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If you think Laura's death and everything it's caused five years down the line are the real 'story' being filmed on this plate, and you're here for that...

Then I, Greta Stone, would like to invite you again.

Please be our next 'leading man', Lucian.

If that is your wish... then it is mine as well, Madam Stone.

'...Greta... sent out compensation to everyone and officially disbanded the crew.'

'Whether you're scared of the killer, worried about the Catastrophe, or want to stay and finish the shoot, we're all free to do as we please.'

Finish the shoot? Greta is still thinking about her movie right now?

She must have noticed the connection between the murders of the crew and the one five years ago.

So she's doing it on purpose...

'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn, and I don't see why you should either.'

'Or, as Greta said, you can leave the truth to whoever feels like playing detective.'

The truth?

The cast and crew both mercilessly bully newcomers. The producer even massaged a tragic and fatal fall into a scene that straddles the line between truth and lie.

If you will not repent for what happened five years ago, nor make your deeds known to the public...

Do you believe yourself innocent, Greta? Have you forgotten how you edited Laura into your film, all so she could die over and over again with every showing?

You must pay the price.

A bulge on the bed is faintly outlined by the dim nightlight. The person beneath the blanket is fast asleep, ignorant of the judgment about to fall upon her.

Fast asleep? That desecrator of the dead, forgetter of sins, ignorer of warnings... How could Greta sleep so soundly?

Someone quietly creeps closer to the bed, pulling a razor-sharp dagger out of a sleeve. Slender fingers grip its hilt tightly, lifting the terrifying weapon high into the air.

I don't even want to hear your confession! I don't even want to hear your screams! Just go away already! You must PAY!

This feeling... It's not right...

The blanket is lifted up. There is nobody under it, aside from a black shadow.

A shadow? How can a shadow exist on its own?

The intruder steps back a bit, as the shadow slowly condenses into a familiar shape.

...Miss.Christine?

A trap...

So we finally meet.

I welcome you, my elusive guest.

Is it really... you?

Moira... The most dedicated member of the crew was actually a three-time murderer...

It should have been four.

When did you find out, Lucian?

The first to notice your abnormal behavior was Miss.Christine, not me.

In that very first scene after I joined the cast, she intruded upon the shoot.

She rarely approaches anyone other than me, but she approached you.

Since then, she has made contact with you many times.

Tippi believed she decided to accompany you as you watched movies in the prop room because she likes the both of you.

That is only half correct.

Miss.Christine was only ever interested in you.

Look. Even now, even as you hold that dreadful dagger, she still stands by your side.

Ridiculous...

Don't tell me that's your only reason to suspect me? Just because this mysterious creature is fond of me?

Or maybe she only does what you tell her to. She is your pet, after all...

Moira looks into Miss.Christine's deep, blue eyes.

The very next moment, she no longer has conscious control over herself.

Joy, sorrow, anger. All sorts of emotions roil through her heart, before finally settling into a blank void, one that terrifies anyone looking upon it.

You continue to misunderstand her.

As I have explained before, none may interfere with her intentions and actions.

I did not merely mean that she is free-spirited by nature, but rather, nobody has the 'ability' to interfere with her.

It is she who possesses the 'ability' to influence others.

The mysterious black creature nonchalantly licks her paws.

Moira finds it difficult to reconcile the Miss.Christine she sees now with the enormous pressure she felt earlier.

Miss.Christine is extremely sensitive to emotions. No carefully buried pain or flicker of malice escapes her notice.

Over countless years, she has wandered across all of Terra, tasting the entire spectrum of feeling.

Rather than any particular flavor, she prefers a blend.

And her judgment is derived from instinct rather than logic. It does not err.

Solving a murder without even discovering a motive. Should I congratulate you?

Vengeance.

For who?

For that ghost entangled in the minds of the majority of the crew.

Madam Stone, the one who stands before you now is a relative of that rookie actress Laura, who fell to her death five years ago.

One who loved her dearly. Her little sister.

So, out of all the choices Miss Stone gave us after disbanding the crew, you chose to play detective, Lucian.

No need to bluff. I know you're not afraid of me exposing you.

If it would let more people know the truth behind Laura's death and the conduct of the film crew, you would have gladly exposed yourself, given the right opportunity.

...But not right now.

It's over, Moira.

You hid yourself well. A simple identity and an innocent facade were the ideal cover for you.

During nearly all of the murders, you were with Tippi. That painter trusts you deeply, and was always happy to provide you an alibi... even as you left your meetings partway through.

Looking back, every 'accident' has involved you in some way.

Dalton's death was caused by a prop knife being switched, which led to the former prop master being dismissed. You, naturally, took over his work, which afforded you even greater opportunities for crime.

As for the second 'accident'...

When Shelly walked into cold storage.

No, she had intended to kill her before that, but failed.

Do you remember how Shelly had a hallucination and interrupted the shoot, Madam Stone?

While she was rooted in place, unable to move, a heavy container fell from above.

You saved her. Moira single-handedly held onto the rope, preventing the two of you from being harmed...

But it was not out of the kindness of her heart.

At the time, everyone was focused on Shelly's antics. Very few people noticed the dangling container—

Let alone rushed to the other end of the rope.

Right, only the one who tampered with the rope in the first place could have reacted that quickly...

The failed attempt revealed to all that Shelly suffered from hallucinations, which you took advantage of.

I knew her deepest nightmares.

She mistook me for my sister Laura, and babbled all her sinful secrets to me.

But even to the very end, she never repented. Instead, she began to blame Laura for crossing the line... She had to die.

As for Marion and Michael...

Michael only ever treated me as an innocent little errand girl. He never figured out I was after his life, even entrusting me with the important matter of sneaking out of the plate.

And Marion? She never felt the slightest guilt for what happened five years ago. She HAD to die!

Escape? Nobody can escape!

Do you know just how much suffering and malice my sister had to endure? Yet all she ever talked about was how much experience she was getting, and how happy she was to be part of the cast.

Whenever I was worried I wouldn't make it as a prop-maker, whenever I silently shed tears as the crew ostracized me... she would use herself as an example to comfort me, to encourage me...

But it was only after she died that I learned what that 'experience' you gave her really was!

How dare you look at me like that, Greta? Are you doubting what I just said?

Surely you haven't forgotten how you bribed the police and the media and suppressed the news of Laura's death. You even turned her accident into a mockery of the truth in a movie! How could she possibly rest in peace after that?!

No, Moira.

Madam Stone has not forgotten her deeds. Rather, she is doubting your identity.

My identity? A prop-maker, an unremarkable Zalak, an avenger of crimes unanswered—

Laura had no younger sister.

She was never a part of your life.

Wha... What are you saying?