64. Two Friends (1)

The killer hid their trembling hands behind their back at Katya’s deduction that had seen through their situation.

The fear of everything being exposed gradually tightened around the criminal’s throat.

They prayed again and again to gods they didn’t even believe in, hoping she would reach a different conclusion.

“The killer couldn’t leave through the hallway. Since the stairs are right next to Room 509, they risked running into someone coming up while trying to escape. So what the cornered killer chose was—”

But the gods didn’t grant the killer’s wish this time either.

“To escape downward. To Room 408 directly below, they probably planned to climb down safely using a rope or cord, but the situation was too urgent so they had to jump down with just their body.”

This hotel was built before the modern architectural trend of high ceilings.

Therefore, having lower ceilings than other places, the distance between floors wasn’t far, making it possible for an adult woman to jump down if she had athletic ability.

While everyone focused on Katya, only the killer kept their head down looking elsewhere.

Katya looked straight at the killer and spoke.

“Judith, you hurt your ankle then, right?”

Judith, who had been unconsciously grimacing from her throbbing ankle, raised her eyes.

Katya was right.

After returning to her room’s balcony, she had no time to tend to her injured ankle as she threw her robe into the river and limped inside.

Then she climbed onto the bed in just her nightwear, put on her earplugs and eye mask that were on the nightstand, and pretended to sleep while covering herself with the blanket.

Though she failed to kill Viscountess Borodin, she decided to hide for now and wait for another chance.

She had made a mistake but was confident she wouldn’t be caught.

But there was no such thing as a perfect crime in this world.

No matter how perfect a crime, it would eventually come to light.

Though justice might be slow, it would surely find its master.

“What are you saying? Are you suspecting me of being the killer?”

Judith snorted as if this was absurd.

“Just because I happened to hurt my ankle?”

“……”

“Well, fine, let’s say for argument’s sake that’s what happened with the principal. But it makes no sense that I killed the Baron! When he returned to his room, we were clearly all together in the dining room.”

“You had plenty of opportunity.”

“Don’t tell me you mean when the lights went out briefly in the dining room? They came back on in the blink of an eye—how could I have gone up to the fifth floor and back down in that time? Are you saying I used magic?”

According to Hersen law, even foreign mages had to have their status as mages indicated on their identification.

But Judith wasn’t a mage.

She was simply more clever than others.

“The first murder was much simpler than the second. All you had to do was prepare the Baron’s handkerchief with poison beforehand.”

“W-what?”

“You knew well that Baron Lantskoĭ, being right-handed, would first use the handkerchief in his left inner pocket. As you said, before coming to the hotel he used two handkerchiefs from the left, and used the last one in the dining room.”

“……”

“And when he came up here and habitually reached into his left pocket, finding no handkerchief there, he took out one from the right. Probably all three handkerchiefs on the right were laced with poison.”

The Baron entered his room to change clothes, locked the door, and stepped inside.

Having the symptoms of a cold, he felt his nose tickle before he could even change.

He sneezed, pulled out a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth, and the moment he threw it in the trash, he collapsed forward in agony.

In that instant, he tried to vomit thinking there must have been poison in his food.

But the poison had already spread through his airways via the handkerchief, leaving him no time to act before death.

“Since he inhaled the poison by his own hand, it could appear as a locked room murder. The Baron was a severe mysophobia who wouldn’t use anyone else’s handkerchief, so it would have been difficult for someone to switch them midway. Only you, who prepared the Baron’s handkerchiefs from the start, could have committed this crime.”

Finding the handkerchief discarded in the trash, Katya noticed its color was subtly different from the one he had used in the dining room.

For some reason, the remaining handkerchiefs from his right pocket matched the color of what was presumed to be the last one he used.

Starting from such a minor question, she deduced the discoloration was due to poison.

Feeling everything was over, Judith laughed emptily.

“How dare you!”

Finally free of the paralysis, Viscountess Borodin screamed and lunged at her student who had tried to kill her.

If Mengano beside her hadn’t restrained her, she would have clawed Judith’s face wildly with her nails.

Katya’s deduction didn’t end there.

The most important thing in a criminal case was the motive.

People sometimes feel murderous intent toward others, but usually stop at the thought.

To put it into action required a clear motive.

What was Judith’s motive for murder?

“You said Baron Lantskoĭ rented Room 504 every year. Of all the rooms, why specifically rent the one right above Room 404 where a ghost was said to appear? Even if he preferred that room, you’d think he’d change rooms after hearing someone committed suicide in the room below.”

And why did Viscountess Borodin enter so naturally as if she owned Room 404?

These two people Judith tried to kill seemed unbothered by Room 404 that everyone else feared.

Though the Viscountess protested to the manager about giving out a room where ghosts appeared, she herself went in and out without concern.

Her actions were contradictory.

It was as if trying to keep others out of that room.

When the ghost appeared, instead of running away like normal people would, Viscountess Borodin walked right in and took the bait.

“This has to do with the woman who died and became a ghost in Room 404, doesn’t it?”

There was no other way to explain these strange points.

Tears filled Judith’s unfocused eyes.

“Yes. I was friends with the poor girl that those two demons drove to death.”

She recalled past days marked by regret.

Those irretrievable times that still felt like yesterday.

***

During her time at Molnitsky Girls’ Academy, though Judith entered as a commoner scholarship student, she was talented enough to rank first in her year ahead of noble young ladies.

Moreover, being well-mannered, everyone from Principal Viscountess Borodin to the faculty and students loved her.

Teachers actively recommended a new teacher position to Judith in her graduating class, and not just friends but seniors and juniors also offered to write letters of recommendation if she became a governess.

But she actually wanted to become a painter.

So she stayed in the classroom after school every day painting on empty canvases.

Though Molnitsky Girls’ Academy taught art, it was only to cultivate an eye for appreciating art.

Since Molnitsky Girls’ Academy itself was established to raise ladies of noble houses, classes were naturally limited to art history rather than practical training.

The reality was that only men could exhibit paintings under their own names.

“But why do you want to be a painter?”

Judith’s roommate and best friend since enrollment asked one day.

“Do you need a reason for wanting to do something? My heart just races without any particular reason. Isn’t that what dreams are?”

“Your heart races? Then I guess I don’t have any dreams.”

“What were you planning to do after graduation?”

“Just marry a rich merchant’s son. Not all commoner students here are as smart as you, who’s smarter than most noble young ladies.”

Since noble families preferred female governesses for their daughters, the government increased the commoner scholarship quota at Molnitsky Girls’ Academy to meet the demand.

Thanks to that, a select few commoner girls could receive higher education.

Though they were all considered bright in their neighborhoods, they couldn’t help but feel the knowledge gap after enrollment.

They had no way to compete with nobles who had been exposed to books from childhood and mastered basic knowledge from governesses.

That’s what made Judith even more remarkable.

“But I actually have no talent for painting. It’s tragic when what you’re good at doesn’t match what you want to do.”

“At least you’re good at something. I’m not exceptional at anything and have no dreams.”

“Someday you’ll find something that makes your heart race too.”

“I wonder about that? Sometimes I think the gods must have forgotten to put something in when they made me and just finished roughly.”

“I should report you for blasphemy!”

Judith hugged her dejected friend from behind and started tickling her stomach.

“Kyaaaa! Let go!”

The two friends rolled around on the bed laughing and wrestling.

When Judith stayed after school to paint in the classroom, her friend wouldn’t return to their room first but waited beside her.

For her bored friend, Judith gave her sketch materials telling her to at least doodle.

While she focused intently on painting, her friend drew something too, but whenever Judith tried to look she would hide it saying it was embarrassing, so Judith never knew what she drew.

She saw her friend’s drawing some time later.

It was the day the famous painter Baron Lantskoĭ, an adjunct professor at Hersen National Academy, came to give a guest lecture at Molnitsky Girls’ Academy.