Erudition of Doyle: Volume One

CHAPTER 17: CASE IV - MONEY OR LIFE?

Case 4: Money or Life?
(The Another Little Game of
Mammon Chapter, Last Part)

ROSALINDA

Suddenly, the entire place went dark. The location of this fancy restaurant was a bit far from the city, so there were no lights outside, and even the streetlights around here went out for some unknown reason. I couldn’t understand why a high-end restaurant was in such a remote area.

Napatingin ako sa itaas nang makarinig ako ng mga padabog na apak. A cloth was gradually covering the surroundings, which added to the darkness all around. I hurriedly took out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Seconds later, I heard banging on the front door, which terrified and confused everyone dining here.

I looked up at the corners of the ceiling as music began to play. It sounded like carnival music, with faint laughter from children, and then a man speaking in Russian. Yet, even with the dialogue in the background, the song begun to lingers.

La la 
La la la la la la la.

The voice belonged to a woman, with a sweet but threatening tone. I think I’ve heard this voice before. I just can't recall when or where.

As the woman sang, I heard faint sound effects in the background, like flipping pages and coins raining down. It felt like the whole place had turned into a carnival. The music wasn’t as loud as an actual carnival but soothing in a way, though each beat seemed to carry a sinister undertone, sending a chill down my spine.

As the music dropped, the woman began to recite a poetic line:

Every kid has their own journey, 
Every adult has their own responsibilities, 
But every demon has a carnival.

Fly, fly away my child, 
As you bleed and cry for twists and turns, 
Fighting with demons 
Or fighting with your demons.

Above the paradise of Everland, 
Let’s cheer for a beautiful change, 
An everlasting game from Abyssia. 
Chaos and Bounties, 
Money, Chasing Souls and Death, 
A wonderful experience for one another, 
No more living peace. 
As innocents depart, heading to the abode of death, 
Where wine drips from the white ceiling, 
Faded light creeps from the skies to land. 
Whispers of candles blow Diavolo, 
Not for falling, but rising from ashes.

The music ended with a loud gunshot. This terrified everyone, though it was obvious that the sound came from the music and not around us. Still, I felt like the music was left unfinished. Who could be behind all of this?

Clark, Raleigh, and the older men here had been trying to open the door for a while, but they couldn’t get it open.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said a woman with a sweet voice. It sounded like the same voice as the one who sang the song and recited the poem earlier. I turned towards the source of the voice, and all the flashlights instantly focused on her. She walked toward us with a smirk. Her silhouette looked very similar to the figure from the curtains during the school shooting.

She slowly looked at me. "Hello, darling," she said as she walked closer. "There you are."

I didn’t respond, staring instead at the rifle she held. She also had roulette wheels on either side of her. Not to mention, she carried a dagger and bombs in her pockets.

"I believe your father has woken up from his coma," she said, shocking me. I looked back into her eyes. It wasn’t hard to meet her gaze since we were the same height. "How is he doing?" She ran her fingers through my hair, making me shiver. "Is he still seeking psychopathic therapy?" How did she know about this?