Argus: Found his medication prescription, and, oh, is this his notebook?
She pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.
Argus: Ha, just as expected, boss. This motel ain't what it seems to be. Ain't no way that letter was written by Stefen.
Argus: Take a look. The writing in this letter is delicate and slender, while the writing in this notebook is total chicken scratch. Even a blind person could tell they're written by two different people.
Vertin: Stefen didn't write the letter. So it's very likely that the person who sent it wasn't Stefen either.
The maid suddenly comes to mind.
Argus: And this ...
She picks up a stack of bound papers from the table.
Argus: Ugh, I hate numbers.
Argus: I'll leave this one to you, boss.
Vertin: It appears to be Mr. Stefen's records of his daily expenses, along with some notes.
Vertin: Cigarettes, alcohol, and a significant amount of psychiatric medication.
Vertin: It says he was tormented by his hallucinations day after day, so he had to increase his dosage.
Vertin: Hm. And it says he saw a room numbered 707 here.
Argus: The motel only has two floors. There can't be a room starting with seven. Did he describe it at all?
Vertin: He said the room had a bright red door that seemed completely out of place.
Argus: Maybe it was just one of his hallucinations.
Vertin: ...
There's a flash of red in the hallway.
Vertin: No, it's not that.
Vertin: He also saw all kinds of things: a pair of twins in the hallway, long hair hanging from the ceiling, and ...
Vertin: He saw Barbara but assumed she was another hallucination.
A small sheep's head is sketched on the paper.
Vertin: This proves that Barbara's been to the motel.
Vertin: Which means ...
Tuesday: Well, I'm sorry to say that I've never met an arcanist with the head of a sheep.
Tuesday: I can help you ask around if you—
Vertin: Why did she lie to me?
Argus interrupts her thoughts.
Argus: So, did you find anything useful from the expense record?
Vertin: I need to talk to the maid.
Argus: Hold your horses. We haven't searched the washroom yet.
Argus: You should never skip the bathroom. Ain't you seen the Godfather? Michael Corleone grabs his gun from behind a toilet tank.
She pushes open the bathroom door as she speaks.
The bathroom mirror is surrounded by half-burned candles.
Argus: ...
She holds out a hand to signal a stop.
She moves closer and knocks on the mirror. The copper frame gives a hollow echo.
A vivid, venomous green flashes across the mirror, and an ivory face appears in its reflection.
???: Argus, Argus. You've come to me.
Argus: —!
Vertin: Do you know her?
Argus doesn't respond. Her eyes are locked on the mirror, as if lost in a daze.
Argus: ...
???: Argus ...
???: Argus ... Argus ...
The faint voice echoes around the bathroom, like waves crashing repeatedly against the shore.
Argus: It-It's not possible.
Argus's silence gives rise to a bold speculation.
Vertin: Is that Kayla?
Argus: No, there's no way that's her. If you knew Kayla like I do, you'd say the same. This distorted reflection in the mirror is probably a result of the excessive arcanum in this motel.
Argus: A ritual similar to Bloody Mary used to be quite popular among the kids in this town.
Argus: If you look into a mirror at exactly midnight, the spirit within will morph into the shape of the person you desire most. But if you respond to the spirit's call, it will drain your soul from your body.
Vertin: I always thought those were just myths.
Argus: So did I. But after all the strange things I've seen, I've become less surprised.
Argus: These spirits feed on the energy of our souls. That's why you should never trust a word they say.
Argus: The people who are tricked by them fall into a kind of trance, and, some, like Mr. Stefen, go crazy.
Argus: I wonder what he saw in the mirror.
Argus: Anyway, I won't repeat his mistake.
She raises her shotgun, ready to fire.
Argus: For mercs like me, the deepest despair ain't external danger; it's internal hesitation.
Argus: If some pale imitation makes me hesitate so easily, then how can I claim to be able to protect others? You've gotta be able to stand your ground.
Argus: A cunning criminal would use every excuse to defend themselves in court. And a scheming spy would wear all kinds of disguises to gather information on the enemy.
Argus: That's why we've gotta stay sharp. When it comes down to it, we only have our own two legs to stand on.
Argus: Mercs ain't philosophers. Once a merc starts pondering morals, justice, and ethics, they're digging their own grave.
Argus: For a merc, the mission objective is the only thing that matters. Overthinking don't bring nothing but disaster and destruction.
Argus: That's why she—no, it—won't fool me.
Her gaze is steady.
Memories flash by, distant and playful.
Laughing and running in those grassy fields.
Argus: The folks on the ranch adored little Kayla.
Argus: She was the apple of all their eyes.
Argus: How dare this ugly imitation!
<speed=9>She forcefully loads the shotgun.
Argus: So ...
She aims her gun squarely at the mirror.
Argus: Here's my response.
???: Urgh, i-it hurts.
COMBAT
???: Argus, Argus. You've come to me.
Argus: ...
Argus: Let this serve as a reminder to remain vigilant. If there were a "Deceitful Spirit of the Year" award, I'm sure that would win.