Author: Lurina

246: What Killers Always Do (𒐆) - The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere | Royal Road

Inner Sanctum Underground | 9:33 AM | ∞ Day

I resolved to give him a maximum of ten minutes, checking my resonator to make sure I would actually commit to this notion instead of getting strung along on yet another bullshit digression. (Not that there was anything else it seemed like I could do other than let Kam lead me around while waiting for Yantho to show up.) Since Kam had finally explained why the Manse was so difficult, I wasn't convinced he could impart anything I didn't know already, but if he really had so much status here, then rejecting him could have social consequences. Even if I ended up abandoning this Domain without ever revealing my true identity, I at least wanted the time I spent here to be pleasant. Getting sneered at and being gossiped about would just make it even harder to decide rationally.

As mentioned, there was a passage directly to the arboretum from the central bioenclosure, so it didn't take us long to get to our destination. It looked much as I remembered it: Hills, a few trees, green grass. And of course the Nittaimalaru towering in the background, its light made dim by the opacity of the ocean, becoming only a constellation of strange lights except close to the glass.

...actually, I said that, but looking more closely, for the first time it felt like the reconstruction was slightly off, somehow, though I couldn't quite put my finger on how. I suppose that made sense; being an esoteric construction with a secretive purpose situated in such a weird position, it wasn't as if many people beyond Neferuaten and Durvasa would have ever had a chance to get a good look at it.

There was something different beyond just its appearance, though. It felt... less imposing. Maybe because it didn't work? That conclusion felt a little pseudo-scientific.

The bird man waited until he'd led me into the glade of trees before slowing to speak with me. I could see the bench where I'd spoken with Neferuaten after the loop was over some yards off to our left, but he didn't lead us there, presumably because his ridiculous wings would have made it difficult to actually sit down comfortably. Instead, he simply began:

"I noticed that you weren't completely satisfied with the solution I offered to the game being played over breakfast," he said smoothly. "May I ask why?"

I frowned. Had I been brought here under false pretenses? Was this actually just about this asshole wanting to soothe his own ego? Whatever. I just wanted to get it over with.

"I mean... because it felt arbitrary," I said with a shrug, not deigning to meet his eyes. If he was going to fuck around by not even wearing a real face, I wasn't going to look at it.

"Arbitrary?" Head tilt. "Can you elaborate?"

I sighed through my nose. "The doctor not just noticing she wasn't dead, but concluding that she'd been poisoned by something specific, felt completely implausible," I stated. (As I said it a minute ago, you could contrive an excuse to justify it, but I wasn't feeling charitable.)

I'd expected him to push for details, then instead he just paused for a moment, then asked: "Is that all?"

This fucking guy.

"No, that's not all," I decided. "When I say 'arbitrary', I mean that almost any solution could have been true." I cast my eyes down for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "You said that there were only two reasons she could have had for pointing at the lamb, but that's not true: That either she believed it poisoned her, or she was trying to misdirect us."

"Do you disagree?"

"Not with that, but--" I hesitated, cutting myself off. "Actually, no, even that is questionable. The gesture she was making could have been misunderstood. Maybe she was trying to reach up and point to a certain individual, but couldn't control her own muscles because of the poison. Or maybe another food item. Or maybe there was some more obtuse explanation, like whoever killed her had a name that sounded like 'lamb', or maybe lamb had some deep personal significance to her." I took a breath, trying to reign in my frustration. "But what I was going to say was that it was the conclusion you drew after that which was wrong. You said that she couldn't reasonably have believed that she was poisoned by the lamb specifically because she'd been eating multiple different things from across the spread, and would have no way of knowing what to blame. But that assumes not only that she didn't already have a hunch there was something wrong with it - maybe in the flavor, for example - but also that she, someone ostensibly in the process of literally dying, was a rational actor in the first place. She could have had a vague hunch for any number of reasons. Maybe she saw that other lady touch it. Maybe it was just the last thing in her mouth when the poison hit. Maybe she had some personal beef--" Fuck, that sounded like a joke," --with whoever happened to serve it. So her actions there might have had no bearing on the truth at all. And since everything wrapped up before much hard evidence came to light, that means it could have been almost any of the possibilities I suggested."

I had to take a moment to catch my breath as I finished ranting. The bird man regarded me as impassively as ever as I did so, waiting for me to look up at him again.

When I finally did, he raised his wings slightly - a motion that could perhaps have been interpreted as a shrug - and said: "You're absolutely correct. Based on the objective evidence available, it could have been."

My mouth opened for a moment, then shut, wrinkling with displeasure. Somehow, hearing him agree with me failed to make me feel much better.

Several moments passed, a leaf falling from one of the trees and softly wafting towards the ground. (I'd almost forgotten how strange it was in the indoor-as-outdoor spaces in the sanctuary, without any wind.) I got the sense that he was expecting me to say something, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was, but refused to play ball, keeping my expression as still as possible.

After the staring contest continued for about 30 seconds, he finally looked away. "And yet," he said, as if this had been the plan all along, "my answer was correct."

"Well, yes," I said, my tone making it clear I conceded nothing.

"So doesn't that suggest there was reason to my underlying method?" He asked. Despite my assumptions, he still didn't sound at all insecure or arrogant, only curious. "Beginning with, and testing, the most fundamental premise?"

"I mean, kind of. If you ignore the fact that you were certain of the answer from the very start." My nose itched, so I raised my hand to adjust my glasses, only to forget that I didn't actually have glasses on, and subsequently attempted to pass the mannerism off as pinching my brow in irritation. "Though, from your perspective, that wasn't the most fundamental premise. You weren't there when the crime actually happened, so the first thing to verify would be that our stories lined up. That the entire thing wasn't staged."

"I see. Why do you suppose I didn't do so, then? And that I concluded as I did at once?"

"I mean... I assume because you know the culture," I replied, finally getting to the point I'd already been thinking about earlier. "I assume everyone here has been doing this for so long, it's easy to guess what people are going for based on context clues, what kind of tricks are in vogue, things like that. But that's not deduction."

"Isn't it?"

I flattened my lips.

"A minute ago, you stated that the doctor's observations being so perfectly incorrect were implausible. And yet, he made them."

"Because he was metagaming," I stated. "They admitted that explicitly after the game was over. She had him bumble around behaving like the perfect idiot victim because they knew one another, and staged the whole thing in advance. But that wasn't part of the story."

"Does that matter?"

"I..." Once again, I found myself sighing. "Of course it matters. The whole point of roleplay is to construct a cohesive reality. Where even if it's fake, it feels real."

"Has something fake ever even once felt real to you? Completely?"

The question took me off guard. I blinked twice.

"I... well, no, not really," I admitted. "But the point is to get as close as possible, isn't it? What's in the books in the Manse-- Well, it probably really happened," I quickly corrected. "And isn't that the point of doing any of this? Trying to practice the thinking that'd help there?"

"Ostensibly." This time his tone had a subtle hint of amusement. "But tell me. If it had been a real crime, one orchestrated completely impromptu without expectation or convention, do you think the answer would have been more fair, or solvable?"

I squinted. I could see what he was trying to get at, of course; it was the same thing I'd been thinking about back during the train game. If you were honest, the entire mystery genre was kind of a complete scam. The only things you could really base the parameters of your reasoning on were tropes - culture - and personal faith and understanding of the author. Without those, no matter what reasoning you used, an almost innumerable amount of solutions were possible.

But that wasn't the fault of the mystery genre - or at the very least, the mystery genre wasn't the root of the problem. Rather, the issue lied within reality itself. This 'detective' talked about fundamental premises, but as Summiri (or rather, Nahmi) had pointed out, there wasn't actually any such thing as a fundamental premise. The world was an abyss of possibility where nothing was utterly certain because everything could be recursively questioned. All that happened in a situation like this was the artifice of constructed solvability falling away to unmask that truth.

"...no," I finally answered. "Probably not."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Because in reality, the only times people get caught in a crime are when it's really brazen and complicated, or when they screw up and get caught red-handed," I said. "If you wanted to poison people at a dinner like this, the bigger issue wouldn't be getting caught. It'd be killing the person you meant to without any collateral damage in the first place."

"In that case, it begs the question of why you're here at all, doesn't it? Surely if you believe the books in the Manse represent a real crime, it is one exponentially more complex than a simple dinner poisoning."

Good question, the logical part of my brain said sarcastically.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Well... there's more evidence," I pointed out.

"True," he acknowledged with a nod. "But many would say only the better to drown in. It's self-contradictory. Abstruse. Some would say it only represents the same variation of possibility that exists in our own reality."

I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying that, no, it's not all some metaphor, there actually was a time loop we were apparently trapped in for thousands of years. (Actually, did people here even think of it like that? Obviously Kam and the others would have given them their own accounts, but did even she have this conception of a 'loop' before I'd brought it up?)

I huffed a little. "Maybe you're right. I don't really know what I'm doing here."

"What motivated you to come, Miss Sharoni? If you'll permit me to ask."

"Because I'm stuck in this world and want to change it. Isn't it the same for everyone?"

"Hm." This time it was the bird man's turn to fall silent for a moment. He shifted away slightly, looking towards the Everblossom. Then, finally, he asked - if in inverse - the question he'd been trying to prompt out of me a minute earlier. "Why do you think I presented the solution I did? If you'll grant that I was operating under social assumptions, as you said."

I peered at him. I was starting to wonder when the 'advice' he supposedly wanted to gift me was ever going to actually come. "I suppose you were probably trying to play into the bit," I speculated. "You understood the conclusion they wanted you to arrive at, what would make the ending feel like it was reached meaningfully, and then did as much."

He glanced back. "You're quite perceptive."

"I mean, it's not particularly difficult to guess. You call yourself - or people call you, I dunno - the 'great detective'. That implies a certain theatricality beyond just being good as mysteries."

"So you could say that the endeavor was a cooperative project, then," he mused. "Between Miss Khurram, her friend, and myself. And everyone else at the table, for that matter. Something that came together through an unspoken act of mutual understanding."

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

He paused before answering. "If solving a fabricated mystery depends on understanding those who created it, and the circumstance it was created within, is the same not true for understanding any series of events which involves human beings?" He inclined his beak. "After all, all goals beyond the most elementary exist only in relation to our own constructed meaning, our own self-conceptualization. Are we not all the authors of our own lives?"

God. Another person hitting me with self-narrative shit.

For some reason, the words Phaidime's player had offered on the train popped into my head. Everything we do is a confession.

I gave him a flat look. "If you're trying to say I should look at the books in terms of the motives of the 'characters', or the people they're supposed to represent, then that's..."

"Somewhat basic?"

I was glad he'd saved me from saying it less politely. "Well, yeah."

"It's less a matter of motive and more a matter of paradigm, I would say," he said. "As you might've guessed, I'm something of a fan of mystery novels, like many people in this Domain - though the specifics of my interest may differ. And similarly to the game earlier, those are also laden with unspoken rules. That applies to every 'genre' of communication, but the key is in realizing when you are making those assumptions, and on what basis." He took a step forward. "I've studied the Manse for a very long time, and what I've learned is that more than anything else, people use it as a mirror. For some people, it's a source of divinity, or an explanation of this world's origin. For others, it's nothing but a very complicated and obtusely told novel or historical text."

I frowned. "Are you one of the people who don't think it's related to the Order of the Universal Panacea?"

He shook his head. "No, I do. Just from the existence of the Landmarks as the greatest unexplained objects in this world, it would be foolish to deny all connection." It was hard to tell, but it looked like his dark eyes flitted to the side. "Yet, I would say that it's a mistake to treat it as a mere mystery. That's to say that there isn't a mystery in each of the books - there is, of course, in some cases even an answered one - but I don't believe they should be thought of as distinct hints. Rather, each is some kind of piece of a wider whole. Every scenario existing in service to some uniform interest, an unseen 'author' whose fundamentals can only be inferred."

I couldn't stop myself from blurting out slightly more than I probably ought to have. "You mean, the culprit. Whoever caused what happened to everyone at the conclave."

"You've heard Kamrusepa's account, I assume."

"Y-Yeah. ...are you skeptical of it?"

The bird man paused for a moment. He looked upwards. "I believe that the events that the conclave attendees report did truly happen, and likely each represent one of the untold texts within the Manse," he said, after a moment. "But if there's anything to be gleaned from them, it's not in their contents, but their differences. What, when you filter away that which can be explained through understanding each individual and the parameters which appear universal, is changing? Find that, and I believe you'll begin forging down the right path."

Except that I knew the answer to that question already. The Lady had told me herself - she'd created variations on the individual parameters of the scenarios to try to find a way to resolve the contradiction created by the proxy. Again, he was reading too much into something with a very literal explanation.

...wasn't he? Why did it feel like there was something I was being reductive about?

"One final thing," he added. "When considering a paradigm, one cannot exclude oneself. You contributed to the game earlier, as well, even if you did so unknowingly." For a moment, his voice seemed to shift a bit, almost as if he was talking past me. "And that's even more true for the reader of a mystery novel, without whom the entire thing would be an exercise in vain effort."

"I don't know if I understand," I replied, a little tiredly.

"I'm saying that we, too, are part of whatever context the Manse exists within. We cannot imagine ourselves as mere bystanders. This, too, might be part of whatever is the reason for its existence, the arcs of our lives shaped to its will." He shook his beak. "But perhaps it's too soon to have you thinking along those lines. All I suggest, in truth, is empiricism. Observe patterns and outcomes, and don't allow them to pass before you subconsciously." He turned. "That's all. If you decide to commit yourself to this path, perhaps we'll speak again. If you'll excuse me..."

And then, rather suddenly, he ended the conversation. ...Well, I'm probably making that sound more melodramatic than it actually was. It wasn't as if he vanished in the way Ophelia had, he just turned and began walking away slowly. I could have stopped him if I had any questions, but I just watched him go with a weird frown on my face.

Glancing at my resonator, a little over five minutes had passed. Not even close.

After standing alone for approximately 20 seconds, Kamrusepa emerged from somewhere nearby. Maybe it was a coincidence that she showed up at this particular moment, or maybe she'd followed us and had been lurking somewhere nearby the entire time. I wasn't in the mood to try and make fun of her if that was the case, though.

"An illuminating discourse, I trust?" she asked, her tone dry.

"Not really," I said hesitantly, then lowered my voice. "Other than asking me why I wasn't happy at breakfast, he only really seemed to want to talk about the high concept of what the Manse is, which ended up feeling a little, well." I scratched the side of my head. "His ideas were sort of interesting, but obviously he's trying to cobble together the truth second hand, and..."

I trailed off, feeling somehow uncertain for a moment. Kam quirked her lip in puzzlement. "Su?"

"Uh, sorry, just chewing on it."

"Of course." She put her hands behind her back. "Well, such things can't be helped. While the others can be useful, ultimately, their lack of direct experience will always send them on wild goose chases. Frankly, it's one of the small blessings that grant me some comfort with the present atmosphere in the Domain."

I nodded, still not really completely engaged.

"In any case!" Kam digressed, clapping her hands suddenly. (I jumped a little.) "I have good news!"

"I-- What sort of good news?" I asked skeptically.

"Ophelia has finally got over her little flap earlier and agreed to meet with us," she said, wiggling her resonator. "So we can get right back down to business."

Oh, right. "You didn't agree I was going to apologize, did you?"

She clicked her tongue. "Gods, Su, you are being such a little baby about this."

"Is that a yes?"

"No, it's not a yes, although I really don't see why you wouldn't. It's not as though it matters." She sighed. "No, she says she just wants you to answer some of her questions. Take a look for yourself, if it should please you."

I leaned forward, peering at the resonator's screen. (This approach to things still felt like such a downgrade from logic engines to me, though I guess you could get ones that worked both ways.) Sure enough, there was a rather succinct message along the lines she described, inviting us to meet with her in some place she'd labelled 'MR'.

"I knew her curiosity would get the better of her in the end," Kamrusepa spoke smugly. "That's always how she's been, even before we were here."

"What does 'MR' mean?"

"Mm? Oh, 'Memento room'. That's--"

"The initiation chamber?"

"That's the one."

I nodded, looking back up at her. "Well, I can't really say I'm looking forward to getting yelled at for something I never did and can't even imagine doing, but... we're here, so I suppose I should follow through."

She put the resonator away. "Shall we go now, then? People are still moving about a bit after breakfast broke up, but the underground is usually rather quiet unless there's some specific investigation going on, or an event being held there. I don't expect we'll have too much in the way of distraction."

"Sure, I guess."

We departed. Back through the fake bioenclosure, then to the Order headquarters building again. The strangeness of all this hadn't yet dulled, although this time there was less of a faint sense of dread, at least until we approached the security center, which I associated singularly with the loop and not my memories of the 'mundane' weekend. Kamrusepa, seeming to read between the lines, redirected us unspokenly towards the wine cellar entrance to the underground instead. As we approached, I spoke up.

"I wonder if the Lady could be lying to me about things," I mused, looking down at my feet.

She glanced over her shoulder. "You made a rather good case for her being the genuine article earlier."

"I don't mean about her nature," I corrected her. "But... I was thinking, a lot of the specifics of what she told me about the nature of the loops isn't really verifiable. Some of it I confirmed by talking to Neferuaten, but..." I bit my lip. "I don't know."

Kam presumably considered this for a moment, though I didn't have a good look at her face. "If she's truly some kind of higher being, I can't think of a reason why she'd bother doing such a thing."

"That was my original thinking, but I wonder if it really holds up," I considered. "I mean, by talking to me in the first place and making all of these strange offers, that obviously indicates she has some kind of personal investment in my situation. And she already lied about the hourglass. That was by omission, and it only seemed like she did it to mess me around, but... I don't know. Maybe she could lie about specific details, too."

She rolled her shoulders. "What you relayed to me makes sense with the facts as we know them... but I would take anything that can't be verified with a grain of salt." She clasped her hands together as we descended. "My gut says that if she remained constrained to technicality once, that'll likely hold, even if it's only a matter of principle. But there are many ways language can stretch the truth."

I hummed furtively, glancing about as our surroundings grew darker.

"Normally I would suggest you question her and try to catch her in a contradiction," Kam continued, "but I'm not sure if that would work on an entity that experiences time unconventionally."

"I'm not sure I'd be very good at that. I don't really have that sort of, uh, rhetorical deftness."

"You do tend to employ more of a siege strategy, it's true."

"What's that supposed to me--"

"Is it possible for you to bring someone else to see her?"

I was about to push forward despite her interjection, but the question surprised me a little. "I... don't know," I said. "Maybe?"

"Mm," Kam hummed. "Something to investigate." She glanced back at me again, an eyebrow raised. "Why do you bring this up?"

"The detective was talking about the reason why the loops were different, and if it might indicate a reason for why they existed in the first place. I told you what she said about that, but..." I glanced to the side. "I remember when the Lady was showing me your account. There was something that popped up right at the start, before anything else."

"Oh?"

I nodded. "It said 'Scenario Conceit: No Death.'"

She scoffed. "Well, that's certainly a fib," she said. "Quite a number of people died." She scratched her chin. "But there is something else it could refer to, I suppose."

"The 'Death' role, you mean," I said. "In the books."

She nodded slowly. "That's interesting, but I don't see why it gives you cause to doubt her explanation specifically. It fits with the idea that there were certain values she could 'tweak', which we see the result of in the Manse."

"I know, but..." I hesitated. "I don't know. It feels like there's something about it that's strange, but I can't quite place it."

It was difficult to feel nostalgic about a set of tunnels I'd barely even absorbed upon my first visit, so the rest of the walk happened without much ceremony. Soon, we passed the hall leading to the large chamber that housed Sekhmet and Eshmun, and arrived at the heavy wooden doors into the initiation room, which Kamrusepa pushed open.

Ophelia was inside, in plain view. She sat on a chair beneath the statue of Eshk, directly adjacent to the induction bed.

Her eyes were cold.