"In conclusion, Jack the Ripper is involved in this, but he isn't the one who killed Cavendish. That person is among the people who were here last night.
Now, the first thing revealed was the weapon used: digitalis. It contains a poison that can easily be dissolved in liquid—in this case, the wine in his room. But… how did the killer bring it there? Why did he decide to kill Cavendish? But most importantly—who?
Based on the clues, the killer can't be one of the nobles. Just to be clear, I assure you there wasn't a single lie when I spoke with them, and they aren't inhuman actors capable of avoiding unconscious reactions. If I had spotted a lie, I would have said it from the start.
That said, we know the homicide happened in those thirty minutes Cavendish left the dining room. All the nobles stayed in the dining room the entire time. Each of them could clearly see everyone else—even assuming they were all plotting, it's still unlikely. The servants still had them in range, and even if someone could move out furtively from the room, he wouldn't have known where the valet or the maid were. The risk of being seen was too high.
Even speaking of motive, they had none. They were all people who had recently succeeded in politics with him. Why would they kill someone who is worth having around? Also—why would Selene tell everyone to check on Cavendish if she knew he was already dead? It makes no sense. You'd actually want to avoid people finding the corpse. They could have left with a 'It's late, we must go. Say thanks to Lord Cavendish for us' sort of excuse.
In addition, Cavendish locked himself in the room, and the nobles likely weren't even aware of where the key to open it could be. But… a key was stolen. So—who's the only servant who didn't have access to Cavendish's room?
Dear valet, do you mind telling us the rest of the story, or do I have to?"
"A stolen key? What are you talking about? You can't accuse me of it!"
I can't help but smirk. I shouldn't, out of respect, I know—but this is the effect that solving a puzzle has on me.
"Then let me continue… The servants present yesterday were four: the two maids, the butler, and you. Two nobles confirmed to me that the butler and the older maid were in the kitchen the entire time. They even complained about how they could hear noises from there. Meaning, at this point, it's either you or the younger maid.
Also, I have to add—these servants are way too loyal to kill their lord. The maids were ready to reject my requests out of respect for him. You are the most recent addition here, and when in front of royalty, you instantly budged. I didn't have to say anything. You let me in without hesitation, even though your lord had just died and the detective was busy investigating the scene. I had no power to force you to let me in—yet you let me in even before I explained the reason for my arrival. Out of everyone, you had the weakest bond with Cavendish."
"It's still not enough to accuse me! You can't know!"
"Well, then why was one of the maids missing a key?"
He budges.
"Every other servant already had a key to enter his room. You didn't. The maid forgot to give it to you, so… you had to take one, right? You have the ring with the keys attached. You knew where they keep that key. You knew where you should have stolen it from."
"You hav—"
"Yes, I do. When Selene arrived, she saw the two maids. The young one tried to open the gate, but she didn't have the keys. Is it because she forgot them inside, or because you stole them from her pocket earlier? I can't know. But one way or another, you had the opportunity to steal the key."
"How do y—"
"When I was with the maids and she was trying to open the door, she had the ring, but she couldn't find the key. You can be bad at your job all you want, but you'd still be able to identify the right key if you saw it—at least within a few tries. That would be absurd otherwise, she works here since an entire year. I didn't even need to replay my memories to know it wasn't there."
The maid speaks shyly. "It… it wasn't there." Her sister gently caresses her hand.
"That said, you stole the key and used it to unlock the door. Cavendish was drunk, so it wasn't hard to do the rest. I can speculate all I want about how in thirty minutes you could give him the poisoned wine—it's not worth it, it could have been done in hundreds of ways. It's you, out of exclusion."
"I ha—"
"You had. The motive might not be straightforward, but knowing someone else is involved in this… a real serial killer… he forced you to do it, didn't he? I mean, I can't know what he did to force you, but I'd suppose he threatened you. Right?
The motive is love. You did this to protect something—or someone, or maybe just yourself. But… you still killed.
Well, to put it more briefly: the nobles can't be guilty as they all kept an eye on each other. The butler and one maid were both in the kitchen or dining room the whole time. The only ones who were out of it were either you or the other maid. Her key was stolen—so the only possible suspect is you. You also had thirty minutes to do as you pleased, especially since Cavendish was drunk. Jack is involved, and it's likely he started this all. He made you do this—likely through coercion."
The rest played out as it should have. The police officers arrested him. I think he'll confess—or they might just put him in jail directly. You should love how these things work: the faster the job, the better it is.
I did my part. Everything after this is the law's responsibility. I'm out of here.
I returned to Buckingham Palace. Victoria doesn't seem to be here. I even asked the servants—apparently, she is working.
The good news is that I stopped seeing roses the moment I found out the truth. I think these roses are some kind of intuition I formed from my past trauma—like a warning. It's just a guess though. Not even I can enter my own unconscious.
I eventually plan to check on that valet and ask him about Jack. I didn't do it right away since he was emotionally stressed, and I wouldn't have obtained anything.
There is something I could understand, though: Jack has ways of obtaining information, and he is good at predicting behaviors. He somehow predicted I was there. It's extremely unlikely he just passed by and—oh! Nathae is there, how lucky I am.
No. He knew I was there. I can speculate all I want, but he might have even anticipated Victoria would send me there. I'll find the truth eventually… and when I do…
I also believe Jack's goal is to kill nobles. He killed my parents and Cavendish—both nobles. It's not just a grudge or a need to make fast money. He might already be considered a serial killer. In both cases, he killed nobles. In both cases, he prepared some sort of closed-room murder. In both cases, he left an identical piece of paper for me.
He even made up a name for his killer persona. I don't expect him to actually be named Jack. It's just a made-up name. I'm sure I'll face him again. Not soon—between my parents' and Cavendish's deaths, a lot of time passed. He is either lazy, or he plans things out and properly prepares the stage every time.
I sigh. There are many reasons someone might want to kill a noble. Just see how they treat the lower classes…
Sometimes I'd like to see how the other part of this city lives, firsthand. I don't have to struggle to survive, as most people do. It's just wrong.
Everyone forgets how lucky they are. Regardless of who you are, you'll find someone less fortunate than you. A noble will struggle in politics and think, 'Why is this happening to me?' forgetting that all his colleagues have similar problems. Someone else from the lower class will struggle with something that noble took for granted—like eating. People work over half the day in factories and yet have barely enough to live. They'll think, Why is my life so miserable? But if you go even deeper, there are people without a job. Making some cash to buy a single meal might be hard for them. And they'll think the same thing the noble and the worker thought…
Everyone struggles in their own ways.
Even I do. I have everything, and I can abuse my social status. Yet… every night, when I go to sleep, all I see are people I loved dying. The question raises spontaneously— Is justice even possible in this world?