac Goodwin	Hmm, I'm feeling much better now...
Mr. Inference	Would you mind telling us what happened after you came to the rooftop?
Issac Goodwin	After I arrived, the Astrologer began speaking to me... but his words were hard to follow. It was all a bit too complicated... I didn't enjoy it. I began to feel... restless. There was a scent in the air that I didn't like.
Mr. Inference	What sort of smell? Can you describe it for me?
Issac Goodwin	I can't quite put it into words. It was a little like the smell in the rooms, but not exactly the same.
Mr. Inference	Would you call it a fragrance?
Issac Goodwin	Yes, it was fragrant, but with a sour, almost fishy tinge to it. It was rather odd.
Issac Goodwin	Then I suddenly felt unwell... sleepy... and there was this strange sound surrounding me.
Mr. Inference	A sound?
Issac Goodwin	Yes, a steady... tapping sound. Very faint... but I began to feel so awful that I couldn't hear it clearly after a while. I tried to turn to the Astrologer for help... but somehow, he seemed to fade away right before my eyes. I was in so much pain, I screamed. I thought I was about to collapse... but then you and Elsa appeared.
Mr. Inference	(If Isaac's account is accurate, his experience during the enlightenment ritual mirrors my own almost perfectly.) (In fact, even the unease he described during the process closely resembled mine, though I did not experience any auditory hallucinations.) (While my pain was fleeting and hardly worth mentioning, Isaac's agony was so intense it nearly claimed his life.) (Might the discomfort I experienced back the...[sic] have been an early symptom of poisoning?) (My eyes drifted toward the divination table nearby, where the extinguished candlestick caught my attention.)
Mr. Inference	(The left candle on the candlestick appears considerably shorter than it did during my own ritual.) (The candle show no sign of breakage, suggesting it was consumed by normal burning.) (It seems this candle was used during the two most recent rituals, as a peculiar fragrance still lingers in the air.)
Mr. Inference	(The tablecloth bears faint glowing traces, their color matching precisely that which stained the Poet's hand.) (It seems he left these marks during the course of the ritual.) (I believe I have finally determined the cause of Isaac's poisoning. All that remains now is securing the vital testimony.)
Mr. Inference	(I made my way back to the hall, scanning the crowd of chattering guests until I spotted the Clerk.)
Mr. Inference	Mr. Clerk, I must ask you a few questions concerning a matter of great importance.
Dispossessed Worker	Ask away! If it's about stocks or investments, you've come to the right man!
Mr. Inference	It's about the enlightenment ritual. (After a brief moment of recollection, I quickly organized my thoughts, preparing the key questions.) During the ritual, did you detect any unusual odors or hear and peculiar sounds?
Dispossessed Worker	I did notice a smell, something strange, somewhat fragrant—but as for sounds... I don't recall hearing anything.
Mr. Inference	Did you feel unwell at any point during the ritual? Were there any symptoms?
Dispossessed Worker	Hmm... I do recall feeling a bit dizzy and mildly nauseous, but it passed quickly enough.
Mr. Inference	Did the symptoms begin after you consumed a particular substance?
Dispossessed Worker	Indeed, though how did you—ah, of course, you must have partaken as well, correct? The so-called purification water. The moment I drank it, the pain slowly eased away. I can only assume it was the celestial divine's doing.
Mr. Inference	(The Clerk was eager to continue speaking, but I excused myself, as I had other matters to attend to.) (After carefully comparing my experience with those of the Clerk and Isaac, the truth behind the poisoning incident became clear.) (The poisoning and its antidote were deliberate steps in the ritual—Isaac had simply been administered the antidote after the poison had fully taken effect.) (Now, one question remained: how was the Poet's corpse transported from the rooftop to the sealed chamber on the tenth floor?)

5-2 A Hidden Passage

Mr. Inference	(Once again, I entered the sealed chamber where the Poet has perished. My gaze swept the room as I began a thorough search.)
Lady of Dawn	Is there something you seek, Mr. Inference? I'd be more than happy to assist.
Mr. Inference	(Lady of Dawn had, at some point, quietly followed me here. Poised elegantly by the door, her curious eyes were already scanning the room in silent contemplation.) (Since the Poet's passing, uncertainty had turned to dread. No longer mere rumors, the curse now took root in their minds, and none dared linger here.) (To my surprise, Lady of Dawn had accompanied me, showing no fear... in fact, she seemed quite intrigued.) (Looks like I seriously underestimated her curiosity about the "Goatee" legend.) I'm searching for a hidden passage, my lady... I care little for the ghastly tales surrounding "Goatee."
Lady of Dawn	Is that so? I thought you might have started believing in those compelling little stories.
Mr. Inference	No, I remain unconvinced by such embellished tales, spun into mystery by dramatists seeking to captivate their audience. All of it is fiction—nothing more than a finely crafted illusion. These tales are spun not for truth, but for profit, dressed in mystery to fetch a higher price. My interest in uncovering the passage comes from its importance in solving this case. It is the key to unraveling this mystery. Beyond that, I have no interest in it whatsoever.
Lady of Dawn	You may not have the makings of a celebrated dramatist, but you are undoubtedly a skilled detective.
Mr. Inference	(With a playful remark, Lady of Dawn joined me in the investigation of the chamber, thick with the presence of death.)
Lady of Dawn	Could this cage be concealing an entrance to a hidden passage?
Mr. Inference	This cage was likely once used as a tool for punishing prisoners, suspended from a secure immovable beam. Moreover, it is far too large, and I see no pulley or mechanism to move it. It's unlikely to conceal the passage we seek.
Lady of Dawn	This wooden board attached to the rope looks rather suspicious. If memory serves, in The Night of the Black Storm, "Goatee's" secret passage was hidden beneath a board just like this.
Mr. Inference	(A subtle trace of wear along the edge of the board caught my eye. Without hesitation, I grasped the rope and gave it a firm tug.)
Mr. Inference	(A narrow passage, just wide enough for an adult to pass through, revealed itself before us.)
Lady of Dawn	Drama indeed imitates life. We've finally uncovered a crucial piece of the puzzle. Now the stage is yours, Mr. Inference.
Mr. Inference	(Aurora[sic] held her golden mask to her chest, like an actress gracefully taking her final bow.)
Mr. Inference	(I memorized the ceiling's approximate position to memory before swiftly heading to its corresponding location on the rooftop.)
Mr. Inference	(Beneath the meteorite's base, I could faintly see signs of wear.) (Shifting the stone aside, I uncovered a narrow passageway; as expected, its end led directly to the sealed chamber on the tenth floor.)
Mr. Inference	(Within the passage, upon the worn steps, rested a bloodied dagger, its shape unmistakably matching the blade that ended the Poet's life.) At last, the final piece of this intricate puzzle falls into place. Now, I must return and reveal the truth of this night.

5-3 The Tragic Song of Fate

Mr. Inference	(By the time I reentered the tower hall, the night had grown late, and signs of fatigue were evident on the faces of the gathered guests.)
Elsa Goodwin	You're finally back, Mr. Inference. The Sheriff has been asking for you.
Sheriff	Mr. Inference, I have already contacted the county authorities and informed them of the details of this case. They'll be sending officers soon to retrieve the Poet's remains. As the first witness, you'll need to provide a statement.
Mr. Inference	(This is standard procedure in any police investigation, and I agreed without hesitation.) There is no objection on my part. I shall assist the authorities as a witness. However, I must ask—have we not overlooked the most significant person in this matter—the murderer of Mr. Assaf?
Click to identify the culprit
Lady of Dawn, D.M., Elsa Goodwin, or Issac Goodwin Mr. Inference This person is not the culprit.
Astrology Student	Mr. Inference, what are you implying? How could Mr. Duval possibly be the murderer?
Dispossessed Worker	Indeed! You, too, have been graced by the celestial divine's blessing! How could you utter such impudence toward the Astrologer?
Mr. Inference	Ladies and gentlemen, I am no pious adherent of this faith. My presence here severed but one purpose—to investigate the mystery of the "Star Sacrificer." I had not foreseen that the killer would dare commit another crime in my very presence, taking the life of yet another innocent soul. But this time, I regret to inform you, there shall be no escape.
Mr. Inference, need I remind you? We all witnessed it—the Poet took his own life in that wretched, cursed cell. Having been graced by the celestial divine's blessing, he saw that stain of his own sins and willingly embraced his destined end.		Astrologer
Mr. Inference	No, he did not commit suicide. His death was the result of your poison! And Mr. Goodwin was to be your next victim.
Elsa Goodwin	Could it be? Are you truly suggesting that Mr. Duval was the one who poisoned Isaac? But... I tested the substances at the scene just now—the purification water contained no poison.
Dispossessed Worker	I, too, can attest to this! I partook of the very same water on the rooftop.
Mr. Inference	Mr. Clerk, the purification water was not the source of the poison. It was hidden in something that escaped everyone's notice. The Astrologer treated it as an ordinary item and had it placed in everyone's room before the night began.
Everyone's? Then, Mr. Inference, do you truly claim that I have poisoned all present? If so, I must ask—what evidence do you possess?		Astrologer
A candle holder atop the rooftop divination table, the extinguished candle still faintly scented with something unusual.
Mr. Inference	The truth flickers before us—these candlesticks are the proof! The very air turned to poison under the soft glow of the candles you placed in each room, their flames quietly sealing our fate. While the sconce cast little more than a faint light, the candle became the room's primary and most essential source of illumination. I daresay not a single guest who entered their chamber this evening would have willingly snuffed out these candles, whose radiance provided both comfort and light. Moreover, these candles were deliberately crafted to release a fragrant scent, masking the musty staleness of the old rooms. Dr. Goodwin, surely you recall Mr. Goowin's remark about the odor in every room, one that unsettled him?
Elsa Goodwin	Yes... my husband has always been sensitive to smells. After placing our belongings in our room, we stepped outside for some air. When we came to your room, he hesitated at the door. Unwilling to enter because of the "scent," so he remained outside. But I was exposed to the fragrance too. Why didn't the poison affect me?
Mr. Inference	That's because the candles in our rooms were merely the top note of a far deadlier poison. Only after inhaling the scent from the other candle on the rooftop did the two elements react within the body, forming a lethal toxin. Thus, like sacrificial lambs, we walked unknowingly to the altar, sealing our own fate with each breath. All that remained was the Astrologer's judgment, for in his hands lay both salvation and damnation. Would he grant life, or would he take it? It was no accident that the Clerk, Dr. Goodwin, and I survived unscathed. It all came down to a single item in the Astrologer's hands.
Apologies, but I fail to see what you are implying.		Astrologer
Purification water used in the ritual, its composition unknown.
Mr. Inference	The purification water... is the antidote. Everyone who drank it tonight escaped unharmed. The Poet did not partake, and that is why the signs of poisoning are so apparent on his body.
Fascinating... And what could possibly compel me to covet the lives of those I do not even know? Countless souls have sought enlightenment from the celestial divine, yet there will always be those whose weak minds lead them to ruin. The sun waxes, the moon wanes, and the heavens move as they always have. Life and death are but whispers of fate, and none of you are more than fleeting echoes caught in its tide. Why would I concern myself with the fate of those who have no place in my world? Your lives, and your deaths... they are meaningless to me.		Astrologer
Mr. Inference	Perhaps the living are meaningless to you, but those who perished—they were chosen, were they not? No, your victims were not random at all. They were carefully selected, each one belonging to a specific family. The Poet happened to be a member of one such family. That's why he was the first you chose to eliminate tonight.
Your theory is simply absurd. If my true intent was to kill members of these families, why would they willingly come here to partake in the enlightenment ritual, essentially welcoming their own deaths? And tell me, aside from men of notoriety like Mr. Mélodis, how would I know who belongs to these families? If I didn't even know who they were, how could I possibly have a motive to kill them?		Astrologer
During the power outage, mysterious words appeared on the tower's hallway wall: "LIAR DIES" each letter slightly different in form.
Mr. Inference	Before the ritual even began, you had already uncovered the Poet's identity—there was no doubt in your mind. The Poet sensed the danger early on and left a warning on the wall for the Nine Families. As Mr. Mélodis mentioned earlier, these families each have their own crest and script, used for communication among their own. I noticed that one of the eight scripts on the wall matches the lettering on the Mélodis family crest perfectly. Therefore, I deduce that the remaining seven scripts belong to other families, coded messages meant to alert them. And you, too, recognized from the writing on the wall that the person who left it belonged to one of the Nine Families—or at the very least, was your enemy. The person who wrote the message must be the very same individual responsible for tonight's blackout. When you saw the fluorescent mark on the Poet's hand on the rooftop, you knew that he was the hidden adversary working against you tonight.
With all due respect, what you present is but a constellation of assumptions, faintly aligned with fact, yet utterly devoid of proof. All present bore witness—when Assaf descended from the rooftop, he showed no sign of affliction. For all we know, the wound in his chest could have been self-inflicted. Without proof, how can you possibly claim it was my doing?		Astrologer
A coat, abandoned by Assaf and carelessly piled in the corner.
Mr. Inference	No, Assaf never had the chance to descend from the rooftop. By that time, the poison had already begun to take effect, and you had already placed him in the hidden chamber. Therefore, the Assaf we saw descending the stairs was not truly him—it was you in disguise. After concealing his body in the secret chamber, you removed his coat, donned it yourself, and impersonated him as you returned to his room on the second floor. Then, you took off his coat, slipped away unnoticed, and pretended to have just come down the stairs. Due to the dim lighting in the tower and people's assumptions, no one questioned the person descending as being anything other than the Poet. And so, the slight differences in build or the subtle behavioral discrepancies went unchallenged. Then, Mr. Goodwin followed you up to the rooftop for the next ritual, but something unexpected occurred. Assaf did not die immediately from the poison. He regained consciousness in the hidden chamber and tried desperately to signal for help by pounding on the walls.
What a fanciful tale! You were nowhere near that chamber, so how could you possibly have heard the dying man's cries for help?		Astrologer
Before losing consciousness, Mr. Goodwin heard rhythmic knocking sounds from below the rooftop.
Mr. Inference	Mr. Goodwin's testimony clarifies this matter. While undergoing the ritual, Mr. Goodwin heard sounds coming from below, though the poison's agony had rendered him mute. So, you deliberately withheld the purification water from Mr. Goodwin, intending to let the poison run its course, thus concealing the death in the same manner as before. When Mr. Goodwin finally succumbed to unconsciousness, you used the passage to return to the tenth-floor chamber and finish off Assaf once and for all.
All of this is mere speculation. Tell me, where is your proof that I am the one who took his life?		Astrologer
A bloodstained dagger, discarded in the hallway of the secret room.
Mr. Inference	This dagger... It is the very weapon you used to murder him. A secret passage, built long ago, connects the rooftop to the tenth-floor chamber. Through this passage, you concealed the body and committed the murder. As you held the dagger, poised to return to the rooftop and deal with Mr. Goodwin in the same fashion, you heard us approaching. With no time left to finish your grim task, you were forced to discard the dagger into the hidden passage and hastily forced the purification water down Mr. Goodwin's throat. Mr. Duval, if you still wish to argue, perhaps we should have the police examine the fingerprints on the dagger. Moreover, the secret passage, the crime scene, and even the handle of the Poet's door should bear the traces of your involvement. Do you need more evidence, Mr. Duval or is this enough to unravel your lies?
No... there is no point in continuing. The truth has already been revealed. Yes, his blood is on my hands. As are the others. The entire "Star Sacrificer" affair was my design from the very start.		Astrologer
Dispossessed Worker	My God... is it true? And to think I trusted you! You're a murderer!
Astrology Student	This can't be... How could you do such a thing? You're clearly...
Astrologer	Ms. Herschel, I know I have disappointed you. I am no longer the man you once admired, nor am I worthy of leading anyone. Whatever image you once held of Auburn Duval... he is now gone. The paths of astronomy and astrology have long since diverged. There is no use in clinging to an impossible reunion or looking back.
Astrology Student	Mr. Duval...
Astrologer	Forgive me... I can only hope that, one day, you will finish what I could not.
Mr. Inference	(Ms. Herschel wept as she turned away, the others following, their faces heavy with disappointment as the truth settled in.) (It seemed that, at last, he no longer needed to uphold the façade of perfection. His face was one of wistful relief.) Mr. Duval, you have lost all those who once truly respected you.
Astrologer	Once, I might have sought such admiration. Now, it holds no value to me. The only thing that can now fill the void in my soul is the satisfaction of vengeance.
Mr. Inference	(The young Astrologer raised his head with a cold, distant gaze, as though peering beyond the tower walls into the infinite stars.) (Once a prodigy revered by all, he now bore only the frigid emptiness of a murderer in his eyes.)
Astrologer	Mr. Inference, I have glimpsed fragments of your past in your moments of confusion. There was a time when you and I were no different. You were bold, untamed, driven by ambition, our hearts set on a future brimming with limitless dreams. But fate shattered the one thing we held dear, and from that day forth, the world was never the same. You have yet to find your answer, and so you continue down your path in search of truth. On the other hand, I have found mine, and I cannot allow those who stole everything from me to draw another breath in this world. No one has ever heard these words of pain and despair from me before, Mr. Inference—no one except my closest friend. If you are to be my confessor, then I shall share the part I buried long ago.
Mr. Inference	(As the Astrologer recounted the past he shared with his sister, I found myself speechless, overwhelmed by the weight of his story.) (Once destined for greatness in the scientific word, he had chosen vengeance instead, sealing his own ruin.) (Then, it hit me—he was the person the Poet had written of, the one he called Amicitia... his only true friend.) Mr. Duval... there is something you must see. (I took out the letter I found on the Poet's body and handed it to Mr. Duval.) (As expected, the moment his eyes fell upon the top of the letter, her immediately recognized the writer's identity.)
Astrologer	This... this is a letter from 367? How did it end up in your hands?
Mr. Inference	Mr. Duval, this letter was taken from Assaf's lifeless body. I believe this was the reason he came here... to deliver to you, the last letter he ever wrote to you. (Duval's hands trembled as he clutched the fragile sheet of paper, shock and agony eroding the last vestiges of his composure.)
Astrologer	Assaf... he was my friend? No... that's impossible... He was a[sic] Ulliel...
Mr. Inference	(He lowered his gaze to the handwriting he knew so well. Overcome by helpless despair, his whole body shook.)
Astrologer	I... I killed him with my own hands... my one... my one true friend?
Mr. Inference	(Unable to bear witnessing this cruel twist of fate any longer, I silently turned and left.) (Had Mr. Duval's eyes fallen upon these words sooner, could the stars have charted a gentler fate?) (But when the Poet chose to seal this letter in blood, he must have known he would never leave this place alive.) (Yet such cruel punishment is far worse than a thousand deaths.) (When the flames of vengeance burn to their last ember, they do not spare the one who lit them, nor anything they held dear.)