The Masque of Gilded Gold

⊱≼≽⊰The Masque of Gilded Gold: Chapter 5⊱≼≽⊰

"What...? Ranpo? Where...am I?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ranpo suddenly appeared, startling him. "You used your ability. Huh, this place really is just as nifty as you described it as." He mused, pacing around the room.

"M-my skill? Are you suggesting it works with oral stories, too?"

Ranpo took a bite from one of the dessert plates. "Guess so. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Your outfit too..." Poe looked him up and down. Despite Ranpo never being at the party, his attire had changed to fit the scenario. His cape and lavender tie had changed to a much more tight-fitting vest, complete with his usual detective's hat and a brown masquerade mask.

"Fitting, ain't it?" He grinned. "Don't be too surprised though! You're looking pretty spiffy yourself. Look down."

"Hm?" Poe did as he was told. He was the spitting image of the photograph he showed Ranpo, though that was to be expected, considering it was a photograph. "Ah..." Poe muttered, fidgeting with his jacket. "I haven't worn this in a long while..."

"Well I don't see why you wouldn't. It looks great on you, Ed. You should really wear your hair like that more."

"You really mean that...?"

"Course I do. Come on! Let's enjoy what we have." Ranpo grabbed Poe's hand and dragged him across the ballroom.

"Wait! Do you mean you wish to-"

Poe didn't even have the time to finish his sentence before Ranpo took his other hand and swayed to the side, drawing him in closer with no regard for those around them. He would take three steps forward, two steps backward, tossing and turning with no discernible rhyme or rhythm; he made no effort to match the music, choosing only to follow the beats of his heart. Dancing had become a freedom to him. Then, in a sudden burst of courage, he dropped to the floor, and Poe caught on to him with no second thought. With one hand behind his back, and the other holding Ranpo's left hand, he took control of the rhythm carefully and precisely, matching the band and Ranpo's improvisations with grace and elegance. With every movement his cape fluttered and waved, wrapping itself up in the melody of the wind. They were perfectly synchronized. The minutes felt like seconds with how quickly they passed.

Ranpo dipped to the floor, his head resting in Poe's hand. "You never told me you could dance."

He drew him back in with a few twirls. "I took some waltzing lessons a long time ago. I am a novice at best."

"See, that's just the thing," Ranpo said as the music died down. "You always downplay yourself, Poe, but you're actually pretty talented. You can pick up almost anything and be good at it."

"I...you-" He blushed before accidentally dropping Ranpo onto the floor. "Ah, my apologies...!"

"No problem." Ranpo cracked his neck before jumping up back to his feet. "So that's over. It was fun while it lasted. What's happening next, Ed?"

He tended to change conversations topics quickly.

"I'm not quite sure. I've never entered my own ability before...do the same rules still apply?"

"Too vague! Try again."

"Well, you see, to exit a book that has been activated, the victim has to state the solution to the mystery," he said, in thought. "Perhaps..."

Poe whispered something to himself and looked around. Nothing happened.

"I see. I'm afraid I'm right. I believe it must be you, Ranpo, that solves the mystery. I suppose it works like Montgomery's ability. Once the ability user is trapped, there's nothing they can do to get out."

"So just solve the mystery? Easy enough." Ranpo said, kicking the dust off the floor. "This is based on real life after all, No supernatural tricks, no unique settings, no complications. It might even be boring."

"You know very well that I would never tell you a boring story, my dear detective."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'll trust you on that one."

"Would it be too much of a bother to ask you to remind me of the time?"

Ranpo glanced at the golden pocket-watch hanging by a chain hooked to his pants.

"11:59."

"That means it's almost time for-"

Right on time, the bell rang and tolled. Several seconds of silence followed, before a scream erupted from the crowd.

"Doctor? Is there a doctor here?! Someone! Anyone! He's been stabbed!"

Ranpo quickly pushed his way through a gathering crowd near a large oak to the back of the room. "You know." He narrowed his eyes and crouched down. "When you said this mystery was based on a true story...I was certainly not expecting the victim to be him." And he was right to assume such a thing. For there, in front of him, lying motionlessly upon a blood-splattered tree, was the body of Sir Francis Scott Fitzgerald.