A Detective and a Middle School Student Work Together to Defeat Lupin

After several hours of deliberation, my house had become an arena of thought. On the living room table lay piles of old school works, flanked by three sheets of paper containing different hypotheses. I, Chestina, and Rose—each with our unique perspectives—had worked hard to piece together fragments of the past.

"Okay, Arez, I have to go now," Rose said, suddenly standing from her chair. "There's some unfinished business. You know." She glanced at Chestina with a faint smile, hiding her identity as a real detective.

Chestina nodded. "Thank you so much for your help, Sister Rose!"

Rose just gave me a faint smile. "My hypothesis is on that paper. Hope it helps you put everything together. I'm sure you can do it, Arez." With that, she waved and vanished, probably through the window again. That woman was truly unique.

I sighed, staring at the pile of papers. Now all the burden was on my shoulders.

"Here's my hypothesis," Chestina said, handing me a sheet of paper. She only had one assumption, but it was neatly written.

I examined the papers.

Chestina's Hypothesis (1):

A school art performance or festival that ended tragically due to an incident involving fire or electricity, causing mass panic and many injuries.

Then, I picked up my own hypothesis paper. I only had two main assumptions:

Arez's Hypothesis (1):

There was a major scandal hidden by the school or certain individuals, involving writing or hidden "testimonies" that led to a bitter truth.

Arez's Hypothesis (2):

An incident that caused deep trauma, possibly involving someone's death, and the students who witnessed it tried to convey a secret message through their artworks so that the truth would not be lost to time.

And finally, Rose's hypotheses—damn it, she had the most assumptions.

Rose's Hypothesis (1):

The tragedy was not a mere accident, but a deliberate act or sabotage, where "laughter" turned into "screams" due to betrayal or internal conflict.

Rose's Hypothesis (2):

There was a specific location within the school that was the center of the event, marked by coordinates and having a dual meaning (a place where laughter and tears unite).

Rose's Hypothesis (3):

The students involved had a secret way of communicating, and "the pen bore witness" might refer to a hidden diary or memoir containing the truth.

Rose's Hypothesis (4):

Time is a key element; the truth might be revealed on a specific date or moment that recurs annually, or there is a "reversed time" where the past repeats or is uncovered.

I felt confused. So many assumptions, so many possibilities. My head spun. I had to piece all of this together. I grabbed the old club works again. Comics, magazines, scripts. I re-examined every small clue I found, over and over.

Truth, compatibility, contradiction, error, precision, shortcomings, advantages. All danced in my mind.

The silhouette of the building with fire, "Not just smoke, but tears." That matched Chestina's hypothesis about a fire/electrical incident, and Rose's hypothesis about sabotage. The sketch of the messy classroom, "Laughter turned into screams, where the pen bore witness." This matched Rose's hypothesis about internal conflict and hidden notes, as well as my assumption about a hidden scandal. The coordinates with the inverted hourglass, "Time is always the judge, before the truth disappears." This perfectly matched Rose's hypothesis about the importance of time.

There were so many matches, but also small contradictions. Was it a fire? Or just an incident that caused smoke? Did "the pen bore witness" mean there was important writing, or just a metaphor?

This was very complex. This 45-year-old tragedy wasn't a single event, but a series of interconnected occurrences. I closed my eyes, trying to re-feel every clue. I imagined myself in that school 45 years ago. I tried to feel the panic, sadness, and trauma the students experienced.

Smoke... fire... screams... laughter turning into tears... a collapsing stage... a pen writing secrets... time continuously turning...

Images began to form in my mind, like an old film being replayed. I saw a young student, very similar to Chestina's uncle, writing something in haste in a hidden corner. I saw a performance that was once cheerful turn into a disaster. I saw panic, chaos. And amidst all of it, a secret deliberately buried.

I opened my eyes. One conclusion emerged in my mind, clear and undeniable.

"I know what happened," I said, my voice soft but firm. Chestina looked at me, her eyes full of hope.

"What, Arez?"

I took a deep breath. "45 years ago, in this school, during a drama performance or an art event in the main hall, there was a fire. It wasn't a mere accident, but an act of sabotage carried out by one of the students due to internal conflict or jealousy. The fire not only burned the stage but also the spirit and laughter of the students, turning it into screams and tears."

I continued, "A student, perhaps your uncle, Chestina, who witnessed or was involved in the incident, wrote down all the truth about this sabotage in a secret note, using 'the pen' as a witness. That note was hidden somewhere in our school, perhaps in or under the stage, and connected to time. The students at that time wanted this truth to be revealed someday, because they couldn't reveal it directly due to trauma or pressure. They spread clues in their works, hoping future generations would piece them together."

Chestina listened intently, her eyes wide. "So... it wasn't just a fire?"

"No," I replied. "This was an act of betrayal and a deliberate cover-up. And the 'bitter truth' is that someone was responsible, but it was never revealed."

I looked at Chestina. "And your uncle... he must have known all this. When you were four, he might have tried to tell you about the incident, perhaps because he felt guilty or wanted the truth to come out. But he couldn't say it directly, or you were too young to understand."

I closed my eyes, letting the memory I had just felt pass through me. I imagined Chestina's uncle, a still traumatized boy, trying to convey the burden he carried. He might have seen me, a small child, and suddenly remembered how important that truth was.

"He didn't tell you about the fire tragedy, Chestina," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "He told you... 'Never fear the darkness. But beware of the fire hidden behind laughter, for it can burn the truth and leave incurable scars.'"

As I said those words, Chestina's body stiffened. Her eyes widened, then slowly began to well up. Tears started to stream down her cheeks. She sobbed softly, then louder. It wasn't a sad cry like she had felt as a child, but a cry of relief.

"That's it..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "That's what he said... That's what he told me!"

Chestina sobbed even harder, clutching her head as if the memory was flooding back into her brain. Her hand reached for mine, gripping it tightly.

"I remember... I remember that feeling," she said, between sobs and smiles. "Sad... but also a sense of curiosity... I don't know why, but I felt he wanted me to understand something. He wanted me to know that truth. He wanted justice."

She looked at me, her eyes wet but full of clarity. "Thank you, Arez. You... you gave it back to me."

I just nodded, feeling a burden lift from my shoulders. The case of the lost memory, and the dark history from 45 years ago, were all finally solved. I, the lazy one, succeeded.