City Roulette Ep 4 Part 3 : This doesn't feel like the Holiday's *Class Trial*

The tension in the room thickens like smoke. The roulette wheel glows crimson beneath the circle, slowly spinning, the soft chime of bells underscoring the uneasy quiet. The ridiculousness of the “scrunchie choke theory” has faded — replaced with something heavier, sharper. Heather Metal, Julian Merwin, and Arthur Smith stand at their podiums, their faces lit by the flickering red and green trial lights. The three names hover above them on the holographic display, glowing faintly. Austin Sobriquet (quietly, adjusting his glasses): “So… it all circles back to them. Heather. Julian. Arthur Smith.” Mariah City (folding her arms): “Great. Three suspects, zero patience.” Heather Metal (sighing, sarcastic): “Cool. Can’t wait to see how I get blamed for death-by-scrunchie. Real legacy moment.” Neely Pearl (grinning): “Oh, honey, if it was you, at least it’s fabulous. I mean— poetic irony. VSCO girl kills technician with a hair accessory? That’s showbiz.” Heather (dryly): “Please shut up before I use a scrunchie on you.” Harold Yamaki (purring): “Ooh, a sequel!” The laughter dies down as Aruha Suguyama straightens up, her calm, measured tone cutting through the noise. Aruha (firm): “Let’s start with Arthur Smith. During the body discovery announcement, I was with him and Mark Traverse. We had to clear the furniture away from the gift shop entrance. The barricade was jammed, and it took all three of us to move it.” Mark Traverse (nodding): “Yeah, she’s right. Arthur was there the whole time — sweating, cursing, and very much not committing murder.” Arthur Smith (relieved): “Thank you. Finally, some recognition.” Harold Yamaki (smirking): “Oh, how disappointing. I was hoping for a ‘Model Turned Murderer’ headline.” Arthur Smith (snapping): “Keep hoping, fuzzball.” Chase Hallow (nodding): “That clears Arthur. The timeline doesn’t fit. He couldn’t have been at the plaza — he was still helping to clear the barricades.” The holographic projection flickers — Arthur’s name fades from red to gray. Heather Metal (crossing her arms): “So we’re down to two. What now, a haircare showdown?” Julian Merwin smirks, running a hand through his styled black hair. “Hey, if it’s between you and me, sweetheart, I like my odds.” Jackie Yamata (rolling his eyes): “Julian, please.” Seth Norway leans on his podium, his usual dry tone barely masking his amusement. “Let’s be real — Julian couldn’t have used a scrunchie to kill anyone. Have you seen his arms?” Julian (grinning): “Why yes, actually. Would you like a closer look?” Seth (flat): “Not what I meant.” Jackie Yamata (chuckling): “He’s right though. Julian’s built like a dancer — strong, flexible, definitely capable of fighting, not choking people with dollar-store accessories.” Julian (flashing a playful grin): “Careful, Jackie. Keep complimenting me like that and I’ll start thinking you’re into me.” Jackie (deadpan): “I’d sooner date the scrunchie.” Neely Pearl (gasping): “Oh, the shade! The drama! Someone call wardrobe; I need popcorn!” Harold Yamaki (delighted): “Mmm, tension and flirtation — my favorite holiday pairing.” Chase Hallow (clearing his throat): “So we can rule out Julian as well. He’s physically strong — his build contradicts the weak-force theory Nicholas pointed out. The killer had to use the scrunchie because they lacked the strength for direct violence.” Julian winks at Chase. “See? My muscles saved my reputation.” Mariah City (muttering): “And my sanity’s the price.” The hologram flickers again — Julian’s name fades to gray, leaving only one still glowing in red. Heather Metal. The room grows quiet. All eyes shift toward her. Heather’s smirk fades, replaced with a look caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation. Heather (flatly): “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Chase (calm, steady): “Heather, you’re the only one left without a verified alibi. You weren’t in the café or gift shop groups, and you weren’t seen near the town hall barricades.” Heather (defensive): “I told you — I was near the equipment cases by the side gate! Ask anyone who was helping move supplies!” Austin Sobriquet (shaking his head): “I checked the equipment area during investigation. Nobody there remembers seeing you.” Heather (snapping): “Yeah, because everyone was running for their lives! Sorry for not holding a press conference while a bear trashed the lobby!” Neely Pearl (mock sympathy): “Oh, sweetie, denial doesn’t look good under neon lighting.” Heather (snapping): “Shut it, Neely!” Mariah City (grinning despite herself): “Okay, but… it is kinda sus that the only person left happens to be the one cracking up laughing over the scrunchie.” Heather (sarcastic): “Yeah, because that’s totally motive — I laugh at bad evidence, so I must be a killer!” Nicholas Sour (quietly): “You did laugh… a lot.” Heather (turning): “Nicholas, you’re sucking on a lollipop during a murder trial.” Nicholas (shrugging): “And you’re on trial during a murder trial.” Neely Pearl (snapping their fingers): “Ohhh, point to Lollipop Boy!” Harold Yamaki leans forward on his throne, eyes glowing faintly gold with mischief. Harold (softly, purring): “My, my, Heather. The evidence sparkles, but your story… doesn’t. Alone, unaccounted for, and oh so defensive.” Heather (glaring up at him): “I’m not scared of you, Mayor Catnip.” Harold (grinning): “Good~. Fear is such a messy color on you.” The roulette hum deepens — a slow, heavy rhythm. The snowflake holograms above begin spinning faster, casting wild reflections across the group. Chase Hallow (low, certain): “For now, the logic points one way. Arthur has an alibi. Julian doesn’t match the killer’s profile. That leaves you, Heather.” Heather Metal (gritting her teeth): “So that’s it, huh? I’m the scapegoat of the season. Merry freaking Christmas.” Mariah City (softly): “If it’s not you, prove it.” Heather looks around the circle — at every face watching her. Her usual confidence wavers, just slightly. Heather (quietly): “I’ll prove it. Because I didn’t kill him.” Harold Yamaki (grinning): “Oh, what a bold holiday promise~! I can’t wait to see if you keep it before the clock strikes despair!” He claps once — the sound sharp as glass. The roulette beneath them speeds up, the chime turning into a mechanical jingle. Harold (cheerfully): “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath, little rockstar. The pressure’s about to tighten~!” The lights flicker between red and white, the snow swirling faster around them. Heather’s jaw clenches as the others watch — suspicion, fear, and curiosity mixing under the glow of the trial lights. The red and green lights fade into a colder, bluish tone as the roulette slows its spin — the air feels dense, frozen with accusation. Heather Metal stands straight behind her podium, her VSCO-chic hair tied in a high ponytail, hands gripping the edge of the console. Her scrunchie-stacked wrists glint under the trial lights. Her usual confident smirk is gone; in its place — sharp determination. Heather Metal (flatly): “You all really think I did it?” A few glances shift away from her; no one answers. Heather (louder): “Seriously? Me? The Ultimate VSCO Girl? I’m supposed to believe I went full Mission Impossible with a rope and a Christmas tree?” Neely Pearl (half-smirking): “Well, the aesthetic does fit.” Heather (snapping): “Neely, not now!” Harold Yamaki chuckles lowly from his throne, tail flicking like a metronome. Harold (purring): “Oh, please. Continue your influencer defense, darling. I’m dying to hear how you’ll hashtag your innocence.” Heather rolls her eyes. Heather (mocking): “#I’mNotTheKiller. There — happy?” Mariah City (crossing her arms): “Words aren’t proof, Heather.” Heather (exasperated): “Fine! You want proof? Let’s walk through this ridiculous theory step by step.” She leans forward, fire in her voice now. Heather: “First off — motive. What possible reason would I have to kill Robert? He barely even talked to me! The most we ever said to each other was, ‘hey, can you hand me that charger.’” Austin Sobriquet (quietly): “She’s not wrong. They weren’t close.” Heather (counting on her fingers): “Second, the timeline. For me to have done this, I’d need to: Sneak into the café while a bear was inside — y’know, minor detail. Steal a rope and a box without dying. Barricade both doors from the café to the gift shop — while the bear’s still trashing tables! Then run to the outside of the gift shop, barricade that door with more furniture somehow. Lasso a freaking tree branch while Robert’s sitting on it. Pull the rope hard enough to snap the branch — oh, and let’s not forget—” (she spreads her arms theatrically) “—I apparently did all this with zero upper body strength because I’m, what, too busy saving the turtles?” Neely Pearl bursts out laughing. “Honestly? The visual’s killing me. You, mid-crisis, with a Hydro Flask in one hand and a rope in the other!” Heather (pointing at Neely): “Exactly! How is that the face of calculated murder?” Chase Hallow (calmly): “So you’re saying it’s physically impossible for you to have done all that alone.” Heather (nodding): “Not just physically — logistically. Think about it. There’s a bear, a snake incident, barricaded doors, and chaos everywhere. You think I had time to set up a tree trap in between posting selfies?” Mariah City (snickering): “To be fair, you’d probably livestream it if you did.” Heather (grinning for a second): “Yeah, but at least I’d use good lighting.” The crowd chuckles, tension breaking slightly. Heather (serious again): “And about the snakes? I wasn’t anywhere near them. You can ask Hue or Emma — they were the ones stuck fighting off reptiles while I was hiding in the back corridor near the generator storage.” Hue Trinity (nodding reluctantly): “She’s right. I didn’t see her anywhere near the house.” Austin Sobriquet (cross-checking his notes): “The surveillance logs from the town hall corridor picked up movement near that area around the same time. Could match her position.” Heather (snapping her fingers): “Thank you! Finally, some common sense!” Harold Yamaki (teasing, clapping slowly): “Ooh, a passionate rebuttal! I adore it. You’re like a snowflake in a blizzard of denial.” Heather (glaring): “Denial? You think I’d waste my time choking a man with a scrunchie? Please. If I wanted to kill someone, I’d do it with style — and probably lip gloss.” Neely Pearl (snapping): “Yesss! That’s the VSCO spirit!” Mariah City (shaking her head, half-laughing): “She’s not wrong. If it was Heather, the crime scene would’ve had a filter and a caption.” Heather (sighing, rubbing her temples): “Finally, people are using their brains. Look, I know I’m loud, I know I joke too much — but I’m not stupid, and I’m not a killer. Everything about this screams ‘overcomplicated,’ and that’s not me.” Chase Hallow (considering): “She makes a solid point. The setup took strength, time, and patience. Heather doesn’t fit that profile.” Riko Hoyomisha (nodding): “Not to mention, there’s still no evidence connecting her directly to the scrunchie. It came from the girls’ house, yes, but anyone could’ve taken it.” Heather (crossing her arms triumphantly): “Exactly. Thank you, Riko. So unless the killer was secretly me with ten extra hours and a gym membership, I think you all need to look somewhere else.” Harold Yamaki (leaning forward, tail curling): “Oooh, feisty! I like that spirit~! A holiday miracle of sass and survival.” Neely Pearl (clapping): “She cleared her name and gave a TED Talk.” Mariah City (muttering): “At this point, we should just rename this ‘The Roast of Heather Metal.’” Heather (smirking): “Good. Because I’m not dying for someone else’s crime.” The roulette hum deepens again, glowing with faint gold light instead of red. The audience feels it — the shift in suspicion, the flicker of doubt turning away from her. Chase Hallow (quietly, thoughtful): “She’s right. The timeline doesn’t fit. And if she was near the generator hall, that puts her on the opposite side of the plaza when Robert died.” Harold Yamaki (purring): “My, my~! It seems our VSCO vixen has wriggled out of the snowdrift… for now.” He leans back, crossing his legs with a feline grin. Harold: “But if it wasn’t Heather… who among you has the strength — and the sparkle — to finish the job?” The snowflake holograms above shimmer faintly red again, spinning faster. Heather exhales slowly, shoulders relaxing just a little as the spotlight drifts away from her podium. Heather (quietly, under her breath): “Thank God for receipts.” The roulette has slowed again, casting a pale glow that ripples like snowfall across the room. The hum of tension lingers — everyone still processing Heather’s fiery defense. Then, a single voice breaks the quiet. Jessi Kowalski (coolly): “I’m not buying it.” All heads turn toward her. Jessi’s arms are crossed, her tarot-shaped earrings swaying as she steps forward. Her eyes narrow in that mix of cynicism and intuition that’s earned her the title of Ultimate Tarot Card Reader. Heather Metal (snapping): “Oh, what now? You wanna pull the Tower card for me too?” Jessi (unamused): “No. I’m gonna pull something else.” From inside her coat, Jessi produces a small folded piece of paper sealed in a plastic sleeve. The paper’s edges are torn, smudged with faint dirt. She lays it flat on her podium under the lights. Jessi (calmly): “During the investigation, I found this. Outside the gift shop — half-buried near the wall.” Chase Hallow (focused): “What is it?” Jessi: “Looks like a list. With everyone’s names on it… and animals written next to each one.” The crowd murmurs. Neely Pearl (curious): “Oooh, mystery fan mail?” Harold Yamaki’s ears perk up, and he leans forward from his throne with a curious grin. Harold (cheerful): “Oh, that old thing! I must’ve dropped it.” Mariah City (blinking): “Wait— you wrote it?” Harold (purring): “Accidentally~! I was compiling my little ‘Naughty or Wild’ list. Had to pair everyone with their perfect spirit animal before the trial, you know, for dramatic flair!” Neely Pearl (snapping): “Oh my god, we’re literally in a murder trial, and you’re out here doing horoscopes for zoo animals?” Harold (smiling): “It’s called presentation, darling.” Heather Metal (rolling her eyes): “Unbelievable.” Jessi (continuing): “Yeah, well, the list might be more than presentation. There’s something weird about it. Some of the writing’s been smeared — like someone handled it before I found it.” Austin Sobriquet (leaning closer): “What kind of animals were listed?” Jessi flips the paper open, reading aloud carefully: “Emma — bear. Austin — squirrel. Mariah — raccoon. Julian — fox. Arthur Present — deer. Neely — peacock—” Neely Pearl (snapping their fingers): “Obviously.” Jessi (continuing, unfazed): “—Robert — wolves.” The group murmurs again. Riko Hoyomisha (frowning): “Wolves?” Jessi nods, tapping the name with a gloved finger. “Yeah. Plural. Wolves, not one.” Austin Sobriquet (pensive): “Wolves aren’t exactly known for climbing trees. But they’re pack hunters — coordinated, fast, aggressive. So Robert climbing a tree… might’ve been a logical survival move.” Chase Hallow (nodding): “If he saw wolves, he’d naturally seek higher ground. The broken branch could’ve been his attempt to get away — or what the killer used against him while he was up there.” Heather Metal (folding her arms): “So… you’re saying the list tells us what animals attacked who?” Jessi (flatly): “Not exactly. I think it’s more like a pattern — maybe what the mayor planned to release after the announcement.” Harold Yamaki (mock gasp): “You make it sound like I don’t know how to organize chaos!” Jessi (snapping): “Clearly, you don’t! Because here’s the weird part—” She holds up the paper closer to the light. The ink shines faintly under the glow, some parts smudged into unreadable blotches. Jessi: “Some names are perfectly clear. But a few? Completely smeared. Almost on purpose.” Chase (leaning in): “Which names?” Jessi’s eyes move down the list, her tone tightening. “Hue. Emma. And… Heather.” Everyone turns toward Heather again. Heather Metal (groaning): “Oh, come on! What is this, round two?” Jessi (firm): “Someone smeared their animals out — not random ink, deliberate. Maybe to hide what was planned for them… or what they were supposed to face.” Austin Sobriquet (thoughtful): “If the animals next to their names were erased, then maybe whoever did it wanted to change or cover their fate.” Neely Pearl (snapping their fingers): “Ooh, mystery sabotage! Someone editing the mayor’s murder itinerary!” Harold Yamaki (grinning): “I do love fan participation~.” Heather (pointing at him): “Shut up, Harold. You ‘accidentally’ dropped this list right before someone got murdered!” Harold (mock offended): “I’m merely a festive observer. My paws are clean — and moisturized.” Riko Hoyomisha (serious): “Still… it makes sense. If someone tampered with that list, it means they knew the attack order. They could’ve changed which animals were released — or when.” Chase Hallow (quietly): “And if Robert’s name was tied to wolves, maybe whoever edited the list made sure his attack wasn’t random.” Heather Metal (snapping): “So you’re saying someone literally rewrote his death sentence?” Jessi (grimly): “Looks like it.” Mariah City (softly): “Then whoever smeared those names… knew what was coming.” A low hum fills the air again — the roulette beginning to spin faster, the snowflake holograms above flashing erratically. Harold Yamaki (grinning like a cat that caught a mouse): “Ohhh~! Tampered fate, twisted intention, and smeared ink on the page of destiny! Don’t you just love the holiday suspense?” Heather (growling): “I swear, one more pun and I’ll throw a Hydro Flask at you.” Harold (amused): “Temper, temper~. You wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list again.” The camera zooms in on the list, the smeared names glistening faintly like wet paint — Hue. Emma. Heather. Three names. Three missing beasts. And one murdered technician who climbed too high. The roulette slows to a stop, the chime echoing like a clock strike. Chase Hallow (quietly): “If someone rewrote that list… they might’ve rewritten the entire plan.” The courtroom lights flicker again — blue and red flashes painting everyone in restless, feverish color. The list of beasts lies flat on Jessi’s podium, the ink shimmering faintly under the neon glare. Austin Sobriquet steps forward, holding out his hand. Austin (calmly): “Jessi, can you pass that down?” Jessi Kowalski nods and slides the plastic-sealed sheet down the line of podiums. The paper travels through several pairs of hands — cautious, uneasy — until it reaches Austin. He adjusts his glasses, the lenses flashing white for a second as the smart optics scan the surface. Austin (quietly): “There’s still faint residue from the ink. If I magnify it enough, I might make out what was under the smears.” Everyone watches — the hum of his glasses is the only sound for a moment. The faint letters slowly reappear on the cracked paper, ghostly and wet-looking in the glow. Austin (reading carefully): “Hue… Emma… and Heather. All three smeared, but…” (he squints) “…the one next to Heather starts with an ‘S’… and ends with an ‘S.’” The room stiffens. Neely Pearl (raising an eyebrow): “Ooh, suspense~! Snake? Shark? Sasquatch?” Before anyone else can speak, Hue Trinity slams both hands against his podium. Hue (furious): “Snakes. It’s snakes, isn’t it?” Austin (hesitating): “…It could be.” Hue’s voice cracks like a whip. Hue (explosive): “Are you kidding me?! You— you fucking bitch!” Heather Metal (snapping back): “Excuse me?!” Hue (shouting over her): “You smeared it on purpose, didn’t you?! You switched it! You made the snakes come for us!” Heather (furious): “Oh, give me a break, Trinity! I was nowhere near your snake-filled nightmare!” Hue (slamming his fist again): “Bullshit! You erased your name so you wouldn’t get attacked and dumped those snakes into our house! You almost got Emma killed!” Heather (yelling): “I didn’t even know where your stupid house was!” Hue (spitting out the words): “You’re full of shit! You were never where you said you were! Generator storage, my ass!” Heather (snapping): “Oh, what, now I’m supposed to have superpowers too? I’m a VSCO girl, not a snake charmer!” Hue (screaming): “Don’t fucking play dumb with me!” Heather (screaming back): “I’m not playing anything, asshole!” Their voices echo through the trial chamber, bouncing off the metal and glass walls. The roulette below them pulses in bright red light, matching the rising volume. Mariah City (wincing): “Oh my God, it’s like Christmas karaoke with violence.” Arthur Present (quietly, to Chase): “This is getting out of control.” Chase Hallow doesn’t even flinch — his eyes dart between the two, analyzing every word. Heather (furious, pointing): “You think I’d risk my life just to sic some reptiles on you?! You’re not even that important!” Hue (snapping back): “Oh yeah? Then why’s your name smeared next to the snakes, huh? You’re the only one who had a reason to hide it!” Heather (sarcastic, yelling): “Oh right, because I knew the mayor was making a murder safari in his free time!” Harold Yamaki (gleefully, clapping his paws): “Oh, don’t drag me into your lover’s quarrel~!” Hue (furious, glaring at Harold): “Shut the fuck up, cat!” Harold (grinning wider): “Me-ow! Such language~! I’m blushing!” Neely Pearl (leaning against their podium, sipping a juice pouch they somehow produced): “Mmm, this drama’s juicier than my lip gloss. Ten out of ten.” Next to them, Nicholas Sour quietly opens a candy bag and extends it toward Neely without breaking eye contact with the chaos. Nicholas (flatly): “Caramel?” Neely (smiling, taking one): “Sweet, spicy, and just enough chaos. Perfect snack for murder trials.” They clink candies like champagne glasses while Hue and Heather continue yelling in the background. Hue (shouting): “You knew what was going to happen! You changed it! You erased your name so we’d get the snakes instead!” Heather (yelling back): “If I did, don’t you think I’d at least have brought bug spray, you idiot?!” Hue (mocking): “Oh, so what — you were too busy painting your nails while people were dying?!” Heather (snapping, red-faced): “Better than flexing your yo-yo skills while the rest of us were fighting for our lives!” Hue (fuming): “Don’t fucking start with me, glitter Barbie!” Heather (firing back): “At least I don’t use a yo-yo as a personality!” Neely (sipping their drink, whispering to Nicholas): “God, I love this show.” Nicholas (deadpan): “Better than TV.” The shouting continues, fast and fiery — overlapping words, insults, pure chaos. Voices overlap until Harold finally rises from his throne, stretching like a cat and snapping his claws together. The sound echoes like thunder. The lights flicker, then stabilize. Harold Yamaki (cheerful): “Now, now~! Let’s not get our tails in a twist! Such passion, such energy! It warms my cold little mayor heart~!” Heather (furious): “He started it!” Hue (snapping): “She fucking deserves it!” Harold (grinning): “And I deserve entertainment! So by all means — continue!” Riko Hoyomisha (sternly): “Enough. Both of you.” Riko’s calm, icy tone cuts through the noise. Slowly, the shouting dies down — though Heather and Hue are still breathing hard, glaring daggers across the circle. Austin Sobriquet (quietly, reviewing the scanned image): “For what it’s worth… Hue might be right about one thing.” All eyes turn to him. Austin (continuing): “The smeared pattern around Heather’s name was deliberate — not accidental. Whoever did it pressed hard enough to distort the ink. That’s intent, not coincidence.” Heather (gritting her teeth): “So someone framed me.” Hue (snapping): “Or you framed yourself and screwed it up.” Heather (snarling): “You really wanna test me right now?” Neely Pearl (leaning on Nicholas’s shoulder, popping candy): “God, they’re so cute when they’re homicidal.” Nicholas (munching calmly): “Mhm.” Harold Yamaki (purring, eyes glowing faint gold): “Oh, this is getting good~. Smeared truths, sharp tongues, and a snake between them all. How festively venomous!” The camera pans out — Heather and Hue still locked in a glare that could ignite fireworks, Neely and Nicholas calmly sharing sweets, and Harold’s grin stretching wider by the second. The roulette beneath them glows crimson once again, pulsing like a heartbeat. The room feels suffocating now. The roulette wheel spins faster, the glow beneath them pulsing blood red. Everyone’s nerves are shredded thin — voices sharp, tension boiling. Heather Metal glares across the circle at Hue, breathing heavy, jaw tight. Hue’s just as ready to snap — fists clenched, eyes burning with accusation. Then Julian Merwin leans forward, breaking the silence with that lazy, confident tone that somehow cuts through everything. Julian (smoothly): “You know… there’s something that doesn’t add up.” Everyone turns toward him. He runs a hand through his blond hair, his usual smirk fading into something colder — more calculating. Julian (continuing): “If Emma had the bear next to her name, then the bear wasn’t random. It was assigned. Meaning it would’ve gone looking for her, not anyone else.” Chase Hallow (nodding slightly): “Which checks out. The bear broke through the café window after chasing her.” Julian (snapping his fingers): “Exactly. So when that happened — when the bear left the café — whoever was supposed to have the snakes? They were completely free. No animals chasing them, no chaos in their area.” The crowd murmurs as the logic clicks. Julian (leaning back, arms folded): “Meaning that person would’ve had all the time in the world to sneak into the café storage closet and barricade the doors while everyone else was busy screaming about bears. So…” (he tilts his head) “Guess whose earlier story just got shredded?” All eyes turn — again — to Heather Metal. The glow beneath her podium flickers like fire. Heather Metal (stiffly): “What the hell are you trying to say?” Julian (smirking faintly): “I’m saying your alibi doesn’t hold up. You said you couldn’t have barricaded those doors because the bear was inside the café. But if the bear was chasing Emma outside, then… what was stopping you?” Heather (snapping): “Oh, go to hell, Julian! That doesn’t prove shit!” Hue Trinity (grinning viciously): “Sounds like a confession to me.” Heather (screaming): “Fuck you! There’s no evidence! None! You all just keep throwing bullshit theories because you can’t handle the truth — that this entire situation’s insane!” Mariah City (under her breath): “She’s losing it.” Heather (continuing, voice cracking): “If I was near the snakes, you’d have proof! There’d be a trail, venom residue, a shed skin, something! But you’ve got nothing!” Her voice grows raw, the veins in her neck showing as she screams. Tears of fury — not guilt — burn in her eyes. Heather (shouting): “You think I’d cover up some list?! You think I’d go play Indiana Jones with reptiles? I didn’t kill anyone!” Hue (yelling back): “Yeah? Funny how the person screaming the loudest always turns out guilty as fuck!” Heather (snarling): “Shut your fucking mouth, you overgrown yo-yo clown!” Hue (slamming his fist): “Make me, bitch!” Heather (screaming): “Oh, I will!” Neely Pearl (chewing candy, whispering to Nicholas): “God, I love reality TV.” Nicholas Sour (deadpan): “This isn’t TV.” (He unwraps another caramel and offers it to Neely.) “Want one?” Neely (grinning): “Always.” They clink candies again as the argument escalates. Hue (furious): “You’ve been sketchy since the start! You were the first one to accuse me and Emma — trying to deflect, huh? You thought if you shouted loud enough, we’d stop looking at you!” Heather (snapping): “Yeah, because you were suspicious, dumbass! You and Emma were the only ones near the snakes!” Hue (leaning forward): “And yet, you’re the only one screaming like a guilty coward right now!” Heather (furious, trembling): “You wanna see guilty?! I’ll show you guilty, you smug piece of shit!” Harold Yamaki is practically beaming on his throne, tail swishing gleefully. Harold (purring): “Ohhh, the claws are out~! Such venom! Such passion! Keep going, my little drama vipers~!” Riko Hoyomisha (firm, stepping forward): “Harold. Enough.” Harold (mock gasp): “Oh, don’t spoil my fun, swordsman. I’m enjoying the fireworks!” Riko (snapping): “This isn’t entertainment!” Harold (grinning): “Then why does it feel so good?” The red glow intensifies beneath them — the roulette spinning so fast now it’s a blur. Hue (snarling): “You’re full of shit, Heather! You’re lying through your teeth!” Heather (screaming back): “I’M NOT FUCKING LYING!” Hue (slamming his hands down, stepping away from his podium): “Fuck this.” He marches straight toward her. Arthur Present (alarmed): “Hue, stop—!” Heather (shouting): “Get the fuck away from me!” Hue (furious, standing right in front of her): “Not until you tell me the truth, you snake-bitten liar!” He grabs her wrist before anyone can react. Heather (yelling): “Get your fucking hands off me!” But Hue yanks down her sleeve — and the room falls dead silent. There, across Heather’s forearm, are two deep puncture scars — purple and faded, ringed with faint swelling. Snake bites. The silence stretches. The roulette slows to a stop — the hum replaced by the faint sound of Heather’s ragged breathing. Heather (voice breaking): “…No.” Mariah City (softly): “Oh my God…” Neely Pearl (low whistle): “Well, shit.” Nicholas Sour (flatly): “Told you the candy helps. Calms the nerves.” Hue (breathing hard, eyes wide with fury): “I fucking knew it.” Heather (stumbling back, voice shaking): “It’s not— it’s not what it looks like!” Hue (screaming): “Oh really?! Then what is it, huh?! You just tripped and fell on a fucking viper?” Heather (yelling through tears): “They attacked me too! I didn’t send them after anyone!” Hue (furious): “Bullshit!” Heather (screaming): “Why would I lie?!” Riko Hoyomisha (stepping forward, sharp): “Enough!” The entire room freezes. Riko’s voice cuts like a blade — cold, commanding. Riko (stern): “No more shouting. No more guessing. The bite marks are proof that she was near the snakes — whether she sent them or not.” Chase Hallow (quietly): “Which means her alibi is gone.” Heather looks around — eyes wide, breath uneven, shaking her head in disbelief. Heather (hoarse): “No… no, you don’t understand…” Harold Yamaki (purring softly, tail curling): “Oh, but I think we do~.” He stands slowly from his throne, the lights dimming to a deep crimson glow as his grin widens. Harold: “The truth slithers out, no matter how many sleeves it hides beneath. Oh, Heather, dear — it seems your holiday just got bitten.” The roulette starts again — spinning fast, the chime now distorted and metallic, echoing through the chamber like a broken carol. Neely Pearl (quietly to Nicholas, half-smiling): “Called it. Snake drama always delivers.” Nicholas (munching calmly): “Mhm.” Heather drops to her knees, clutching her bitten arm, eyes burning with tears and rage as the lights swirl around her — red, gold, white — like a warped snowstorm. Heather (screaming): “I DIDN’T DO IT!” Hue (furious): “Then prove it!” Harold Yamaki (laughing, voice echoing through the chamber): “Oh, I do love a cliffhanger!” The roulette slows to a crawl. The blood-red glow softens into a low, pulsing heartbeat beneath the floor. No one speaks. The sound of Heather’s ragged breathing fills the silence. She’s still on her knees, clutching her bitten arm, eyes wide and glassy — trembling with fury and disbelief. Aruha Suguyama steps forward slowly. Calm. Composed. Her voice is quiet, but it cuts through the air like a razor. Aruha (softly): “You dug your own grave, Heather.” Heather looks up sharply, her lips trembling. Aruha (continuing): “All that yelling, all that anger — it only made you dig deeper. You made everyone think the bear stayed in the café the whole time. But it didn’t. It chased Emma out. You knew that.” The words hang heavy in the chamber. Heather’s breath catches — her defenses cracking under the weight of logic. Arthur Present finally speaks, stepping out from his podium, his voice calm but edged with disbelief. Arthur (firmly): “Why, Heather? Why would you kill Robert? What could you possibly gain from it?” Heather flinches at his tone, eyes flickering between them, searching for a foothold — a lifeline. Mariah City (coldly): “She used the chaos. That’s what she gained.” Austin Sobriquet pulls up his notes again, the flickering data from the investigation illuminating his glasses. Austin (steady, piecing it together): “It makes sense. Everything lines up now. Heather found the mayor’s animal list before the meeting. That’s why her name — and Hue’s and Emma’s — were smeared.” Jessi Kowalski (nodding): “She changed the order of the attacks.” Austin: “She waited until the bear left the café with Emma. Then, while everyone was panicking or fleeing, she snuck inside.” The holographic screen above the roulette begins projecting the evidence as Austin speaks — the visuals flashing one by one: The storage closet with the missing rope and box. The barricaded café doors. The trail of blood in the snow near the tree. The scrunchie in the bag under glass. Austin (narrating): “She took the rope and box from the closet. Then, she blocked the café and gift shop doors — not to protect anyone, but to trap them. That bought her time.” Heather (weakly, shaking her head): “No…” Aruha Suguyama (continuing): “And with that time, she went to the guy’s house.” Hue Trinity (gritting his teeth): “The snakes.” Aruha (nodding): “She poured them through the broken kitchen window. That’s why your marks are on your arm, Heather. You weren’t attacked by accident — you were the one handling them.” Heather (hoarse, trembling): “Stop it…” Riko Hoyomisha (quiet, relentless): “Then she went to the plaza. The bear had already been lured away. No one was there to see her.” Austin Sobriquet (continuing the sequence): “She tied the rope around the low-hanging branch — the one over the bench. She must’ve seen Robert climbing up, trying to get away from the wolves.” Neely Pearl (softly, intrigued): “So she waited… pulled the rope…” Austin (nodding grimly): “Snapped the branch. Sent him falling.” Julian Merwin (leaning on his podium, voice quieter now): “And the impact didn’t kill him. That’s why his body looked staged — that’s why the scrunchie was in his mouth.” Jessi Kowalski (grim): “She choked him with it.” Heather (voice rising, desperate): “Stop it! You’re twisting everything!” Arthur Present (quietly, almost pitying): “You used the chaos to cover it all. Every animal, every scream — it was all noise to hide what you were doing.” Riko Hoyomisha (lowering his voice): “And once it was over… you sat back and watched everyone turn on each other.” Heather’s breathing quickens, eyes darting from one face to another. The crowd’s silence feels suffocating — judgment heavy in the air. Mariah City (cold, shaking her head): “You even tried to pin it on Hue and Emma at the start. Smart move, but… not smart enough.” Hue Trinity (furious): “You fucking used us.” Heather (screaming): “I DIDN’T USE ANYONE!” Harold Yamaki finally stands, purring with sick delight, his voice echoing through the glowing chamber. Harold (soft, dramatic): “Ohhh~ I love it when the wrapping paper comes off. Such a gift of clarity~!” He lifts his paw, and the holographic projection flickers — displaying the entire chain of events like a twisted timeline: Heather sneaking through the café, blocking the doorways, carrying the snake box, tying the rope, the scrunchie glinting in the snowlight. Harold (mock cheerfully): “So much effort for one little technician. Makes you wonder what he did to earn such a festive fate~!” Arthur Present (sternly): “Answer him, Heather.” Heather (voice trembling): “I don’t— I didn’t—” Aruha Suguyama (cutting in): “Save it. Every step, every piece of evidence — it all leads to you.” Riko Hoyomisha (soft but merciless): “You made everyone think the bear was still inside so you could take advantage of the quiet. You waited for the perfect moment.” Austin Sobriquet (pointing at the projection): “The timeline fits perfectly. Every alibi you gave collapses under it.” Heather (screaming): “THERE’S NO PROOF I KILLED HIM!” Mariah City (snapping): “Bitch, you’ve got snake bites!” The room erupts — overlapping voices, half the group shouting, others gasping, the chaos rising again. Harold Yamaki (laughing, tail swishing): “Oh, the crescendo! The climax! The perfect holiday meltdown!” Heather slams her fist into her podium, voice shaking with fury and grief. Heather (screaming): “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t mean—” She stops herself — the words catching in her throat. Everyone freezes. Her breathing stutters. Even Harold stops smiling. Hue (low, venomous): “…Didn’t mean what, Heather?” Heather’s eyes dart toward him — terrified. Harold Yamaki (whispering, almost giddy): “Oh, don’t stop now, dear. You were so close to a confession~.” The roulette begins to spin again, glowing with a soft, poisonous green — like the eyes of a serpent. Heather grips her podium tightly, shaking, caught between rage and despair. Aruha (cold): “You used the chaos, the fear, the confusion — to kill one of us.” Arthur Present (quietly, to himself): “She turned the whole city into her weapon.” Heather looks up, eyes wide, her face streaked with tears, voice trembling with both fury and heartbreak. Heather (whispering): “I didn’t mean for it to go that far…” Gasps fill the chamber. Mariah (breathless): “…Oh my God.” Hue (furious): “You admit it!” Heather (snapping): “I SAID I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Her voice echoes across the chamber — raw, cracked, broken. Harold Yamaki (smiling softly, satisfied): “And there it is~.” The roulette glows blindingly bright — scarlet and gold blending like spilled blood and melted light. The sound of distant bells rings out, cheerful and haunting all at once. Heather stands in the center of it all — shaking, defeated, surrounded by her own chaos. Harold (purring): “Such a tragic holiday performance… I could almost cry~.” The lights dim to pitch black. Only the roulette beneath their feet glows — crimson and gold, spinning faster and faster, its hum swelling into a mechanical roar that shakes the room. Everyone stands silent, the weight of the moment pressing on their shoulders like frost. Then — A single voice cuts through the sound. Harold Yamaki (loud, sharp, his voice amplified through the chamber): “Enough~!” The spinning stops. The roulette halts mid-glow, flickering once before settling into a bright, blinding white light beneath them. Harold (purring, voice echoing): “My lovely citizens… we’ve played our little guessing game long enough. Now—” (he raises one paw dramatically) “—it’s time to wrap this gift of truth!” The holographic display flickers to life above them — twenty-five glowing screens arranged in a circle, each one showing the face of a player and a small voting pad below their podium. Harold (grinning): “Everyone, take your pick! Tap the name of the one you believe to be our precious blackened~. The killer hiding among the tinsel and tears.” Mariah City (through gritted teeth): “This isn’t a damn game…” Harold (snapping his fingers): “Oh, but it is! And I do love a unanimous ending.” The group exchanges weary looks. One by one, their hands move toward their screens. Heather Metal stands frozen, her bitten arm trembling, eyes wide. Her voice breaks into a whisper. Heather (weakly): “Don’t do this…” No one responds. Jessi Kowalski presses her pad. Heather Metal. Austin Sobriquet — Heather Metal. Hue Trinity slams his vote with fury — Heather Metal. Emma Violet, shaking but resolute — Heather Metal. Arthur Present presses his with a slow, heavy breath — Heather Metal. One after another — Mariah, Neely, Julian, Riko, Chase, Paulie Mae, Seth, Kayegama, Aruha, Will, Mark, Arthur Smith, Jackie, Paris, Nicholas, Johnathan, Myrtle, Jake, Paulie Louis — Each screen flashes the same name. Heather Metal. The final light flickers and locks. The roulette stops spinning. The lights fade to a deep, chilling blue. Harold Yamaki (smiling, almost softly): “Ohhh~! Would you look at that! A perfect score.” (he purrs) “You’ve all outdone yourselves. A unanimous holiday miracle~.” Civilians: Heather Metal/ Ultimate VSCO Girl Kayegama Yoshe/Ultimate Freestyle rollerblader times_places Riko Hoyomisha/Ultimate Fencer paul Johnathan Coffee/Ultimate Barista Joshua Aruha Suguyama/ Ultimate violinist blue Arthur Smith/Ultimate male model Imprincearthur Jessie Kowalski/Ultimate Tarot Card reader Jessiekowalski Jake Belle/ Ultimate Scam Artist Will King/Ultimate Gamer Icebeast Mark Traverse/Ultimate Influencer Bagel Mariah City/ Ultimate Livestreamer Myrtle Chang/Ultimate Swimmer stuartlittle16 Neely Pearl/ Ultimate Drag Queen Julian Merwin/ Ultimate male stripper Austin Sobriquet/Ultimate professor Sobriquet Chase Hallow/ Ultimate Mangaka Jackie Yamata/ Ultimate Pop Idol Emma Violet/ Ultimate Skateboarder Paulie Mae/ Ultimate Pottery Maker Seth Norway/ Ultimate Occultist Arthur Present/ Ultimate Knight Hue Trinity/ Ultimate Yo-yo Pro Paris Ross/ Ultimate Cat Lover Nicholas Sour/ Ultimate Candy Lover Paulie Louis/ Ultimate Seamstress Reader's Tag: Spinfur (as punishment) Previous: https://kovaze.com/blog/18493 Continue: https://kovaze.com/blog/18502