“You awake?”

“Yeah.” I could see Mesmer, Dopple and Sanscript through the peephole. “Just give me a second.” I carefully took the knife from the wardrobe and opened the door.

“Good morning,” Dopple and Sanscript said in near unison.

“Morning,” came Mesmer’s greeting.

“Yeah, good morning.” I reminded myself to get used to using that phrase from now on. “Is there any chance one of you could carry the knife?”

“Of course,” Sanscript offered, patting me on the shoulder and lifting the knife with his magic. “You’ve done plenty by keeping it safe.”

We made the trip down to the MonoMart and waited at the door, the digital clock reading 06:55. The thirteen participants left had been split into groups of four (with Yoko as of yet unassigned) and given strict rotas for the weapon stock check. Group two consisted of Maribelle, Button, Dish Panner and Elsie while group three consisted of Inky, Reph, Lancet and Copper. Each group would, in turn, meet at the entrance at 07:00, 14:00 and 19:30, with the evening group being given enough time to make the check before closing time and tasked with standing guard until the doors were locked. The morning group for one day would become the afternoon group the next, then the evening, and so on, rotating the time frame for each group in turn. While it hadn’t been explicitly stated during the original discussions, a group of four would deter any would-be murderers whilst the checks took place since the rules stated that there could only be a maximum of two victims. Any attempts after that and the killer would be punished. It had also been put forward that any trips to the MonoMart for supplies would also require a group trip. It seemed like a foolproof plan.

At least, it did at the time.

“This might sound silly,” Sanscript said, staring at the small red light atop the doorway, “but do you really think we would lose a limb if we entered the store even a second too early?”

“You’re welcome to test it,” Mesmer said. “That is, if you don’t value your legs.”

“Oh, goodness no! That’s not a risk I’d be willing to take! It just seems rather peculiar, doesn’t it? The swimming pool had those ghastly automated machine guns, and I could believe such a setup would be possible, but the removal of a specific limb… that I find more ridiculous. How would it even be done?”

“I understand your point,” Dopple interjected, “but if what Shetland told us was true – and I’d say we have little reason to believe otherwise – Monobunny might actually be capable of such a thing.”

“Yes, I did think of that,” Sanscript replied, scratching his chin. “It seems strange, doesn’t it? We’ve all just accepted Monobunny for what he is, but what even is he? An apparition? An illusion? Some farfetched beast from a faraway land? I’ve never heard of such a creature in all my years, not even in fantasy novels.”

“Maybe he’s a robot,” I offered. “Like those things that killed Shetland.”

Sanscript grimaced. “I’d rather not remember that incident. I had my eyes shut for most of it. Even the slightest glimpse churned my stomach. I suppose you could be right, but it still seems inconceivable. Monobunny moves so fluidly and with genuine emotion.”

“It could just appear that way,” Dopple said. “We have no way of knowing what he’s really thinking, or if he even thinks at all.”

“This is rather pointless talk,” Mesmer said gruffly. “It doesn’t matter what he is, it matters what he can do. As of right now there’s no question that he’s dangerous. He also has an uncanny ability to appear anywhere he needs to be and disappear just as quickly.”

“Magic, perhaps?” Sanscript suggested.

Mesmer shrugged. “Perhaps. But if that were the case it would require someone immensely powerful. We can already cross out the idea that he’s being directly manipulated by a unicorn or else we’d notice an aura around him. If magic is being used to teleport him out of sight at the required time, they would need to accomplish this through the barrier of the dome itself. That is, unless they reside within the dome alongside us, but even so they would only have the cameras to keep track of his movements and act accordingly. That would be more than just difficult, it would be near insurmountable to pull off consistently and without issue. That is, unless some new magical technique has been developed beyond the known limits. The answer is simple, if you ask me. He has access to a hiding place.”

“Then if we find it…” Sanscript furrowed his brow. “Oh, one more thing I wanted to know. Do you all actually believe in Monobunny’s honesty?”

“I think we have to,” Dopple said, looking forlorn.

Sanscript looked to me expectantly. “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I agree with Dopple. We have to assume he’s being honest. Otherwise we could question everything.”

“Agreed,” Mesmer said with a small nod. “I would say it is even more than that. Quite frankly, if we cannot take his word then all hope truly is lost.”

Sanscript trembled at that remark just as the clock reached 07:00 and the doors slid open.

“Welcome to MonoMonoMart.”

We walked straight to the far corner, Sancript holding the knife precariously in front of us. He put it into the racking and we began the task of counting the weaponry.

8 7 4 5 3 5 3

6 4 6 8 4 10 4

The same numbers remained on the tiles, just as they had when Elsie had painted them. The same tools matched up in number, showing that nothing had been taken since yesterday. Not that this was unexpected, since everyone was accounted for up until the evening, but it felt like it was worth confirming the fact.

“It’s odd,” Mesmer said once everything had been returned to its place. “The numbers of each item feel completely random, no semblance of consistency among them. I get that this isn’t a traditional store, but something still feels off to me.” He peered at the racking intently. “I feel like I’m missing something.” He looked away for a moment towards the food aisles. “Greyscale? Sanscript? You were here yesterday while the supplies were gathered. Could you check the stock amounts of those same items?”

“We could,” Sanscript said, “but it’s not like we counted them out when they were originally gathered. We’ll have no idea if the same amount remains.”

“I know that, but you should at least have some idea of how much was here. Were the shelves fully stocked?”

“I think so, though now I’m second guessing myself,” Sanscript said with a chuckle. “But I’m not sure why you–”

“I wouldn’t ask it,” Mesmer said sternly, “if I didn’t have a good reason. Now go. Check what you can. I want to confirm something.”

Sanscript and I exchanged glances and pottered to different aisles, looking over the shelves I’d passed by the day before. As much as I had mixed feelings towards Mesmer, I didn’t doubt his logic or concern. Sure enough, I found fully stocked lines of lemonade and other soft drinks, neatly faced tins of food and a liquor shelf that was full to the brim despite its previous decimation by Yoko and Inky. It was undeniably eerie, as if a poltergeist had rearranged the store in our absence. Walking back, Sanscript met me in the central area, his ponderous expression telling all before he even spoke.

“It’s all back to how it was. How incredibly strange.”

We reported our findings to Mesmer who promptly sighed and closed his eyes. “This could be a major problem.”

“Why?” Sanscript asked.

“Our efforts could all be for nothing,” Mesmer said gravely, looking back up at the weapons along the wall. “If the other items in the store get restocked, what’s to say these won’t either?”

“But how is it happening?” Sanscript asked. “How are these items being brought into the dome in the first place?”

“I don’t know that,” Dopple said, “but I assume it must take place while the store is closed. Actually… that could mean something important. It explains why we are forbidden from entering during the night. If we were able to witness items being brought in from outside the dome, it could potentially give us insight into an escape route.”

“Wait,” Sanscript said, waving a hoof. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is if there’s a way in there has to be a way out. We’ve already witnessed the walls of the dome being opened up, so it makes sense to assume that there are other openings around the perimeter. Concerning the items in the store, they can’t just be dropped in from a chute. They have to be meticulously placed, which means someone or something needs to be here to do it, and whatever that is, it must have access to another area, and restocks the MonoMart during closing time before heading back. That is, unless we’re dealing with an abnormally powerful magic user.”

“I’m starting to worry about that,” Mesmer said sullenly. “Regardless, the fact that restocking occurs could mean that counting our stock is a pointless endeavor. In fact, I’d like to check something.”

Mesmer slowly trotted away and the rest of us followed. We quickly discovered his cause for concern. “Not what I wanted to see,” he said, gesturing towards the tray filled with razor blades. “Copper said she’d dispose of these, but it was no use, it seems.” He lifted the tray into the air and angrily tossed it onto the floor, spilling its contents with a metallic clatter.

“That was hardly necessary,” Dopple said, stepping up to Mesmer, their muzzles almost touching. “Calm down and think clearly.”

Mesmer turned away in annoyance. “I’m no slave to my emotions.”

“Then don’t get so bogged down by failure. You must’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.”

I felt so out of the loop watching Dopple and Mesmer interact. It was as if they were operating on a different plane of reality, one above from everyone else. I looked to Sanscript, curious if perhaps I was simply misunderstanding normal communication, but the stallion looked oddly perplexed as well.

“Sanscript, would you mind?” Dopple asked, motioning towards the spilt razor blades.

“Oh, of course, my dear.” Sanscript diligently cleared up the razor blades and put the tray back on the shelf.

“So, what now?” Mesmer asked.

“Should we tell the others?” Sanscript asked.

“No, that would just spread more worry. It’s better that everyone believes in the system. I say we keep this to ourselves and try to hide the fact.”

“Why are you so sure?” I asked. Mesmer turned around and gave me an odd stare. “Let’s just ask Monobunny. Maybe it’s not what you think.”

“I agree!” We all turned to see Monobunny skipping down the aisle towards us. “Mesmer, Mesmer. You think you’re ever so clever but you’re just overcomplicating the situation!”

Mesmer grunted. “Whatever. So, is it true? Are the weapons being restocked?”

“Well… yes, and no. You see, there’s a certain rule when it comes to the items taken from the MonoMonoMart. The stock numbers are to be kept at a particular level. Just as you’ve all surmised, new stock is brought into the MonoMonoMart during nighttime. This is so that the shelves are fully stocked for the morning!

“However, this rule alone could create a problem. Let’s say that every day, this store was cleared out, every shelf, everything brought into the hotel or other parts of the dome. If we followed this rule and only this rule, it would mean transferring an entire inventory into the MonoMonoMart every night! While that might technically be possible, it would produce some problems, and it would also mean that, should the game end without a clear winner and four or fewer survivors left, everyone could potentially survive for a full lifetime.”

“Why would that be an issue?” Mesmer asked accusingly. “Surely if the game ends in such a fashion the aftermath wouldn’t matter.”

“Hmm… I don’t think I should answer that one. I’ll leave it up to your imaginations!” Monobunny let out a skin-crawling laugh. “Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. In order to keep the stock levels replenished while also preventing an overabundance of items within the dome, any items that have been consumed, destroyed or disposed of will be replaced within the store. Also, anything perishable that goes rotten or goes past its use-by date will also be disposed of and replaced. Trust me, smelly rotten fruits and vegetables stinking up the place would be a problem for both parties! Like I’ve said before, all food and drink must be safe for consumption, and no poisoning is allowed within the MonoMonoMart. We have high standards in here!”

“So then, that’s why the razor blades are back!” Sanscript exclaimed. “Copper said she’d flushed them down the toilet, which I’m guessing counts as disposal?”

“Precisely. And I can confirm that no knives, hammers, shears, or other blunt and sharp objects capable of bodily harm are small enough to be flushed down the toilet.”

“That explains a lot,” Mesmer said with a sigh. “But I still have questions. If the blades are back, why is the tray? Copper couldn’t have disposed of that, could she?”

“You’re quite right! The tray was removed last night while she slept.”

“What?” Sanscript exclaimed. “You would go into a mare’s room unannounced!? And while she’s sleeping!?”

“Hey, don’t act like it’s perverted! Anyway, the tray was removed because it’s not technically a store product, just a container.”

“What else comes under that distinction?” Dopple asked.

“Oh, you know, empty boxes, empty tins, empty bags. Anything that’s essentially useless or not intended for particular use is disposed of. However, there is one exception to this rule, for reasons which should become obvious. If, by chance, anyone should spend the night watching said items, waiting for them to be removed, they shall remain in place.”

“I get it,” Mesmer said. “If we did, we might figure out your secrets. But from the sounds of it, we can assume one thing: the items are not simply teleported away. Otherwise, there would be no reason to hide the removal process from us.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Monobunny waved his arms about wildly. “As you have correctly guessed, any items that are removed or replaced are done so without the direct use of magic.”

“What do you mean by ‘direct’ use?” Mesmer asked.

“Do your questions ever stop? It means nothing is levitated, teleported, morphed, vaporized, materialized or anything of the sort through the use of magic, whether it be from a unicorn, or any other creature or enchantment. That is, at least, until said items leave the confines of the dome. The only time an exception is made is during a murder trial. After all, those glowing pillars you saps have to stand inside don’t just materialize all on their own, and there’s one particular item that is exceptionally difficult to remove without the help of magical assistance. Can you guess what that is?”

Dopple frowned and exhaled sharply through her nose. “Dead bodies.”

“That’s right!”

“Wait a minute,” Sanscript said with a gasp. “You mean to say Pinkie’s body is…”

“In the heart of a roaring incinerator as we speak!” Monobunny said gleefully, letting out a shrill chuckle. He walked over to one of the shelves and wiped away a thin layer of dust, padding it into the air with his paws. “She’s probably been burned to ashes by now.”

“I’ve had enough!” Sanscript growled. “We shouldn’t have to listen to these sadistic ramblings! They make me sick to my stomach!”

“That said, we’re learning,” Mesmer replied. “As much as he likes to flaunt it, I believe Monobunny’s loyalty to honesty will be his downfall.”

Monobunny shrugged. “Eh, you’re free to believe whatever nonsense you want. Anyway, I’m off. Have fun trying to escape, and remember, kill, kill, kill!” He then took off like a bullet, bounding out of sight.

We left the store without another word, Monobunny’s devilish proclamations playing on our minds. I could understand Mesmer’s point, that perhaps Monobunny could unintentionally let something slip and give us an edge over him. That would explain his belief that without Monobunny’s honesty, there is truly no hope. But if there was a power beyond Monobunny, the supposed ‘mastermind’, I had to wonder how anyone could have any hope of escaping here at all. Without, of course, getting away with murder.

“Okay, let’s traverse the perimeter,” Mesmer ordered once we were all outside. “All stay as a group. We’re looking for possible ways out of here.”

“I suppose,” Sanscript said half-heartedly.

And so, our first fruitless search for an exit began. We walked in single file – Mesmer leading the charge while Dopple stayed in view above – prodding at the sky-colored stone walls that surrounded us. Nothing, as expected. The towering metal door marked ‘EXIT’ was immovable, and whatever seams or gaps were present were too infinitesimal to even begin to probe inside. The inside of the dome really was a smooth, perfect semi-sphere.

“This part I don’t understand,” Mesmer said as we traced the wall in an anticlockwise manner. “We were being held in that room, shackled to the walls when we first arrived. The wall opened up and we stepped inside here.”

“Some… complicated contraption, I would assume,” Sanscript said.

“Right.” Mesmer stopped us in our tracks, scraping a hoof across the wall. “Now, what happened during the first trial? A section of the wall was retracted into the ground, and if I’m not mistaken, this was the same wall that came down when we were let out of the holding room. Do you agree?”

“Now that you mention it, I thought the same thing,” Sanscript said. “But is that correct? Maybe we were just disoriented and got mixed up.”

“I don’t think so,” Dopple said, swiftly landing beside us. “In both instances the right-hand side of the wall was almost parallel to the front-facing wall of the hotel. I remember it quite well.”

“If that’s the case,” Mesmer began, “how do we explain the room changing so much? The shackles were gone and it became a straight path down a flight of stairs.”

“Was it rebuilt?” Sanscript said with a shrug. “Whoever’s behind the scenes could have altered the room while we slept.”

Mesmer shook his head. “That would’ve required magic to complete so quickly. And if magic can only be applied on the dome’s contents during a trial, then it can’t have been the case. The trial didn’t start until we stepped through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, after the room’s change.”

“Wait,” I said, pointing at the wall. “What’s to say that room counts as part of the dome? I would’ve thought that everything inside here counted as that.” I looked between the three assuming my point to be obvious.

“We’ll have to clarify that,” Dopple said, looking to Mesmer.

I felt a sharp pang of annoyance. Why are you telling him that when I’m the one who pointed it out? Do you think I’m an idiot? “Don’t we have bigger worries?” I asked, doing my best to mask my anger. “We don’t even know if that exit door leads out of here. We’ll have to clarify that.”

“Ah, a good point!” Sanscript said, walking back over to the exit door. “This could very well be some kind of ploy!”

Mesmer and Dopple eyed me for a moment, looking wary. Predictably, they could sense my hostility in an instant. I shrank back, avoiding their gaze.

“Greyscale,” Dopple said, inching towards me. “Sorry, I di–”

“No, it’s nothing, really!” I retorted, my mouth speaking faster than my brain, but this time for the right reasons. “I was just making a suggestion. We’re all here to work together, right?”

I had already felt this before, this innate feeling of rejecting pity, of wishing for something, anything but that, even hatred, even rage to be thrown against me. At least then I could rise above my opposition, convince myself that I was the sensible one, the morally superior one. But pity was another beast entirely. Dopple viewed me as less than Mesmer, such that his attention was of higher importance. All I wanted was to be on equal footing with everyone else, to have some measure of genuine respect. This was my first ever taste of it, and I was damned if I would let it slip away.

And yet in doing so, I was refusing a reasonable apology from a mare who had shown me genuine support, all because I wanted to ignore my inarguable status as the Ultimate Nobody. It was all so conflicting.

“Monobunny!” I heard Sanscript call, banging on the door with a rhythmic set of clangs. “Tell us the truth! Is the way to freedom truly behind this door? Come out and answer me!”

“You don’t have to shout,” Monobunny said as he emerged from the hotel, slamming the doors behind him and waltzing over, holding his head in his paw. “Interrogating me again so soon? Don’t you have better things to do, like escaping with your lives?”

“But that’s–!”

“Yes, that’s what you’re trying to do, right? Well you won’t have much luck doing it like this, I can tell you.” Monobunny pointed towards the exit door. “Past the fifteen inches of cast iron is a room. From that room is a straight path to the exit, and the route out of here, heading to the outside world. Of course, if anyone tries using magic to get to the other side, they’ll be disqualified. Oh, and torn to pieces. That too.

“As for the other questions you ingrates were spouting, no, nobody magicked away any rooms, magicked new ones in their place, or transformed any rooms using magic.”

“So does that mean–?”

“No more questions, okay!?” Monobunny blared, flicking Sanscript’s nose. “I refuse to take any more questions from you four for the rest of the day! And if you even think about suggesting others to ask the questions in your place, I’ll tell them to scram! Now get back to wandering aimlessly around, looking for a way out. I’m sure that if you try really hard and figure something out, come up with an amazing plan, you won’t have a chance in hell of getting out of here! Now leave me alone!”

“That was interesting,” Mesmer said as Monobunny scurried away.

“I’m glad you think so,” Sanscript chided while rubbing his nose. “Now he’s remaining silent! We won’t learn a thing!”

“Exactly,” Mesmer said with a small smile. “Either he thinks we’re approaching an unwanted truth or he’s genuinely irritated by us forcing him to speak.”

“But he didn’t need to answer us,” Dopple said. “He could’ve simply ignored us.”

“But he didn’t, did he?”

“Exactly.” Dopple raised an eyebrow knowingly, like a teacher finishing their explanation of a math problem. I had no idea what she was trying to convey, and from Mesmer’s expression it appeared he wasn’t sure either. They exchanged an awkward stare for a few seconds, neither pony moving, and that’s when I saw it. That’s when I understood. Dopple was testing Mesmer. And from the looks of it, he was failing miserably. From then on, Dopple appeared much more powerful and intimidating than ever before.

“Okay,” Mesmer muttered sullenly, looking at the ground. “Let’s continue our rounds of the perimeter.”

We did as Mesmer said, touring the outer walls and inspecting the bronze statue of a saluting stallion that faced the hotel. The words ‘THE GRIM REAPER CIRCLES. SPEAK NOT OF THIS HEAVEN, LEST YOU BE PLUNGED INTO HELL.’ appeared on the plinth, etched with untold precision into the marble. Sanscript was questioned first but couldn’t recall any works of fiction with such a phrase, though the first and last fragments were supposedly commonplace among older works.

“It’s the middle part that confounds me,” Sanscript said, passing his hoof over the writing, as if searching for a way to change the order of the words. “‘Speak not of this heaven.’ Is this directed at us? I’ve no idea what part of this is supposed to be heavenly. Or perhaps the cloud above is meant to represent it?” he asked, pointing at the singular cloud floating a few meters above the statue.

“I think it means somewhere else,” Dopple said. “If this is hell, we were all removed from heaven for merely speaking of it.”

“Then we’re here as punishment,” Mesmer said. “We’re guilty of something in life, and that’s the motive for our imprisonment, or at least part of it.”

“I’ve no idea what that could be,” Sanscript interjected. “But it would explain why we’re being watched. Perhaps those who we have wronged in the past?”

“Maybe,” Mesmer replied, his eyes narrowing at a nearby camera. “But Monobunny said there were thousands watching us. I have to wonder, could we have collectively angered so many others?”

I remained silent as the three of them discussed it further, not wishing to divulge my own theory. After all, I was just doing as the statue decreed.

In the end, we found nothing.

After the meaningless escape attempt, I spent a little time with Sanscript in the library. As per Dopple’s advice, we kept the door wedged open with a stack of hoof-picked novels in case of emergency. “I’ve no bother in leaving these specimens on the floor,” Sanscript said haughtily, shaking his head as he made his selection. “Quite how the term ‘young adult’ became defined by derivativity, crass underuse of language and idealistic personal fantasies is beyond me.” I refrained from commenting, fully aware that one such book – which he had hastily dropped into the middle of the pile – was a personal favorite of mine.

Mesmer and Dopple stayed with us for a short while and spoke very little before stepping into the nearby rec room for a private chat. To this I was admittedly annoyed. Mesmer was unabashedly standoffish, but followed Dopple around like a hungry dog, only parting with her so he could assert his dominance over others. I would’ve bet anything that Dopple was fully aware of this, but she made little effort to brush him off. I found myself pining for Dopple to treat me as she had during the day before, but Mesmer’s presence was apparently too important to her.

Sanscript spent a few minutes droning on about various works that lined the shelves while I listened and made the briefest of chatter. In another time I might’ve been thrilled to have this experience – to have someone share what was the faintest of passions for me – but the dramatic shift to my life caused by the killing game had sucked much of that passion away without me even realizing it. I simply wasn’t myself.

Once near the back of the library – the shelves furthest the door – Sanscript’s demeanor changed like lightning and he peered towards the door with suspicion before turning to me and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I… I’m struggling with all this,” he near-whispered, lightly patting his chest. “This place utterly terrifies me, and just when I think I’m alright, that I’ve got my fears under control, my head spins and I feel all out of sorts. And I don’t trust him for one second.”

“Who, Mesmer?” I asked quietly.

Sanscript nodded. “Keep an eye on him,” he said. “What he’s doing is textbook misdirection. He has a feud with you, so you’ll be better off than me at sticking close to him. Try and figure out his game if you can. Just be careful, okay? And be ready to protect Dopple. My instincts are telling me that something terrible is going to happen.”

After that, Sanscript went back to speaking favorably (and not so favorably) about some choice poetry collections, as well as admiring the mountain of books he had never even heard of before. I could only think of two things: Firstly, that I had been quite wrong in my assumption of Sanscript. Secondly, that it would be ironic – hilarious, almost – if I killed him where he stood right after he shared his feelings with me. I could batter him around with my hooves, starting with his windpipe. Not that I would ever do that, of course, but the ones watching might get a kick out of–

I jolted backwards. Sanscript assumed I’d just experienced a similar attack to his own and placed a hoof on my shoulder to comfort me. It took several deep breaths before my heart began to beat normally. For just a split second, I had felt my grip on reality slip away completely. I silently prayed it wouldn’t happen again.

“I’d like to apologize to everyone here for my behavior,” Yoko said bashfully in front of his audience. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“That’s alright,” Lancet said cheerfully. “I forgive you.”

It was around two hours later and every one of the hotel’s residents had ventured into the dining room, as if by habit. It seemed that few of us were comfortable with staying holed up in our rooms alone, and were instead drawn to a more social setting. (Button being the exception, though Maribelle had obviously dragged him out of bed) Even with the threat of a killer, strength in numbers appeared to be worth the risk, even if it meant being exposed to a surprise attack in the corridor. At least, that was my take on the situation. It could well have been that everyone was learning to trust one another, but given my conversation with Sanscript, I had my doubts.

“Alright, you’re forgiven,” Elsie said in a harsh tone. “But if it does happen again, I shall see to it that we take action.”

“Accepted,” Yoko said, motioning to Lancet not to fire back. “Anyway, I’d like to discuss something with you all.”

The Ultimate Sumo Wrestler looked rather worse for wear. While his pitch-black mane was in good form, having been slicked back like a dark ocean wave, the bags under his eyes and jittery disposition told a different story. He had been in the dining room when our group of four had arrived, and since then we had been joined by everyone else in turn. Yoko had done his best to appear non-threatening to each new entrant, curling himself into the farthest reaches and smiling apprehensively, a far cry from his usual swagger.

“I’m going to pay my respects to Pinkie and Shetland.” Yoko continued to explain his idea just as he had to me, asking for anyone who wished to do the same to join him in the swimming area. Elsie made a very vocal pass, claiming it was pointless because we barely knew them. Dish Panner passed as well, claiming she simply couldn’t face stepping hoof where we had last seen Pinkie’s body. Button voiced the same concerns, so Maribelle opted to stay with him. Reph remained on the fence throughout, finally conceding and wishing to join despite looking more nervous about it than anyone else.

“This is a great turnout!” Yoko said cheerfully before leading the charge. “I’m glad so many of you feel the same way.”

“So long as this doesn’t become a regular thing,” Copper muttered glumly, to herself more than anyone else.

“Don’t s-say that!” Reph whined, his teeth chattering. “My spine can’t take another chill!”

After funneling through the relevant changing rooms, we grouped around the diving board. Just as Monobunny had said, Pinkie’s body was nowhere to be found. This fact elicited a thankful sigh from Reph, who had initially come through the swing doors with a hoof over his eyes. Sanscript quickly informed the others of what Monobunny had said, albeit without mentioning the incinerator.

So, magic is used once the trial begins, I pondered. That makes sense. Our trial might have taken some time, but if the culprit was obvious from the beginning, it might have only taken a few minutes. Magic would’ve been the only way to ensure the body’s removal in such a short time, but depending on the cause of death, cleanup could be quite the task. A single unicorn couldn’t do it all by themselves, surely? And why the stipulation? Why not use magic for everything? I lost my train of thought as Yoko turned to us and began his speech.

“We’re gathered here to honor two fallen ponies.” Despite being upbeat mere moments ago he now spoke with deep solemnity. “Though our time together may have been brief, it does not diminish the gravity of their passing. Neither of them deserved their fate, and though I may begrudge Shetland for his actions, I believe that in another life, things could’ve been different.”

He carried on for a while more, his gaze drooping slowly to the ground. He looked oddly comfortable as he mulled over the philosophical nature of life and death, showing gratefulness for them finally finding peace. He remarked on his wish to find out just how great Pinkie’s parties truly were, the positivity that she showed us while alive – “something we could take a lesson from” – and finished with a message to Applejack, which he delivered straight into one of the cameras protruding from the nearest corner where the wall met the ceiling.

“I bet you’re feeling a whole lot worse than all of us put together. It’s a crying shame you had to watch your friend die. Whatever support I can give, you can have. Hopefully we can meet one day. I’d like that.” He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Sorry for being selfish. I should’ve allowed someone else to take the floor before me. Would anyone else like to say a few words?”

“If I may,” Lancet said with a short bow. “Though what you’ve already said was truly wonderful.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Yoko said, mimicking her gesture.

“All I wanted to say… Well, how do I put it? I’m sure you’re all aware that I nearly lost myself to depression after the events of the trial. I held an admiration for Shetland, an innate feeling of trust and kinship that I still held onto, even as his intentions were made clear. I thought maybe that was foolish of me, but I don’t feel that way anymore. Both Shetland and Pinkie, they were each trying to save others, even though one was willing to sacrifice us and the other sought the exclusive trust of another and nobody else. Perhaps if I had grown wise – or thought I’d grown wise – to the things she truly believed, I would have done the same thing and I would have been the first victim. Or rather the second, I should say.

“Cube Rick died before any of us even knew him, all because he fought back against our oppressor with force, fighting fire with fire. Pinkie died because of her conviction, her need to put all her hopes into one other while excluding the rest. Shetland died because he believed he could get away with murder, that nobody else could figure out his methods. In the end, there were at least two who stood in his way, unravelling even the most elusive and imperceptive of details.”

Lancet gave a nod to Mesmer and I before continuing. I felt a burst of pride leap from my chest and pulled an involuntary smile. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Dopple had figured it all out on her own. That, just as Mesmer had stated, she was the most intelligent one among us. Her occasional conversations with Mesmer rose above what I could comprehend, and Mesmer’s temporary moment of dumbfoundedness suggested she was operating on a level above even him. And yet, during the trial she seldom spoke. I had to wonder, if she knew the culprit’s identity from the start, why did she leave it for the rest of us to solve?

“Please forgive me if my words come off as callous or disrespectful. I in no way wish to treat the deaths of Cube Rick, Pinkie or Shetland as some meaningless statistic. I believe we should continue to think of them as they were, and to never forget that they had lives, that they had hopes and dreams, and that their time was tragically cut short. My point is, we can learn from their mistakes. That way, they won’t have died in vain.”

I noticed Mesmer’s ears prick up and a frown – the tiniest frown, either in interest or dismay, I couldn’t be sure – appeared on his face.

Lancet closed her eyes and held a hoof to her chest. “We cannot follow in their hoof-steps. We must find a new path, one that we must all strive for together. We cannot fight Monobunny head-on. We must share our ideas and feelings. Most importantly of all, we must not think for one second that murder is the solution. It is just another road to failure.” Lancet opened her eyes and smiled. “I hope you can all agree.”

“Hear, hear!” Yoko boomed, grinning feverishly. “We can’t fall into the same traps that they did. If they’re watching us right now, that’s what they’d want us to realize!”

“A good message to us all,” Sanscript said with a curt nod.

I nodded in kind, merely out of a feeling of necessity. Mesmer followed suit, his shock either gone or hidden from his face. Dopple did the same, smiling. Reph remained a bag of nerves but uttered something in agreement. The reaction that alarmed me the most, however, was Copper’s. The mare appeared lighter on her hooves, almost as if she was going to faint. Her stomach contracted and her lips quivered. She took a series of quick, wavering breaths through her nose. My first thought was that she had stifled the urge to vomit. In turn, I felt a commanding desire to hold her, to pull her into my chest as she sobbed, to kiss her tenderly on the forehead, but succeeding only in imagining it.

“Oh, may I speak next?” Inky asked, already pushing herself into an open space, like a performer taking command of a stage. “I didn’t spend much time with Pinkie, but what little time we shared was truly awesome. She was a cool chick with a cracking smile, and I bet she was a demon in the sack.” Inky chuckled to herself before abruptly quivering, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m really g-going to miss her. She could have been my best friend.”

Inky erupted into a loud wail and lurched forward. Yoko approached her and held out a hoof for comfort but she pushed it away, walking past him and leaping towards Sanscript, throwing her forelegs around him. “I didn’t get to say goodbye!”

“There, there,” Sanscript said, rubbing her back. “Everything’s going to be alright, Miss Slinger.”

Inky nodded sadly, rubbing her muzzle into his mane and breathing deeply.

As the charade continued, my mind quickly returned to Lancet’s words and what they meant for the rest of us. She’d sounded so sure of herself, as if she had blasted the mystery of our capture wide open and delivered the answer to our problems, as if her reasoning would rally the troops. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Now I understood the meaning behind Copper's reaction. I looked around, wondering if anyone would tell Lancet the truth. Her logic was utterly busted. For anyone wishing to leave this place, the only lesson to be learned was to perfect the art of murder. Through the act of attempted reassurance, I felt as if Lancet had only emboldened the group’s will to slaughter one another to survive.

Author's Note

I binge-watched the entirety of Squid Game today. Such a joy to see the death game genre doing so well! I felt emboldened to quickly finish this chapter and get it published. Anyway, bit of a slow one this time, but some important information has been revealed. Let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments!