Chương 277: Hello Skeici.

Skeici Gianwen never expected me to sit down and strike up a conversation with her, but here we are. I crossed my legs at the knee, laced my fingers over the kneecap, and gave her the bright winning smile that never looks real but shows you care enough to give the good fake smile. She wouldn't believe a real smile, so why put in the effort?

"So, we've had the same homeroom for a little over a year now," I said, "and we've never talked. Though, mind you, I've never talked to ninety-five percent of our homeroom, but I feel like it's a great idea to start with you."

"Why?" she said, as suspiciously as she should. She glared at me through a fringe of hair over her face. Most of this school has a certain look. A standard. The school does not have an official uniform, but it does have a certain uniformity. I suppose that comes of how much socialization and community time is pressed onto us. Homogenization is inevitable under these conditions. Skeici defied this.

Unbrushed hair over her face, unpolished shoes, threadbare coat, one sock stretched loose and bunched around her ankle, the other clinging to her knee. Her skirts sit askew from her bad posture, showing most of her calves and shins. And, she's trying to shrink away to nothing right now, curling into herself like a slug in salt. She gets a very different character model later in the game when you finally realize her role in Josse's death. Skeici triumphant is almost demonic.

Blazing with hate and obsession and self-delusion, she is towering and malevolent, and finally come into her own. But until then, she keeps herself small and easily overlooked. Taking refuge in her anonymous scruffiness.

"Oh, Skeici, it's just the two of us," I said in my most charming and disarming voice, smiling still. I gestured at the rest of the room, girls having fun, playing games, socializing, bonding, relaxing, unwinding. Everything that neither she nor I really know how to do. I used to be able to relax by playing games with friends and taking my mind off my problems for a couple of hours. But that was before 'my problems' became a world.

Here we are, two obsessive murderous weirdos who can't ever really switch off, sitting behind a shell of wind and vacuum, protected from the world, insulated from contact. She seemed pensive. I suppose if I was fanatically obsessed with a boy, and his notoriously-dangerous sister came over to sit down next to me out of the blue, I might be uneasy as well.

"They can't hear us," I assured her, "and anything here is just between us. So, I need to ask a question that has been itching at my brain for months, if I may."

"Er, yes?" she asked.

"What went wrong, Skeici?" I asked, calmly.

"Wrong with what, Lady Natalie?"

"It's Princess Natalie, I've gotten an upgrade," I said firmly.

"With the murder, Skeici. I should think that regicide is the most significant event of your past twelve months, yes?" I shot her a smile that was sharp and uncompromising.

"I'm not here to talk about minutiae. I am not here to waste your time or mine. But I know that something went wrong. Your plan was supposed to be perfect. Untraceable. But it wasn't, was it?" She tried to jump up, but the air just a few inches from her knees and shoulders was as rigid as iron bars, she struck that resistance and was forced back into place. She sat in her chair because she had nowhere else to go. If she moved more than a handspan she found herself contained by invisible shackles.

Here in this crowded room full of witnesses, I interrogated her in perfect privacy and complete confidence.

"What are you- let me go!" she snapped, showing some spine now.

"I would, but we could not have a productive conversation," I said.

"Don't get it twisted, Skeici, I can help you. I want to help you. But, we do need to have frank and forthright conversations first. Now, it's not a secret that I see much more than I'm supposed to. But I'm not here to chastise your intentions or plans. I want, first and foremost, to find out why things didn't go according to plan. I have a very vested interest in the future, you see. I have a great deal invested in it. I need to understand the changes so I can understand what might change in the future.

Your mission did not go according to plan, Skeici. And if I know why, then I can figure out what parts of my plans for the future are prone to change, and which ones are still stable."

"Plans- your plans? Future- " she stammered, then shook her head.

"Wait, was all this part of your plan?" I decided to prevaricate.

"Skeici, what is the difference between making plans when you know the outcome, and just living in a world where you know the outcome? Everything around me is part of a plan, but sometimes things don't go as I expect. And I need to understand why, and how. If I know exactly what the rules are, I can anticipate when the predictions break down. And I am over-explaining myself. I'm giving away answers a mile a minute and you've given me nothing, Skeici." She glared at me. It's a very good glare.

She's got good eyes for it, and the untamed bangs really helps to sell the unreasoning hate in those eyes. Her normal appearance is so meek and mild-mannered, too shy to hurt a fly. But when you scratch the surface, you can see her seethe. This is a more honest version of Skeici Gianwen.

"What am I meant to give you then, Princess," she sneered.

"Really?" I asked.

"Have I not been clear? Fine. I just stepped away from a poker game so we'll use poker terminology and I'll put my cards on the table while I call your bluff. You kidnapped and murdered Princess Lachel Freckentop because you saw her flirting with Nathan. By now you should be having the same urges towards Josse Salles, in our homeroom. You held the princess for weeks, trying to get her to swear off her love for Nathan.

She did not, and you drowned her, and then instead of smuggling her corpse to the oubliettes of the cavern tunnels, or be preserved in chill waters, she was allowed to rot back in the shop's back room. Why is that?" I could see how much she wanted to say "I don't know what you're talking about", but I had her dead to rights on so many different things in just a few words, it just made a mockery of her attempts at innocence.

"I- I- you knew?!" she blurted out.

"I- you've been blamed for it! For months! Everyone thought- I thought- I thought I'd gotten away with- but-" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"Breathe," I said.

"You're not making sentences, dear. Sputtering just wastes my time."

"Why did you take the fall for me if you knew?" she demanded.

"Oh, I didn't," I corrected her.

"I told everyone the whole time that it wasn't me. I protested my innocence quite mightily. And I let them doubt it. But they could not prove it was me, and they never tried to prove it was anyone else. So the investigation ended there, and the royal princess is dead, and you and I are both just fine." This is a conversation I wanted to have six months ago. And, most recently, a week ago.

When Czoverenne Freckentop told me that my whole conspiracy had been captured, my first impulse had been to run straight to Skeici and make sure she was not caught. I don't think she has any information that could implicate me, but if the royals knew about Skeici's involvement, that meant that they knew one of the three facts that were impossible to learn, and therefore might learn more. But she had been safe. And all the rest of my secrets had been safe.

The queen was bluffing, which I should expect from someone who's job is the subtle control of opinion and belief through the houses. And honestly, I would rather have never had this conversation with Skeici. It's safer for me if she never suspects that I even knew about the details of the filial regicide. But, I need to know. I need to know why this scene did not go according to plan. I hinge most of my actions on the premise that the future is going to happen according to my knowledge of it.

Any detail that diverges significantly is a big clue, a way for me to understand what I can count on and what I should not count on. I just want solid ground under my feet again. Facts I can rely on. Skeici was sitting still, not fighting against her bonds any more.

"So if you knew, why didn't you tell them?"

"Because their suspicion was convenient to me," I said, summarizing a very complicated matter into a few words.

"Because having them accuse me when I could prove my innocence made them look bad. Because having them look away from you when you're guilty was advantageous. Now, I've told you so much. It is time, Skeici, for you to start telling me the simple answers to my only questions. What. Went. Wrong." I was surprised when she snapped. I probably should not have been. I know damn well that this is not an emotionally balanced young woman. Her hand went up and banged against the barrier.

"What went wrong was everything! It was all fucked! I misjudged the dosage and she wound up throwing up her dinner, so she was messy and woozy instead of peacefully helpless! Instead of a calm and discreet exit at the bridge crossing, I had to get us out a block early, and had to create a distraction by flinging a fistful of silver coats at the beggars on the corner. While the driver looked at them I took off out the other side, but I was in a hurry and her dress snagged!

Because I had to carry her further than I had planned, I started getting tired and almost couldn't manage the ladder and... dammit! It was all so frustrating! Everything planned to perfection and just the simplest.. ooh!" She was actually trembling with remembered rage. I chuckled ruefully.

"Oh, I know that feeling. I can lay out a perfect progression and something, or someone, just throws it all off." Skeici blew out a harsh breath.

"Tell me about it. Next time, I-" she froze.

"Stop there," I hissed.

"I know we've got a whole conspiratorial camaraderie here but you must never discuss a crime in planning! And the only reason you should discuss a crime in the past is if they've got you as dead-to-rights as I did. You need- need, to keep a better handle on what you say and don't say." I shook my head in disbelief. Quarl and Rabert have spoiled me. It's good to work with professionals. Skeici is a brilliant talent for murder, but she's self-taught and prone to amateur mistakes.

"Look, wait until next year before you go after Josse. And in the meantime, practice better discipline. Even if someone like me walks up and immediately acts like they know what's going on. And if you're discussing it with people that do know, that can be trusted... talk about it but don't talk about it, do you understand?" I could see it creeping into her eyes. A new surreptitious cunning. She gets it.

"Another question," I said.

"Lachel wore a ring to detect poisons. Much like mine. They are rather standardized. How did you drug her food without her noticing?"

"You just told me not to talk about-" Inconvenient time to learn what I just taught her.

"Humor me? I already know the rest, I'm just curious about this part." She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if this was a test. Apparently my face convinced, because it could not conceal if it wanted to. She glanced away.

"I snuck onto her carriage while she was at dinner. Her driver got a snack from a vendor, and I climbed on, hid under the bench. I didn't poison her food, I dosed her with ether while we drove away." Ah. Ether. Of course the princess vomited. Skeici's methods were crude and low-investment, but she was sneaky and good at delivery. I entertained a thought of getting her and Lere Lowyer, the expert poisoner, in cahoots on an attack. Not seriously, but as a possibility to consider if I find myself in a jam.

"You can go," I said. Air softened into something a person could pass through, and I waved backhand for her to leave.

"Stay on plan. Josse next year. Everything done perfectly. No deviations. And don't talk to anyone." I stared at her back as it melted into the crowd. This is fucked. The reason that Lachel was found at the murder site was because the yandere murderer was just a first-year student. Not a third-year, not an expert, not an eighteen-year-old who had spent multiple years planning the perfect sequence, refining every detail. In this version, she was years younger, more impulsive, more immature. She made mistakes.

She lost control of her kidnapping. She misjudged her dosages and her plan started to unravel. She left clues. Not enough for the Royal Cavalry Guard to find, but some. Maybe enough for Nathan to find. I dragged my hand down my face. I've misjudged. The game had Skeici demonstrated as an efficient and nigh-undetectable murderess, and that was the assumption that I held onto. I provoked her to murder two years early, against a target with much more security, and I expected everything to work out the same way.

I had altered the triggered event and expected it to proceed as if it hadn't been altered. I thought I had the consequences figured out. This wasn't like walking into The Groaning Gullet tavern to trigger the bar-fight scene that summons the guards. This was a material change to the event and that has consequences. Like a dress that snagged in the carriage. Literally loose threads. More time spent out in the open, more tired. She had been less able to make sure there were no incidental witnesses.

When this was a game of pixels, Skeici was almost impossible to catch, it took not only a high perception skill, and a high luck skill, but also a friendly random-number generator. But this version of her was easier to catch. She left more clues, she was less disciplined. She could be tricked or intimidated. She left the dead body behind instead of dumping it in the Stonewall chasms. So, when I arrogantly sent Nathan out to go find clues to track down Lachel... he did.

I thought I was sending him on an impossible chase. He was supposed to be outclassed by a mile. But he probably had the skills to follow Skeici's trail. And find the body. Fuck. I had been so sure that he would never get anywhere near the murder. Instead, I dared him to find her body, which was rotting on the ground of an abandoned laundry. No wonder he's so very, very pissed off at me. No wonder he's got a smile on his face when he betrays me, attacks me, again and again. All my fault.

All because I misjudged Skeici's skill level. I stood and started pacing, still ignoring the room full of people playing games, laughing, winding down. I had too much to think about to hold still, my legs needed to keep up. I only ever went after Lachel because I was still counting on Nathan to get the good ending. That was before he started slacking off so hard that I gave up on him and decided to save the world with my own two hands. I had misunderstood a lot of things. I'm probably still misunderstanding plenty.

But the next time I need one of Nathan's love interests taken out of the way, I'm not going to be so damn clever about it.