Reversal

There's something in his sleeve!

Hope realized it, but he was too late to react.

A dazzling light suddenly appeared, forcing Hope to shut his eyes.

The light had suddenly come from Robert's sleeve. Hope had been caught completely off guard. It was dimmer than Wilbur's flash bomb, but still bright enough to interfere with Hope's already limited vision.

A miniature flashlight... Hope immediately understood what Robert had hidden in his sleeve.

And a specially made one... It sacrificed battery life for greater brightness, and was almost impossible to detect when switched on...

The flashlight was meant for self-defense. At close range, it was enough to temporarily blind an enemy.

The instant he felt the light, Hope put all his weight on the scythe in his right hand, trying to cut Robert's windpipe.

At the same time, his left hand, holding the ruby ring, swung down toward where he remembered Robert's wrist being...

The ring hit nothing, cutting through empty air. The first thing Robert had done after turning on the flashlight was pull his arm back.

And the sharp scythe still couldn't come down. It seemed to be blocked by something, completely motionless.

What was blocking it?

In his panic, Hope felt himself being shoved away.

He tried to locate Robert again, but felt something cold press against his forehead.

Round.

Hope had felt something like it yesterday.

"You can calm down," Robert said. "I'm feeling very patient right now."

Hope opened his eyes again. Some afterimages still lingered in his vision, but he could just about make things out.

The scythe was intact, and there was nothing in sight to explain what had stopped it.

A silver revolver, held in Robert's hand, was pressed against his forehead.

Looking up, Hope saw that Robert now seemed completely at ease. He was slowly straightening his black robe, acting as though he didn't care about anything that had just happened.

"Calmed down, little guy?" Robert asked.

"No. I'm still furious, and I regret not killing you right away. But I know I'm in a very bad position."

"That's good enough."

The revolver smugly tapped Hope's forehead twice. "Hope, why get so worked up? That guy was just an ordinary person, but you've got a long future ahead of you. Besides, I did you a huge favor. If Old Whateley found out you had a close friend like that, he'd surely punish you. Now you can use this corpse to curry favor with him."

Hope looked at Paul. The numbers were still there, but his chest showed no sign of rising or falling. "Now you can tell me honestly. Is there any way to save him?"

"There's no saving him, Hope." Robert spoke as though he were soothing a child. Even a fool could hear the smugness and mockery in his voice. "He's as good as dead."

Grinning excitedly, he spat toward Paul. His spit missed Paul and landed on the ground.

"See?" Robert said. "He's dead. He's stopped breathing!"

Dead?

"No..." A faint sound forced its way out of Hope's throat.

He looked at Paul. There was no movement left in his body...

"He was already dead while you were looking for an antidote," Robert continued. "What a shame, isn't it?"

Hope was silent for a long while, then nodded. "That felt like playing a game with a little kid."

Robert froze. "What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about you," Hope replied. "The way you're acting now—isn't it meant to tell me that you've seen so many childish little games like the one we just played?"

Hope's words made Robert shift uneasily. "Good. At least you understand."

"You're a terribly vain man, Robert. You're a useless wreck, yet you insist on acting like you've seen your share of corpses."

The gun muzzle pressed harder against Hope's forehead. "Damn it, Hope, you know I—"

Hope cut him off. "We both know you were scared shitless just now."

"What?"

"When I had you by the throat, when I was about to kill you, you were terrified. Otherwise, you wouldn't have tried to stab Paul with the ring. You've never killed anyone, and you don't dare kill anyone. I can tell."

"I..."

"Didn't you notice? You've been shaking from the very beginning. You act like you don't care about human life, but you might not even have killed a chicken."

Hope stood up.

The movement made Robert instinctively step back, then he remembered the gun was in his hand.

"Don't move!" Robert warned him. "Sit down! Or I'll shoot!"

"Stop wasting your time with this." Hope stood his ground against the gun's muzzle. "You don't dare shoot. I was right to call you an idiot. I'm Old Whateley's grandson. With Old Whateley around, you wouldn't dare kill me. Pointing a gun at my head only proves how stupid you are."

Robert trembled. At first, only his legs shook, but the trembling gradually spread through his whole body. He shifted the gun to Hope's shoulder. "Then I'll shoot you here... You won't die if I shoot you here, but you'll lose the use of your arm... Go ahead and see if I dare..."

Hope took another step forward, and the gun's muzzle touched him again.

He glanced at Paul. Just a moment ago, Paul had been alive and well.

He and Paul had gotten along wonderfully, but they'd only met a handful of times. They weren't even acquaintances, let alone friends.

And yet Paul... a young man about to go to college, had gone to all this trouble to find him over a worthless scrap of paper... all because of a friend who had supposedly "lost his memory."

He'd regret it, wouldn't he? He'd lost his life, after all...

Perhaps Hope had been silent for too long, because Robert found his nerve again. "Scared now? Good. I'm leaving. You can deal with that corpse yourself... Tell Old Whateley or don't, I don't care. I had a great time today."

"You'd better be able to use that trick that stopped my scythe again," Hope said quietly.

"What?" Robert hadn't heard him clearly, but soon realized he didn't need to.

Hope raised the gleaming scythe again... The Grim Reaper was said to carry a scythe... and Hope swung it down.

In a panic, Robert pulled the trigger... again and again, but the revolver didn't respond.

His expression changed. Hesitantly, he raised his other hand, clutching a fragment of paper that was rapidly disappearing.

A curtain-like red barrier appeared between them, hard as steel, and stopped Hope's scythe.

The scythe struck it without making a sound.

Was this what had stopped the scythe before? A piece of paper inscribed with some extraordinary spell... Yes, a magic scroll... He hesitated. Maybe it was the only one he had... And the revolver had no bullets...

Sure enough, after the paper stopped Hope, Robert immediately chose to run. He dashed for the door. The curtain looked like it would hold for a while longer.

Hope tried to touch the red curtain. It felt soft, just like velvet, but no matter how hard he pushed, it didn't budge.

Robert had already reached the doorknob...

Hope closed his eyes and imagined what lay on the other side of the red curtain...