Chapter Text
The guests follow the dimly lit hall, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on the polished wooden floors. As they approach the dining room, the anticipation in the air is palpable. The large double doors stand imposingly, and Kolivan swings them open to reveal a scene of elegance.
The long table stretches out before them, adorned with fine china, crystal glasses, and intricately folded napkins. Chandeliers hang overhead, their soft light reflected in the gleaming silverware. Hunk, already seated at the far end, shoots up nervously as the others enter.
"Oh! I, uh, got a bit turned around. The manor is rather large!"
"No worries, Hunk. Please, take a seat. We're just about to start." Allura says, her heels tapping the floorboards as she steps.
Allura allows Kolivan to pull her chair forward so she can sit at her place at the head of the table. Lance reaches to take the seat to her left, holding onto the mahogany swirls on the backs of the chairs. Unfortunately, already by the ivory plates, sits a little handwritten card designating the seat for Lotor, and one for every plate at the table. Lance, slightly disappointed but undeterred, winks at Allura before settling into his assigned seat.
Meanwhile, Lotor, with an air of quiet authority, occupies the seat next to Allura. Lance, just pouts his lip and ruffles the hair of an annoyed pidge.
“At least Pidge would never decline my presence, wouldn’t you?”
As the banter continues, Keith silently takes his seat, observing the interactions with a detached amusement. The seating arrangement, seemingly strategic, places him next to Shiro, who is also on Allura’s right, with Lance to Keith’s right.
Romelle and Kolivan make a graceful entrance, bearing trays of enticing starters. The fragrant aroma fills the room, momentarily distracting the guests from their chatter.
"Good evening, everyone.” Romelle's voice echoes throughout the room, “We hope you enjoy these starters. They're a blend of family recipes and local delights." She hopes shes done everything right, it's been her first party in a while.
Kolivan nods, his stoic demeanor unchanged. The guests express their gratitude, and Hunk, always appreciative of good food, dives into the starters with genuine enthusiasm.
"Wow, this is amazing! Romelle, Kolivan, you've outdone yourselves!" Hunk smiles. Lotor, sitting to Hunks' right, rolls his eyes. Keith's mind is spinning, but he can’t act on his hunch yet.
The room buzzes with the clinking of cutlery and snippets of conversation. The main course arrives, and the fragrant aroma of succulent dishes fills the dining room. Platters are adorned with perfectly roasted meats, an array of seasonal vegetables, and rich sauces that promise a symphony of flavors.
The guests, their attention now focused on the exquisite spread before them, begin to savor each bite.
"Impressive. It seems Lady Allura's hospitality extends to the kitchen as well." Shiro says, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Although he struggles with his single hand, he still gracefully uses the shiny silverware to eat the food.
Allura, sipping from her glass, replies with a smile. "Only the best for your return. I'm glad you're pleased."
The atmosphere in the room shifts as they talk between the clinks of cutlery and sips of wine.
The grandeur of the dining room is abruptly shattered as the lights flicker and plunge the space into an unsettling darkness. The guests freeze in their seats, the sudden obscurity intensifying the suspense in the air.
A bloodcurdling scream pierces through the blackened room, shattering the uneasy silence. It echoes, a haunting wail that sends shivers down the spines of the gathered company.
In the disorienting shadows, the sound of a single, deafening gunshot reverberates. The abruptness of the noise stuns the room into an eerie silence, broken only by the echoes of the lingering scream.
The darkness persists, an oppressive veil that conceals the unfolding tragedy. Panic and confusion grip the guests, their hushed whispers conveying a sense of fear and disbelief.
And then, the lights return, as quickly as they went out.
Allura, once poised, now stands frozen at the head of the table, a shaking hand clasped at her mouth. Her wide eyes reflect the dread that fills the room. Lotor, typically controlled, tenses, his hand instinctively reaching to remove his concealed sidearm.
Shiro, the war hero who had faced battles and emerged triumphant, now lies fallen, drooping over his increasingly bloody chair. The gunshot, a cruel punctuation to the mysterious events of the evening, hangs in the air, the echo of a life extinguished.
The guests, entangled in a web of shock and fear, grapple with the sudden turn of events.
“It was Lotor! He has a gun, and he’s sitting right across from him !” Lance yells, his eyes wide and his voice shaky. Keith sits up calmly, shaking his head.
“It couldn’t have been him, his gun was in his pocket, and the safety is still on, not to mention that bullet wound-” He points to the hole in Shiro’s head, “Is from a revolver, not a semi-automatic sidearm like Lotor’s.” The once festive gathering descends into a scene of chaos and uncertainty, the manor's opulent halls now echoing with the resonance of tragedy.
“Who else could it have been!” Lance spins to face Keith directly, yelling in his face. “That man- he was alive just a moment ago!”
Keith turns away, pinching the skin between his eyes before facing the rest of the crestfallen guests. “All we know right now, is that during those 6 seconds where the lights were out, one of us killed Shiro, in the Dining Room, with a Revolver.”
The shock of the tragic event lingers in the air, leaving the guests in a state of bewilderment and disbelief. Each face reflects a different emotion — from Lance's anger to Pidge's strange distress, to Lotor's detached calmness. The room, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, is now tainted by the weight of an unsolved mystery.
Pidge, unusually somber, stares at Shiro's lifeless body with a haunted expression. His normally sharp eyes are vulnerable, and a hushed whisper escapes his lips, barely audible over the collective murmur of the room.
"It can't be... it just can't be."
Lotor fiddles with a lighter, the smoke curling around him like a shroud of indifference. His cold gaze lingers on Shiro's lifeless corpse, betraying no hint of remorse or surprise.
Keith directs his attention to Coran.
"Call the Police. We need them here immediately."
Romelle and Kolivan gently place a white tablecloth over Shiro's body, shielding the guests from the unsettling sight. The staff try their best to return the room to its original state, but Allura, still shaken, suggests leaving the crime scene relatively untouched until the police arrive.
Coran nods in acknowledgment and steps away to make the call, and his usual smile is long gone. Keith joins the other people in the manor, who relocated themselves into the den.
Just as Keith walks in, Lotor stands. With smoke floating around his head, he turns to Allura.
“As interesting as tonight was, my love, I believe I shall go home and rest.” He doesn’t acknowledge the other guests.
Keith blocks this way before Lotor can take another step. Although Lotor is like, a foot taller than him, Keith’s glare is enough to get Lotor to pause.
“As I’d said before, every one of us is a suspect. Nobody can leave until the police arrive.” Lotor looks like he's about to argue, but Allura's hand leading him back to the couch is enough to make him stay.
“Only until the police arrive, otherwise I am calling my attorney.” Lotor says, crossing his legs with a scowl. Lance, however, can't resist challenging Keith's sudden command.
"Why is Mr. Detective here suddenly taking charge? Last time I checked, we're not in a crime novel, and you’re just as much of a suspect as any of us."
Keith, unyielding, meets Lance's defiant gaze.
“Does it look like I’m about to drive off anytime soon? And your…history, sure doesn’t make you a much better prospect.” Lance turns pale, sitting back down on the couch opposite Allura’s quietly.
“What do you mean by that?” Pidge asks, his eyes glancing between the two boys. Lance’s usual chattiness dies away, realizing what Shiro's death could mean for him. Keith can’t know, can he? The clock ticks loudly in the silence, awaiting the arrival of the authorities to unravel the puzzle that now stains the manor's legacy. as well as the dining room's carpet.
The doorbell's iconic melody bounds throughout the estate yet again, and Coran dutifully get up to greet the police.
A tall man with an aura of authority walks into the room, led by the butler and Coran. Iverson and two other officers survey the room. Other than Lotor, nobody dares to move, whose exhale could be heard by even the rats in the walls. Iverson clears his throat,
“Although I didn’t know Shiro well, he was very honorable.”
“It's a shame with his new arm, what a waste.” Lotor mumbles rather loudly, again to no one in particular, which doesn’t seem to matter since Iverson ignores him anyways.
“And you are sure everyone was accounted for during the time of death?”
Allura speaks up, “Yes, we were all in the dining room. Although Romelle and Kolivan went into the kitchen to retrieve dessert. And…” The cook , she thinks. She should mention the cook, shouldn't she? But there is something stopping her, a gut feeling. The cook must’ve been hard at work making dessert, there would be no need to put extra suspicion on them. Simply no need.
“And what?” The female officer with a bob inquires, holding a little notepad in her hand. Her hair is so dark, it almost seems blue.
Allura shakes her head, “And the lights went out, so we best check the circuit board, to check if it was messed with, maybe it was purposeful.”
“Messed with?” Coran questions, looking at his niece worriedly. “By whom? As you’d said, there wasn’t anyone other than us and the staff, and the circuit board is down in the basement. You don’t possibly mean-”
“Another person, the real killer.” Iverson interrupts, stepping forward. “Officer Axca and Officer Thace, check all doors and windows for signs of forced entry.” He turns again to Coran, but he’s already standing and opening a cupboard full of loose papers.
“Yes, the blueprint of the house should be here somewhere, so you know where all the entrances are. I swear I saw it this morning when I was looking for a particularly beautiful sketch of wild horses running through a meadow- '' Iverson sighs, taking a seat by Pidge. “I’m sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous. And it really isn’t anywhere here, so strange.” Coran stops, joining Lance and Hunk on the large, plush couch.
“It's alright, we’ll just do a perimeter check and try our best not to get lost.” Officer Thace says, moving along with his partner through the large intricately-carved doors. The rest of the guests sit, patiently waiting for Iverson’s next words; except it's not Iversons words that come out next.
“I have information you may deem valuable.” Keith’s voice is flat, and to the other guests, it may seem like he’s rather bored with the turn of events, but really he’s never been a very good liar.
“Are you…blackmailing me?” Iverson’s voice booms throughout the room, the clock ticking four full times before Keith allows himself to answer. They both sit on opposite sides of a dark oak desk, covered in various ink pots and books. The study wasn’t very far from the den, but far enough that Iverson’s outrage wasn't heard by the other dinner party guests.
“Not exactly, but.” Keith eyes the badge on Iverson’s uniform. “You could lose your job if this gets out the wrong way.”
Iverson’s frown deepens even further, “So blackmail. How did you know?”
“Shiro’s been missing for more than a year, yet when Lotor mentioned his prosthetic before you’d seen his corpse, you didn’t react. Which meant you must’ve seen him since his return. You also said you didn't know him well, so it was a simple deduction that he’d gone to you. For protection, perhaps?” Keith lets that sit in the air for a moment before continuing. “You blame yourself, you should’ve kept him in the station for the night or kept an officer with him. A bodyguard, at least. But you cheapened out.”
“Yes I get it. Go on, tell me what you want.” Iverson scowls, but there's a hint of sadness behind it. He really didn’t know Shiro, but just remembering the scared look on his face when Iverson refused Shiro protection– Well, maybe whatever money or crime this Keith wants smoothed over would be worth it.
“Don’t look so defeated. I just want you to tell the rest of the guests to allow me to investigate. There's a good chance someone else will die and I need authority to solve it before another life is lost.” Keith’s words surprise Iverson,
“You want to play detective?” There’s disbelief in Iverson's voice.
“I want to solve the murder and go home.”
“That’s our job.”
“And if you do it right, then I won’t have to.”