Project Arc: an Original Fanganronpa

Chapter 4, Act 1

"Seriously? So... that... 'Mononeko' was telling the truth?" I groaned, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as I glanced at Henri with unease. It's been a day since we've all arrived here to what Mononeko calls "Monomanor," however I've been asleep for most of yesterday, so the next morning Henri filled me in on what I've missed. Everyone left so suddenly, leaving me alone in the dim common room, that I had hardly had any time to process anything. Even Henri, who promised to catch me up on the details, left early with someone else.

So there we were, sitting across from each other in the dining room, talking about murder and other lovely topics over a round of hot drinks as I took notes. Sounds a lot like my old life, actually. The days before yesterday, when I used to speak about plot ideas for my novels with my editor or friends. The only difference was that those were fiction.

I checked my watch. 6:48 AM. Twelve minutes left before the meeting. A meeting called by the Ultimate Scholar to discuss our situation.

The dining hall was a sweeping room with chandeliers and four long tables, its walls adorned with taxidermied animal heads, and stuffed exotic birds hanging from the grand, intricate ceiling. The kitchens were situated at the back of the dining hall, and were just as grand in their own way, with countless ingredients and appliances to cook for a small army, far more than just sixteen Ultimates. You could even get whatever you wanted if you just placed your order on a slip of paper and sent it into the kitchen, something I would've loved under different circumstances, but I couldn't focus even on that now.

    Henri nodded grimly in confirmation in response to my question.

"Yes. There's no way out of this mansion. The windows are all sealed shut with iron plates. Even the strongest Ultimates in our group working together can't get it to budge a millimeter," he spoke calmly, yet it was hard to ignore the tinge of worry in his expression. He's actually quite easy to read, now that I think about it, despite always being so calm. His worry is always obvious when he furrows his eyebrows slightly, which was what he was doing at that very moment. He sighed and blew on his tea to help cool it down, before glancing at me and frowning.

"No way out. Confirmed by several," I scribbled down in the notepad I found in my room. I've always found that taking notes helps me clear my head and get my facts straight. For some reason, writing in that little notepad made me feel like the main character in one of my novels, like a tired detective trying to solve a case. No. Nobody has died yet. Calm down.

"The silver lining is that it's quite a large manor, actually. And we are quite comfortable here, which would make our final d– ah, I mean, the foreseeable future– a little more livable. We can talk to each other, get whatever we want within reason of course, and... Um, speaking of which, Beau, are you sure you don't want to drink anything? Tea always helps calm my nerves. Maybe you'd prefer a coffee or hot chocolate..?"

    Despite the tea sitting in front of him, Henri did not look calm. At least, that is compared to his usual self. He was still very objectively calm. Calmer than me, at least.

I tried for a small smile."Yeah, I'm fine, please don't worry about me," I said, shaking my head. "But... uh, thanks, Henri," I added sheepishly in a quieter voice.

    Awkward silence. What else do you expect when you're with a stranger in an impending situation of life or death? I honestly can't tell whether this would make for an amazing plot for one of my whodunits or far too clichéd.

    "Very well then. It's just..." Henri sighed, swirling his tea around the cup in his left hand, grimly watching the tea leaves ebb and flow with his movements. I shot his teacup a sideways glance. Maybe I should note that down..?