The Culprit

My grip on reality was shattered. I had killed Misaki. The dead body lying on Ango was Shin. Ango’s face was frozen in shock, horrified at waking up with a corpse on top of him. Aoi had already drawn his pocket knife, his posture tense. Naima, ever alert, shifted into a defensive stance, her eyes darting between everyone in the room. Keiko, trembling, glanced at me and asked:
“What makes you think that?” she asked, her voice laced with fear.
“No particular reason,” I responded with a twisted smile. “Just a sweet nightmare I had.”
“It’s the dream from last year’s events, isn’t it?” Ango interjected, his voice soft but knowing. “I figured that out early on, but I didn’t want to tell you. I knew it would break you. But answer me this: if you are the culprit, why am I still alive? Doesn’t your second personality want to kill me too?”
I hesitated, reflecting on the strangeness of it all. “I thought the same when I heard your scream,” I admitted. “But when I saw the dead body on you, it all clicked. Here’s what I think happened when the sleeping gas knocked us out: my second personality woke up and came up here to kill you. But this guy”—I gestured to Shin’s body—“tried to protect you.”
“How would he protect me with the sleeping gas?” Ango pressed, his anger starting to surface.
I scanned the room, my eyes catching on something near the floor. “A cloth,” I murmured, walking over to it. “He must’ve used this cloth to block the sleeping gas, at least long enough to try and protect you.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t kill me,” Ango said, his voice now edged with frustration. “If he was protecting me, what stopped you?”
Before I could respond, the voice from the speakers returned. “Because I didn’t allow him,” the voice said, with a hint of amusement. “I told him that if he killed another extra person, I would blow up the entire building.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the final revelation crashing down on all of us. The mysteries were solved. I was the culprit, but it seemed that someone else had been pulling the strings the entire time.
“Now that you know who the culprit is,” the voice continued, smug and cold, “go ahead and kill him.”
“Wait,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My body felt like it was made of lead, but I managed to force out the words. “Before you all attack me, I still have one question. Who are you? How do you know me, and why do you want to kill me?”
The voice on the speakers paused for a moment, as if considering how to respond.
“Well...” the voice began, dripping with cold resentment. “You killed my mother.”
“Huh?” I snapped back, irritation bubbling up. “When the hell did I do that?”
“Last Halloween,” the voice continued, ignoring my anger. “There was a party at your house. A man broke in and took your parents as hostages. You remember that, don’t you?”
“We had a party?” I muttered, glancing over at Ango. “I thought it was just me, you, and Misaki.”
“Trauma can really mess with your memory,” Ango replied somberly. “But yes, there was a party. A lot of people were there.”
I tried to wrap my head around it. “Even if that’s true, what does that have to do with you?” I asked, my frustration building toward the voice on the speaker.
“You killed the man who shot your parents,” the voice explained, voice shaking slightly now, as if reliving the memory. “But after that... you didn’t stop. You stood still for a few minutes, then you went after Misaki. You stabbed her, but before you could finish, an adult pulled you back. You turned and violently stabbed that adult over and over again... That adult was my mother. And I saw it. I saw it all.”
My heart sank. “A-Ango, is this true?” I asked, my voice trembling with fear and disbelief.
Ango hesitated before nodding. “Y-yes,” he replied softly.
I stood there, speechless, my mind reeling. “Why... Why did no one tell me about this? About what I did?”
“Because we didn’t think knowing would change anything,” Ango said quietly. “You had no control over it.”
Turning my rage toward the voice, I shouted, “Hey, random guy on the speakers! I have DID. I couldn’t control myself back then!”
“Oh, I know about your Dissociative Identity Disorder,” the voice replied, calm yet sinister. “That’s exactly why I orchestrated all of this. I used it against you. This was the perfect plan—my plan to get revenge. To get you killed.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as the reality of the situation sank in. The air itself felt darker, as if the weight of the speaker’s vendetta was pressing down on us all.
“What if I win this game?” I asked defiantly, searching for any sliver of hope.
“Then I’ll cheat and kill you anyway,” the voice responded with a mocking laugh. But then the laughter faded, replaced by a more menacing tone. “It doesn’t matter who wins. I don’t care about any of them. I only care that you die, Mark.”
Suddenly, a sharp smell filled the air. Naima wrinkled her nose and asked, “Is that... gasoline?”
“Yes, it is!” the voice answered gleefully. “I purposely caused a gas leak to make it look like an accident. So here’s your choice, everyone: Kill Mark, and you’ll be free. Don’t, and you’ll all die in a tragic ‘accident.’ The choice is yours.”
The speaker clicked off, leaving the room in an eerie silence. Ango, Naima, Keiko, and Aoi stood frozen, staring at me. Fear, doubt, and tension hung thick in the air, trapping us all in a deadly dilemma.

To be continued...