At first, the others didn't understand why Byrne had asked that question. It was only when Baron Blackmist gave his answer—referring to three years ago—that the realization dawned on them.
While they were surprised, they all looked at Byrne with newfound respect, except for Juan.
Larry sighed. "Byrne, you're the attentive one. None of us even thought of that."
Alex reacted by slapping the table. "Exactly! If the age is calculated from three years ago, Juan was thirty then, which fits right into the 'not exceeding thirty' range. Good thing Byrne reminded us, or we would have let her slip through."
Juan was extremely frustrated. She had thought she was cleared of suspicion, only for Byrne's single sentence to drag her back into the pool of suspects.
Seeing everyone's eyes on her, a flicker of panic crossed Juan's face, and she hurried to defend herself.
"Listen to me. My shop is in Jinyun Alley, three streets away from the Red Maple Theater. On that Saturday, the convenience store was open as usual. I opened the door at seven in the morning and stayed in the shop the whole time. It wasn't until late that night that I saw the fire in the sky and found out from the news that the theater was burning."
After speaking, Juan looked at everyone anxiously, hoping they would believe her. The banquet hall was silent for two seconds before Georgia spoke up with a challenge.
"So what if it's three streets away? Who knows if you left the convenience store halfway through? And don't talk about surveillance cameras or anything like that; they don't work in this place."
Juan wanted to argue, but her mouth opened and shut without a word. She knew that in this banquet hall governed by Rules, all external evidence was empty talk. Without proof, even the most honest words seemed hollow.
"Alright, even counting Juan, we now have five suspects, but still no leads. There are two minutes left; let's wait for the next clue," Tyrone said, rubbing his brow in frustration.
Byrne leaned back in his chair, listening to the conversations. During this time, some had questioned him as well, but he had explained his way through each point. Taking advantage of the wait for the next clue, Byrne quietly observed the others.
Georgia looked impatient, occasionally glancing at the Baron at the head of the table, clearly growing restless. Alex sat with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers tapping rapidly on his knee, his brows knitted in a tight knot. Though he had stopped arguing, his dismissive posture made it clear he thought this investigation was a waste of time.
Juan had her hands folded tightly over her knees, her head lowered as if lost in thought. As for Lei, he had his arms wrapped around himself, eyes closed as if resting. Larry and Tyrone were huddled together, whispering in low voices, occasionally glancing at the five suspects before quickly looking away. Although Byrne was too far to hear them, he could guess the gist of their conversation.
Another minute passed. Perhaps tired of waiting, Georgia grumbled, "Why is it so slow? If I knew the clues would take this long, we might as well have just voted earlier."
Alex scoffed, his crossed leg swinging. "Heh. Who would you vote for? Without enough clues to back it up, if we vote blindly, do you want us all to die here?"
"You!"
Georgia snapped her head up to glare at him, but Larry raised a hand to stop her.
"Enough, you two stop fighting. The next clue is coming soon. Since Byrne found the loophole in the first clue, maybe there's one in the second too. Everyone, pay attention."
As soon as he finished, Baron Blackmist, who had been sitting still for a long time, struck his cane against the floor.
"Time is up. I shall inform you of the second clue: The arsonist has a scar from a burn on their right arm."
Upon hearing this, everyone instinctively looked at their own right arms. It was early spring, and the temperature had risen quite a bit. Although they weren't wearing heavy clothes, everyone was in long sleeves.
"Everyone, roll up your sleeves and let's see. The Baron said it's a burn on the right arm. Whoever hides it is the arsonist."
Georgia was the first to lose patience. She shoved up her right sleeve, revealing a fair, smooth arm with delicate skin and not a single small scar.
"Look, I have nothing on my right arm. See, I wasn't lying."
With Georgia leading the way, the remaining four suspects followed suit, rolling up their sleeves to reveal their right arms. Larry, Tyrone, and Georgia—now cleared—looked on and were all struck with surprise.
Every one of the remaining four had a visible scar on their right arm.
Alex's scar was on the outside of his forearm, about the size of a fingernail. Lei's scar was at the crook of his elbow, the size of a broad bean. Byrne's scar was on the inside of his wrist, the size of a large coin. Juan's scar was on the outside of her upper arm, the size of a quail egg.
Georgia's mouth hung open, her shock nearly overflowing. The joy of being cleared vanished instantly. Larry's brow furrowed deeply as his gaze swept back and forth between the four arms.
"How can all four of them have one? Then this clue was for nothing."
Tyrone shook his head. "No. The Baron doesn't speak nonsense. Since he specifically mentioned a burn scar, it must be useful." At this point, Tyrone turned to Baron Blackmist and asked, "Baron, can you tell us the exact size and location of the arsonist's scar?"
The black mist around the Baron surged several times, and his red-glowing eyes narrowed. "Regrettably, I cannot reveal any more."
The Baron's refusal was like a bucket of cold water, dousing the last flicker of hope in Tyrone's eyes. Georgia's fingers turned white as she gripped her sleeves, her voice full of anxiety.
"What do we do? All four have scars. The clue is as good as nothing. Are we supposed to just guess blindly?"
Byrne looked at the Baron at the head seat and made a suggestion.
"Since the Baron has given the clue, we must make the most of it. If this scar was caused by the fire, then the time it formed must match the time of the fire. I'll go first: this scar on my wrist happened a year ago when I was checking a construction site and was burned by a hot-melt pipe a worker accidentally dropped."
Once Byrne finished, Alex immediately rushed to speak, afraid that being a second late would make him the primary suspect.
"This scar of mine happened two years ago while I was running business. I went to a client's company to deliver documents and was splashed by a kettle in the breakroom. That old man was so clumsy; it burned so bad I was jumping around. I'm still angry thinking about it."
As Lei lowered his sleeve, he explained, "I got this scar over a year ago. I was pulling an all-nighter to finish a draft and accidentally burned myself with boiling water while making coffee."
Finally, it was Juan's turn. She touched the sleeve of her right arm and said, "This scar is from two years ago. I was splashed by boiling soup while cooking Oden in the shop. I was too busy to treat it at the time, so it left a scar."
All four burn scars, yet the timing given by each person was different from the Red Maple Theater fire three years ago.
After listening to the four descriptions, the three cleared survivors looked at each other. They all saw the same thought reflected in each other's eyes.
One of the suspects was lying.