The train groaned as it settled in the tunnel's silence, steel creaking like bones under strain. Emergency lights cast red glows across the walls, turning the luxurious interior into a haunted corridor.
Luke stood by the window, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow. "Why'd we stop?"
Arthur's voice was quiet. "Because someone wanted it that way."
He stepped out of the observation car into the hallway. Passengers murmured nervously behind them, some beginning to panic. The conductor was already heading down the passage, flashlight in hand.
"We didn't lose power completely," the man said, sweat beading down his temple. "But the brakes were pulled. Manually. From the engineer's side."
Luke looked to Arthur. "Could be the killer, right?"
Arthur nodded. "Or someone trying to escape."
Minutes later, they were at the front of the train again. The engine car was empty.
The engineer… gone.
No sign of struggle, no blood. Just… vanished.
Arthur crouched near the panel and noticed something immediately. A set of muddy footprints—fresher than they should've been. And in the corner, scrawled hastily in the grime across the metal wall, a single sentence:
"He wasn't on the list."
Luke read it aloud and shivered. "Who wasn't?"
Arthur didn't answer.
His mind was spinning now.
Three names.
Three crossed out.
But the killer hadn't struck for the third time yet.
That meant the third death hadn't happened. Elric wasn't the end.
Someone else had taken Evelyn's place on the list.
Someone not supposed to be there.
And the killer… was improvising now.
Back in the passenger car, Arthur gathered everyone again. The train was still dead on the tracks, and a search party had been sent toward the maintenance outpost two miles up the line.
Reinhart sat with his arms crossed. Seraphine was still composed, though her glass had gone untouched.
Arthur looked around. "Where's Danton Rowe?"
No one answered.
Arthur repeated, firmer this time. "Where is Danton Rowe?"
"He left during the blackout," Seraphine finally said. "Said he needed air."
Luke muttered, "You think he pulled the brake?"
Arthur didn't answer, but he was already heading for the sleeper cars.
They found Danton's cabin in seconds. The door was unlocked.
Inside: torn notebooks, shredded newspaper articles.
And in the center of the bed—another playing card.
Not a Queen.
A Joker.
Painted entirely black.
Arthur picked it up slowly, then turned to Luke. "He wasn't a suspect."
"Then what was he?"
Arthur stared at the card. "A messenger."
Pinned beneath the Joker was a torn scrap of paper—part of a train schedule from nearly five years ago. The top half read only one thing:
ARGENT LINE—Final Manifest
Below that, one name barely legible:
Captain Gregor Reinhart
Arthur exhaled slowly.
So that was it.
Not just a link between the passengers… Reinhart was the common denominator. The one present on both lines. The failed medical project and the deadly derailment.
And someone… someone with a Joker's face and a spade in hand…
Was setting the board.
Back in the main car, Arthur dropped the card on the table in front of Reinhart.
"You were on the Argent Line the day it fell."
Reinhart's jaw clenched. "So?"
"You survived. Barely. Like me. But you didn't just survive, did you? You knew what was happening."
Reinhart stood. "Watch your tone."
Luke stepped forward, but Arthur raised a hand.
"I'm not accusing you of being the killer," he said. "I'm saying… you were the target all along."
Seraphine's voice cut in from the side. "A grudge years in the making."
Arthur looked at her.
"You knew too, didn't you?"
She didn't deny it. "My father was on the board of directors for the project. He died on that train. Fenwick paid to cover it. Elric spun the story. And Reinhart? He walked away."
Arthur turned back to the Joker card.
"This isn't just revenge. It's a story. One the killer wants to finish."
Luke asked quietly, "So who's next?"
Arthur stared down at his hands.
The chains felt tighter now.
The weight… unbearable.
He could almost hear them clink when he moved.
The fourth name wasn't written.
Because the killer didn't need to write it.
Arthur already knew who it was.
Him.