Chapter Seventeen: Three Faces of the Truth
"Truth never appears all at once.
It fractures…
and each fracture wounds a different person."
— from Eliza Morgan's notebook
Howard's weapon was steady.
But his eyes weren't fixed on the imitator alone…
they moved between Edgar and Eliza.
He said with lethal calm:
"No sudden movements.
This isn't a performance."
The imitator laughed nervously.
"Oh, but it is…
you're just late to the show."
The knife was lowered slowly.
The imitator was restrained.
He didn't resist.
Instead, as he was led away, he said:
"I'm not the monster."
He looked straight at Edgar.
"The monster… is the idea."
Edgar didn't respond.
But his jaw was clenched tight.
The interrogation room was cold.
Bare walls.
Three chairs…
and three people.
Howard decided:
"I'll hear the truth from everyone.
Each one… alone."
Edgar sat calmly.
Howard asked:
"Do you know him?"
Edgar answered:
"I know his type."
"Did you incite him?"
A faint smile appeared.
"Ideas don't need incitement…
they need empty minds."
He paused, then said:
"But yes…
I left the door open."
It was the first time
Edgar ever admitted a mistake.
The imitator was tense.
His hands trembled.
He said:
"I never wanted to kill like this."
"Then why did you?" Howard asked.
He shouted:
"Because no one was looking at me!
He wrote…
she analyzed…
and I?
I was just a shadow!"
Then he whispered:
"I wanted to be seen."
Howard wrote a single note:
Motive: existence.
Eliza sat before Howard.
He said bluntly:
"You're the link."
She didn't deny it.
She said:
"I watched more than I should have.
I understood more than I was meant to."
He asked:
"Do you regret it?"
She hesitated.
Then said:
"I regretted it…
the moment understanding felt closer to me
than justice."
Howard lowered his head.
After the interrogations,
Howard sat alone.
Three truths…
and not one complete.
Edgar: the mind.
The imitator: the void.
Eliza: the mirror.
He murmured:
"The case isn't about who killed…
but who created the climate."
The imitator was sent to trial.
But Edgar's name?
It was never mentioned.
The evidence wasn't enough.
And intent… cannot be tried.
Howard told Eliza:
"If history writes about you…
it will be as a witness…
not as innocent."
In his cell,
the imitator wrote a sentence on the wall:
"The idea will live."
That same night,
Edgar wrote in his notebook:
"When the shadow is imprisoned…
the original is set free."
As for Eliza,
she closed her notebook for the first time
without writing a single word.