#ch.03

The notion of a grand ball was a heartening one—Fennec had attended so many parties in his lifetime that he should have felt at home stepping into the ballroom amidst all of the decorated passengers, but there was a certain strain about his smile, an uncertainty in his steps. From the moment he had discovered the parcel in his room, the laws of this world had been shattered; just as a cat never masqueraded as a dog, a butler never dressed up as a guest.

“…”

Fennec clasped his ungloved hands in front of him, only allowing himself to stand in the doorway for a moment before he retreated to the sidelines. As the guests mingled, Fennec stood, pin-straight, beside the refreshments table. Discreet but attentive—that was the way of the butler. The crisp white tuxedo he had been assigned to would not change him so easily. When he noticed one of the passengers approaching, the butler’s shoulders tensed; it was as if he was embarrassed to be seen. With a genial smile, he offered them a shallow bow. His voice was gentle—almost shy.

A butler was a creature of routine. Much like the train did not deviate from its tracks, Fennec followed a precise schedule—at night, he ironed and folded Jackal’s clothes for the following day. In the morning, he woke early to prepare Jackal’s breakfast—sausage and waffles with berries—and once his master had left the cabin, Fennec made his bed. 

Less than forty-eight hours had passed since Macabre Theatre. Not long ago, Pix had been dining at Neptune’s Grotto, and Mattheo Lovett had not been a murderer. Such little time had passed since Harley dropped into the fire that some might still expect to see him mingling in the lobby, but the truth was cruel; Harley and Pix were gone, and they had left twelve passengers behind. The way Fennec glided through the train with an easy smile, it was as if he had forgotten.  On the way to the newly opened car, the butler had happened upon other passengers, but he did not greet them—to impose upon the silence would be impertinent for someone of his stature, and so he offered them a humble nod as he passed by. Only after ensuring no one had need of him did Fennec retire to the quiet of the library. 

The mood of the room struck him the moment he shut the door—it was no smaller than the other cars, but there was a certain cozy air of privacy that must have been inherent to places surrounded by books. He checked his pocket watch—two hours until Jackal would be needing his lunch. Fennec spent half of that time combing the bookshelves. He had even alphabetized a small section as if by reflex. To his surprise, his exploration of the library had gone uninterrupted, but he knew it would not stay that way for long. Fennec took a seat at the desk and poised his fingers over the typewriter. His eyes hardened. He had not forgotten a thing. With a glance towards the door, Fennec began to put words onto the page. 

‘S.O.S I am one of fifteen passengers to have boarded the Echo Express. We have been trapped here for several days and made to play a dangerous game by our host, who summoned us to this train with invitations that boasted a first-class party. Three of us have died, and I fear that more may follow. If this message finds someone, pl’ The butler stood when he heard the door open. With a tall bookshelf between them, he could not see who had entered—he imagined the the passenger was similarly unaware of him.

When he had first entered the Pool Equipment room, Eita had wasted no time in stripping off his clothes. It was a small miracle that no one had been passing by as he made an impromptu changing room of the place, tossing his jacket, tie, shirt and pants into a haphazard pile. The possibility of one of his classmates walking in on him in that moment had never crossed his mind—and so, with a smile of delight on his face, the bodyguard wandered out into the hallway with his new gear; a pair of blindingly bright turquoise swimming trunks, two yellow floaties on each arm, a pair of goggles strapped to his forehead, and an inner tube that resembled a strawberry donut.  As he stood at the edge of the water, Eita spotted another student walking on the other side of the pool. 

“Hey~! Heeeey,” he called out, lifting both arms and waving them in the air. His voice echoed through the room, getting the attention of the other student and quite possibly every other person on that floor.  “Watch this!” Eita declared and, without waiting for a response, he took a running jump into the centre of the pool. All five of his floatation devices broke his impact and smacked into the surface of the water, generating a splash that burst into the air . . . right towards his classmate. Eita could only watch with a blank smile as they were drenched in pool water. 

When the tarp fell away, Sekai was  uncharacteristically quiet. He did not wail or drop to the floor or cry out any woeful words. With wide eyes fixed on the young man in the police uniform, Sekai stood and watched. Around him, the screams of his classmates reverberated throughout the room. He was distantly aware of their figures falling to their knees or pounding at the glass, but the puppeteer did not so much as turn to look at them. He simply stepped closer to the barrier, so close that his forehead was nearly touching. After a few minutes of silence, Sekai turned away and left the lobby.  For well over ten hours, the boy had been shut away in his room. He doubted that anyone would notice his absence with the anguish Monokuma’s ‘zoo’ had brought upon them.  It was almost midnight by the time Sekai had reappeared. With a blanket wrapped around him, Sekai was a small bundle on the floor beside the glass cylinder. To anyone who passed by, it might have looked as though the puppeteer was asleep—he wasn’t, though. Sleeping in the lobby was against the rules. 

It had been two days since the students had been granted access to the new building. Many seemed to have migrated there, drawn to the comfort of showers and private suites. Part of Sekai missed the barracks—it had been a lonely first night without the other boys, but the thick, fluffy mattress of his new bed had put him quickly to sleep.  In the early morning, Sekai could be seen taping a piece of paper to the lobby wall. He had already put up six others—one in the library, one in the gym, one in each washroom and another in the upper lobby. On each paper was a crudely drawn poster, advertising ‘Felix Cafe’ in a shaky attempt at cursive. Surrounded by colourful pictures of mugs and dishes was a written blurb.  ‘Come and dine at the newly opened Felix Cafe. All proceeds go to sock puppets in need (of $$$). Opening: 12PM Menu:  -Coffee  -Tea -Hot chocolate -Freshly squeezed juice -Dessert Burger -Dessert Fries -Standwich -Delicious (note: this is written in english) -Boring Salad -Maximillian Special

“There . . . that’s the last one . . .” Looking weary, Sekai stepped back to look at the poster one last time before shuffling away, avoiding the attention of anyone who might pass by. 

“To the cafe, Sekai-tan! ♪ It’s my time to shine, kyahaha!”  That afternoon, Felix (and Sekai) stood behind the cafe counter. It seemed the puppet had staged a takeover of sorts, eyeing the doorway with his button eyes. Not one second after a prospective customer had set foot in the cafe, Felix blurted out a greeting. 

A full day and night had passed after the trial with Kirie nowhere to be seen. He kept his bedroom locked, shutting himself out from the world so that he could collect his thoughts. Between sleeping, it was all he did—so much had happened lately, the least of which had been the secrets revealed during trial.

On the second day after Yuuki’s death and Aito’s execution, Kirie emerged from his room, pulling his fur coat closer to him as he tread softly through the halls. He had not yet visited the newly opened floor yet, but he expected one—perhaps this was why no one seemed to be around. As he ascended the steps to the third floor, Kirie did not know whether a familiar face was something he craved, or something he dreaded.

With an alert glance around the area, Kirie visited the infirmary first. Medical paraphernalia surrounded him as he took a few paces into the room. Bottles of pills, IVs, needles—all things that were no doubt useful for saving people’s lives but seemed somehow sinister in the midst of that bear’s game. Kirie cringed as he approached the shelves and picked up the first bottle of pills he saw, reading over the label. Kirie was startled by the sound of a door swinging open. Wide-eyed, Kirie flinched and the bottle flew from his hand, clacking onto the ground and sending pills flying in all directions.

“Ah—!!” Kirie cried out, freezing in place as the pills rolled to the ends of the floor. Fear fading from his eyes, he looked up at the classmate that had come in after him and gave a little smile.