The Golden Hotel

Maxine, Faith, and Olwen burst through the door one at a time, heavily panting as they wobbled down the kitchen floor with weakened knees. Since they were no longer inside the freezer room, they figured it was safe to throw up the unwanted food in their stomachs. Theo rushed over to his girlfriend who seemed to be very sick, so he gave her the silver bucket and she carried on doing what most had done a few minutes ago.

While others were resting, rubbing their hands together and warming them with their breaths, Daren, who was the first one to make it out alive, quickly gave the silver bucket to Olwen and most especially to Maxine. She appeared to be fighting off the urge to hurl. Her washed-out movements and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead couldn't hide what she was currently feeling, and he could obviously see it. Despite knowing the fact that she had been treating him differently, he mustered up the courage to break the icy wall in between them, handing over the last silver bucket.

"Got a weak stomach?" He playfully smirked. "Hurl if you gotta hurl."

Maxine gave him a critical look, knowing where the former phrase came from. She had told him those words at the slaughter room when he couldn't handle the bad odor wafting in the air. Was he trying to get back at her? She could reject the offer, shove the bucket away, and puke at the sink, but somehow, her glacial heart melted. If she persisted on watering the seed of hatred in her heart, it would eventually destroy her. Worst, the killer could use her emotions as an advantage to turn the tables around. Their current theory would become meaningless, and it would entirely be her fault. She didn't want that to happen.

Drawing a half-smile across her lips, she gingerly accepted his kind gesture and said, "Thanks . . . I'll make it up to you."

"Don't bother." Daren smiled, and when she began to retch into the bucket, he put his hand on her back and rubbed it in a circular motion.

After a moment of silence, Olwen spoke near the stove. She was seated on the floor with her back pressed on a silver countertop, regaining her lost energy. "Nobody died . . . I didn't die. Why . . . ?"

"While that is a good question," Faith said, carefully standing up with the help of her boyfriend, "it's best to go back to our rooms and discuss this tomorrow. We all need to rest . . . and hopefully, our fridge is full again."

"You're right, you're right." Slowly, Olwen stood up to avoid getting dizzy. She was starting to look fine after resting for a bit. "We should all walk out of this kitchen. It looks so . . . tidy."

Everyone looked around. The silver counters were clean, not a speck of dust could be seen. The kitchen tools and equipment such as the stainless steel frying pans hanging on the wall seemed to be brand new and barely touched. Maintaining the kitchen's cleanliness single-handedly was possible, but how about the whole hotel?

It seemed implausible.

Yves coughed out loudly, earning him eight pairs of eyes resting on him. It wasn't his intention to grab their attention, but he wanted to lead them out first. "Sorry 'bout that." He coughed again. "C'mon, let's get move on. The restaurant's right outside. I'm already itching to use the heater."

"Is it safe to go out?" Olwen asked.

"There aren't any traps," he said. "My brother and I searched the whole area."

"At least the killer's stayin' true to his or her words." Klein pushed himself off the counter, ready to follow his older twin out of the kitchen. "Game day's the only danger day."

"Good." Olwen let out a short breath. "If you're all feeling better, let's get out of here."

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Upon arriving at their respective rooms, everybody almost jumped up with joy once they saw their refrigerators were fully stocked with food and drinks. Raw meat occupied the freezer while the fresh vegetables were stored at the bottom compartment, and some of the green leaves were sitting on the kitchenette's counter along with a variety of fruits in a fruit basket. Klein, being the star chef in the group, got out of his way to cook, knowing that everyone was still hungry and weak from vomiting. Settling in Room 24,457, Theo, Daren, and Hans volunteered to help this time while the others lounged at the living room, sipping their honey lemon tea with a slice of ginger in it.

Olwen, who was seated on the couch with her legs folded right up her c.h.e.s.t, grabbed the tissue box beside her and pulled a sheet. She sneezed into it and blew her nose. "I think I caught a cold. . . ." She sniffed before applying a little pressure on both of her temples.

"We've been placed inside a freezer room," Maxine said, sniffing as well. "It's bound to happen. I just want to find that crazy killer and punch him . . . or her for putting us through that."

Faith gloomily sighed as she sat back and hugged a cushion. "Olwen and I wanted to open up another discussion right now, but we deserve a break after that stressful game."

Olwen blew her nose again, and Jared fixed his eyes on her while her friends were asking if she was feeling okay. As a doctor, it was natural for him to care for his patients, but seeing his friends getting sick and injured greatly worried him every time. The large first aid kit in their rooms only contained medicines for treating wounds and blisters, but not so much for the respiratory system. The best that he could only do was to offer them homemade remedies, which was always better than to rely on swallowing tablets and capsules.

"You should take a hot shower and hit the bed after eating your meal," he told her, smiling. "A good night's rest will do the trick, and don't forget to drink plenty of water."

"Thank you." Olwen smiled back, grateful to hear that from him. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey, Doc?" Yves m.o.a.n.e.d like a sickly person. He was seated on the sofa chair with a slumped posture, eyes closed and quivering body. "I don't feel so good. . . . I think I'm sick."

Jared's instinct got him reaching out for his friend's forehead, pressing his palm. The abnormal body heat was noticeably high compared to his temperature. "You're burning up! Take a rest. I'll ask your brother to bring your food and drink in your room. Can you get up?"

"Yeah, my head's just killing me." Coughing twice, Yves rose from his seat while holding his pounding head. He felt a little dizzy as he walked towards his bedroom, so Jared assisted him just in case he would suddenly faint without notice.

Maxine and Olwen were feeling down the weather. They were in no condition to help out, so Faith placed her empty mug on the table and got up.

"I'll go and tell Klein. Fetch a basin of cold water, too. Anything else?" Faith told Jared.

"That'll do." He nodded, smiling again.

"Okay. I'll be right there!"

As she made her way to the kitchenette, Daren and Hans were busy with washing the kitchen tools while Klein and Theo were having a light conversation near the stove to ward off the stressful vibe from the previous game. Theo got a pitch of water inside the fridge, went to the counter, and slid one drinking glass towards him.

"Thanks for helpin' out even though you have to put up with him," Klein softly whispered as he stirred the chicken noodle soup in the boiling pot. Jared had recommended him to cook this particular dish for everyone, which was good for people who caught the flu.

"It's only proper that I help out this time." Theo smiled as he filled each drinking glass with water. "Besides, you're the chef, and a chef needs all the help he can get."

"Point taken. It'll make cooking a lot quicker."

"Saves time, right?"

"Yep."

Turning his head away, Theo's smile turned somewhat bitter. If only Klein knew the real reason why he had willingly helped with preparing their dinner, he wouldn't be grateful in the first place. Another heated argument might break out, between them this time, but it could be as simple as flooding him with questions and trusting him with their deductions. Looking at a clearer picture, he shouldn't trust anyone for the meantime, including his friends.

Scooping the right amount of soup from the pot, Klein evenly distributed it to each bowl that he had grabbed on the countertop. Then he teasingly smiled. "Which reminds me, you really okay with talkin' to me and lettin' your girl wait? I mean . . . no offense . . . but you're like a loyal dog following her everywhere. My brother kinda noticed that earlier when he unintentionally bulldozed you."

Theo neither got angry nor annoyed. He took their topic lightly, breathlessly chuckling as he recalled that moment. His girlfriend would have preferred his safety over hers, but knowing himself, he would rather choose to stay behind and wait for her like a stubborn boyfriend. Thanking Yves for ramming him out of the freezer room seemed the right thing to do.

"Hold that thought. Unintentionally?" Theo held back a chuckle. "He looked like a mad bull to me."

"Eh, he's weak against extreme temperatures. I didn't get to see the expression on his face, but I guess he freaked out."

"Now that explains it. He was the first person to notice—"

"Klein! Is the soup done yet?" Faith appeared in front of them with a troubled look, and their smiles were wiped off in a flash.

"Already done." Klein placed the ninth bowl on the countertop before turning off the stove. "What's up? Why are you . . ."

"Bad news." She frowned. "Your brother's sick."

Klein wore a panic look in his eyes. Theo's face was unreadable while Hans and Daren stopped cleaning their area when they heard that from her. They all had the same thought: Yves might have been poisoned, and it was starting to spread throughout his body.

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Ten minutes later, Klein opened the bedroom door and strode inside in a hurry to see his sick brother. He saw him lying in bed, snuggled under the thick bedsheet like a defrosting burrito. Jared had just taken Yves' temperature using a digital thermometer, and his grim expression didn't spell good news.

"Red, how is he?" Klein readied himself for an unpleasant response. "I-Is he poisoned?"

"39°C." Jared put the digital thermometer back in the first aid kit, which was resting on the nightstand. "High fever, cough, and colds. He got the flu just like a normal person."

While Jared was explaining, Faith came in holding a tray of hot chicken noodle soup and glass of water. Theo followed, carrying a basin of cold water with a soaked towel. She set the tray on the nightstand, pushing the first aid kit aside, and then her boyfriend handed the basin over to her.

"But if we're talking about the signs and symptoms of poisoning in general, it's not easy to classify them," Jared continued. "I'm not a toxicologist, but I do know that some poisons will slow down our heartbeat, and some will speed it up. Some poisons will cause our mouths and skin to go dry, and the list goes on."

"What if you mix two poisons?" Klein inquired.

"We can narrow down the possibilities. But you guys have to keep this in mind . . ." He made eye contact with Faith who had placed the folded towel on Yves' forehead. Then he dragged his gaze towards Theo standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, listening. "Vomiting and nausea are one of the signs and symptoms of poisoning, too. Some poisons can cause hallucinations, breathing troubles, seizures, confusion . . ."

"Which means they can be found in any illnesses." Faith's thoughts drifted, appearing to know a little about poisoning. "Some poisons can take hours, days or months to show symptoms, right?"

"You got that right," Jared said. "Those types of poisons are very dangerous."

Theo's jaw dropped. "Then bringing him to the hospital is the best way to know if he got poisoned."

"For an examination, yes, but given our situation in here . . . that's impossible." Jared shook his head. "We can only hope for the best and . . . for all of us."

"Will you guys please shut up? I can't sleep with all the racket." Yves g.r.o.a.n.e.d, pulling the bedsheet over his ear, but he felt a damped towel on his forehead. He stopped and picked it up, staring at it as if it was a strange object.

"Sorry." Jared rubbed his nape. "We'll leave you alone. Eat up and get some rest." He pointed at the bowl of soup on the nightstand.

Before everyone could leave the bedroom, Yves propped himself up using his elbows and said, "Hold your horses. Everyone stays . . . except you, Doc. I wanna talk to them . . . just in case it's my last day."

The three of them swapped puzzled looks. Jared didn't want to pry any further, so he went out and closed the door behind him.

Klein immediately turned to his brother and approached his side. They started to communicate through their eyes, whispering every now and then while Faith and Theo stood there awkwardly, watching their facial expressions shift. Then Klein nodded at whatever his brother had said, his jittery movements evident each time he opened and closed his fists and bounced on his feet. There was something obvious going on between these two brothers, and Faith and Theo could feel their reluctance to speak the truth.

"Is something wrong?" Faith asked out of concern. "Do we need to know something?"

Klein flinched, turning to her with a lopsided smile. "Y-Yeah! You do, you do." Rushing over to their side, he reached for the doorknob and locked it, raising another set of questions for the couple. "Before anything else, let's head over to my brother's side and . . . we're gonna ask you to tone down your voices. We don't want them eavesdroppin' on us."

"What's this about?" Theo sharpened his gaze, keeping Faith behind him as they moved over to the right side of the bed. "If you two are planning on taking us down, I'm not gonna let you do that. You don't know what we're capable of doing."

Yves usually had a scowling face, but this time, his expression seemed more relaxed and calm. The lines on his forehead had disappeared, scaring the couple quite a bit. "Relax, Theo. We ain't gonna do that, and I ain't gonna argue with you. It's not the real me."

"Cut to the chase." Theo toughened himself, choosing to ignore the last sentence even though he was just as curious as a cat on the street. "Let's not run around in circles."

"You two are from Ace Investigations." Yves gave them what they wanted right off the bat, and so the shock plastered on their faces couldn't be described. "I knew all along. Faith's a private investigator, and you're her personal bodyguard."

Theo stiffened from head to toe when their identities were exposed, but he quickly recovered, ridiculing his claim. "You're talking nonsense—"

"What's my pseudonym and P.I. code?"

"Faith!" Theo lightly scolded her, pulling her to the side. "What are you doing? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"But this is our chance to know if they're on our side!" she whispered, remembering how they had been wanting to know about Yves. "If he gets the code right, then my observations about him are true."

"Then tell me. What are those?"

Her boyfriend didn't look convinced, so Faith enumerated a few points, facing him away from them.

"Remember when Judy died? We were trying to come up with some clues. Yves got annoyed when they haven't mentioned about the card. It's like he knew it was a potential clue."

Theo hunched his shoulders. "Faith, anyone can second guess about the card. . . ."

"But listen!" She dropped her hands in front of her, looking like she had placed an object in mid-air. "When . . . when Meg and I got into a fight. Yves could have allowed everyone to follow us to the other room, but he didn't. I saw him blocking Kacey's path!"

"He could have thought about everyone's safety. He is a cop."

"Exactly my point! If he hadn't done that, I wouldn't have narrowed down my suspect list! The rest saw my tears, excluding the twins. Do you get me?"

Theo thought for a while back when they were still roommates with Kacey, Meg, Klein, and Yves. Meg and Kacey had died. Klein and Yves had seen the catfight, but not her tears. If they had two options to choose from, the killer could be one of the twins or both of them. If they were proven innocent, the rest would become the eligible suspects. Reason being, he had witnessed Klein falling into depression because of Kacey's death, and currently, Yves was running a high fever due to the sudden changes in temperature.

The chances of them being killers were now low.

"Third, it was when Daren had almost choked me to death," Faith continued. "While Olwen and Daren were arguing, Yves walked out when Daren blamed me for our circ.u.mstance. Why would he suddenly excuse himself? He should have stayed if he was keeping an eye on everyone."

"Maybe he was fed up with hearing their arguments or . . ."

Theo couldn't think of any solid reason. He had failed to notice that one tiny detail since he was focused on her during that time. That got him digging deeper in his train of memories, and he arrived at the time when Faith and Hans fell into a hole at the 24th floor's corridor. What if Yves had really meant for him to chase after her? She wouldn't have fallen along with that nuisance, and Yves would have willingly stayed behind to ensure everyone's safety.

"See? How about the hole? The restaurant? Are you still not convinced?" Faith crossed her arms as she stared at him.

Although he wasn't a hundred percent convinced, Theo wanted to give it a shot. He turned and faced the sick cop. "Well, you heard her. Answer the question."

"We call her Lady Drongo. She's named after a fork-tailed black bird notorious for gaining the birds and animals' trust before deceiving them," Yves confidently said, looking at Faith whose eyes got wide, and even wider as he explained further. "Your code is F-485475. F stands for your real name, and the numbers refer to your pseudonym: Drongo. A.I. created their own code and they gave us a table to memorize." Then he looked at the couple whose mouths were ajar. "Do I have to explain about the Table of Codes?"

"No. You've proven yourself." Theo placed his hands on his h.i.p.s, spending a few moments in silence. Only A.I., the private investigators, bodyguards, and that particular department knew about the Table of Codes. "This is unexpected."

"Oh . . . my God." Faith covered her mouth. She figured out which department Yves belonged to based on his answers. "You're an undercover cop! Your department knows every private investigator's identity."

"And every P.I. code," Yves said, matter-of-factly. "Swore to assist our assigned P.I. in the shadows and to never leak any information about them. If we do that . . ."

"You're imprisoned for the rest of your life," Theo said, unbelievably. "You're really an undercover cop?"

"Real as a diamond." Yves tipped his head to the side, showing a weak smirk. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to call you a heartless person. I had to . . . stay in character."

"That's all in the past." Theo waved it off, chuckling quietly. "I felt like I got pranked real good."

"I'd say you were."

Patting her c.h.e.s.t as the mood got lighter, Faith exhaled all the relief she had been storing in her lungs. "I'm so sorry for smashing your head back then."

"Forget about it." Yves smiled genuinely for the first time, and it still sent shivers down their spines. They weren't used to seeing the nice big brother. "I look convincing, don't I?"

She nodded, laughing it off.

Klein playfully scoffed as he shook his head. "Y'know, you were still holdin' back all the time. I'd say, you failed to act like a complete douchebag."

"D'you want me to die early?" Yves stared at his brother, trying to imply about the killer's murder plan.

"Uh . . . right, my bad." Klein raised his hands in defense. "Arguing with each other means death."

"Wait, so does that mean . . . were you . . . back in the. . . ?" Theo narrowed his eyes, implying about Klein's depression.

"That was real." Klein awkwardly laughed, understanding what he meant. He had something more to say, but when his brother threw a coughing fit, all he wanted was for him to recuperate from the flu. "I think we should call it a night. He still has to . . ." He eyed his brother's meal. "A cold soup ain't gonna taste good, and the doctor might grow horns for stressing out the patient."

"Oh, of course! We should all go." Faith took Theo's arm, ready to pull him along. "We'll plan things tomorrow when you feel better," she told Yves with a warm smile.

"Before I forget . . ." Yves shoved his hand in his jean's pocket, pulled out a small item, and tossed it over to her; she smoothly caught it in the air. "That might come in handy. Go and figure out more clues with that."

Faith glanced down on her hand. It was the key that they used to free themselves from their manacles and face masks. By now, the killer could be steaming mad at them for stealing one of his keys. Due to his clever move, it gave her a bright idea.

"Thanks for this." She waved the key, smirking in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Enjoy your meal."