The room froze.
Ethan stepped forward, his usual calm stripped down to something sterner. "You just said, 'That's why he's called the Archive'... How do you know that?" His eyes narrowed. "Have you been spying on us?"
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "Are you serious right now?" I turned to him. "You're seriously asking that—moments after I just said this guy has been watching us from the beginning?"
Joker gave a cheeky grin, floating a few feet off the ground, his knees casually bent like he was lounging on air. "Well, yeah. I do know everything about you." He spun lazily in midair. "There's nothing I don't know. Haven't you ever heard of an Omniscient Being before?"
The room reacted—but oddly, not with panic or screaming. Just... a series of resigned blinks. Shrugs. Almost like... like their minds were meant to brush past the word omniscient.
Joker clapped his hands, still floating. "Anyways! Are you going to let me explain the trial or not?"
Everyone stiffened—attention snapping back into place. A beat passed. Then another. We nodded.
He grinned. "Since our genius here already guessed... this trial started because one of you died." His tone almost sounded proud.
Then, he vanished—reappeared a few feet to the right—then behind us—then at the front again, zipping from point to point like it was casual, like space didn't mean anything.
"But—" Joker continued, "there was one thing he got wrong."
He teleported mid-sentence. One second near the wall, next floating upside down. Everyone tracked him with their eyes like they were watching fireworks.
"The thing he got wrong…" Joker said, reappearing just above the stone pillar, "is that it's not any death that starts a trial. It's the first one. That first death is what triggered this whole delightful little show."
He floated lower, arms wide like a magician mid-reveal. "That means, you're in this trial now. And no matter who dies next, you won't move on to another trial. Not until this one is finished. Of course, who knows? Maybe all of you will be dead before it even reaches its midpoint!"
He stopped midair, now hovering right above a short pedestal-like stone in the center of the room. On it sat a single, oddly pristine apple on a built-in plate.
He dramatically pointed down at it with both hands. "This! This is the trial."
I squinted at it. An apple?
Everyone leaned forward, murmuring. A few heads tilted.
"You're all probably wondering how a boring old apple is your trial." Joker's grin twisted. "Well, I'll tell you this—"
He floated higher, light from the room catching his painted eyes.
"This apple... is called The Eden's Apple."
Lucas snapped his fingers. "Wait—wait, hold on. You just gave it away. You gave us the name, and if we know that, we can figure out the logic behind the trial. 'Eden's Apple'—I think that means it's—" He paused. Froze.
He blinked.
"Wait. What was I gonna say?"
His voice fell flat. Everyone stared.
Joker's grin widened, almost wolfish. "Bingo."
He spun midair like a ballerina on strings. "Now you see why this trial is going to be a nightmare."
He pointed at William. "Especially for you, Mr. Genius."
William's eyes narrowed. "...What do you mean?"
"In this trial," Joker said smoothly, "no one can think outside the box. And that rule? It's carved into the very core of the trial. Literally."
I frowned.
My thoughts churned.
None of this makes sense. This clown guy calls himself Omniscient... and he says we can't think outside the box... but I can. Right now, I'm doing it. I'm questioning him. I'm curious. If that rule applied to me, I wouldn't be thinking anything at all. I'd be frozen like the others.
Joker snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking."
I stiffened.
"You're wondering why you can still think outside the box." He floated in front of me, face tilted. "And that's the thing. Only you here have the capability to do that—but only when the topic has nothing to do with the trial."
I felt my blood chill. "Wait—can you read my mind?"
"Sure I can!" he chirped. "Reading minds is simple. I mean, I am omniscient, remember? I know all—including your little thoughts."
I stayed quiet, gears grinding in my head.
He turned to the rest. "For the rest of you, even if you try to think outside the box on anything, not just the trial—it won't work. Your minds are boxed in. He" —he pointed at me again, eyes gleaming— "is like the main character of this story."
I blinked. Main character? What does that even mean...?
Joker twirled midair and then shot toward the pedestal again.
"Anyways—let me explain your lovely little trial." He floated just above the stone, arms outstretched.
"You see those two bites on the apple?"
Now we noticed it—two tiny, clean bites taken out of opposite sides.
"There are five things you must figure out," Joker said with a voice dripping amusement:
"One: Find out the origin of the apple.
Two: Determine who bit the left side and who bit the right.
Three: Uncover the reason for the first bite, and the reason for the second.
Four: Understand why they did what they did.
And five—finally—solve the problem of the apple."
He smiled. "Simple, right?"
Silence.
Then, he dusted off his hands.
"Well, my job's done. You lot talk amongst yourselves. Discuss. You can check the library for answers—if you can find anything. There's no guarantee you'll get what you need."
William stood frozen, staring at the apple. His shoulders were tense. I could feel the doubt radiating from him.
The genius. The Archive. Now... sidelined?
I walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Don't worry. He said something about a library, right? All we need to do is find it. You'll be fine, okay?"
William nodded slowly, eyes still locked on the stone.
Joker gave one final spin, floating above us with a theatrical bow. "Farewell, everyone~."
Then—poof—he vanished in a swirl of black and red mist.
In the next second, the room shifted.
The cold, closed space we stood in melted into something surreal. Flowers bloomed beneath our feet, vines curled around pillars, and sunlight filtered in from nowhere. It looked like a garden. An ethereal one.
But the pedestal—and the Eden's Apple—remained untouched.
A large wooden door creaked open at the far end.
Ethan stepped forward.
"Alright," he said, voice level. "Everyone should go to their rooms and rest. We'll hold a meeting later. Try to come up with a plan while you've got a clear head. The longer we wait, the more we risk."
He turned to Anna, who had been watching silently.
"Since that guy mentioned a library... and you seem to know this mansion better than any of us—you might know something. Stay with Kaida for now. When we meet again, you can tell us more."
Anna nodded wordlessly.
Ethan turned back to the group. "Okay. Go."
One by one, the students filed out through the garden door. Silent. Tired. Confused. The air hung heavy, but the weight of purpose had settled in.
The Trial had begun.
And the clock... was ticking.
---
I found him sitting on the bed.
Elbows on knees. Hands gripping hair like he could yank an answer out of his skull if he pulled hard enough. William Winters, the Archive, the kid with the brain that outshines satellites—reduced to a statue of doubt. Not gonna lie, the irony was kinda poetic.
He didn't notice me walk in. Or maybe he did, but decided I wasn't worth acknowledging. Either way, I sat beside him.
"You look like someone just told you the sky's been lying this whole time," I said.
No response.
I sighed and slung my arm over his shoulders like I'd known him since childhood—which I hadn't. It was warm. Kinda brotherly. Also kinda weird, since I don't really do this comfort thing. But this was different.
"Let me ask you something, Will."
Still no response.
But I knew he was listening. His silence was his way of saying, Go on.
"You're probably thinking your only asset is your intelligence, right? That if you can't think outside the box, then you're useless to the rest of us."
His shoulders stiffened. Bullseye.
"And honestly? That pisses me off."
He turned his head just slightly, as if to glance at me without really looking.
"You're basically insulting the friend I know. That friend isn't some weak-willed pushover who'd sit around sulking just because he hit one wall. Intelligence isn't about breaking boxes, Will. It's about knowing they exist in the first place."
I paused. Let it settle.
"You're called the Archive for a reason. Even if you can't think outside the box, you can still think. And as long as you can think, you can figure out. As long as you can figure out, you can solve. That's more than enough. So stop acting like you've already lost."
Silence again.
Then—finally—he lifted his head.
Face a little flushed. Whether from frustration or the whole 'friend pep talk' thing, I couldn't tell.
"Tch... I'm not a child, you know," he muttered, brushing my arm off his shoulder. "Giving me such childish advice... It's unbecoming of you."
He looked away but didn't leave the bed.
"But... since you're willing to show a side of yourself you don't usually show," he added under his breath, "I'll take the confidence. Just this once. Thanks."
I leaned back, satisfied. "Anytime, Archive."
We talked for a bit after that. Nothing big. Just a little banter. Nothing worth remembering but everything worth feeling. The kind of conversation that reminded you you weren't alone in a room that hated silence.
Then—knock knock.
William and I both looked toward the door.
Lucas's voice filtered through. "Oi. Time for the meeting. Get your asses downstairs."
I blinked. "Already?"
William stood up, frowning. "Didn't Ethan say we should rest first? It hasn't even been an hour."
Lucas's voice was casual, confused. "What are you talking about? It's been a long while since we split."
I looked at William. He looked at me. We didn't need to say anything.
"Time in this mansion is its own brand of nonsense," I muttered, standing up. "Just roll with it."
William stood up and followed me out.
Downstairs, the rest were already seated. All eyes turned toward us. Some tired. Some focused. A few just annoyed that we were late.
Time to figure out how to solve a trial that doesn't want to be solved.
CHAPTER END.