Returning to the lounge with the photograph, the group was buoyed by a renewed sense of hope. Knowing they potentially had a method to deal with the female ghost lifted everyone's spirits considerably.
The Black rapping man produced some sheets of yellow paper he apparently carried with him. Lacking proper calligraphy brushes and ink, everyone grabbed marker pens and attempted to draw the necessary talismans, resulting mostly in what could generously be called 'ghost scribbles.' After a considerable amount of effort, only Abel and Joan managed to produce two talismans that looked vaguely authentic and passable.
The next step was writing the ghost's birth details on the back of the talismans. Abel studied the date written beneath Clarice's photo – June 7th, 20XX – frowning in concentration. "What is this number?" he asked the group, pointing at the day. "Is it a '1' or a '7'?"
Looking closely, the number was indeed sloppily written, twisted like a worm. Pietro, however, felt a strong intuition. "Should be a '7', right?" he offered.
"Are you sure? It really looks like a '1' to me," Abel grumbled. "Honestly, couldn't they have written it clearly?"
Joan smiled reassuringly. "Maybe it was written in a hurry? I also think it looks more like a '7'."
"Alright, we'll go with what you two think," Abel conceded.
Listening to their exchange, Saiki Kusuo resumed his internal critique. 'Written in a hurry'? That explanation is incredibly far-fetched. He reasoned: The people most likely to have written this were the hotel owners. The idea to find the ghost's birth date came from the rapper just now. According to Joan, the owners disappeared two days before we even arrived. How could they possibly have known our future plan and conveniently written down this specific date in advance? Unless... it wasn't the owners who wrote it. Did someone else know what we would try to do and deliberately write this date – perhaps incorrectly – to lead us down a certain path? If it was the latter, who could it be? The vanished manager? The driver? Joan herself? Or someone else entirely?
The inconsistencies seemed glaringly obvious to Saiki. He quickly scanned the minds of everyone present. Unbelievably, not a single person registered any problem with the logic.
Is this what they call plot-induced stupidity? Saiki wondered wryly. An official nerfing of everyone's intelligence just to keep the horror game narrative moving forward? And am I just the audience, cursed with a God's-eye view and an IQ that's off the charts?
While the others were preoccupied with the talismans, Saiki discreetly slipped off one of his thin, transparent gloves and touched the surface of the photograph, activating his psychometry to read its residual memories.
Instantly, images flooded his mind. He saw two kindly-looking elderly people – presumably the hotel owners – taking a photograph of a young woman Saiki recognized as Clarice, the ghost. In this memory, however, her appearance was strikingly plain, almost ugly. The heavy makeup, piercings, and rebellious style in the photo were clearly an attempt to mask insecurities about her looks. He saw the owners gently telling her not to worry about her appearance, but she insisted on the alternative style for her birthday picture. The memory shifted slightly: Clarice, holding the finished photo, was bowing politely to a new guest entering the lobby – it was Joan, though dressed differently than she was now. Clarice reached out to take Joan's luggage... and the vision abruptly cut off.
Damn it! Saiki cursed internally. The most crucial part was missing. He knew there were two men standing behind Joan in that memory, but Clarice hadn't gotten a clear look at them, so the memory held no clue to their identities.
Saiki let out a silent 'tsk' and shifted his touch slightly, focusing on the photo frame.
A new vision formed: A man, his face deliberately obscured or hidden from view, furtively picked up the photo frame. He opened the back and hastily scribbled the numbers onto the photo's reverse side. Because the man hadn't directly touched the photograph itself, Saiki couldn't access his memories through it. The man seemed about to leave, but was suddenly confronted by Clarice's ghostly form. She launched herself at him like he was a mortal enemy, shrieking, "Give them back! Give them back to me!" The man was clearly no match for her spectral power and scrambled away desperately, knocking things over in his panic and creating a mess in the reception area. (Oddly, Saiki noted, despite the racket, no one upstairs seemed to hear anything – likely due to the ghost's influence.) Clarice floated menacingly in mid-air, her spectral hands closing around the man's throat, slowly lifting him off the ground. Choking, knowing he was about to die, the man gasped out a threat: "If you kill me... you'll never find them!" The ghost reacted with pure fury, but instead of killing him, she hurled him violently aside, screaming, "Get lost!" The man scrambled to put the photo frame back on the counter, then fled in utter terror. Clarice glared at the photograph, seemingly wanting to destroy it, but after glancing towards the upper floors, she hesitated, ultimately placing it back down and vanishing with a final surge of resentful energy. The vision ended.
Far from clarifying things, the psychometry had only deepened the mystery for Saiki. Who was the man covering his face? Who were the "they" Clarice desperately wanted back? Clearly, the ghost wanted the man dead but couldn't kill him because he held some crucial leverage over her.
Considering the man's actions alongside Joan's suspicious behavior, Saiki formulated a working theory: Joan and the masked man were likely partners, pursuing some specific objective within this hotel. Clarice, the ghost, was actively trying to stop them, but her ability to act was limited due to the leverage the man possessed. To achieve her goal and simultaneously eliminate Clarice, Joan had lured others here – the previous group and now Saiki's – intending to use them as scapegoats or diversions. Once she learned of the rapper's ghost-catching method, she likely coordinated with the masked man to secretly plant the (potentially incorrect) birth date clue, further manipulating the situation. How the man knew Clarice's birth details in the first place remained unknown.
Analysis complete, Saiki's ingrained habit prompted him to share his findings with Peter and the others. He opened a mental channel. (Alright, I've figured some things out. I strongly suggest we abandon this unreliable folk magic approach and instead directly look for—)
[Shut UP, Saiki!] Pietro's mental voice cut him off sharply. [We're busy trying to actually DO something here! Stop interrupting with your know-it-all routine, okay?]
[Yeah!] Peter chimed in mentally, equally annoyed. [Seriously, if you're not going to help, then stop chattering! Go stand over there and don't bother us!]
Wanda, less caught up in the frantic 'game' playing, offered a gentler reminder. [Didn't we ask you not to spoil things, Saiki? If you're bored, why don't you go... uh... play with the mannequin in the bathroom for a while?]
Saiki let out a long, silent sigh. (Fine. This bunch is utterly hopeless. But Peter... telling me to 'go away'? You've got some nerve. Just you wait until this whole fiasco is over. We'll see who's bothering whom then!) Mentally, Saiki added Peter's name to his ever-growing grudge list, underlining it twice.
After Joan and Abel finished preparing the talismans, the group immediately hit another snag presented by the rapper's book: acquiring virgin boy's urine.
The text noted that for a normal adult male, being labeled a "magician" or "wizard" was a mark of shame. Both Pietro and Peter, even if the label applied, would deny it vehemently out of sheer pride. Asking Saiki to publicly provide a sample was unthinkable – setting aside the certainty of future vengeance, the act itself was too vulgar, too OOC, completely clashing with his carefully cultivated persona. Abel, the 'life winner' currently juggling two mistresses, was obviously out. That left only two candidates: the Black rapping man and Ryan.
When Pietro posed the awkward question, the rapper scratched his head sheepishly. "Actually... uh... I stopped being a 'magician' about a month ago." As he spoke, his gaze flickered meaningfully towards Lin. Lin instantly stiffened, shooting him a death glare.
Wait a second, Saiki thought, perking up slightly. Did we just stumble upon some unexpected drama?
Abel: "???"
With the rapper out, Pietro turned his attention to Ryan. Strangely, the man who had been so aggressively sharp-tongued earlier had become completely withdrawn, silent as a clam. Repeated questioning yielded no response. Losing patience, Pietro delivered a swift, hard kick to Ryan's shin.
"Talk!" Pietro demanded menacingly. "Spit it out! If you don't answer, we'll just assume you're not a real man and... cut your dick off!"
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