Initially, upon learning that the arsonist had used a forged identity, Byrne had been pondering the reason behind such a move. After some thought, he concluded that the arsonist wanted to use a false identity to artificially manufacture an alibi. However, there was a prerequisite for this plan: not only did he have to forge an identity, but he also had to forge the time the fire started.
Now, hearing Baron Blackmist's response, Byrne felt his hypothesis had been indirectly validated.
Byrne asked another question: "Then what was the actual time the fire started?"
The Baron replied instantly: "6:50 PM."
Byrne had only been trying his luck with the question; he hadn't expected the other party to actually provide an answer.
Upon hearing this, Georgia was dumbfounded. "I can't believe it. The time reported in the news was actually fake."
Tyrone frowned. "I see. The time in the news was a smokescreen deliberately released by the arsonist. He entered the theater under a forged identity not just to facilitate his actions, but specifically to create a perfect alibi during the supposed window of the fire."
Now, having obtained a new lead, the three cleared survivors scrutinized Byrne and the other three once more. However, when looking at Byrne, Larry explained:
"We have you to thank for this clue, but business is business. You haven't been completely cleared of suspicion yet."
Byrne didn't mind at all, waving it off. "You're being too formal, Larry. I understand."
Though he said this, Larry had actually already cleared Byrne in his heart. After all, if Byrne were truly the arsonist, why would he waste so much breath helping them find clues? He could have remained silent, hidden his identity, and waited for them to pick the wrong person to emerge as the final winner.
At that moment, Baron Blackmist, sitting at the head of the table, waved his cane. Another burst of black mist rose from the dining table, and in the blink of an eye, an hourglass about half a person tall materialized.
"From now on, until the sand in the hourglass has completely run out, shall be your final time to vote."
As the Baron's voice fell, the fine black sand at the top of the hourglass began to trickle down. The sound of the grains hitting the glass wall was magnified infinitely in the dead silence of the banquet hall, becoming a death knell hanging over the heads of the seven. Although the hourglass was large, the sand flowed at an alarmingly fast rate. By a rough estimate, it would take no more than ten minutes to empty.
The sound of the trickling sand made everyone's eardrums tighten. Larry took a deep breath, his expression darkening as he looked at the four suspects.
"There are only ten minutes left. Time is precious. Please recount what you were doing between 6:30 and 7:00 PM once more, in full detail. We'll go in order of seat numbers. Byrne, you start."
Byrne briefly described his situation. He didn't have much to say; during that period, he had been in his office revising design drafts the entire time. Aside from a trip to the restroom, he hadn't left his seat.
After Byrne finished, the other three suspects each stated what they were doing at the time. Once the four had finished their accounts, the only sound left in the banquet hall was the falling sand.
Larry rubbed his brow and looked at Tyrone and Georgia beside him. "The timelines for these four all seem seamless, yet the arsonist is among them. Someone is definitely lying. Did either of you spot any flaws?"
Georgia shook her head. "I can't tell. They all sound very plausible, even marking down specific times. Who knows which is real and which is fake?"
Tyrone rested his chin on his hand. "However, the more precise the account, the more likely it is to be fabricated. After all, this happened three years ago. What normal person remembers things from three years ago with such precision?"
As he spoke, Tyrone's peripheral vision couldn't help but drift toward Lei. Then, Tyrone shifted the conversation directly to him.
"You said earlier that on the day of the fire, you didn't wake up until after six, and your Braised Chicken was delivered at 6:40. To remember the exact time of a takeout meal from three years ago so specifically... isn't that a bit too calculated?"
Faced with Tyrone's questioning, Lei's body stiffened, and he immediately began to explain.
"I'm a web novel writer. Because of the pressure of serial updates, I'm naturally sensitive to numbers and time. Plus, that day happened to be the day my new book was launched on the paid tier, so I have a particularly deep impression of it."
A new book launch?
Hearing Lei's explanation, Tyrone pushed his glasses up and grinned. "Is that so? Then let me ask you: what was the title? And what were the subscription numbers on the launch day?"
The sudden questions caused Lei's face to turn a shade paler. He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, but for a long time, he couldn't squeeze out a single word. The eyes that had been somewhat steady a moment ago were now swirling with panic and avoidance.
"Lei, why aren't you speaking? A new book launch is a major event for a web writer. If you can remember the exact time of a takeout delivery, there's no way you can't remember your own book title and initial subscription data."
Georgia chimed in as well. "Exactly. Look at how you're hesitating; you're clearly lying. During the time of the fire three years ago, you weren't home coding at all. You went out and burned down the Red Maple Theater."
Lei snapped his head up, his face flushed deep red, and he said urgently:
"I am not lying! The book was called The Ember Maze. It was the first book I ever got a contract for. The initial subscriptions were less than fifty. It was a complete and utter failure. I stuck with it for two months, but because the data was so bad, I had to drop it. That's why I didn't want to mention it too much. Are you satisfied now?!"
Lei's final roar was slightly cracked. His clenched fists pressed against the edge of the table. His appearance of being driven into a corner didn't seem like a deliberate act.
Georgia froze for a moment, instinctively looking at Tyrone and Larry with a hint of hesitation in her eyes. It wasn't that she fully believed Lei's story, but rather that he had revealed such embarrassing details as "less than fifty subscriptions" and "dropping the book," which gave his words a sense of reality.
However, compared to the slightly wavering Georgia, Tyrone remained much calmer. He let out a snort, the gaze behind his lenses still cold.
"Heh. Even if you said all that, it doesn't prove you didn't just make it up on the spot. Of the four suspects, only you had ample time to commit the crime."
"You..."
Tyrone's words were like a strike to Lei's vital point, leaving him completely unable to move. Failure for a web writer was common; no matter how detailed his explanation was, in this banquet hall where Rules blocked all external evidence, all defenses were hollow.
Lei's face turned from red to white, and finally to a deathly grey. He knew that he had now become the target of everyone's suspicion. In this place without any external proof, even if he spoke the absolute truth, it would be treated as a feeble excuse. He slowly loosened his clenched fists and slumped into his chair like a prisoner accepting his fate. He opened his mouth to say something to prove his innocence, but the words turned into a weak, bitter smile, and he eventually swallowed them back down.
For a moment, all eyes were focused on Lei. Georgia was the first to break the silence, her voice carrying a note of certainty.
"I think it's him. Besides him, who else had such a convenient timing? I'm voting for him."
Alex nodded in agreement. "Right. His situation is too suspicious. No one can witness him coding at home, and all those time points are just his own word. I pick him too."
One by one, the others expressed their agreement, but just then, a different voice emerged.
David Byrne, who hadn't spoken for a long time, shook his head.
"The real arsonist isn't him."