Wednesday, June 15th...
At 13:30...
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Two sedans with their sirens turned off were parked in the courtyard of Faith Providence High School. The South Wales Police were issuing their black pens to write evidence notes, alibis, and witnesses. They borrowed a room from the neighboring supernatural club, right next to the language club. One person was being interrogated while the rest waited their turn in the borrowed room.
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Cake and Madelaine observed the interrogation session, under the permission of the neatly mustached young Inspector with a flat expression resembling a mannequin. Meanwhile, Sergeant Austin, who appeared older than his superior, diligently recorded every statement and steered the conversation to stay on target. The emotional impact was not limited to a single person, Cake and Madelaine couldn't bear it either. Thirty minutes ahead, after the end-of-day bell rang, the tone and robotic face of Inspector Popelin only heightened the fear in the students.
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"How do you explain the knife you were holding? Currently, that object is the only cause of the victim's death," he said.
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"I've already told you, it wasn't me! You know that I was found unconscious? Besides, the place was dark, right?"
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"Not visible? Aren't people supposed to wear headlamps? Miss Purcell?" His tone sounded calm, but Inspector Popelin's intent was to press forcefully.
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Cake lightly massaged his forehead, as if burdened, while Madelaine took a ten-minute break to check her watch.
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"I've already said it, the dilapidated building isn't an empty space! When the headlamp is turned on from any corner, it reaches the farthest to the third room if there are no obstacles. And furthermore, you shouldn't just focus on one person, I mean..." she added, "Listen, we've been doing this for almost three years and have never had a problem like this. You just can't... can't..."
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She paused as her eyes filled with tears. Cake, always seeking attention regardless of age, quickly acted like a lovable man to anyone.
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"Oh, wait, Inspector Popelin. I somewhat understand what Mademoiselle Purcell is trying to convey," he said, handing a scented wet tissue packet to Purcell. "A dilapidated building means the infrastructure is damaged, so you should be cautious of your surroundings. In the dark, a headlamp only illuminates a straight path with a certain diameter, while the rest remains pitch black. Mademoiselle Purcell wants to express that each of them should pay extra attention to their own safety and focus on that tool. I believe that's what she means, Miss Purcell?"
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"Yeah, that's what I meant," she said, nodding confidently.
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The thin mustached man turned to his subordinate to note down Cake's statement.
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"Well, perhaps you're right, Mr. Cake. But Miss Purcell here was in charge of monitoring her friends through internet calls on her phone. Doesn't it feel strange when one of her friends didn't answer properly?" Inspector Popelin replied somewhat stubbornly.
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"When you want to draw a square, you don't have to draw four sides that are perfectly straight," Cake smiled thinly. He realized that shallow questions like that didn't require his answer.
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"What do you mean, Mr. Cake?"
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"If I may, Inspector Popelin," Madelaine spoke up. "Someone who is confirmed to be fine can go through anything. For example, if they're still actively sending messages. I'm sure Miss Purcell's friends are actively reporting the situation, right?"
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"Y-yes, every five minutes," Purcell then looked at Inspector Popelin. "That's right, even at the time of the incident, I still heard their reports."
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Now, 10 minutes had passed, and Madelaine, as a representative of Scotland Yard, called the two officers. Together with Cake, the four of them momentarily left the room.
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"Am I wrong, Superintendent Madelaine?" Inspector Popelin asked, putting on a poker face.
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"Don't be disheartened, you're just not effective enough. Let's divide the roles effectively and efficiently." Madelaine handed over a flash drive. "Yesterday, we obtained all the data and recordings from Inspector Coslett of the North Wales Police. We only had time to check a few photos. Based on the available clues, please examine all the data or whatever it is. Feel free to duplicate the files. I will ask for your opinion from time to time. As for this one, let us handle it."
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The expression on Popelin's face didn't change much, but Cake felt that the man was slightly disappointed. Reluctantly, they returned to the office after saluting. Cake and Madelaine resumed interrogating Miss Purcell.
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Madelaine sat in the chair of the club's president, while Cake looked at the displayed trophies.
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"Apologies for taking your time. Please tell me, if you don't mind. Where were you the last time before you passed out?"
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The girl, who had been looking down all this time, now gathered the courage to look straight ahead, at least in line with Madelaine.
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"W-well, I'll talk about what I remember. Twelve people brought four static cameras, six EMF radars, two video cameras for mobile recording, and two spirit boxes."
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"Evenly divided?" Madelaine asked.
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"Yeah. In my group, everyone worked according to their respective roles. The two people with static cameras also carried EMF, they were Eiriol and Bierce. They took the most sideways angles on the ground floor. Gethin and Bevans brought the spirit boxes. Hedlych was the mobile camera, and I went around the place with her. Of course, I had an EMF and a spirit box as well."
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"Sorry in advance, but what is the purpose of this spirit box?"
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Purcell explained that the device utilized radio frequencies as a medium for spirits to convey messages. It sounded like a crackling radio that couldn't find a broadcasting station. The device was used simultaneously to search for and communicate with spirits. The technicality was that the person holding the device asked questions freely and waited for an answer.
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"Ah, so you exchange information and, at times, even switch places to achieve good paranormal results?"
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"If the spirit box responds, we might consider that. Or if the EMF keeps beeping continuously, we might gather and settle in one or two separate locations, Miss Madelaine," Purcell explained, nodding confidently.66Please respect copyright.PENANAGz01OHITWA
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Cake walked around, lightly touching a miniature statue of a bear claw. The fur and the five iron-made claws were sharp enough. Its nose didn't detect any scent of blood, but Cake thought that the claw marks on one of the victims might have come from this object.
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"Very well, Miss Purcell. By the way, who purchased this claw decoration?"
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"Ah, it was during Senior Lewis's management. Some members felt that the walls felt empty. So, it was decided to buy something that reflected the club. The Werewolf claw is not bad."
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"Mythology indeed has a strong connection to the supernatural."
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"That's right."
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"Did you experience any more frightening anomalies while you were at Pool Park Asylum compared to before? Like strange sounds or anything of the sort?"
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The girl seemed reluctant and uneasy. She shifted from leaning on the sofa to sitting up, folding her hands on her thighs.
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"I don't know, it felt like swallowing tons of bitter pills. It started with poltergeist events, a mix of sighs and gusts, spirit box sounding like demons, laughter, and even echoing cries filling the place. That's why Bierce and Eiriol decided to set up the static cameras. Meanwhile, Gethin and Bevans, they weren't supposed to be separated as their task was to lure spirits with the EMF. As for me and Hedlych, we went around together, and we even got hit by stones. The last update I remember is when the spirit box in the hall made a sound, and after that, I don't remember," Purcell tightly held her trembling hands, visibly shaken.
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"Could the echoing sounds from the hall be heard clearly?"
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"Y-yeah, normally it would be screams. But if it utilizes speech sounds, they would be distorted, and the effects wouldn't be clearly audible."
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Hearing that, Madelaine fell silent, caught off guard. Now her mind was fixated on the possibility that it was the work of a ghost. As a hardworking woman, one of her stress-relieving hobbies was watching movies. It was from there that the premises she had considered began to mix and merge into a strong perception.
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"When you were with Miss Hedlych, was she the only one recording the video? Was there a moment when the two of you were separated?" Cake walked towards the bookshelf, browsing through the books.
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"To be honest, I carried two cell phones." Purcell took out two identical-colored phones with a bitten fruit logo from both her pants pockets. "I kept one in my pocket, using an external microphone, and the other one I used to record the front view and display the EMF or spirit box."
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"Ah, thank you."
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Cake took his turn and looked at Madelaine. Unfortunately, she ran out of ideas and questions.
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"So, why did you use rituals and a dybbuk box?"
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Purcell expressed her regret. Guilt was written all over her face, as the aggressive behavior of the spirits could have been a consequence of that. She thought that using those methods was an attempt to prevent the expedition from yielding nothing. According to her, they needed to stop relying on old ways.
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"Audiences always expect more. Especially in this day and age, people are skeptical of imitations, I understand."
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"Yeah, that's how I feel."
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"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that it's definitely not you who's responsible. Is there someone's name in your mind, Mlle. Purcell?"
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"Well..." she added hesitantly. "Certainly, it's not me, and it's not Hedlych who helped me either. Our club has had conflicts before, but that was only among the four of them and the juniors."
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Cake allowed Purcell to leave after informing her to call her friend who was disguised as a squirrel character at the party.
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"Is it time for Hestia Madelaine to believe that this is the work of a ghost?" Madelaine said, slightly frustrated, as she spun around in the swivel chair she was sitting on.
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Cake remained silent and focused on reading a book from the shelf near the entrance.
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"Are you sure it's the girl's doing, Cake?"
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Unfortunately, Cake remained silent and continued reading the book with large horror-style text that resembled bloodstains on the wall, carved by the dying soul's index finger.
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SCREAM OF THE BANSHEE.
ns 172.71.254.193da2