'I think the manners of death are also hints for the plot,' I said.
I was sitting in the cafeteria with Aron and Sheila again.
'Why do you say that?' Aron asked.
'I managed to get the students talking earlier,' I said, stirring up my bowl of mystery stew. 'Turns out, the week that Eli killed himself, the bullies forced him into the last shower stall with the water turned on to full heat. He was burned so badly that his skin sloughed off. Kinda similar -'
'To the death caused by those flesh-eating creatures from the showerhead,' Aron nodded. 'What else?'
'Well…' I glanced at Sheila, who was staring off into the distance, then lowered my voice a little.
'The bully? Mark Smith? He was found dead in an empty corridor. Decapitated.'
'Like the victims of the creature in the being-alone condition.'
I nodded. 'That's also why the students believed that Eli's spirit was behind it all. They thought Mark was the first victim. We know that's wrong, though. These creatures were only summoned after his death.'
'Interesting…' Aron stroked his chin. 'So there's a third party to consider in all of this. Someone who stalked Mark when he was alone, and retaliated against him.'
'With deadly force, at that.'
'Mm-hmm.' He suddenly turned to me. 'I think it's time to look deeper into that intern teacher whose diary you found.'
I thought the same.
I'd actually discovered the old-fashioned roster when I'd snuck into the staff dormitories yesterday, while testing the being-alone condition.
Before I could do much else with it, I'd been spotted and chased away by an NPC.
Well, whatever.
'I know where we can find her room number,' I said. 'We'll check it out after lunch.'
I turned to Sheila.
'Will you be joining us?' I asked.
Her gaze slid over to me.
Slowly, she shook her head.
'There's something else I must do,' she said vacantly. 'I hope you can solve this and leave the instance soon, though.'
I noticed she wasn't including herself in that.
Aron sighed.
'She'll take care of herself,' he muttered to me, before steeling himself and digging into his own bowl of mystery cafeteria slop.
…
…
This time around, I knew to avoid the small lobby office by the stairway.
'The NPCs sitting in there aren't even visible from the doorway,' I whispered to Aron as we slipped behind the front desk.
'I thought the building was unoccupied, only to suddenly get attacked by some fucker waving around a pair of giant scissors.'
I shuddered slightly, recalling the 'shiink – shiink' sounds the sharp blades had made.
Honestly, I'd been kinda happy when the being-alone condition's creature had started chasing after me again.
It had meant I'd thrown that deranged NPC off.
Presently, I crouched down and slid open the top drawer of the desk.
Et voilà.
'Here. The staff roster.'
I pulled out the long book, then looked up at Aron.
'What was her name again?'
'June Hill,' he whispered back.
It was the name that had been struck from all the lists he'd found in the staff quarters.
'Hill, June… Hill, June…' I slid my finger down the listing. 'Hill, - got it. First room on the topmost floor.'
I returned the roster to its place, and the two of us tiptoed past the small office and made for the stairway.
The intern teacher's room was, of course, locked.
Aron shrugged, then knelt down and pulled out familiar looking lockpicking tools.
I frowned. 'Are those -?'
'John's? Yep,' he nodded. 'Sheila gave them to me. Said I'd probably need 'em more.'
He stuck out his tongue as he toyed with the keyhole.
'I'm not as quick or proficient as he was,' he added after a few seconds. 'But I've also had to learn my way around this stuff.'
He glanced up at me. 'You should, too.'
I nodded.
There was a faint – click! – and the door slowly swung inwards.
'Welcome to June Hill's home-sweet-home…'
The intern teacher's single-person accommodation was a bit larger, and far better stocked, than the four-person student dorm rooms I'd seen.
There was a small kitchenette immediately to the left of the entrance, as well as a half-balcony straight ahead.
Pale-colored, light curtains fluttered slightly with the movement from the door. There were soft rugs, cushions, dried flowers in vases, and even fairy lights taped to the wall around the window frames.
The décor was very obviously youthful and girly.
But there were also schedules stuck to the wall. A whiteboard sat propped up by the bed. The desk, littered with post-its and notebooks, was also right next to a small, but well-stocked bookshelf.
At just a glance, I could tell that June Hill had been a bright-eyed, serious new employee, filled with endless optimism for the profession she's chosen.
Aron made straight for the whiteboard.
'The to-do list hasn't been updated since the 3rd of March,' he said. 'Over a month ago, based on today's date in this world.'
'She was still writing in her diary until a couple days after that. Mid-March is probably when things came to a head.'
I examined the schedules. 'Here, too. Nothing since early March.'
I turned, instead, to the desk.
The post-its there were mainly old reminders. One of them caught my eye.
'Respond to Clara's letter again :)'
'Clara…'
That name had also been mentioned in the diary.
As I rummaged through the other stuff, I noticed something sticking out from between the pages of one of the notebooks there.
It was a corner of letter paper.
I pulled it out, and flattened it out on the desk.
'Dearest Clara -'
Bingo!
I sat down and started reading.
'Dearest Clara,
You said you were coming! You said you'd be here by tonight!
I can't bear it anymore! Forget about saving my student. I can't even save myself! I've typed out my resignation already.
And that horrible feeling I mentioned? Like someone's hiding in my room at night, watching me sleep? It's getting worse!
I don't know if the stress is driving me mad, but I swear I saw a dark figure looming over me last night. I was half-asleep, though, and didn't dare move.
Is it a night terror? I have a terrible feeling it isn't.
Maybe I won't sleep tonight. Maybe I'll just pretend to, and catch whoever it is in the act.
Whatever happens, I'll include in this letter tomorrow morning.
But I hope I won't have to go post it.
I hope that you'll be here by then.
…'
There was no closing to the letter.
The writer had meant to finish it the following morning.
She'd never gotten the chance.
'C'mere,' Aron said suddenly.
I whipped around to see him on his hands and knees, examining something underneath the bed.
After a moment, he straightened up and pulled out a few shards of some ceramic material.
'It's the same material as the other flower vases in the room. There are more underneath the bed.'
'Do you think there was some kind of struggle in here?' I asked, frowning as I thought back to the contents of the letter I'd just read.
'Worse,' Aron turned to me with a grim look on his face. 'There was a struggle that someone tried to clumsily cover up.'
'The intern teacher, June Hill, was also murdered.'