Chapter 15: I Will Stay Here  

In the spacious dining hall, flickering candlelight illuminated a headless corpse, its hands clasped over its chest in prayer beside a blood-stained tablecloth. 

Silent men and women stood around it, creating a scene both gruesome and eerie, like a wicked ritual to appease a demon.  

Jesse Holmes was the last to arrive, trailing behind Donahue Bobby. 

Surprisingly, this seemingly timid and cowardly man reacted with remarkable calm upon encountering the “crime scene,” even greeting the others casually.  

Something’s off—there must be a reason for this abnormality. 

Rosie couldn’t help but glance at Jesse twice. 

The man’s gaze was calm, his lips slightly curved in a faint smile.  

Is something wrong with him?  

As she pondered, a sharp voice interrupted, “What are you doing?”  

Rosie turned her head to see Herman, who had somehow moved to “Hannah’s” side, his hand reaching toward the corpse but stopped mid-air by another’s grip.  

Dennis Sandek stared coldly at the man, his expression far from friendly.  

Herman glanced at the hand gripping his arm, showing no anger. 

He nodded toward “Hannah” and said, “What am I doing?  

Obviously, checking the body for any clues.”  

“If Mr. Sandek objects, you can inspect it yourself.”  

Dennis paused briefly before releasing his grip.  

More than the middle-aged man’s intentions, Herman was focused on the condition of the baron’s daughter’s body.  

He flexed his fingers, tucking his thumb inward, and reached with his four extended fingers to touch the corpse’s neck.  

Thankfully, no horrific scene unfolded with the body suddenly grabbing his wrist.  

Herman frowned, then methodically checked the arms, wrists, and finger joints.  

Finally, he crouched down, ignoring the foul mess on the floor from relaxed sphincter muscles, and twisted the corpse’s lower limb joints.  

Donahue Bobby, suppressing the urge to vomit, looked at the man standing up and asked, “Mr. Rhys, what are you…”  

Herman pulled a dark blue handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his hands as he explained, “The upper limbs show signs of rigor mortis forming.  

It hasn’t spread to the lower limbs yet.  

The time of death should be within the last three hours.”  

“Mr. Rhys, aren’t you a journalist? How do you know this?” 

Dwight Nell asked.  

Herman paused his wiping, turned to the middle-aged gentleman with a smile, and said, “A journalist? Well, I’ve covered a few bloody cases here and there, so I’ve picked up a bit.”  

Rosie pursed her lips and suddenly asked, “Mr. Rhys, is Hannah posed like this because she was praying before she died?”  

Herman shook his head. “Like animals, humans’ muscles relax quickly after death.  

The jaw drops as the bite muscles loosen, and even the pupil’s smooth muscles are no exception.”  

He pointed to the foul mess on the floor. 

“If even the most instinctive reactions fail, how could she keep her back so straight and make such a precise gesture?”  

“So you mean…” 

Rosie had a rough guess forming in her mind.  

“The killer didn’t leave immediately after killing Miss Carter but held the body in this position until rigor mortis set in.”  

“Based on the state of rigor, they likely left no more than half an hour ago.”  

A chill crept up everyone’s spines, followed by a wave of dread.  

What kind of monster would linger in this foul, blood-soaked environment with a corpse for hours before leaving?  

Was there really such a person, this so-called killer?  

Dwight Nell couldn’t help but recall that phrase.  

One redemption, one name.  

“The par-parchment.”  

The middle-aged gentleman’s lips trembled as he stammered.  

In an instant, a heavy shadow loomed over the dining hall.  

The prophecy had come true. 

The one who resisted was now a headless corpse, and any further words seemed futile.  

Suddenly, someone broke the silence.  

“Everyone, I found a staircase leading upstairs on my way here.”  

It was Jesse Holmes.  

“A staircase?”  

Swish.  

Jesse’s head snapped to the side like a spring, facing Dwight Nell, who had spoken.  

His grin widened, but his tone remained calm. 

“Yes, a staircase. Keep going toward my room, and there’s a set of stairs.”  

Dwight knew where Jesse’s room was. They hadn’t seen any stairs on their way yesterday.  

But looking at Jesse Holmes, he couldn’t bring himself to argue.  

Truth above, he just wanted to leave this room—damn it, damn it!  

Dwight forced a smile and suggested, “In that case, why don’t we go together to check out the staircase Mr. Holmes mentioned? Afterward, we can…”  

“Decide whose name goes on the parchment today.”  

Suspicion and wariness descended once more.  

“Sorry.”  

Herman shook his handkerchief, glancing sidelong at the group.  

“I plan to act alone.”  

“Mr. Rhys…” Donahue started to say something.  

But he was cut off after just saying the name.  

“Last night, we were all alone in our rooms. In other words, any one of us could have returned to the dining hall and killed Miss Carter without the others knowing.”  

Bev Hardy, still reeling from the shock, snapped, her voice shrill and piercing.

 “You’re saying one of us is the killer?!”  

Herman shrugged, not engaging in an argument.  

“Anyway, I’ll be back for the vote later. See you.”  

With that, he turned and left the room without looking back.  

Dennis Sandek glanced at “Hannah’s” position, then left the group with a curt, “See you later,” and departed alone.  

After Herman’s words, Dwight hesitated.

He glanced at Jesse Holmes, still grinning, and shuddered, pulling his mistress closer.  

Seemingly casual, he suggested, “Mr. Rhys has a point. Why don’t we split into two groups? That way, if there’s a traitor, we won’t all be taken out at once. And if one group returns with fewer people, we’ll know something’s wrong.”  

This suggestion was purely counterproductive. 

The more they split up, the easier it was to be picked off one by one.  

Clearly, under all this eeriness, the middle-aged gentleman had lost his ability to judge rationally, favoring the “safest” option emotionally over the “best” one logically.  

“I will stay here.”  

Jesse Holmes spoke suddenly, then, under the gazes of the remaining four, walked to the headless corpse, stepping through blood and filth without care, and sat down.  

His lips split into a grin as he looked at the group.  

“I will stay here.”  

“I will stay here.”  

“I will stay…”  

He’s gone mad.