A sharp snap echoed across the room.
We all flinched.
It wasn't loud. Just sharp. Too sharp. Like a bone breaking clean in half.
That was the moment everything changed.
The room— the room wasn't the same.
The air shifted first. Then the walls. The color. The texture. The smell. Like the entire place exhaled and left us behind.
Everyone turned at once toward the voice.
But where it had come from—
Lyra's body was gone.
Not just moved. Gone.
Instead, in the center of what had become a blank, sterile room, stood an erected stone pedestal—like something out of a ritual chamber.
Resting on its built-in plate... was an apple.
Bright red. Beautifully untouched—except both sides had been bitten into. Like someone had sunk their teeth in from opposite directions. Twice.
Then the voice came again.
"Now that I have your attention…"
Our heads snapped upward in sync.
And we saw him.
Descending from above.
Not falling. Not floating gently like some spirit. No. He descended—with purpose. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was performing.
He looked like… a butler at a twisted circus.
He wore a pristine black tailcoat, fitted too perfectly to be real. Silver buttons. Crisp white gloves—so white they practically glowed. But on his head was the odd part: a magician's hat. One of those tall, round ones, tilted slightly like it was part of a gag.
His face was painted—like a clown's, but in a way that somehow wasn't ridiculous. Just… unsettling.
His left eye was framed in a soft blue paint, with a single blue teardrop drawn beneath it.
His right eye? Red. The color splashed around it like makeup smeared into a perfect circle. Below it was a red smiley face drawn sideways, giving his cheek a twisted, amused expression.
And his mouth—God. It stretched wide, painted in that classic clown red, but it didn't look silly. It looked wrong. Like it could open wider if he wanted it to.
He didn't look like someone who should exist.
But somehow… he did.
And worse—he actually looked good doing it.
Amusing. Entertaining. Like walking performance art with a hint of threat.
Like a nightmare that was really proud of itself.
He didn't land. Just... hovered. Inches above the ground. Still. Unblinking.
But that wasn't what froze us.
No one even blinked at the floating part.
We were all thinking the same thing:
Who the hell is that?
Ethan stepped forward, cautious. His voice steady, but strained. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head. "Oh—my bad."
He removed his hat with his right hand in a slow, sweeping motion. His left hand curled neatly behind his back as he offered a slight bow. Polite. Too polite.
Then he straightened, smile widening.
"Okay. Time for the introduction."
He spoke like he was hosting a stage play.
"Hello, everyone. I am Jack the Ripper." [NOTE: The spelling of the Ripper is intentional]
Silence.
Then—
"What—?"
"You're kidding—"
"No way—"
The room buzzed with low murmurs. Eyes wide. Bodies shifting. All of us wondering the same thing: Is he serious?
William stepped forward, brows drawn in disbelief. "Are you saying you are that Jack the Reaper? The one who committed all those murders years ago?"
The man—Jack?—smiled again, eyes twinkling. Almost proud.
"Oh, I see. So you all think me as Jack the Reaper."
He paused.
"Well… I am Jack the Ripper. But not him. Exactly. But I am him."
He chuckled lightly, tilting his head. "Don't worry. It is very confusing, so I won't try to fry your brains. Not yet. You'll be needing them later on."
His eyes scanned the room, playful—until they locked onto mine.
And then he smiled wider. A creepy, knowing smile that pulled too far at the corners.
"I think I should tell you who I am." His tone dropped just slightly. "Or should I say... what I am."
"I am one of the 5 Wanderers of ****" He said.
He said something.
A word.
But it wasn't a word.
Not to us.
It hit like a low vibration in my head. Not a sound—more like a crack in reality. Something old. Foreign. Impossible to pronounce, even in thought.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Then he grinned. "Joker the Entertainer."
He gave a slow spin, arms out as if waiting for applause.
"But you can all just call me Joker. Since you seem not to like the name Jack."
His voice lowered again, teasing now.
"So... where should I begin?"
A pause.
He licked his lips, dramatic.
"The Trial?"
His eyes gleamed.
"Or The Truth?"
William stepped forward, his brows furrowed.
"Truth? Trial? What do you mean by that?"
I didn't wait for the clown to answer.
I stepped forward too.
"I see what's going on," I said, staring directly at the floating freak in the butler outfit.
Everyone turned to me. Every pair of eyes locked on like I'd just thrown a grenade into the conversation. They didn't get it yet.
"Wait," Harrison said, confusion bleeding into his voice, "are you telling me that he was the one who called Ms. Nakamura out?"
I sighed, slow and annoyed.
"No, you dummy." I glanced at him. "Didn't any of you feel it?"
William narrowed his eyes. "What?"
I looked at all of them. All these supposedly top-tier minds and elite heirs.
"Ever since we got to the island—to this point right now—didn't any of you feel that someone was watching you? Didn't you all feel like there were eyes on you or something?"
William's lips parted slightly, then he nodded.
"Yeah, we were talking about that earlier…"
"I did feel that," Kaida said softly.
And then the murmuring started. Quiet whispers. Pieces clicking together in their heads. The ones still capable of thinking, anyway.
Then, finally, Luna spoke up.
"So that's why I couldn't sleep," she muttered. "I kind of felt like someone was staring at me. And that gives me the heebie-jeebies. So I wasn't able to get the right nap…"
She yawned lazily, rubbing one of her eyes with her sleeve.
Everyone turned to look at her like she'd just coughed during a funeral.
William deadpanned.
"Seriously, Luna? You and your naps… Can you at least act awake?"
Meanwhile, Joker was grinning like he was enjoying the whole show. Of course he was. This was all entertainment to him.
I looked around the room, more carefully this time.
"I see it now," I muttered. "Ever since we got into this room… everybody's been acting unusual. Not only that… the ones who would usually say something in situations like this—they weren't speaking."
William frowned.
"What are you on about?"
I faced him.
"Didn't you find it odd, William? I know you noticed it, but you didn't say anything. Everyone's been acting like a side character."
Lucas, of course, had to chime in.
"Oh, so are you saying we really are in a horror novel?"
I gave him the stink eye. He raised his hands in defense.
"Sorry, dude, you just said everybody was acting like side characters, so maybe I figured you thought the same way I did."
"Well, not exactly," I replied. "But it feels like, at this moment, specific people are the only ones allowed to speak. And apart from them, no one makes any comments. They just either agree or go quiet. The ones who were making the most comments were the people who were greatly involved with Lyra. Apart from those people, the rest were just there—as nameless characters. Even now, they're just listening like good puppies."
William looked a bit unsettled.
"What do you mean, nameless characters? I mean, they all have their free will."
I shook my head.
"No. You see… in this mansion, if something doesn't concern you deeply, then when a discussion about it is brought up, your input will be very limited. And the more directly you're connected to it, the more your influence grows. Which means Luna, who wasn't that connected to Lyra, didn't say much—until the conversation shifted to something else."
I looked toward her again.
"You see, the moment we were all arguing about Lyra this, Lyra that… not everyone was speaking. It was only people who were directly involved with Lyra."
William went quiet for a beat. Then he turned slowly toward Joker—who was still grinning far too much.
William shook his head.
"I see what is going on."
He looked straight at Joker.
"Let me guess. This Trial you were talking about—is it because of Lyra's death?"
Joker's grin widened to something sharp and theatrical. Like he'd been waiting for this question.
William didn't back down.
"So you're saying that when one of us dies, there will be a Trial?"
Joker tilted his head, eyes gleaming with that carnival-cruel charm.
"Bingo. You figured it out. No wonder you are known as the Archive." Grinned.
CHAPTER END.