Chapter 60: Crowd
The old man was gone before I took a second step.
One moment he had been standing beneath the oak tree with one hand resting on his walking stick. The next, the crowd flowed between us, and he disappeared as though he had never been there.
"...Adrian?"
Ryan’s voice pulled me back.
"You stopped again."
I tore my eyes away from the courtyard.
"...Sorry."
Ryan followed my gaze toward the tree.
"What were you looking at?"
"I thought I saw someone."
"Someone you know?"
"I don’t know."
Daniel tilted his head.
"You don’t know?"
"I’ve never met him."
"Then why—"
I shook my head before he could finish.
"I’ll explain later."
It wasn’t an answer, but no one pushed the subject. Noah wasn’t with us, and Ryan could usually tell when a joke would only make things worse.
He simply nodded.
"...All right."
"Come on."
"Marcus is going to complain if we’re late."
"I complain because you’re always late," Marcus said from behind us.
All four of us turned.
Marcus and Ethan had just walked out of the old building, carrying empty cardboard boxes that had apparently held extra visitor notebooks.
Ryan looked genuinely surprised.
"...How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
"I’ve decided that’s creepy."
Marcus ignored him.
"The next group is already waiting."
Ryan immediately started walking.
"See?"
"I told you he’d complain."
"I heard that."
"I know."
Daniel laughed as we followed them back toward the club room.
By the time we reached the hallway, another line had already formed outside the Mystery Research Club.
Word had spread.
Some visitors had returned with friends after visiting yesterday.
Others carried pamphlets with our room circled in red.
One student even walked in carrying a notebook filled with observations from the first day.
Ryan stared.
"...We’re getting speedrunners."
The student smiled sheepishly.
"I wanted to beat my previous time."
Marcus opened the door wider.
"Good luck."
Within minutes, the room was alive again.
The familiar rhythm returned almost naturally.
Ryan welcomed each group with theatrical enthusiasm.
Daniel handed out detective notebooks.
Ethan quietly reset clues whenever a team finished.
Marcus kept track of visitor numbers.
Noah moved between groups, answering questions without ever giving away the solution.
I found myself doing what I had done all morning.
Watching.
Not just the visitors.
Everything.
Every person who paused outside the doorway.
Every face that lingered for a little too long.
Every reflection in the hallway windows.
The System had told me not to pursue Lucien.
It had said nothing about paying attention.
Around one o’clock, the Newspaper Club returned.
This time they brought a photographer.
"President Walker?"
Noah looked up.
"Yes?"
"We’d like a group photograph for tomorrow’s academy newsletter."
Ryan immediately stepped forward.
"I’ve been preparing for this my entire life."
Marcus sighed.
"I don’t think anyone asked you."
"They asked for the club."
"I am the club."
"No."
"The rest of us are unfortunately included."
The photographer laughed.
"Could everyone stand near the evidence board?"
We gathered together while visitors waited outside.
Ryan insisted on wearing the detective hat.
Marcus refused.
Daniel eventually convinced him by promising he could wear it after the photograph.
Ryan reluctantly handed it over.
"I’ll remember this betrayal."
The photographer adjusted the camera.
"Everyone ready?"
Noah nodded.
The flash went off once.
Then again.
"One more."
Ryan suddenly raised two thumbs.
Marcus closed his eyes.
"I knew he was going to do that."
The photographer lowered the camera with a smile.
"Perfect."
As everyone returned to work, I noticed Noah quietly speaking with the reporter near the entrance.
The conversation lasted less than a minute before the reporter thanked him and left.
When Noah returned, I asked, "What did they want?"
"They’re writing a short article about the exhibition."
"What did you tell them?"
"The truth."
He smiled faintly.
"I said our members worked hard."
Ryan immediately appeared beside us.
"...Did you mention me?"
"No."
"I’ve been erased from history."
"I mentioned the club."
"I am the club."
Marcus walked past carrying a stack of answer sheets.
"No."
Ryan sighed dramatically.
"I live among people who refuse to acknowledge my greatness."
Daniel looked at me.
"He’ll recover."
"I always recover."
The afternoon continued much the same.
By three o’clock, Marcus checked the attendance sheet and let out a low whistle.
"We’ve already passed yesterday’s total."
Ryan pumped a fist into the air.
"Victory."
Ethan looked over Marcus’s shoulder.
"Two hundred and thirty-eight."
"And we’re still getting visitors."
Noah looked genuinely pleased.
"I don’t think any of us expected this."
"We definitely didn’t," Daniel agreed.
The Mystery Research Club had started as six students trying to avoid becoming another forgotten club.
Now people were lining up outside.
It was strange how quickly things could change.
A soft blue notification appeared at the edge of my vision.
______
[Current Observation]
Story Divergence Index:
27%
Evaluation:
Stable.
______
Twenty-seven percent.
Higher than before.
Whatever I had changed, it continued to push the story farther away from the original game.
I looked toward Noah.
In the original route, he had spent these days almost entirely alone.
There had been no club.
No Ryan making terrible detective jokes.
No Marcus silently fixing everything.
No Daniel laughing every five minutes.
No Ethan making sure everyone stayed organized.
None of this had existed.
The realization brought an unexpected smile to my face.
Maybe changing the story wasn’t always a bad thing.
"Adrian."
I looked up.
A young girl stood in front of me, holding one of our detective notebooks.
"I think we got the wrong answer."
I accepted the notebook.
"Let’s take a look."
For the next several minutes, I forgot about Lucien.
I forgot about the old man.
Instead, I explained how one small contradiction in a witness statement changed the entire solution.
Her eyes lit up with understanding.
"Oh!"
"I get it now."
"Thanks!"
She hurried back to her parents, excitedly explaining the clue she’d missed.
Watching her enthusiasm, I couldn’t help smiling again.
Maybe this...
This was why Noah had wanted to start the club in the first place.
Not for awards.
Not for funding.
Just to share something people could enjoy.
By late afternoon, the stream of visitors finally began to slow.
Ryan collapsed into a chair the moment the room emptied.
"My legs have officially resigned."
Marcus looked down.
"They’re still attached."
"They’re attached out of obligation."
Daniel laughed.
"I think that’s progress."
Noah checked the attendance sheet one final time.
"Two hundred and eighty-one."
Ryan sat upright.
"Seriously?"
"We almost reached three hundred."
Ethan looked around the room.
"I’d call that a success."
"So would I," Noah replied.
Before anyone could continue, there was another knock on the open door.
Everyone turned.
A middle-aged man wearing an academy staff badge stood outside.
"Excuse me."
"Is Noah Walker here?"
"I am."
The staff member smiled politely.
"The principal would like to meet the members of the Mystery Research Club after the exhibition closes."
Ryan whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear,
"...Are we in trouble?"
Marcus answered immediately.
"If we were, they wouldn’t schedule it."
"Oh."
"...Good point."
The staff member chuckled.
"It isn’t disciplinary."
"The principal simply wishes to congratulate you personally."
Ryan visibly relaxed.
"I was worried for a second."
"You looked excited," Daniel pointed out.
"I experience emotions in unique ways."
The staff member handed Noah a small card with the meeting room number before excusing himself.
As he disappeared down the hallway, Noah looked at the rest of us.
"Looks like we’ll have one more thing to do before heading home."
Ryan grinned.
"If the principal offers snacks..."
Marcus cut him off.
"No."
"You don’t even know what I was going to say."
"I do."
"...Fair."
Everyone laughed.
For the first time since Lucien had entered our lives, the weight on my shoulders eased, if only slightly.
Yet as the laughter echoed through the room, I couldn’t shake one quiet thought.
If the principal wanted to congratulate us...
Why did it feel like someone else was waiting for us too?