Signs for Suicide:
- No signs of self-defence around the strangulation marks
- The rope wasn’t moved or replaced
- The scene didn’t have hints of outward influence
Signs against Suicide:
- Bruises on the fingers
- A bruise on the neck under the rope mark
- Were Traces of Chloroform in the blood
Conclusion:
It couldn’t have been a suicide since someone unconscious because of Chloroform could not have hung themselves. Because of the size of the body, there must have been a construction or more than one person at work.
After making all those notes, I add my conclusion below, and then we issue the death certificate.“It was murder; please add this to the cause of death for this victim,” I tell the Medic responsible for issuing the certificate. He notes it down and signs it.
“So then on to the next victim," I sigh, concentrating on the next task ahead. "She was found in the bathroom and, based on the scene, murdered in the same place, correct?” I repeat the information which I read on the way here. Since there are neither protests nor added details, we start the second autopsy.
***
I switch my gloves before we collect all the evidence on this body. I look for the signed permission slip and look it over. Since it was filled out correctly, we started with the examination, just like before, we examined the outer body, followed by taking some X-rays. After that, we check if the victim was abused. Lastly, we collect the blood samples and open the body to examine the organs.
In the end, we note our findings down: “Victim is a female student from Pentastar High School, murdered. Cause of death: loss of blood. The throat was slit open. The culprit should be left-handed, Correction angle is off. The culprit was right-handed and at least 1,8m tall. No other wounds besides the slit wound. Traces of Chloroform were found in the blood of the victim.” I let the Medic sign the death certificate, and we go on to our next victim since we want to finish it today.
This victim, also a female student, was found on the statue in the middle of the fountain. Killed by a stab right through her heart. We repeat the same routine as we did before and then note down our conclusion for the certificate. “Victim is a female student from Pentastar High School, murdered. Cause of death: Damage of vital organs; loss of blood. Her heart was critically damaged; her Lungs were critically damaged. Traces of Chloroform were found in the blood of the victim. The culprit must have been strong enough to place the victim on the statue,” I note down the cause of death.
Now, only our latest victim is left. The liquid we found on and around her was Soda Lye, meaning the culprit either wanted to be cruel or to erase the traces since Soda Lye and Caustic Potash are very good Radixes when someone wants to erase a body. The acid wouldn’t be so useful in that regard because, based on the acid, either the muscles or the bones are dissolved. We also know by now that she drowned since we found lye in her lungs as well.
After all the tests were done, I wrote down all the information we gained: “Victim is a female student from Pentastar High School, murdered. Cause of death: downing. The used substance was Soda Lye. The body was damaged by the lye but could still be identified.”
***
It had gotten quite late when we finally finished up and closed the bodies back up, after collecting the reports, my aunt and I headed back home. It’s already dark outside, and the stars are glittering in the night sky.
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My thoughts circle around the case. I never expected that I would become an investigator, I've always been more of a lab person, collecting samples and all those little puzzles. I would have enjoyed the autopsies greatly, hadn't I felt like there was this massive load of responsibilities hanging over my head.
Thinking over some of the details, frustration rises in my chest. There are too many unknowns, and every hint we have leads nowhere. The crime scenes are too clean, and every murder is meticulously planned. I am reminded of a movie where everything is pre-written and staged, it makes me feel like we might be dancing on the strings of a puppet master, with no idea how many strings hold us in place. I feel caught in a giant spider web, and this is only the start of everything, my first day working on this case. Hell, it's only my first day in this game. And I already doubt if I can stay in my right mind till the end. Do I love crime and thrillers? Of course, I do. Yet, I never would have thought this was how my favourite characters felt.
Those were the last thoughts I had before the day caught, and my body shut down, forcing me to sleep, but even my dreams weren’t calm or restful. There is darkness around me. I feel as if I am falling, and then suddenly it stops.
Not just the fall, everything does as if time simply stopped. I am back in the car. It happens again. The doe. The spinning. The hanging. I can’t breathe and feel the world fading again. I scream. I know I am not there anymore,e but still, I want to get away. I don’t want to die again.
The scene changes; my body is smaller, and the memory isn’t as familiar as the one before. I can hear voices telling me to run. I feel myself running, steps follow me. I run faster. Faster. Only a bit more than I will be safe.
Again, the scene changes. I am standing in a graveyard with tears running down my cheeks. The stone before me holds the names of my parents. No, they were her parents. I lost them. She lost them. No, they were killed. Someone took them from me. Someone took them from her. Again, I feel like falling, and then-
***
I woke up. Fidel stands beside my bed. “My Lady, it’s alright you are safe,” he tells me while stocking my back, “May I bring you some tea to calm your nerves or something else?”
I cling to his affection, his care. In my old world, I have never known the care of a fraternal person. At least not from my father’s. In my old life, he had no part in mine, and here he died when I was too young. Fidel cared for me since I was a baby. I remember faintly how Fidel would always be there to calm me down after a nightmare. No, he would calm her down. Even when it took me all night, he would be there.
I have another memory of my aunt telling me how the Black Servants, who would be assigned to a certain person as Personal Maid or Personal Butler are chosen after two criteria. Their Priority to their assigned Master and their undying Loyalty. She explained it as a needed thing for the Blacks to survive, as it isn't uncommon for the parents to die early. So the Blacks assign each of their own a personal maid or butler, who will raise them in their stead, should they be unable to.
Letting him hold me is strangely grounding, like he is centring me back to myself, with just a simple hug. I hadn't been without scars on my mind and soul, and what I slowly seem to inherit from this body doesn't seem without trauma either. Again, I question my insane impulsive decision to throw myself into this game. The manga I read in my previous life didn't touch on the mental aspect deeply enough. Fun, as if. This is so much more realistic than any game I've ever played. My mind keeps playing with the memories I saw of the original Lukida, how she felt when she lost her beloved parents, and the joy and love she held for Fidel and Alessia.
I in turn feel nothing like that, they are strangers yet whenever they do something for me, like now, I can feel a warmth buzzing inside my chest. How strange is that what I lost? Is that how I should have been able to feel all the time? It is so absurd. I had been buried under so many masks that my memories had lost all their colours, all emotions they had, long faded. I was unable to recover them. Those memories painful or not are the first splatter of paint in my grey world of memories.
I don’t cry. I have no tears left for something as silly as a nightmare. No, I can’t allow it. I look up at my butler, her trusted, friend, her father figure. He holds deep worry in his eyes. “Maybe some tea would be good and some cookies,” I mumble, once again pretending I am doing fine. He is kind, even someone like me can comprehend that. Would he be disappointed if he knew I was not who I pretended to be? Or maybe would he grant me this kindness as well even when he knew?
He nods but before he leaves he asks me: “Will you be alright until I am back, my Lady?” I nod. I will be fine for a few minutes. I have to be. It's just a few minutes, I am not that fragile.
When Fidel returns, a tray of tea and cookies is in his hands. After setting it up on the small round table by the window, he fetches a robe from my wardrobe. He sets it over my slightly cold shoulders, before guiding me to the little table with the three chairs. He sits down opposite to me, we talk, drink tea, and eat cookies and after a while, my nerves start to calm down, and I relax.