Chapter 73: Journal
For several seconds...
No one breathed.
The journal remained open in Detective Hale’s hands.
Four names.
Four witnesses.
Tomorrow’s date.
Noah was the first to recover.
"That’s impossible."
His voice was steady, but I could hear the strain beneath it.
"When was that written?"
Detective Hale slowly turned the journal over.
The leather cracked softly in his hands.
"I don’t know."
"It looks old."
"But this ink..."
He leaned closer.
"...hasn’t completely dried."
One of the forensic technicians accepted the journal carefully.
"We’ll determine that in the lab."
Professor Ellis laughed weakly.
"If it survives long enough to reach one."
Nobody smiled.
The empty evidence bag containing the vanished pocket watch sat only a few metres away.
Everyone remembered.
The technician hesitated before placing the journal into a reinforced evidence container.
Detective Hale watched every movement.
"No one takes their eyes off it."
"Not for a second."
"Understood."
The container was sealed.
Photographed.
Its serial number recorded.
Only then did Hale close the journal.
Before the cover shut completely...
Something slipped free.
A single folded sheet of yellowed paper drifted to the floor.
No one touched it immediately.
Detective Hale crouched beside it.
"Photograph first."
Several flashes illuminated the warehouse.
Only after the documentation was complete did he unfold it.
It wasn’t another list of names.
It was a hand-drawn map.
Older than the city map Professor Ellis had found.
Much older.
The railway depot occupied only a small corner.
Most of the drawing depicted something beneath it.
A maze.
Rooms.
Corridors.
Circular chambers.
Every passage eventually converged at one location near the centre.
Someone had written a single word there.
Archive.
Professor Ellis stepped forward despite his injured ankle.
"I’ve never seen this."
"No public records mention underground construction."
Detective Hale remained focused on the map.
"This wasn’t built for trains."
"No."
Professor Ellis agreed quietly.
"It wasn’t."
Noah pointed toward several symbols drawn along the tunnels.
"These."
"They’re repeated."
The detective examined them.
Small circles.
Each containing two lines crossing at the centre.
Like the hands of a clock.
Every one pointed to the same position.
11:17.
A strange silence settled over us.
The map seemed less like architectural drawings...
And more like directions.
A young constable hurried into the warehouse.
"Sir."
"The blueprints came back."
Hale accepted a folder.
He compared the official plans with the map from the journal.
The differences were immediate.
Officially...
The depot had no basement.
No maintenance tunnels.
No hidden chambers.
Nothing.
The underground complex simply...
Didn’t exist.
Professor Ellis frowned.
"Either someone erased it..."
"...or it was never meant to appear."
Hale closed both maps.
"I don’t believe in conspiracies."
He paused.
"...but I believe in paperwork."
"If this place existed, someone paid for it."
"Someone designed it."
"Someone built it."
"And someone removed every trace."
Noah looked toward the open hatch.
"So what do we do?"
The detective answered immediately.
"We secure it."
"No one enters until daylight."
One of the officers looked surprised.
"Sir?"
"It’s an undocumented underground structure."
"It could collapse."
"Or contain hazardous materials."
"Nobody risks their lives tonight."
The officer nodded.
"Understood."
It was the right decision.
It was also the one I feared.
Because the System had never cared about daylight.
A blue window appeared.
______
[Main Story Progression]
Objective Updated.
Investigate the Archive.
Status:
Locked.
Unlock Condition:
The Fifth Witness arrives.
______
The window disappeared.
The Fifth Witness.
I silently repeated the words.
We only knew four.
Who was the fifth?
Noah noticed my distant expression again.
"You’ve been doing that a lot."
"What?"
"Looking like you’re listening to someone."
I forced a smile.
"Just thinking."
He didn’t seem convinced.
Before he could ask another question, Professor Ellis suddenly stiffened.
His eyes were fixed on the journal.
"No..."
He whispered.
"No..."
Detective Hale looked at him.
"What is it?"
"The handwriting."
Ellis took another step.
"I know it."
"You recognize it?"
"I..."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I almost do."
"It feels..."
His breathing quickened.
"...familiar."
A sharp pain crossed his face.
He grabbed his forehead.
Fragments.
Broken images.
Someone writing beneath a dim lamp.
Shelves stretching into darkness.
A voice saying...
Every story needs a witness.
Professor Ellis staggered.
Noah caught him before he fell.
"Professor!"
"I’m alright..."
His voice trembled.
"I remembered something."
Everyone fell silent.
"I’ve been underground before."
The warehouse seemed to freeze.
"What?"
Professor Ellis looked around in confusion.
"I don’t know when."
"I don’t know why."
"But..."
He looked toward the hatch.
"...I’ve stood in those tunnels."
Detective Hale stared at him.
"You’re certain?"
"No."
"That’s what frightens me."
"I can’t tell whether it’s a memory..."
"...or someone else’s."
Nearly an hour passed.
Additional officers arrived.
The depot became a controlled crime scene.
Yellow tape surrounded the warehouse.
Photographers documented every inch.
The reinforced evidence container holding the journal never left Detective Hale’s sight.
At nearly three in the morning...
The investigation finally began winding down.
Professor Ellis was escorted toward an ambulance for further examination.
Before climbing inside, he called my name.
"Adrian."
I walked over.
The others remained several metres away.
"I remembered one more thing."
"What?"
He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.
"When Lucien spoke to me..."
"...he asked a question."
"You remembered?"
"Only one sentence."
"What did he ask?"
Professor Ellis swallowed.
"He asked..."
His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"...whether I still believed the first Observer."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
"He didn’t explain."
"I asked who the first Observer was."
"And?"
Professor Ellis looked away.
"He smiled."
"And said..."
Professor Ellis closed his eyes.
"...’The one who taught history how to forget.’"
---
The ambulance doors closed.
Its lights disappeared beyond the depot gates.
Only Noah, Detective Hale and I remained near the warehouse entrance.
Hale looked exhausted.
"You two are witnesses."
"If you remember anything..."
"No matter how ridiculous..."
"You call me."
He handed each of us a business card.
His personal number was written on the back.
"I’ve spent twenty-three years convincing myself that first case had a logical explanation."
He looked toward the open hatch.
"I’m no longer convinced."
He walked away to brief his officers.
Noah slipped the card into his wallet.
"I don’t think we’re going back to normal classes after this."
I looked at the warehouse.
"I don’t think normal existed in the first place."
He laughed quietly.
"For once..."
"I agree."
We started walking toward the depot entrance.
The eastern sky had begun to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
The longest night of my second life was finally ending.
Or so I thought.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown sender.
No number.
No notification sound.
Only a single message.
The journal is incomplete.
I stopped walking.
Noah looked back.
"What is it?"
I stared at the screen.
A second line slowly appeared beneath the first.
Page 117 is still missing.
Before I could react...
The message erased itself.
Not deleted.
Not withdrawn.
It simply ceased to exist.
As though it had never been there at all.
A familiar blue window appeared one last time before dawn.
______
[Hidden Main Story Updated]
Required Item Identified.
The Missing Page
Current Owner:
Unknown.
Failure to recover Page 117 before the Fifth Witness appears may result in irreversible narrative divergence.
______
The window faded with the rising sun.
For the first time since arriving in this world...
I wasn’t wondering who the murderer was.
I was wondering something far more dangerous.
Who had written the story in the first place?