Mouri Ran sighed in relief when she saw her innocent classmate successfully clear his name.
However, the mental relaxation only made her dizziness worse. In her daze, Mouri Ran seemed to hear a woman's voice. That pleasant voice carried a trace of heaviness and weathered sorrow as it softly said, "Are there really gods in this world?"
"Angel has never smiled at me. Not once."
Several figures crossed back and forth. Suddenly, Mouri Ran remembered—the long-haired man in a knit cap, the woman holding an umbrella and smiling sadly, and a chaotic mass of light and shadow... None of that had been an illusion. It had been an experience from a year ago, when she went to New York—an experience she couldn't say was terrible or wonderful.
The instant the memories surged back, Mouri Ran's head spun, and she collapsed to the floor.
"Ah—!!" The onlookers who had yet to disperse screamed. "Another one's dead! Where are the police? Why did they leave so quickly? Get back here!"
On the second floor, Vodka, who was about to slip away taking advantage of the chaos, jolted and abruptly turned around.
When he saw the next "victim" lying on the ground, he froze in bewilderment. How could it be her?!
"...Right." Vodka took a deep breath and, adhering to the principle that anything that appeared had to make sense, forcibly tried to understand the situation before him. "Although Uzo more often uses disposable tools, no one ever said he couldn't turn his knife on the people around him.
"And that Miss Mouri is exceptionally kind among Uzo's group. She must have unconsciously done plenty of things that interfered with Uzo's stage, and finally worn away all of Uzo's patience, only to be murdered."
"Sure enough, darkness cannot tolerate pure white. I'd even