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takepon007 · 15 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction12

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP8 Deductions

How to Read the Eighth Game

Now, let’s move on to the final game board. Before delving into the final game board, I’d like to explain my approach to reading it. I believe the most effective way to read the eighth game is to imagine yourself as Ange.

Think of yourself as the real-world Ange.

Ange believes the author of this forgery, Ikuko, is someone unrelated to the Rokkenjima incident.

Consider where in this eighth game Ange (yourself) comes to terms with her emotions.

I think reading the eighth game with these three perspectives in mind is the clearest and most effective approach. You are Ange. And since this story is written by the forgery author Ikuko Hachijo, it cannot be trusted. At this point, there’s no notion that your brother, Tohya, is the one writing it. That’s the premise.

Purpose of the Game Board

The purpose of the eighth game is to make Ange realize for herself what she truly needs to understand. Battler is trying to teach Ange how to live for the future. On the other hand, Ange desperately wants to know the truth of Rokkenjima. However, as inferred in the seventh game, the truth of Rokkenjima is the story of that tragedy. Battler makes a statement like this in the middle of the game:

“The Book of the Single Truth will surely tell Ange what happened on this island. But what’s the point of knowing that?! It’ll only add to the sadness from twelve years ago! How many more years will it take for Ange to enjoy happiness as a single girl?! How many years will it take for those wounds to heal?!”

You must understand Battler’s feelings painfully well by now. I feel the same way. What value is there for Ange in knowing that truth? It’s a truth that only plunges Ange into despair. What worth is there in knowing it? Ultimately, it comes down to Ange’s circumstances in the 1998 world. Ange has been living surrounded by baseless rumors like Eva’s conspiracy theory or the Ushiromiya family culprit theory, enduring daily insults. “Your parents were the culprits, weren’t they?” In such an environment, the “truth of Rokkenjima” has become a faint hope for Ange, something that might save her. The idea that all the blame lies with Aunt Eva, and her parents were merely victims—a convenient truth, or rather, a fantasy that Ange seeks. Even though there’s a possibility that this hope might lead to despair instead.

Something More Important Than the Truth

That’s exactly why Battler needs to make Ange understand that there’s something more important than the truth. There’s a very clear piece of foreshadowing, so let me quote it:

“Just as Beatrice’s games in the past aimed to make Battler believe in the existence of witches, Battler’s game aims to teach Ange something more important than the truth. A game never forces its outcome. Beatrice could never win unless Battler acknowledged her himself. Battler’s game is the same. Unless Ange acknowledges it herself, Battler cannot win. So, Battler proceeds with the game just as Beatrice once did. Whether to believe, whether to accept—it’s all up to the opponent. To that end, Battler is trying to envelop Ange in his fantasy.”

Beatrice claimed the Rokkenjima incident was the work of a witch, wrapping the truth—that it was committed by humans—in a fantasy, or magic. It’s the same here. Battler wants Ange to understand something more important than the truth of Rokkenjima, which is “a family massacre over gold.” Amakusa says in the story: “Exhausted from pursuing the truth, the young lady will end up living a life consumed by hatred for Eva Ushiromiya.” Exactly. Ange isn’t really seeking the truth. She wants a truth where her parents are innocent. But that’s a fantasy. The truth is that her parents were the culprits.

Real-World Ange vs. Forgery-World Ange

One important point is that, in this eighth game, the Ange on the game board reads the Book of the Single Truth and learns the truth. However, the real-world Ange, reading this forgery like us detectives, does not have the truth revealed to her, just as we don’t. We can only observe the in-story Ange who learns the truth. In that sense, the real-world Ange doesn’t know the truth. Even if it were depicted in the story, the issue of “can Ikuko Hachijo, the forgery author, be trusted?” arises, so ultimately, the real-world Ange is never given the truth.

Quiz Tournament

As you read the forgery with the truth still unclear, you reach the scene of George and Jessica’s quiz tournament. This scene is extremely important. While presenting a problem about conditional probability, George tells Ange: There are various pieces of information around you. Information that will make you happy, and information that will only make you unhappy. It’s actually you, Ange, who chooses which information to accept. You decide which information to take in. But if there’s a truth you truly want to hold dear, you have to protect it yourself. In the real world, the explosion accident has made the truth impossible to pinpoint. Eva doesn’t reveal the truth either. In other words, the truth is permanently unknowable. In such a situation, there are all sorts of theories around Ange that make her unhappy—the Ushiromiya family culprit theory, the Eva conspiracy theory. The truth is cruel. The truth is that Rudolf and Kyrie were the culprits. However, this truth has been sealed in a cat box forever. It will never be revealed. If that’s the case, what’s the point of Ange choosing to interpret this unrevealed truth with malice?

There’s no point at all. Since even that malicious interpretation cannot be confirmed as the truth, why shouldn’t Ange choose only the information that makes her happy and live for the future? Even if it’s not the truth, it’s unverifiable. For the real-world Ange, who will never know the true truth, it’s possible to choose only happiness. Through the forgery, Tohya has been trying to convey this all along. Precisely because the truth of Rokkenjima is a mass of malice, he sealed it away forever. And in doing so, he protected Ange’s future.

Magic vs. Sleight of Hand

Finally, there’s the choice between sleight of hand and magic. What did Ange receive from her brother in this final game board? It’s true that the game board’s Ange may have learned the truth. However, no truth becomes truly real unless you accept it yourself. At the very end, Ange needs to think: What’s truly important to her? The truth behind the sleight of hand? Or the fantasy of magic that envelops it? Which one will truly make Ange happy? The truth is cruel. The truth of Rokkenjima is a painful truth that only makes Ange unhappy. But the game board’s Ange doesn’t have to accept it. It’s all a lie, surely. And the real-world Ange doesn’t even know the truth to begin with. If so, there’s clearly a future she can choose. If she truly grasped her brother’s intentions in this final game, it should be obvious which one she should choose.

Ange’s Psychology in the Golden Land (Mid-Story)

When reasoning about the heart in a mystery, I consider logical consistency, or psychological consistency. Let’s try reasoning about Ange’s heart in the Golden Land in the middle of EP8. The Ange in the original work and the Ange in the manga have different attitudes toward their parents. The original Ange interacts with them normally, while the manga Ange shows a rejection response. Let’s logically consider the cause of this. The fundamental reason for how Ange feels about her parents stems from her having read the Book of the Single Truth. She read it. Ange says something very important: “I won’t accept the truth of your world!!” she screams, and then takes her own life. The Book of the Single Truth itself is the truth, but from Ange’s perspective, there are two patterns: choosing to “accept the truth” or “rejecting it.” The manga Ange chose to accept the truth. Naturally, since she accepted the truth, she also accepted that her parents were murderers. That’s why she rejects them in the manga. It’s quite simple. What happens if she rejects the truth? Naturally, she rejects the truth that her parents were murderers, so in her mind, her parents aren’t killers. Thus, the psychological reason for rejecting them disappears. So she interacts with them normally.

Logically, that’s how it works, isn’t it? It’s the difference between accepting or not accepting. The original Ange says during her battle with her master at the end: She learned the truth, but maybe, just maybe, someone might come back to her. She thought it might be okay to hope for that. In other words, the original Ange didn’t fully accept the truth. She holds onto hope. In a state where hope and despair coexist, her attitude toward her parents would reflect that hope. Maybe it was all a lie, and her parents are innocent. No truth becomes real unless the person accepts it.

Is the Beatrice in the Eighth Game Hanyuu-Beato?

In the eighth game, Beatrice appears with a personality reminiscent of the fifth game. The question is whether this Beatrice is the original or Hanyuu-Beato. Since the original Beatrice declared in red in the sixth game that she would never be revived, it’s not her. And since the speech patterns characteristic of Hanyuu-Beato don’t appear, it’s hard to think it’s her either. Most likely, the Beatrice in the eighth game is just a piece. To put it simply, she’s similar to the Beatrice piece I fought in the fantasy courtroom of the fifth game.

Bernkastel’s Red Truth Declaration

My master declares a shocking red truth in the latter half. Here it is:

“Beatrice died in October 1986. Therefore, the Golden Land she created was completely destroyed. All your relatives who were kept alive in the Golden Land were also completely destroyed. Your father, your mother, and of course Battler too, will never return to you or call your name again.”

This likely refers to Beatrice’s drowning. Let’s reason about this. We’ve built up detailed logic through motive analysis and cat box analysis, and this reasoning is also meant to make this part solvable. Let’s carefully go through it.

Sayo Yasuda was originally in love with Battler, but when he forgot his promise, she couldn’t bear the pain in her heart. She shifted her love to Beatrice and began a new romance with George. If things had gone smoothly, she probably would have married him. But in 1986, at a critical moment, Battler returned. Sayo realized her love for Battler was still alive. She loved George, but she also still loved Battler. She couldn’t choose. On top of that, there were many obstacles to her love—incestuous relationships, her inability to bear children. These could only be resolved by a miracle. Sayo made a plan but questioned herself: Did she really want to cause such an incident to find happiness? The answer was likely, “I want to be happy in the real world too.” So Sayo decided to carry out the incident.

In the plan, if the epitaph was solved, she would give up on Battler, stop the epitaph murders, and marry George. If the mystery of the incident led Battler to remember his promise and accept her, she would choose Battler. If neither was achieved, she would detonate the bomb and find happiness in the afterlife. Refer to the seventh game’s reasoning for the specific details of the plan. She executed the incident with this staged drama and mass murder plan. And on Rokkenjima, a miracle happened—the epitaph was solved. With absolute resolve, she faced the incident, and the roulette presented the answer: “George.” The epitaph murders were immediately stopped because the epitaph was solved. Sayo decided to cut off her feelings for Battler and follow the roulette’s result. If the incident had ended without issue, all would have been well. But an irregularity occurred—a family massacre over the gold broke out. George was caught up in it and killed. The roulette chose George. Sayo had decided to live with George. But her beloved George was killed. Even though a miracle occurred with the epitaph’s solution, her love became unattainable. In a sense, since she planned the incident, she bears some responsibility for his death.

Leaving the underground VIP room, Sayo tried to save at least Battler, taking his hand and escaping through the underground passage to the submarine base. Since the epitaph murders were stopped, Battler hadn’t realized Sayo’s truth or her love at this point. He hadn’t remembered his promise either. Before the incident, Sayo had envisioned three possibilities: being with Battler, being with George, or, if neither was possible, being with everyone in the Golden Land. She caused the incident believing in these possibilities, thinking that even in the worst case, a mass murder-suicide by explosion was possible. But George was killed, Battler didn’t reach the truth due to the interruption of the murders, and since she had explained the bomb, a mass murder-suicide was no longer possible. All possibilities… were gone.

In such a state, what was Sayo’s psychological condition when Battler, who hadn’t remembered the promise and wasn’t chosen by the roulette, took her out on the boat? Isn’t it simply “I want to die”? All her hopes were crushed, the incident she caused for her love ended in the worst possible way, and her beloved was killed because of her plan. In such a state, would she still think, “I want to live”? I believe it’s the drowning suicide as depicted.

Tohya Learning the Truth from the Message Bottle After the Incident

After the incident, Tohya learns of Sayo’s love through the message bottle. It was too late. If he had remembered the promise during the drowning, perhaps Sayo wouldn’t have taken her life. It was all too late. That was the result the roulette pointed to. Using motive analysis and cat box analysis as keys, this is likely the story that can be derived. The key point is Sayo’s state during the drowning. I believe her psychology points to drowning, but it’s also possible to argue, “No, she had the strength to keep living.” This cannot be confirmed. It’s a question of what psychological state a person would be in under such circumstances. Logic can only take us as far as the situation at the time of drowning. Beyond that, it’s entirely a matter of the heart.

Reader Scolding

Let’s touch on the reader scolding in the original work. This story is broadly composed of two worlds: the real world and the forgery as a piece of literature existing within that real world. Tohya published the forgery with the purpose of sealing the truth of Rokkenjima in a cat box. The forgery also contains scolding and irony aimed at people in the real world who keep producing irresponsible theories. This is, of course, to protect the real-world Ange. For that reason, the story includes some pretty sharp irony, but this is targeted at “people in the story’s real world.” Because we’re reading it directly, a misunderstanding arises that “we, the players, are being scolded.” That’s logically impossible. Tohya cannot recognize us players, as we exist one level above. This part caused such strong misunderstanding that it was removed in the manga. Please don’t misunderstand—it’s scolding the goats in the story’s real world.

Tohya Hachijo’s Motive for Writing the Forgery

Let’s move on to the motives behind Tohya’s writing of the forgery. Several reasons can be considered.

First, there’s the regret after learning of Sayo’s love through the message bottle after the incident. Tohya likely felt he had to do something for the Battler within him. The conclusion was the sixth game, where he married Beatrice in the end. He poured his feelings into that story.

Second, there’s the real-world Ange. Tohya feared becoming Battler completely. His refusal to meet Ange stemmed from that fear, but he couldn’t just leave Ange, who had been living in loneliness since the incident. So, Tohya likely decided to send a message to Ange through the forgery. The fourth and eighth games, in particular, carry strong messages directed at Ange.

Finally, there was likely the purpose of spreading the witch fantasy to the public. The actual Rokkenjima incident had nothing to do with witches. But that truth would have been shocking enough to drive the real-world Ange to suicide. So Tohya wanted to protect Ange from the truth of Rokkenjima. That’s why he kept writing witch stories, claiming it was the work of a witch. Due to the interruption of Ikuko’s party to reveal Eva’s diary, the public’s impression of the Rokkenjima incident likely remained “the work of a witch.” This witch fantasy—magic—protected Ange from the truth.

The Golden Land of the House of the Gospel

Tohya is invited by Ange, who has become a writer, to the House of the Gospel. Let’s consider its meaning. It likely carries two meanings. First is Beatrice’s revival of the Golden Land. The Golden Land is a concept of the afterlife, so fundamentally, one must be dead to go there. Ange says, “I think it’s time for you, Teacher Tohya, to be freed from the burden of my brother’s memories.” At that moment, Battler likely died completely as a personality within Tohya. By dying, Battler could finally go to the Golden Land. And there, he was reunited with the original Beatrice, who died in the fifth game. While she couldn’t be revived, Battler reached her by going to the afterlife himself. The Beatrice in the eighth game is just a piece, so this was Battler’s first reunion with the original Beatrice since the fifth game. The second meaning is that the regret Tohya felt after learning of Sayo’s love through the message bottle, which was too late, finally reached Sayo in heaven through Battler, along with the forgery he had woven. At that moment, Tohya’s long suffering finally ended, along with his apology to Sayo in heaven.

Reasoning About Writer Ange’s Heart

Finally, let’s reason about the heart of Ange, who became a writer. After reading Ikuko Hachijo’s forgery and going through the eighth game, writer Ange likely thought, “Pursuing the truth has no value for me.” So she stopped chasing the truth and chose to live for her own happiness. What’s important here is the “philosophy of magic” that has been mentioned in fragments. We reasoned about this with Sakutaro’s revival and the candy magic. Magic has a front and a back. The back is the painful truth of “mass-produced Sakutaro,” while the front is the lie of “Sakutaro revived by magic.” Those who use magic know the painful truth behind it. Knowing it, they present the front—the magic—to make others happy. Battler in the final game did the same. The truth of Rokkenjima is a painful truth. Knowing the back of this magic, Battler presented a warm story as the front.

Writer Ange likely judged things with both eyes. The truth could be the malicious interpretation of the seventh game or the benevolent interpretation of the eighth game—both are possible. Seeing the truth with both eyes, Ange finally realized: She wasn’t chasing the truth but a truth convenient for her. As a result, writer Ange stopped pursuing the truth, fully accepted the message of her brother’s final forgery, and lived for the future. Writer Ange was writing a story about Sakutaro, a symbolic figure of this philosophy of magic. She tells Tohya, “I think it’s time for you, Teacher Tohya, to be freed from the burden of my brother’s memories,” suggesting she believes inviting her brother to the House of the Gospel might free him. This is curious when you think about it. Why did Ange think that? The truth of Rokkenjima isn’t confirmed in Ange’s world, so she shouldn’t know it. Yet, there’s a sense that she believes inviting him to the House of the Gospel could free him from a painful past. This suggests Ange “suspects” the truth of Rokkenjima, even if it’s not confirmed. The principle of magic makes this clear. In the fourth game, during Sakutaro’s revival, Ange says:

“That’s the root of magic, isn’t it? Without love, without sadness, without anger, magic cannot be seen.”

Ange could see Beatrice’s magic because she knew the “mass-produced” truth behind it. That’s why she understood the meaning of the front—the fantasy. Those who use magic must know the truth behind it. So, Ange, who is trying to spread the philosophy of magic, likely “suspects,” even if unconfirmed, that her parents were the culprits. What’s important for Ange is that this isn’t confirmed. It’s merely a suspicion, forever unprovable. That’s why Ange can hold onto hope. Having understood magic, Ange likely realized the painful truth behind it when she met Tohya. That’s why she thought inviting him to the House of the Gospel could free him.

Why Ange Replicated the Ushiromiya Family Hall in the House of the Gospel

Why did Ange remodel the House of the Gospel to resemble the hall of the Rokkenjima mansion? This is speculative, but having understood magic, Ange used the front—the fantasy—as a pillar to live for the future. However, the person who used magic for Ange must know the truth behind it. Since the forgery contains detailed internal Ushiromiya family information, Ange likely strongly suspected that a surviving family member wrote it. It’s possible a surviving Rokkenjima relative authored the forgery. But since magic has a front and a back, a problem arises. Ange doesn’t know the truth behind it as confirmed fact, which allows her to believe in the front—the fantasy. However, she can deduce that the family member who used magic for her must know the truth behind it, since they’re using magic. In fact, Tohya knows the truth. Magic is only effective for someone like Ange, who doesn’t know the truth. For someone who knows the truth, magic has no effect—they can only face the cruel truth.

When Ange reached this realization, she likely thought: “If there’s a family member who saved me, they can’t use magic on themselves. Then I want to save them with a different magic.” That’s the resurrection magic replicated in the House of the Gospel—the hall of the Rokkenjima mansion. Those who know the truth have no choice but to face it. They can’t escape it. If so, by enveloping their heart with warm memories of the past that surpass the painful truth, magic should still work even for those who know the truth. Ange likely thought so. Tohya’s long, painful story of regret was finally freed by his sister’s resurrection magic. With that, the eighth game is complete. Well done.

Purgatorio

Having reasoned through the eighth game and the meaning of the Magic Ending, I believe that at that moment, Battler finally went to heaven, and his suffering finally reached Sayo in heaven. This foreshadowing was laid as early as the first game. The tea party mentions “Purgatorio.” Purgatorio is the title of the purgatory section in Dante’s Divine Comedy. In Purgatorio, Dante climbs the mountain of purgatory, a place for those who regret their sins to atone. As Dante ascends, his sins are purified, and at the summit, he is led to heaven by his eternal lady, Beatrice. That’s Purgatorio. Battler’s sins were finally purified after many years, and his soul reached Beatrice. This is truly Purgatorio.

Was Umineko no Naku Koro ni Solvable?

With the manga concluded, it’s time to evaluate a certain issue regarding Umineko no Naku Koro ni. This isn’t something I can decide alone, so I’d like to ask all of you who love Umineko. The question is: “Was Umineko no Naku Koro ni solvable?” The original work, the manga, and the information provided by the questioner are complete, and the detectives’ reasoning, including mine, Townmemory’s, and KEIYA’s, is out there. Were there any detective-side reasonings that pinpointed the truth of Umineko? If so, the work was “solvable.” If not, it was “ultimately unsolvable.” Was Umineko no Naku Koro ni solvable? It’s time to pass judgment. Since the original work ended the way it did, we can’t just say, “The manga ended nicely, so it’s all good.” We need to reach a conclusion here.

It Was Solvable

In my subjective opinion, not only did I hit the official answers, but I went beyond to parts the official side didn’t anticipate. My conclusion is that it was absolutely solvable. But that’s just my subjective view. If it was unsolvable, no one should ever make a work like this again. But if it was solvable, we should make more. This is an important issue. The author took a risk by withholding the answers. How did that choice ultimately affect the players? Without an evaluation, the author won’t know what to do. I’ll say it boldly: For the sake of the author making another work like this, it was absolutely solvable. I completely pinpointed it.

For me, the most important mystery in this story is unraveling the meaning of the final scene at the House of the Gospel in the Magic Ending. That’s what I consider the truth of Umineko. The mysteries of the game board’s incidents, the motives, and the actual 1986 incident exist to interpret that final scene. Whether I could unravel the meaning of that scene is the final mystery that caps the reasoning duel between the questioner and me. The official answers likely include two points: In that scene, Battler within Tohya went to the Golden Land, and Tohya and Battler completely parted ways; and Tohya, after learning of Yasu’s love post-incident and attempting suicide out of regret, finally had his story reach heaven at that moment. Naturally, I’ve pinpointed both of these assumed official answers perfectly. The issue is that I considered parts the official side might not have anticipated—Ange’s perspective. Umineko is a story about “magic,” a story of wrapping painful truths in kindness. In that sense, Ange’s interpretation of remodeling the House of the Gospel is the mystery that concludes Umineko’s story of magic. Naturally, I thought it was a must-solve mystery.

But the manga didn’t touch on it at all!! In other words, it wasn’t a mystery!! As a result of thinking beyond the official intent, with the two interpretations—Tohya’s regret and the resurrection magic Ange created for the person who saved her, the replicated Rokkenjima hall—the emotion I feel at Umineko’s ending is overwhelming. In this reasoning duel with the questioner, it’s my complete victory, isn’t it? Complete victory!! “I understood the official answers, but my interpretation is even more beautiful!!” That’s how it turned out. A story with no intention of being solved? A torture that continues until you surrender? Hahaha!! No way!! I completely pinpointed it!! Take that!!

Just by the existence of Umineko no Naku Koro ni, this level of reasoning is possible for Erika Furudo. What do you think, questioner, Ryukishi07-sensei? I recommend you resign.

Ultimately, mysteries are meant to be solved. That’s why Beatrice and sensei say, “You’ll never solve it!” Just as Battler stopped Beatrice’s heart in the sixth game, someone needed to stop Ryukishi-sensei’s heart by unraveling the mystery. If I’ve successfully stopped sensei’s heart, as a detective, there’s no greater joy. It was a fun battle. If something else comes up, I’ll head to the scene as a detective again, so look forward to it. Next time, I recommend preparing a countermeasure against my weapon, the “Chain Reasoning Method.”

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 15 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction11

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP7 Deductions

Direction of Motive Deduction

In the seventh game, the focus will likely be on motive deduction, but as a premise, we must construct a motive that does not contradict the following three red truths:

“The purpose is not to make anyone experience fear.”

“It is not for the sake of revenge against anyone.”

“…Beato does not commit murder for pleasure.”

In a mystery, the classic motives for murder—revenge, fear, and pleasure—are all denied by the red truth. Only two fragments remain, huh? That was quick. I’ll occasionally weave in deductions about magic, and the reason for doing so is that it’s crucial for interpreting Ange’s heart at the end. This applies to both the game board’s Ange and the writer Ange’s heart, which ties to the meaning of the Magic Ending. Why did writer Ange remodel the House of the Gospel to resemble Rokkenjima’s hall? It relates to that reason—a deduction about her deeply loving psychology. The key to unlocking this is the deduction of magic. The critical point is that magic has a front and a back, and those who use magic must know the truth behind it. Actually, my favorite thing to deduce is the eighth game. It may seem like there’s little to deduce at first glance, but that’s not true.

Stories That Reveal and Stories That Conceal

From my perspective, deducing a story that ends without revealing anything is fun, but stories that reveal and those that conceal each have different kinds of enjoyment. Choosing which enjoyment to offer is a matter of selection—you can’t have both. It’s a tricky thing. The enjoyment of a revealing story is like what’s happening in the manga now—the classic mystery pleasure of revelation. The enjoyment of a concealing story is easier to grasp if you play EP8 of the original after knowing the manga’s information: the joy of grasping metaphors. The truth isn’t revealed, but by deducing and forming hypotheses, you can sense what Battler and the others are trying to convey to Ange. That pleasure is incredibly fun. It’s an enjoyment only possible because the truth isn’t revealed, and such an experience is rare. Those who’ve experienced it with this work are truly fortunate. Treasure that experience.

Deduction of the Incident’s Truth

In the fifth game, we discussed Yasu’s deduction: he reached the truth too late. This can be understood from that deduction alone, but what’s crucial is what happened to Sayo on Rokkenjima in 1986. What plan did she devise, what beliefs drove her to carry out the incident, what actually happened on Rokkenjima as a result, what did she feel during the incident, what did she lose, and what outcome did the roulette present? Deducing this is extremely painful, but it cannot be avoided. Originally, this part was meant to be deduced logically, not emotionally burdensome, but with how much the manga revealed, the reality seeps into the logic, doesn’t it? That’s my concern. What will the manga do? Ideally, it would “fully reveal Yasu’s real-world truth,” but Confession left parts like “the promise inferred from a lie” and “the duplicate identity trick premised on a forged manuscript” unaddressed. They’re intentionally leaving some mysteries.

Which Motive to Deduce

Let’s move to the seventh game. Since the tricks and world structure have already been fully deduced, the main focus is Yasu’s motive and the contents of the cat box. First, let’s define the motive precisely. The motive I’m deducing is “the real-world Sayo Yasuda’s motive,” not “the motive of the game board’s culprit piece, Beatrice, aka Sayo Yasuda.” Since this is closely tied to the real-world Yasu’s story, I’m deducing the real-world Sayo’s motive. The difference between the two lies in whether murder occurs and the outcome of the roulette, necessitating this distinction. On the game board, the culprit piece, under GM Beatrice’s control, commits murder to pose a puzzle to Battler. From the meta-world perspective, it’s like chess, so the weight of murder is absent. From the piece’s perspective, murder is committed, but since the purpose is “to convey a message to meta-world Battler using such a game board,” strictly speaking, it’s not murder. Pieces are reset and revived with each new game board, so it’s merely a means. Deducing the motive of the game board’s culprit piece is meaningless, so let’s deduce the real-world Sayo Yasuda’s motive based on the clues presented in the story.

Typhoon

First, what was she trying to do in 1986? Let’s consider the typhoon. On the game board, a typhoon hits 100% of the time on the day of the incident, isolating the island. In the real world, when Sayo planned the incident, it’s impossible to predict whether a typhoon would hit that day—it’s weather, after all. Thus, it’s natural to assume Sayo didn’t incorporate the uncertain element of a typhoon into her plan. Whether a typhoon hits or not relates to whether the island is isolated from the outside world and whether the police are contacted. Since it’s impossible to include an uncertain element like a typhoon, it’s deducible that Sayo’s incident is “a plan that holds regardless of whether a typhoon hits.” Even if a typhoon doesn’t hit, it poses no issue, suggesting the plan isn’t one that would lead to police involvement. This involves some speculation, so keep it in mind as “likely such a plan.”

Cash Card

Next, consider the cash card foreshadowing from the fourth game. Nanjo’s son checks the money on the cash card at the bank, and over 20 lamps were lit. This means Sayo sent at least 20 cards to the victims’ families. Two possibilities arise: “payment to accomplices” or “apology money for murder.” The former is unlikely since cards were sent to nonexistent addresses, returned by the post office, and sent in numbers exceeding the people on Rokkenjima. It’s straightforward to deduce they’re apology money.

These two elements—typhoon and cash card—lead to contradictory deductions. The typhoon suggests a plan unlikely to involve the police, while the cash card suggests murder. Ultimately, the incident’s peripheral information doesn’t pinpoint the motive. Thus, we’ll identify the motive in two steps: first, pinpoint the purpose of the incident, then identify the specific plan to achieve it. One note: there’s a slight difference between the “real-world motive” and the “forged manuscript world motive.” While broadly the same, the game board’s culprit piece is “forced to commit murder by the GM,” making murder-based motive deduction impossible from the piece’s perspective. This will become clear during the deduction.

Identifying the Incident’s Purpose

What is the purpose? In the fifth game, these red truths provided clues:

“The purpose is not to make anyone experience fear.”

“It is not for the sake of revenge against anyone.”

“Beato does not commit murder for pleasure.”

Thus, it’s not a classic mystery motive. The incident in 1986 isn’t driven by such purposes. From the game board’s piece perspective, the “forced murder” restriction ties the motive to killing, but from the meta-world GM perspective, it’s not. Let’s refer to Clair’s line in the seventh game, which likely indicates the purpose:

“We held a duel. It was nearing its conclusion. But the year 1986 was far too merciless. Why 1986…?”

The word “duel” rings a bell. Yes, the Trial of Love duel depicted by Battler in the sixth game, as proof of understanding the truth. In the end, Shannon and Kanon stake their lives to fulfill their love. Will said that if Battler hadn’t returned in 1986, the incident wouldn’t have happened. Why? If Battler didn’t return, Sayo’s love would have focused on George. If the purpose of Sayo’s incident wasn’t revenge, pleasure, or fear but purely to resolve her love, Battler’s return in 1986 caused her loves to overlap. Beyond this love conflict, Sayo faces several obstacles.

Obstacles to Love

Her inability to bear children. Being the daughter of Kuwadorian Beatrice, making it an incestuous relationship. Facing 1986 without confessing these issues. These are significant obstacles. Sayo’s purpose in carrying out the incident likely stems from this: “Using the incident as a roulette to resolve her overlapping loves and, if a miracle occurs, achieve happiness in reality.”

Interpreting the Mass Suicide by Explosion

One crucial element: on the game board, the incident includes a mass killing by explosion. As deduced in the second game, this is a “risk setting to fulfill a magical miracle,” rooted in the magical system’s philosophy. Let’s quote some foreshadowing. From Kinzo in the second game:

“Today, I will perform a ceremony. It’s closer to a gamble than a ceremony. Because magic without risk cannot house a miracle.”

From Maria:

“Magic requires risk. (…) Every great magic has a weakness or risk. No, it must have one.”

“Humans can create miracles by risking death. An immortal human would have no reason to create miracles. …Our lives, witches, and ceremonies—we can achieve nothing without taking risks.”

Finally, from Battler in the fifth game, when he reached the truth too late:

“Don’t mess with me… If it’s such a complex, boasted mystery, don’t set a time limit….”

“…No, …I get it…. In that fleeting miracle, …you prayed, didn’t you…. …You were the same as Grandfather.”

See the philosophy? For Sayo, with her numerous love obstacles, to wish for happiness in the real world, she must carry out an incident risking her own death. Only then might her love obstacles be overcome, and a miracle achieved.

Love Obstacles and Solutions

Are there logical solutions to her love obstacles? Possibilities exist, but they’re highly unlikely. For the incest issue, as mentioned before, Sayo was likely raised as “Sayo Yasuda” in the House of the Gospel, receiving a headship registry from the state. Legally, she’s not in the Ushiromiya registry, so the blood relation isn’t apparent, making marriage legally possible. However, this requires hiding the truth or “gaining the partner’s understanding,” the latter needing a miracle of acceptance. The infertility issue is similar—George’s acceptance requires a miracle. The overlapping loves also require a miracle during the incident. For Sayo’s love to be fulfilled in reality, miracles are needed—elements beyond her control, left to prayer. If she still wishes for happiness and miracles despite her circumstances, she’d perform a ceremony to achieve them. That’s the mass suicide by explosion—a risk setting where she and her loved ones might die. If a miracle occurs during the incident, her love might be fulfilled. This deduction is built from the story’s foreshadowing.

The Roulette of Love

What is the roulette Sayo set as a means to resolve her love and achieve a miracle? The fifth game explicitly provided clues, already deduced, but let’s review the red truths:

“No one gains anything from someone solving the epitaph.”

“The gold of the Golden Land originally belongs to this child. There’s no need to let someone find it or steal it.”

“Whether the epitaph’s riddle is solved or not, this child gains nothing.”

“Whether the epitaph is solved or not, Beato gains nothing.”

Beatrice’s love interest is Battler, as shown in the sixth game’s wedding foreshadowing: “I created this story to be with you. Thus, this world’s purpose is fulfilled.” However, solving the epitaph brings Beatrice no benefit, per the red truths. Logically, Beatrice’s love depends on Battler reaching the incident’s truth. Sayo’s roulette for choosing Battler is “Battler solving the epitaph murder mystery, recalling his promise, and accepting Sayo.” The act of solving the epitaph interrupts the Battler route, benefiting Shannon, who has nurtured her love before the incident. Thus, solving the epitaph equals the Shannon route. Since one of Sayo’s love obstacles is resolving the overlapping loves, the incident is designed to have someone else resolve it. The incident must achieve “marrying George” or “marrying Battler.” The only roulette explicitly shown in the story is the “epitaph and epitaph murders” from the fifth game, leading to the deduction: “Solving the epitaph means choosing George; solving the incident’s truth means choosing Battler.” However, there’s one issue.

Kanon-Jessica Route

In the real world, the “Kanon and Jessica’s love” is highly complex. It’s unclear from foreshadowing whether Kanon exists in reality, making it an undeducible element. From the roulette perspective, no Kanon route is found, suggesting Kanon doesn’t exist in reality, but this is too rough a deduction. The disappearance of bodies during the incident hints at fantasy, but it’s not conclusive. It’s frustrating to rely on speculation, but let’s hypothesize: “Since Kanon doesn’t exist in reality, his roulette doesn’t exist.” That’s likely the case.

Identifying the Plan

From the deduced elements, let’s identify the specific incident plan. Sayo’s purpose is to resolve her love through the roulette of the epitaph being solved or Battler uncovering the incident’s truth, aiming to achieve happiness. Let’s devise a plan that doesn’t contradict this purpose, the typhoon, or the cash card.

Planned Murder Theory

Assume Sayo intended to commit murder in 1986. If the epitaph is solved before the incident, it ends without victims, achieving the George route. However, if someone is killed during the incident, as in the third game, and the epitaph is solved afterward, a logical contradiction arises. A murderer being accepted and fulfilling love is impossible. Even if a miracle occurs, Sayo’s purpose becomes unachievable, lacking psychological consistency. Since her goal is to resolve love and achieve happiness, actively eliminating that possibility contradicts human behavior principles. The same applies if Battler solves the mystery—the Battler route only exists after the incident, so murder makes the purpose unachievable. Additionally, it contradicts the typhoon’s implication of a plan unlikely to involve the police. Logically, Sayo cannot plan murder in the real world.

Hoax Murder TheoryAssume it was a hoax, not murder, just a performance. This doesn’t work either. It contradicts the cash card, which suggests mass murder, and the “explosion risk setting for a miracle.”

You’ve likely realized it, but the possibilities narrow to one. Execute the incident as a hoax murder until the eighth twilight, and if no miracle occurs by then, proceed with a mass suicide by explosion after the ninth twilight. This solution satisfies all elements without contradiction—a fully logical plan.

Foreshadowing of Hoax Murder

Let’s review the hoax murder foreshadowing, specifically the special clause in the witch’s letter:

Special Clause:

At the end of the contract, Beatrice has the right to reclaim the gold and interest. However, if someone uncovers the hidden contract’s gold, Beatrice must permanently relinquish all rights. Interest collection begins now, but if anyone among you fulfills the special clause, everything collected, including what’s already taken, will be returned.

Even if people are killed, solving the epitaph returns everything, including those killed. This is feasible only with a hoax murder. As an aside, Sayo’s motive can also be inferred from Clair’s words to Lion:

“Thank you… Be happy. Meet a wonderful person… I hope you live as a human, not awakening as a witch… With one soul, love your one true love completely… I wish for you to live such a life.”

This suggests Clair’s awareness of multiple overlapping loves.

Why Deduce the Motive in Such Detail?

Before tackling the cat box, why do we need to deduce this? Sayo’s motive and the cat box’s contents are deduced to logically determine “what happened to Sayo on Rokkenjima and what happened to Battler as a result.” This aims to identify “the true real-world truth,” the story’s core. Thus, motive deduction builds meticulous logic to make these elements deducible. It enables deducing “the heart of Beatrice, who drowned herself.” In a mystery, even the heart must be deduced logically—and it’s possible. I believe so, as a detective.

The Cat Box’s Contents

We’ve identified Sayo’s incident purpose and specific plan. Now, the cat box’s contents. The manga revealed this as the truth, but let’s deduce it based on evidence. If the cat box’s contents are deducible from clues, the question is whether the seventh game’s tragedy story is true or false. If false, the contents become unidentifiable, so it’s likely true, but it must be deduced from clues. There are four major clues to ensure consistency. Let’s verify them individually. Even the unrevealed cat box can be deduced to a “likely this” degree.

First, consider Eva avoiding the 1986 explosion at Kuwadorian. What route did she take? The clues are: “The underground VIP room has a path to an underground passage leading to Kuwadorian,” and “Rosa stumbled upon it from the forest as a child.” The latter is unlikely since Rosa said, “I couldn’t go back even if told to.” The former is probable. Going from the underground VIP room to the passage suggests the epitaph was solved during the incident. It’s highly likely the epitaph was solved on the real Rokkenjima—clue one.

Second, why only Eva survived? If it were Eva’s conspiracy, as rumored, George and Hideyoshi should have survived, but only Eva did. This suggests someone else killed them.

Third, Eva’s attitude toward Ange—not revealing Rokkenjima’s truth. Possible reasons are “maliciously withholding” or “protecting Ange from a painful truth.” The eighth game suggests the latter.

Finally, writer Ange’s encounter with Yasu’s testimony: “We escaped to the submarine base.” The plural “we” implies someone else, deducible from the tragedy story. Kyrie and Rudolf’s guns are often noted as “having faulty aim.” When Beatrice was shot by Kyrie, it’s written, “The witch spilled blood from her mouth,” not that she died. When Eva awoke from Kyrie’s gunfire, it’s described: “Beside her was the corpse of her beloved husband. The corpses of Krauss and his wife, Rosa’s corpse. A room of death with bodies strewn about,” but Beatrice’s corpse is notably absent. This suggests Sayo and Battler escaped, tying to the island escape depicted in the eighth game. These four clues all point to the seventh game’s tragedy story.

The deduction is that the tragedy story is the truth. The circumstantial evidence aligns perfectly, so it’s almost certain. In that story, Beatrice explains things to the family who solved the epitaph but is extremely listless, as if everything is meaningless. Matching this with her motive, it’s deducible that “Shannon’s victory condition was met, determining her own death.” There’s foreshadowing for this in Beatrice’s character description:

It’s a futile dream for a human to kill me.

Even shooting lead bullets would only rebound like a mirror.

But there’s one way to kill me.

That method is in your hands.

Though it’s likely impossible for a mere mortal like you?

Kihihihihihihihihi!

Kukkukkukkukkukku!

This “method” is likely solving the epitaph. Solving it cuts off Beatrice’s love, leading to her death during personality unification, along with her love for Battler.

The cat box and motive deductions are complete. With these two keys, what happened to Sayo on Rokkenjima should be identifiable. I’ll tackle that in the eighth game. For now, consider it with these keys—you’ll surely understand.

Beatrice’s Funeral

Let’s move to other parts. In the seventh game, Beatrice’s funeral is held, where Will says something important:

“People are saved only when understood by someone. Even years after death… A pitiful witch who ended her life without being understood by the man she most wanted to understand her—someone should forgive her now.”

“In the end, he remembered. But long after you gave up and vanished.”

The notable part is “even years after death.” This refers to Yasu’s deduction in the fifth game. Reading the message bottle, Yasu understood Sayo but was too late—a hint of that.

My Master’s Red Truth

My master’s red truth: “This game will not grant a happy ending.” This was deduced in the sixth game. Considering the red truth’s scope, it applies only to the fictional world, not reality.

By the seventh game, deductions about tricks and the world structure were fully completed, leaving little to deduce beyond the motive and cat box contents. That’s the end of the seventh game. Only one remains for the game board deductions. This time’s detailed deductions fried my brain. In Confession, it’s said that if the epitaph is solved, she’d follow the solver. The motive deduction explains why. On a murder-based game board, the only love possibility is “the epitaph being solved before the incident.” If Battler solves the incident, the murder eliminates love possibilities, leading to “please stop.” There’s a difference between the game board and reality, but Sayo’s heart interpretation is clear and I like it.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 15 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction10

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP6 Deductions

Remaining Fragments

Only three fragments remain. The fragments of the theatergoing layer, bestowed upon me by Lady Featherine, are down to just three, but in this sixth game, let us perfectly unravel the world’s structure. While constructing the basis for this is quite challenging, the sixth game, with its abundance of foreshadowing, is truly a game designed for deducing the world’s structure.

New Information on the Red Truth

Since the deductions up to the fifth game are complete, I’d like to make a related deduction. In the manga, new information about the red truth was revealed. Here it is:

“Originally, there are two types of red truth. The first pertains to death circumstances, crime scene conditions, alibis, and the like, which are valid only within the specific game board. The second pertains to character profiles, the number of people on the island, and so forth, which are common and consistent across all game boards. This is also an undeniable fact that holds true even outside the cat box.”

The noteworthy part is the phrase “outside the cat box.” Let’s work backward. The “inside” of the cat box refers to October 4th and 5th, 1986, right? Beatrice can infinitely repeat these two days. Therefore, “outside the cat box” refers to everything beyond this definition. What I mean is, the fifth game depicts the world of 1985, doesn’t it? The episode about Natsuhi, one year before the incident. That would correspond to the “outside the cat box” mentioned in this statement, a realm where Beatrice cannot infinitely repeat. However, the red truth pertains to its scope of application. We must not assume that this “outside the cat box” extends to the real world, meaning the world beyond the forged manuscript. That is not stated anywhere. The “outside the cat box” includes the fictional world, after all. This issue of the red truth’s scope will come up again in the sixth game, but consider the manga’s statement: “In 1998, Enje Ushiromiya will inevitably die.” Such statements require us to first solidify our deductions about the red truth’s scope before considering them. What is the scope of the red truth’s application? Where are the domains where it cannot apply? All of this can be deduced based on evidence.

Logic Error Locked Room

Now, regarding the sixth game. I had already deduced this when I was cast into the abyss of oblivion, so it may repeat the same deductions, but let’s start by considering the gift Battler gave me. Battler declared a count of “17 people,” separate from the “18th human” I declared as the number of people on the island. The fact that a different number was declared simultaneously in red suggests I had misunderstood the “red truth system” up until that point in the sixth game. The red truth speaks only the truth—that much is correct, and I have no doubts about it. However, the truth is not necessarily singular, is it? Just as logic substitution was possible in the logic error locked room, when multiple truths exist, how does the red truth system respond? Let’s delve into this first.

Let’s take an example. Suppose a man commits a heinous crime and is sent to prison. This man deeply regrets his sins and resolves to live as a good person from then on. After his release, he accumulates good deeds. Now, is this man a good person or a bad person? Which does the red truth recognize as the truth? The answer is both. “This man is a good person” and “This man is a bad person” can both be declared simultaneously. This is likely the true nature of the red truth system. “The red truth speaks only the truth,” but “it never claims to guarantee exclusivity.” In other words, there are fools who always say the truth is singular, but their statements have led people into a misdirection trick regarding the definition of truth.

So, what is this discrepancy in the number of people? Since both are true, one possibility is that the “counting method differs.” I simply declared the number of people I observed on the game board. Counting normally, there are 18 people, including myself. This excludes Kinzo, of course. This means that the 17 people declared by Battler and the others are counting something different from what I did. With this premise, let’s consider the logic error locked room. At that point, I was continuously deducing Kanon’s movements. That locked room consistently focused on Kanon as the key point, without considering other characters. However, there was a place I didn’t physically search at that moment. That was under the bed in the bedroom during my second visit after returning from the bathroom. There, I demanded a repetition, saying, “Kanon is in the bedroom,” and Beatrice responded, “Kanon does not exist in the bedroom.” So, I narrowed my focus to the closet. But if someone other than Kanon was there, my deduction completely falls apart. Logically, the closet was the only place to hide, so if someone other than Kanon was there, it means there is a duplicate identity in this story. Assuming a duplicate identity trick, the red truth about the number of people on the island makes sense.

Types of Duplicate Identity Tricks

Speaking of the duplicate identity trick, there are likely several patterns. The key question is: what type of duplicate identity trick is it? Two patterns can be considered. The first is a name trick, where one person changes their appearance through disguise and uses multiple names, making the “individual” defined by the physical body. For this body, names like Shannon or Kanon are merely different names used, nothing more. Both are the same person. The second is a personality trick, which is fundamentally different from the name trick. In the personality trick, the subject is the personality. For Kanon, the “individual” is Kanon, and Shannon is defined as “a different person sharing the same body.” The personality is considered the primary entity. One of these must be correct, and it can be identified from both the trick and foreshadowing perspectives. Let’s first look at Clair’s information. It states:

“The reader created by Bernkastel. Or perhaps a stand-in. Strictly speaking, she is a vessel to personify the game with Beato. Thus, the personality of ‘her’ does not exist.”

It plainly mentions “personality.” This is foreshadowing. However, confirming a deduction based on this alone is absurd, so let’s examine the trick specifically. In the logic error locked room, the key points are these two red truths: “At the time of Battler’s rescue, only Kanon entered the guest room.” and “It has already been stated in red truth that all names can only be used by the individual themselves. Thus, the names Erika, Battler, and Kanon can only be used by their respective individuals.” Let’s consider the name trick first. If Shannon and Kanon were the same person, a contradiction arises with the statement that only Kanon entered the guest room. In the name trick, Shannon would also be considered the “individual,” so she would have entered the guest room. But since only Kanon entered, a contradiction occurs. In contrast, with the personality trick, the restriction that “all names can only be used by the individual themselves” means Kanon cannot claim to be Shannon. In the personality trick, Kanon’s “individual” is only the name Kanon, and Shannon is defined as a separate person. Thus, no contradiction arises with the personality trick, which aligns with the foreshadowed term “personality.” This is likely the correct answer.

Assuming this personality trick-based duplicate identity theory, the meaning of this statement becomes clear: “The rescuer is defined as the one who relocked the chain lock that Battler opened. Whether they had the intent to rescue Battler is irrelevant.” Kanon rescued Battler, but if he switches to Shannon’s personality inside, he becomes unable to claim the name Kanon due to the red truth. Thus, Kanon’s name “disappears” in the red truth. The issue is whether Shannon had the intent to rescue Battler. That’s unknown since it’s a matter of the heart. That’s why Beatrice uses such red truths to cover contradictions—an insidious move! Now, let’s review the flow of the logic error locked room, but first, let’s address a common point of contention regarding the red truth: “Know that the use of blue truth citing the broken seal on the neighboring room’s window during the logic error is forbidden.” Simply put, this red truth means “don’t deduce with blue.” Blue must be countered with red, so to avoid the obligation to counter, blue statements are prohibited. Frankly, this is irrelevant to a detective in the theatergoing layer since blue can’t be used anyway. If anything, only black can be used—ordinary black text. Besides, this red truth was later nullified, and I used blue to address the window, so incorporating the window into deductions is fine.

Ash-Green Raincoat

Now, one key point in this logic error locked room is the “ash-green raincoat” found in the closet at the end. Let’s incorporate this into our deductions. First, Shannon in the neighboring room puts on the raincoat and escapes through the window. With only her face exposed, it’s hard to tell whether it’s Shannon or Kanon visually. She places the witch’s letter, confirms that I picked it up, and heads to the guest room. She enters the guest room in place of Battler and removes the raincoat, returning to her original Shannon appearance—the same as when she was in the neighboring room. This is likely Shannon, not Kanon. Then, she hides under the bed. That’s the trick’s flow. It can be executed without contradicting any red truths.

Chain Deduction Method

However, it’s not enough to simply avoid contradicting the red truth. This is a good opportunity to explain my chain deduction method while deducing specifically. When deducing a story where answers aren’t revealed, thinking of solutions that “don’t contradict the red truth” is not an effective method. It leads to solution dispersion, making it impossible to pinpoint the trick. In such cases, the chain deduction method is used. This logic error locked room requires strict consistency across four elements. Solutions that don’t satisfy all four are highly likely to be incorrect. The first is a trick that can be constructed without contradicting the red truth—this is just one element of consistency. The second is the Trial of Love. This logic error locked room is a puzzle based on some truth Beatrice learned through the Trial of Love, so the trick must naturally align with the meaning of the Trial of Love. In a story where answers aren’t revealed, failing to align with the narrative elements increases the risk of missing the mark. Thus, ensuring strict consistency with these elements mitigates risk. The third is Featherine’s statement: “Using Beatrice’s heart might resolve it, but this is a move that can only be used once.” This was already deduced in the fourth game.

In the fourth game, during Beatrice’s “Who am I?” puzzle, light gathers in both hands, but the light in her right hand fades, and she lowers it. Lambda Delta remarked, “She lowered her right hand, didn’t she? That girl’s still hiding a potent trump card.” This aligns with that. The fourth is the foreshadowing in the narrative provided by the questioner: “The greatest mystery of this story will soon be revealed.” The solution must align with this. The chain deduction method is a rigorous deduction approach that ensures consistency across all these elements. By imposing such strict constraints, the possibilities are drastically reduced. The duplicate identity trick is likely the correct answer.

Duplicate Identity Trick

I’ve deduced the duplicate identity trick before, but it requires two conditions: “The detective does not simultaneously witness them subjectively,” and “There exists a logical solution for them being recognized as separate people.” The first is confirmed by verifying the story, but the second is the issue. Even in the manga’s Confession, this latter point was left unaddressed. Especially Jessica’s attitude was odd—she didn’t notice at all. “Can a single person posing as both Shannon and Kanon through disguise even work? How could no one see through it after years of service in the Ushiromiya household?” These are common-sense questions that must be resolved. Jessica’s role is particularly important. Servants might collude to cover it up, but Jessica, who loves Kanon, would need to recognize Shannon, who loves George, as a separate person to support her. Jessica, having been with Kanon and Shannon for years in the Ushiromiya household, recognizes them as separate people. Why is this?

Because it’s a story within a story.

The writer, Yasu, wrote the story with this setting. He calls himself Yasu, but there’s Battler inside, and Yasu thinks of him as a separate person. Since the writer himself considers the personalities separate, this belief is embedded in the fictional world. There’s specific foreshadowing for this, so let’s quote it:

“For us, if a personality is the person themselves, even if they share the same body, different personalities can be declared as separate people.”

In short, the story is written with this philosophy. Ultimately, this is to clearly depict the core of the story: “The conflict of Sayo’s love, torn between multiple lovers.” By portraying Shannon and Kanon as separate people, the conflict of love is made very clear. I’m devoted to my master, so I don’t quite understand this conflict, but still.

Red Truth on the Number of People on the Island

Finally, the number of people on the island is revealed. Let’s look at the red truth specifically:

“Nice to meet you, hello! I’m the detective, Erika Furudo!! An uninvited guest, but please welcome me!!”

“I am the visitor, the 18th human on Rokkenjima!!!”

“…Sorry, but,” “Even with you, we’re”

“‘17 people.’”

This red truth counts 18 people based on personalities and 17 based on bodies, but the notable part is the “human” in the 18th human. I exist in the story with dual attributes: a human detective and the witch of truth, my master’s piece. In the third game, a rule was added: “Speaking of a witch’s existence in red leads to a stalemate, so it’s forbidden.” Thus, I cannot speak of a witch’s existence in red. That’s why I use this lengthy preamble to define myself as human, avoiding being defined as a witch. Therefore, when defined as human, I become the 18th person. Beatrice exists normally on the board and killed Nanjo in the third game, but she isn’t counted in the red truth because the “human” restriction applies to personalities. This allows Beatrice to use an unfair red truth that makes her uncountable.

Why GM Battler Caused a Logic Error

In the sixth game, Battler, as the Game Master, causes a logic error, but there’s a reason for this. It’s not actually about failing to substitute logic. When I went to the guest room where Battler was killed and confirmed no body was on the bed, I made this declaration:

“From now on, the battle in this room will proceed with time progression halted. Thus, all moves by both sides are simultaneous, and whether a move is made first or later holds the same meaning.”

By declaring a halt in time progression, changing the game board’s settings becomes impossible from that point. For example, the seals on the neighboring room or the cousins’ room cannot be “broken.” But recall: while the cousins’ room had its door and window seals intact, the neighboring room’s window seal was not intact during the logic error. This means that before I began my debate with Battler in the guest room—before declaring the halt in time progression—Battler had already had Shannon escape through the neighboring room’s window. After the time halt, settings cannot be changed, so the window seal had to be broken beforehand.

In other words, Battler actually had a logical solution. He could have had Shannon, who escaped, return as a substitute. But he didn’t, and caused a logic error. Why?

It’s likely to awaken Chick Beato. The reason Chick Beato could perform logic substitution was because the neighboring room’s window seal was broken. If the seal had remained intact, Chick Beato would have been helpless. The sixth game begins by noting how different Chick Beato’s personality is from the original Beatrice. While repeating the same 1,000 years might make them similar, expecting that from a newborn Chick Beato is harsh, as the episode depicts. Battler was tormented by this vastly different Chick Beato.

He likely bet that through the Trial of Love or the logic error locked room, the old Beato might revive. Zepar and Furfur, during the Trial of Love, hinted at solving the logic error locked room, and Lambda Delta said, “The old Beato would have thought of a solution.” They were clearly guiding Chick Beato. Battler deliberately caused the logic error, betting on the possibility that Chick Beato would awaken and save him. Does he want that witch to revive that badly? I don’t quite understand the sentiment.

The Meaning of the Sixth Game

The sixth game is meant to prove that Battler reached the truth in the fifth game, but considering the deductions about the story’s overall truth in the fifth game, it’s essentially an episode to prove that “Yasu understood Sayo’s situation.” Why did Yasu depict a love story in the sixth game, especially the Trial of Love? Shannon and Kanon duel to the death, which is likely the fundamental reason the incident occurs in 1986. Thus, it’s deduced that Yasu depicted this to show he understood it in the sixth game. This explains the puzzling parts. The trick Battler initially set up was a locked room constructed internally, with someone faking death inside. Why did Battler use such a flimsy trick that was easily exposed? Because that flimsy trick is proof of understanding the truth. On the game board, the culprit commits murder, but in the real world, wasn’t it planned as a hoax? This will be deduced specifically in the seventh game, but that’s likely the intent. Since Battler reached the truth and was apologized to by Beatrice, if the trick involved actual murder rather than a hoax, the weight of murder wouldn’t balance with the weight of a broken promise. A murderer wouldn’t apologize for a broken promise, so it’s likely a hoax. In the Trial of Love, Shannon ultimately wins. Since the epitaph is solved on the real Rokkenjima, the incident might have ended without issue, and Sayo was supposed to marry George. Shannon’s victory might hint at that.

Deduction of the World’s Structure

Now, let’s move to the world’s structure. The sixth game is quite unique, introducing the reader’s layer. Previously, above the game board was the meta-world, but now there’s the 1998 world layer with Ange and Ikuko. This episode states, “This is already a confession,” and indeed, this structure itself is the answer to the work. The perspective of “reading the game board and meta-world as a book from the 1998 world” is the answer to the world’s structure. Thus, this structure is presented as a clue. It’s almost too blatant, which makes it hard to notice. Strictly speaking, the 1998 world is also a fictional world, but the clue’s intent is likely this. In EP4, I mentioned the odd scene transition in the 1998 world, and here, too, there’s a strange depiction of Ange recalling in the 1998 world, “I went to the Golden Land to deliver Sakutarou.” If the 1998 world were the true reality, this would be odd, so it’s likely a fictional world.

Purpose of the 1998 Fictional World Theory

The importance of the 1998 fictional world theory lies not in its structure but in the necessity of why the story is told this way. It’s not about adopting a complex world structure for no reason. The issue is the psychological state of Ange as a writer. In the eighth game, choosing magic depicts Ange stopping her suicide on a building rooftop. What psychological factor made her reconsider? That scene is likely in the forged manuscript world, but the issue is similar for writer Ange. What reason allowed the real-world Ange to come to terms with her painful past? Two possibilities arise. First, meeting her brother or relatives on the game board, which applies if the world structure is viewed as fantasy. However, in a mystery interpretation, this is unacceptable, as it assumes the entire story is fantasy. The eighth game undoubtedly gave Ange psychological closure. It’s the only point deducible from the presented story. The difference lies in whether Ange “experienced” the eighth game or “read it as a book.” The latter is the forged manuscript theory. If Ange read Ikuto’s forged manuscripts and concluded, “Pursuing Rokkenjima’s truth is a mistake,” it explains her psychological factor. The 1998 fictional world theory makes sense as “the layer where Yasu sends a message to Ange not to pursue Rokkenjima’s truth,” explaining the writing motive. The magic of finding happy fragments in EP4 is precisely the message: “Don’t pursue Rokkenjima’s truth. Find happiness in your current life.” In every route of the 1998 world, doesn’t Ange go to Rokkenjima and die? It’s a message that pursuing the truth of Rokkenjima’s cat box leads to death. In the sixth game, Amakusa and Okonogi were planning an assassination at the end, weren’t they?

Foreshadowing of the World’s Structure

With this hypothesis, let’s examine the sixth game for foreshadowing. Ange says in the 1998 world: “I was supposed to have died for breaking the rule of revealing my name,” and “Am I appearing in your forged manuscript again? Make it a better death this time.” This refers to EP4, suggesting Ange read EP4 as a forged manuscript and died on its game board. There’s also foreshadowing in her parting conversation with Ikuko. Ikuko says, “I may never see you again, but I pray for the fortune to meet another you somewhere.” Another you—what is she talking about?

Ange thinks, “I may never see her again. But that means ‘I’ won’t meet her; other ‘mes’ might.” What are these other “mes”? It suggests various Annes across the branched 1998 worlds or game boards. It’s deduced that Yasu is sending a message to the real Ange through episodes of multiple Annes in the fictional 1998 world. Ikuko says to Ange in the sixth game: “My existence is merely a guide to awaken you, the true successor. Ange-Beatrice.” Ultimately, Ange must not pursue Rokkenjima’s truth but learn the magic of finding happy fragments, as Maria taught, to live in the future. The past’s truth offers only despair, so it’s worthless to Ange. Ikuko likely wants Ange to understand this magic. This may be the message Yasu sends to his sister.

Classification of the World’s Structure

Based on prior deductions, let’s verify several theories about the world’s structure. The top priority is resolving what psychological factor allowed writer Ange to find closure.

Forged Manuscript Theory

First, the forged manuscript theory: writer Ange found closure by reading the message in the forged manuscripts. By viewing the 1998 world as fictional, the parallel world aspect becomes interpretable as a mystery, and Yasu’s writing motive is explained. This is likely the correct answer.

Parallel World Theory

Next, the parallel world theory: viewing the 1998 world as the true reality and interpreting it as a sci-fi parallel world. This makes it unclear what factor led writer Ange to find closure. The issue is EP4’s 1998 world, which introduces the crucial philosophy of the magic of finding happy fragments. Adopting the parallel world theory makes EP4 irrelevant to writer Ange, preventing her from understanding the magic. Additionally, the “inexplicable scene transitions” from EP4 cannot be explained. This theory fails to resolve issues, so it’s invalid.

Fantasy Theory

Lastly, the fantasy theory: the world of writer Ange is also a forged manuscript world, or everything is a fantasy world. Since game-board Ange and writer Ange are the same, closure was reached in the eighth game. This doesn’t align with Ange being in the Golden Land, a fictional world with many forged manuscript characters. A dead Ange in the fictional world and a living writer Ange are depicted simultaneously, meaning writer Ange is not the game-board Ange. They’re separate people.

Thus, the forged manuscript theory is the only one with full consistency. It enables the interpretation of Yasu’s message to his sister and applies to the eighth game, making it highly likely to be correct. The 1998 fictional world theory has foreshadowing in the eighth game. Ange resolves to see the Book of One Truth, going to my master and Featherine, right? There’s another inexplicable scene transition: moving from the meta-world to the 1998 world with Amakusa, where the key disappears, returning to the meta-world. This suggests the worlds are connected, meaning the 1998 world isn’t the true reality.

My Introduction

With this world structure understood, let’s consider this red truth:

“Nice to meet you, hello! I’m the detective, Erika Furudo!! An uninvited guest, but please welcome me!!”

Who am I saying “nice to meet you” to? Who is the first-time acquaintance in that scene? The hint is in the eighth game. When Ange is attacked by goats, I say, “This is the first time we’ve greeted directly.” Yes, I’m saying “nice to meet you” to Ange. To the Ange in the reader’s layer, with Featherine and Ikuko. Since the worlds are connected, greeting is possible. It’s a clue to unravel the world’s structure.

What Is the Red Truth, Fundamentally?

This time, crucial foreshadowing about the red truth was revealed. What is the red truth fundamentally? There’s only one instance of this foreshadowing in the story, a line from Ikuko:

“Oh, some claim that only words written in red ink are worth reading. How honored I am, child of man, that you read the black text too.”

Knox’s 8th: It is forbidden to solve with clues not presented. Based on this, the red truth must be deduced from presented clues. Thus, the red truth is what writer Yasu (Ikuko) writes in red ink in the forged manuscripts. Naturally, its scope is within the fictional world. This ties to the 1998 fictional world theory. If the 1998 world is fictional, the manga’s new red truth, “In 1998, Ange will inevitably die,” applies only to the fictional 1998 world. Writer Ange’s world is outside the fictional world, so it’s beyond the red truth’s scope. Similarly, the seventh game’s “This game will not grant a happy ending” applies only to the fictional world, not reality. With this understanding of the world structure and red truth, let’s examine this red truth:

“That Beatrice will never return.”

Considering prior red truth issues, it’s deduced that Yasu wrote this in the forged manuscript world. What feelings did Yasu have when writing this? It relates to the second game’s “You are incompetent,” but as deduced in the fifth game, Yasu reached Sayo’s truth too late after the incident, possibly attempting suicide, as Ikuko mentioned. The pain in Yasu’s heart must be immense, reflected in Beatrice. Beatrice is very aggressive toward Battler, which suggests Yasu couldn’t forgive himself. He wanted to be condemned, to have his sins judged, which likely manifested in this red truth. Beatrice will never return, meaning the dead Sayo will never live again. Of course, Yasu could fictionally revive the fifth game’s Beatrice, but he absolutely refused such a lie. She will never live again—a sad reality he forces himself to face. That’s the psychology conveyed by the red truth. Yet, having reached the truth too late, Yasu embedded a message to Sayo in heaven. Through the Trial of Love, he conveyed understanding her truth, and by being trapped in a locked room, he expressed the pain of waiting for Battler in Rokkenjima’s locked room. Finally, he married Beatrice.

At the wedding, Beatrice says, “I created this story to be with you. Thus, this world’s purpose is fulfilled. From now on, you weave it. Our story from here on.” This is likely the message to Sayo.

Stopping Beatrice’s Heart

In the fourth game, Battler used the red truth “I’ll kill you” against Beatrice. Let’s discuss its meaning and relation to the sixth game. Beatrice died in the fifth game, but her heart’s right side—the trick of the lowered right hand in the fourth game, the duplicate identity trick—remains. To let Beatrice rest, the trick must be fully solved. Recall Will’s deduction in the seventh game: he stopped Clair’s heart by solving both the bomb and duplicate identity tricks, fully unraveling her trick and cutting her lingering regrets. In the sixth game, Battler must crush this heart’s side. At the end, with the red truth about the number of people, Battler asks Beatrice, “Is it okay?” and she replies, “It doesn’t matter.” This means, “Is it okay to reveal the duplicate identity trick, Beatrice’s heart?” and “It doesn’t matter.” This fully cuts her lingering regrets, like with Will. Featherine says Beatrice can finally sleep. Stopping her heart and killing her means Yasu declaring to Sayo in heaven that he understood her truth. The duplicate identity trick was a tool for the Trial of Love in the sixth game, used to convey that truth. By unraveling it, Yasu conveys understanding Sayo’s feelings, telling her to rest in peace. This is Yasu’s sentiment. The seventh game similarly depicts Beatrice resting peacefully once her trick is unraveled, tying to the fifth game’s truth about Yasu in reality.

The Magic of Candy

Finally, let’s deduce a crucial magic. I saved this for last to accurately grasp the story’s intent. In the sixth game, there’s Maria’s candy magic episode. I forcibly exposed it as a trick, but what happened? Maria’s heart was torn apart. Anyone could see the candy magic was a trick. Exposing it deliberately means “Knowing the truth isn’t always good.” This is the same as Sakutarou’s revival in the fourth game. If Sakutarou were revealed as mass-produced, the result would be the same as the candy magic. This structure aligns with the eighth game’s intent: Does opening Rokkenjima’s cat box lead to happiness? The box contains tragedy, so it doesn’t lead to happiness. That’s why Battler enveloped Ange in magic. Magic only works before the truth is known. The illusion gains meaning because the truth is unknown. This magical philosophy is vital for protecting loved ones from harsh truths. The sixth game ends here. With the world structure resolved, deductions have become much easier.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 15 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction9

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP5 Deductions

The Fifth Game and Lord Lambda-Delta

I’d like to start the deduction for the fifth game, but before that, I want to share a speculation rather than a deduction. In the fifth game, Lord Lambda-Delta took on the role of Game Master, didn’t she? Beatrice-san completely lost her will to fight in the fourth game. It must have been impossible for her to continue. When speculating about Beatrice-san’s heart, I can infer that she was in a state where her fighting spirit had entirely vanished. Now, regarding Lord Lambda-Delta, Featherine-sama makes an intriguing comment in the sixth game: the fifth game was an act of mercy by Lambda-Delta. That’s a very interesting line. Mercy. In other words, this suggests that Lord Lambda-Delta held the fifth game out of goodwill. Since Featherine-sama says so, it must be true.

Beatrice-san’s game board isn’t explicitly declared to be a mystery. Therefore, how one chooses to approach her game should, in principle, be free. Approaching it like Battler-san does—with an anti-fantasy mindset that solely denies the witch—is fine. It’s fine… but that path doesn’t lead to the truth. Only by thinking of it as a mystery can one reach the truth—the whodunit, howdunit, and ultimately the whydunit. In that sense, Battler-san needs to abandon the mindset he used up to the fourth game.

Lord Lambda-Delta might have introduced a drastic course correction for Beatrice-san and Battler-san’s sake. A ridiculous character like Dlanor shows up, doesn’t she? Knox’s Ten Commandments are indeed a useful tool for mystery thinking, but declaring them in red and cutting through deductions with them is quite an extreme approach. However, Lord Lambda-Delta created a game board that absolutely does not allow any anti-fantasy thinking. This was likely to force Battler-san into a situation where he has no choice but to think in terms of a mystery. As a result, Battler-san might reach Beatrice-san’s truth. Why would Lord Lambda-Delta go to such lengths? Could this be related to her vessel?

This is more speculation than deduction, so it involves some imagination, but please hear me out. I previously deduced that the meta-world is also part of the forgery world in the process of analyzing the fantasy depiction tricks. That would mean Lord Lambda-Delta, who appears there, is also a fictional character written in the forgery. But then, what is her vessel? When I hear the keyword “absolute resolve,” what comes to mind is… the absolute resolve Sayo-san had when carrying out the incident in the real world. For example, Gaap is described by the author as the personification of the concept of “things often going missing.” In other words, there are cases where concepts are personified.

If Lord Lambda-Delta’s vessel is Sayo-san’s absolute resolve, it would explain why Lord Lambda-Delta somehow knew the truth of Beatrice-san’s game board. Lord Lambda-Delta spoke a lot of red text regarding tricks, didn’t she? My master doesn’t know such things—the solutions to the tricks. Just because she’s a high-ranking witch doesn’t mean she knows the tricks of Beatrice-san’s game board. My master, in that sense, didn’t know at all. No red text was declared up to the fourth game. But Lord Lambda-Delta knew. The reason might lie in her vessel. Thinking this way, an interesting detail emerges. This could just be a coincidence, so please take it lightly. Lambda-Delta—in Greek, this means 34. 34. That can be read as “Sayo.” Lambda-Delta = 34 = Sayo. It might be a coincidence. However, the logic holds. The real reason Lord Lambda-Delta held the fifth game might be quite an interesting deduction target.

Second Half Begins!!

Now, the deductions for Beatrice-san’s four game boards are complete, meaning half of the story’s deductions are done. This means half of the puzzle pieces needed to solve the story’s truth are now in place. The puzzle setter is free to create any kind of mystery they want. They can use complex tricks as they please—that’s fine. However, no puzzle setter can ever break the fundamental rule of a mystery. Not if they have pride as a mystery writer. The presentation of clues. Every mystery has an obligation to provide clues. A mystery without clues is no longer a mystery—it’s a story called fantasy. And I have a weapon that can split a mystery with planted clues right in half: the Chain Analysis Thinking Method. No mystery can ever escape this method. It’s absolutely identifiable. For the mystery setter, I must be the worst possible match. Now, as we enter the second half, shall we see if you can hide the truth from my intellect?

The Core of the Fifth Game Lies in Deducing the Heart

The fifth game was an extremely difficult game board that made maximum use of puzzle pieces. The tricks of the incident itself weren’t particularly hard, but the “deduction of the heart” that I deliberately undertook this time was incredibly complex. Still, I managed to deduce it somehow. What I found difficult was deducing the heart of Beatrice-san, who became completely silent in the fifth game. In a mystery, deducing the heart must be logically derived like a puzzle. Constructing a logical deduction of the heart based on evidence—that was what made it so difficult. After all, Beatrice-san decided to stay completely silent. Even so, she absolutely cannot escape the Chain Analysis Thinking Method. That’s because it’s a mystery with planted clues. As part of that chain of information, I mentioned Lord Lambda-Delta earlier.

To be blunt, my deduction actually stalled. It was too complex. Even so, by reviewing all the deductions I’d constructed so far, considering the story’s meaning, and combining every piece, I finally managed to logically deduce Beatrice-san’s heart. The deduction of the fifth game must have been crucial precisely because of this part. As a result of constructing this extremely complex deduction, I reached the true truth of this story.

The Role of the Detective on the Game Board

In the fifth game, my appearance clarified the meaning of a detective in this story. The detective cannot be the culprit, and no evidence is required to prove this. It’s simply impossible for the detective to be the culprit—they are unconditionally excluded from being the culprit. That’s the rule of this story. The detective’s subjectivity is guaranteed. What the detective confirms is an objective fact and can be accepted as is. However, there is the possibility of misidentification. In other words, the only thing the detective absolutely cannot do is intentionally lie.

The Number of People on the Island

From the fifth game onward, the number of people on the island becomes important. My addition as one more person to Beatrice-san’s game board doesn’t affect her game board—it remains as is. Physically, there are 16 people plus me, making 17. If counting by personalities, including me, there are 19, which includes Beatrice-san. When limited to human personalities, as declared in the sixth game, there are 18. Now, early in the story, everyone gathers in the parlor to confirm the people on the island, but the perspective suddenly shifts to Battler-san’s subjectivity. Battler-san isn’t the detective in the fifth game, so he can lie. He observes Shannon-san and Kanon-san simultaneously, but this can’t be trusted since he’s not the detective.

The Same-Person Trick and a Malicious Misdirection

When considering the Shannon-Kanon same-person theory, the fifth game employs the worst method that Beatrice-san didn’t use. There’s no trick-related contradiction, but it’s extremely malicious, so caution is needed. Beatrice-san has a clear goal of wanting Battler-san to solve the mystery, so she adhered to the principle of “Shannon and Kanon never appear simultaneously in front of Battler-san.” However, in the fifth game—perhaps due to the change in Game Master—it appears at first glance that Shannon-san and Kanon-san are in front of me simultaneously. In a same-person trick, what’s important is whether it’s confirmed by the detective’s subjective perspective, so the issue becomes “whether it’s confirmed in first-person narrative.” Let’s use a specific example. “I called out to Shannon and Kanon.” This kind of description means the detective subjectively observed both at the same time, so it’s out—the same-person theory collapses. However, “Erika called out to Shannon and Kanon” is in third-person, where lies can be mixed in, so it’s safe. It’s complicated, isn’t it? In the fifth game, it casually lies by narrating that Shannon-san and Kanon-san are in front of me, so you have to be careful not to be deceived by this part.

The Culprit’s Goal in the Fifth Game

In the fifth game, along with a man from 19 years ago, it’s revealed that Natsuhi killed a servant and a baby in the past. This is the presentation of information about the true culprit, Sayo Yasuda. The fifth game differs significantly from Beatrice-san’s game, which revolves around the promise. This time, the incident is carried out for revenge against Natsuhi. The fundamental purpose of the incident is different.

The Simultaneous Progression of Staged Murders and Real Murders

The fifth game makes the points I discussed in the fourth game very important. In a game involving staged murders, just like in the fourth game, there exists “a group participating while genuinely believing it’s just a staged act.” This time, it’s the people who, on the day of the incident, act as if they found bodies in the guesthouse. The true culprit, Beatrice-san, plans to have them participate in this superficial staged act, but in reality, Beatrice-san carries out actual murders. From the detective’s perspective, this is dangerous because it can create the illusion that “the people participating in the staged act” and “the true culprit” share the same goal.

For example, George-san is killed in the guesthouse. At the time of discovery in the morning, it’s a staged act, so he’s not actually dead. Eva-san is also just acting, but midway through, Virgilia-san declares their deaths. In other words, at some point, the true culprit actually killed them. However, the true culprit hides the fact of “actual murder” while proceeding with the incident, so Eva-san and the others continue acting without knowing this fact. The danger lies in how this situation looks from the detective’s side. Since the deaths are declared as part of the information presentation, and Eva-san and the others corner Natsuhi in that state, the detective’s side might mistakenly think, “Eva and the others are blaming Natsuhi for the actual murders.” But this is just an act—they’re not blaming her for George’s actual murder. It’s a very complicated situation, but we need to clearly distinguish these aspects. Eva-san and the others never learn that George and the others were actually killed, and the story shifts to the fantasy trial.

Recall the fourth game. Beatrice-san pulled off a quick murder from 10 PM to midnight on the 4th to avoid the situation where “the actual murders are discovered by the staged act participants.” She ended everything before it could be discovered. However, in this fifth game board, there’s no such quick murder, right? In other words, if I hadn’t declared “I’ve solved it! It’s the solution phase!” in the middle, the murders would have been discovered afterward, and the core trick of the staged act would have been revealed on its own due to the commotion from the staged act participants. What a reckless move!! By completely cutting out that scenario, they eliminate the risk of the staged murder!! That’s harsh!! So, the fifth game is a complex game where the aspects of “staged murder” and “actual murder” coexist. From my perspective, it looks like a normal murder, but from the staged act participants’ perspective, it looks like an act. The true culprit, aware of both sides, carries out the actual murders.

The Phone Call to Natsuhi

The person who called Natsuhi on the 4th was likely a staged act participant, but the person who called on the morning of the 5th was not. It was the true culprit, Beatrice-san. There’s a red text: “Krauss Ushiromiya is not the culprit. And he was killed long ago. Right after I let you hear his voice on the phone, right?” So, he died right after that call.

The Mysterious Knock and Letter Incident in the Dining Hall

The letter that appeared with a mysterious knock the day before the incident—let’s settle this. Everyone in the dining hall colluded to lie; there was no knock to begin with.

First Twilight: The Murders of George, Maria, Rosa, Jessica, Genji, and Krauss

The first twilight involves the murders of George, Maria, Rosa, Jessica, Genji, and Krauss. The bodies in the guesthouse were only confirmed through Nanjo’s autopsy report to the detective—I didn’t confirm the bodies myself. In other words, at that point, they were still alive, and Beatrice-san killed them at another location sometime afterward. Honestly, at this stage of solving Beatrice-san’s game board, there’s little point in thinking about this trick. Pretending to be dead and giving false testimony—it’s a recycled trick at this point. The incident part doesn’t even matter. Hideyoshi-san’s murder is basically the same. At the moment Natsuhi confirmed it, it was an act and just pretending. Afterward, he was actually killed in another location. What a boring mystery. Let’s move on to other parts.

Two Human Culprit Theories Established, Yet the Witch Fantasy Revives?

In the fifth game, my “Natsuhi culprit theory” and Battler-san’s “Battler culprit theory” end up coexisting, and as a result, it’s explained that the witch fantasy remains. But that’s completely wrong. To begin with, both theories conflict with the red text and are invalid. In other words, “since the incident hasn’t been solved, the witch fantasy remains.” So, why does the story continue with contradictory logic in the narrative? It’s likely because it’s a story-within-a-story. There’s an author named Yasu writing this, so for the player, we need to deduce it considering the world structure with the higher-layer author. The game board alone would be contradictory.

The Purpose of the Epitaph Mystery

Now that the unimportant parts are done, let’s move to something significant tied to the entire story. In the fifth game, the epitaph is solved, and the gold is discovered. A very important explanation is given about this part. Let’s refer to the red text first:

“Even if someone solves the epitaph, this child gains nothing from it.”

“The gold of the Golden Land was already this child’s to begin with. There’s no need to have it found, nor to take it away—nothing at all.”

“Whether the epitaph’s mystery is solved or not, this child gains nothing.”

“Whether the epitaph is solved or not, Beato gains nothing.”

This is where the puzzle setter explicitly states the meaning of the epitaph and the epitaph murders. What does the epitaph mystery mean to Beatrice-san? It’s declared that it means nothing. For example, there’s a popular theory that it’s meaningful for Battler to solve the epitaph, but this red text clearly denies that. Battler solving the epitaph doesn’t result in Beatrice-san gaining anything. Beatrice-san clearly states in the sixth game, “A story I created to be with you.” She wants her love with Battler-san to be realized, but even if Battler solves the epitaph, she gains nothing.

This part is explained in a very complex way in the story, making it hard to understand, but it’s described like this: Beatrice-san places the epitaph and the epitaph murders on the two sides of a scale, and her goal is to see which way it tips. The epitaph murders and the epitaph mystery itself don’t hold meaning. In other words, the meaning lies in achieving the victory condition of which way the scale tips, and we can deduce that the epitaph being solved is Shannon-san’s victory condition. The epitaph mystery holds meaning for Shannon-san, not Beatrice-san.

Let’s think logically. The epitaph murders are meant to make Battler-san remember the promise—through the lies of the incident and the culprit’s identity, leading to the promise. The epitaph mystery is a mechanism to interrupt this part, so solving the epitaph is equivalent to giving up on the love with Battler-san. In other words, it returns things to the state before the incident on Rokkenjima, which benefits Shannon-san, who had already achieved love from the start. That’s how it is. From this, the dice of the roulette are revealed: if the epitaph is solved during the incident, she chooses George; if the truth of the incident is uncovered and Battler accepts her, she chooses Battler. That’s the roll of the dice.

Foreshadowing of the World Structure

During the confrontation in Kinzo-san’s study, Ronove says a very important line, so I’ll quote it. This is the strongest foreshadowing presented by the puzzle setter regarding the world structure:

“If I were to record Ushiromiya Kinzo’s recklessness, it would make for a long, turbulent story, no less than the number of magic books in this study. The story of the next head (Battler, who solved the epitaph in EP5) would also be well worth recording. Oh, but I’m already recording it! It’s already a long, long story. Pukukukuku!”

“I’m already recording it,” he says!! It feels very forced, but I won’t complain as long as they’re giving me clues. This must be about Yasu. Yasu has already been writing Battler-san’s story for a long time, so it’s already recorded. Thinking about this, I realized how tough the puzzle setter’s obligation to present clues must be. Unlike subtly placing clues in visuals, presenting clues in a written world is so obvious that it’s impossible to miss.

Analysis of Beatrice’s Psychology and the Story’s Truth Derived from It

Now, shall we tackle the worst mystery of the fifth game? What is Beatrice-san, who says nothing in the meta-world, thinking—deducing her heart and the story’s truth derived from that? Beatrice-san dies in the fifth game. What caused that? And what was she thinking? This is deducible. Beatrice-san’s goal is to make Battler-san remember the promise, but as I’ve explained before, this requires reaching the howdunit and whodunit. By reaching that, the promise becomes a kind of code that only Battler-san can associate with. To notice this, the approach to Beatrice-san’s game board is crucial. Broadly speaking, there are two approaches: anti-fantasy thinking and mystery thinking. Anti-fantasy thinking—considering the culprit as an unknown person X or the trick as an unknown trap X—was entirely cut down by Dlanor in the story. This approach can’t reach the whodunit and howdunit.

To reach the truth of Beatrice-san’s incident, one must think of it as a mystery and notice that the accomplices in the incident are colluding. Beatrice-san’s goal lies in the promise, but if Battler-san doesn’t recall it on his own, the only way to achieve that goal is to have him reach the truth of the incident. In other words, Beatrice-san can’t let go of the hope that “maybe Battler will reach the truth of the incident and, as a result, remember the promise.” Because she still holds onto this hope, she remains alive in the meta-world, albeit silently, clinging to that faint hope. This is explicitly stated in the story: the most effective torture in hell is hope. Having hope is the torture itself. That’s exactly what Beatrice-san is experiencing.

But Virgilia-san, unable to bear watching her, says to her, “How long do you plan to stay like that? Settle it.” Whether Battler-san will reach the truth of the incident can only be known by opening the box. “Open the box and settle it clearly. It might be scary, but if you don’t, you’ll remain like this forever.” Virgilia-san is kind, isn’t she? Likely, in this scene before the fantasy trial, Beatrice-san made up her mind. She resolved to settle it, no matter the outcome, and accept the result. So, what happened?

In the fantasy trial, Battler-san was cornered by my “Natsuhi culprit theory” and ended up countering with anti-fantasy. As a result, he was killed by Dlanor’s red key and expelled from the game board by Lord Lambda-Delta. It’s explained as a death by “thought cessation.” Dlanor’s red key governs Knox’s Ten Commandments, the tool of mystery thinking. Being killed by it means, in essence, “he completely lost the will to think in terms of a mystery and died.” In that moment, the hope Beatrice-san had been holding onto was completely severed. The means for Battler-san to remember the promise were entirely gone. Beatrice-san was a being created to love Battler-san. With her reason for existence gone, Beatrice-san gave up everything and died.

Battler-san later uses Knox’s Ten Commandments as a tool to reach the truth, but it was completely too late. He didn’t make it in time. Beatrice-san couldn’t convey the truth to Battler-san. Battler-san couldn’t realize the witch’s truth. Due to this tragic misunderstanding, the worst possible outcome occurred.

The Narrative Meaning of the Fifth Game and Its Link to the Real World

The narrative meaning of the fifth game is extremely important. The key point is that while the truth of Beatrice’s game was reached, it was reached too late. I mentioned the presentation of foreshadowing in the forgery world earlier, and I can speculate that this fifth game is Yasu-san’s forgery. So, the issue becomes: what purpose did Yasu-san have in writing such a sad story? This is it. This is the path to the truth!! From the story so far, we know that to reach Beatrice-san’s truth, one must reach the truth of the game board. However, in the actual Rokkenjima incident, the event was interrupted the day before, and the family ended up killing each other. In other words, the challenge wasn’t presented to Battler-san. But since Yasu-san wrote the forgery, we know he reached the truth of the game board. When exactly did Battler-san reach her truth? In other words, when did he first encounter Sayo Yasuda’s murder incident in the real world? It was when he read the message bottle at Ikuko-san’s house, right? He reached the truth years after Sayo Yasuda drowned herself—that’s completely… too late… isn’t it?

This is the fundamental reason for Yasu-san’s creation of the forgery and connects to the true meaning of the Magic ED. He reached the truth completely too late. But in the final moment, didn’t Yasu-san’s message reach Sayo-san in heaven? “I’m sorry,” he says. By connecting various puzzle pieces, such a truth can be constructed. This is what I previously called the “addition deduction.” Since it can be interpreted so beautifully, this must be the truth.

As a side note, reading the story after reaching this truth is incredibly entertaining, isn’t it? Isn’t this a masterpiece of the century? For example, in the sixth game, there’s this red text: “That Beatrice will never be revived again.” Imagine Yasu-san writing that. It hits hard! Even a heartless detective like me can’t help but tear up. Reaching such a moving conclusion through deduction—perhaps that’s the best outcome for both the detective and the puzzle setter. It must be. Beatrice-san’s heart, which says nothing—I’m glad I believed it could be deduced.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 16 days ago

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I wrote my own hypotheses for the mysteries in each episode of Umineko.

Forger Test

EP1

Q1: What is the meaning behind Maria’s rose, and why did it disappear?

In the story, Maria’s rose serves as a signal that the murder mystery is about to begin, symbolizing the start of the incident and Beatrice’s game board. It is also linked to the golden rose that falls onto Beatrice’s cat box in EP8. The rose disappeared because Gohda picked it to use in cooking.

Q2: Who gave Maria the umbrella and the letter?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona. In EP2’s chapel locked-room murder, the red truth states, “The envelope I entrusted to Maria contained the key to the chapel,” where “I” refers to Beatrice, making this nearly certain.

Q3: Who left the eerie stain on Natsuhi’s door, and why?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona. This persona is tied to the malevolent spirit legend of Rokkenjima, and upon seeing the “scorpion charm” on the inside of Natsuhi’s door, Beatrice recalled her rule of being unable to enter. Since the 1986 incident hinges on Yasu strictly adhering to her own rules, Beatrice exited the room and left the eerie stain as “proof” that the scorpion charm prevented her entry.

Q4: Who is the culprit behind the six murders in the gardening shed, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. At this point, Shannon’s persona is likely already “dead,” but the body is still alive, controlled by Beatrice and Kanon. Using a gun to threaten them, Beatrice moved the five victims to the shed and killed them. She coerced Hideyoshi into falsely claiming “Shannon is dead.” Had the body been checked, the incident would have ended there. The culprit’s mindset, risking even her own safety on the roulette of fate, is crucial.

Q5: Who is the culprit behind the chain-locked room murder of Eva and Hideyoshi, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Under the pretense of a discussion, she was let into the room and killed them with a gun. She cut the chain, drew a magic circle, and colluded with Kumazawa or Genji to create the illusion of a locked room with a “phantom chain.”

Q6: Who is the culprit behind Kanon’s murder in the boiler room, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. While Yasu’s body is alive, Kanon’s persona is likely “dead” at this point, with Beatrice controlling the body. Kanon, upset that Shannon’s death ruined Beatrice’s roulette, attempted to “commit suicide with the body.” Beatrice’s persona overpowered Kanon, resulting in Kanon’s persona being “killed.”

Q7: Who placed the letter in Kinzo’s study, and how?

Any of the culprit’s accomplices among the servants or Nanjo could have done it, but it was likely Genji, loyal to the Ushiromiya family, who placed the letter under Yasu’s instructions.

Q8: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Genji, Nanjo, and Kumazawa in the parlor, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. At this point, Shannon and Kanon’s personas are dead, leaving only Beatrice. Using a master key, she entered the room, had Maria sing to distract them, and shot the three. She locked the room and exited.

Q9: Who is the culprit behind Natsuhi’s murder in the entrance hall, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Both fired guns simultaneously, but according to the manga, Natsuhi’s gun was loaded with blanks.

Q10: What is the truth of the EP1 game board?

It is the story of the message bottle Yasu threw into the sea before the incident, with the culprit Beatrice symbolizing “love for Battler.” The culprit who caused the incident is someone who wanted Battler to remember a promise.

EP2

Q1: Who is the Beatrice that appears on the game board?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice share one body, never appearing simultaneously before the detective. This is a same-person trick that only exists in the fictional world, indicating that this world is a work of fiction.

Q2: What was inside the envelope Rosa received from Beatrice?

The envelope Maria received contained the chapel key, used to set up the fake locked-room scenario with the chapel. Beatrice’s letters appear throughout the incident, but notably, the sender is written as “Golden Beatrice,” omitting “witch.” The suited Beatrice on the game board is not a witch but simply someone who inherited the title of Beatrice along with the gold. This is a trick to conflate her with the meta-world’s witch Beatrice, but the letters deliberately avoid mentioning “witch” as a clue.

Q3: What did the seven parents see in the chapel at midnight?

They were shown part of the gold piled in the underground VIP room.

Q4: Who is the culprit behind the six murders in the chapel’s Halloween party, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Rosa was made an accomplice after being shown the gold. The other six were shot afterward, possibly after being sedated with sleeping pills in their food. The exact method is unclear. The chapel wasn’t locked, so it wasn’t a locked room. The servants and Rosa simply lied about it being a “locked room.”

Q5: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Jessica and Kanon in Jessica’s room, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. She shot Jessica, then “killed” Kanon’s persona. She locked the room with Shannon’s master key and exited.

Q6: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Nanjo and Kumazawa in the servant waiting room, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Genji. Kanon is an illusion, and Nanjo and Kumazawa were merely hiding in another room in the mansion. As furniture loyal to the Ushiromiya family, Genji killed Nanjo and Kumazawa with a knife-like weapon. The use of a blade, not a gun, suggests it wasn’t Beatrice. The timing of their deaths as the seventh and eighth twilights is also significant. While Beatrice could have killed them, the clues in the story point to Genji.

Q7: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Shannon, Gohda, and George in Natsuhi’s room, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. She shot Gohda and George, then committed suicide, creating a perfect locked room from the inside.

Q8: What happened to the survivors in the end?

All died in the explosion set to detonate at midnight on the 5th. The Kinzo and Beatrice that Battler was led to see in Kinzo’s study by Genji were illusions, and in reality, no one was there.

Q9: What is the truth of the EP2 game board?

An incident orchestrated by Yasu’s Beatrice persona, with Rosa and the servants as accomplices. EP2 emphasizes the paranoia among the characters, contrasting with the idea that “accepting the witch solves everything.” The witch wraps human crimes in a fantasy. This ties to the EP8 depiction of a golden rose falling onto Beatrice’s cat box, where the witch’s crime is the golden truth, gently enveloping the truth.

Q10: What is the “flaw” in Beatrice that Bernkastel mentioned?

If Beatrice’s goal were simply murder, she could kill everyone at night and be done with it. Announcing her actions through the witch’s letters is a flaw, reflecting her desire for the mystery to be solved. This flaw lies in presenting the possibility of defeat—solving the epitaph or uncovering the truth—which is what Beatrice desires. To achieve the “miracle” of magic on the game board, the culprit takes risks in orchestrating the incident.

EP3

Q1: What is the solution to the epitaph’s riddle?

The key is the station names on Taiwan’s Tamsui Line. It’s a wordplay cipher, and manipulating the relief at the chapel’s entrance opens the path to the underground VIP room.

Q2: Who is the culprit behind the six murders in the chain-locked rooms, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Shannon and Kanon escaped via Nanjo’s false autopsy. Shannon, found in the parlor, played dead as Kanon in the chapel, after which Beatrice “killed” both Shannon and Kanon’s personas.

Q3: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Maria and Rosa in the rose garden, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Eva. Rosa likely died accidentally, and fearing exposure, Eva strangled Maria. She and Hideyoshi then colluded to claim she was bedridden.

Q4: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Rudolf, Kyrie, and Hideyoshi in the entrance hall, and how were they committed?

The culprit for Rudolf and Kyrie’s murders is Eva. Kyrie, shot in the stomach, survived initially by avoiding a fatal wound. A bullet fired by Kyrie hit Hideyoshi, killing him.

Q5: How did George travel from the guesthouse to the mansion?

He jumped from the second-floor window, and someone inside, likely Nanjo, locked the window.

Q6: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Krauss and Natsuhi in the guesthouse, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Eva. She strangled them with a rope-like object and abandoned their bodies in the arbor.

Q7: Who wrote “07151129” on the parlor door, and what does the number mean?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona wrote it. It’s the PIN for a cash card, sent to Eva, who solved the epitaph, as an apology for killing George.

Q8: Who is the culprit behind George’s murder in the parlor, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Yasu’s goal is to resolve her love. If neither “the epitaph is solved” nor “the truth is uncovered” occurs by the ninth twilight, she aims to fulfill all her loves in the Golden Land, which requires her loved ones to be dead. To prevent Eva from escaping with George, Beatrice killed him so Shannon and George could be united in the Golden Land.

Q9: Who is the culprit behind Nanjo’s murder in the servant room, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. In the fictional world, Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice are perceived as separate people, so Beatrice isn’t recognized as Shannon. Even Eva, an accomplice, sees Beatrice as a distinct person, not Shannon, with Rosa’s Kuwasawa Beatrice story serving as a foreshadowing clue.

Q10: What is the truth of the EP3 game board?

A game board mixing Beatrice’s and Eva’s murders. Importantly, the game board is a puzzle posed by meta-world Beatrice to Battler, with the goal of making him remember his promise, not resolving Yasu’s love. Thus, the game board never includes a scenario where “Shannon’s love is fulfilled,” as meta-world Beatrice doesn’t care about Shannon. This creates a unique situation where “despite the epitaph being solved, Shannon died earlier, preventing her love with George.” This mirrors the real Rokkenjima, where “despite the epitaph being solved, George is killed,” thwarting love. If love isn’t achieved, the culprit resorts to “killing everyone with the bomb.” Without understanding Yasu’s true goal, it’s impossible to grasp why the incident continues after the epitaph is solved.

EP4

Q1: Who is the culprit behind the six murders in the dining room and the confinement of five others, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona, likely with Genji as an accomplice. Those “confined” in Kuwasawa were part of a fake murder plot in a room with a phone in the mansion. Beatrice and Genji shot the remaining five in the dining room.

Q2: Who is the culprit behind Jessica’s murder in her room and George’s murder in the rose garden, and how were they committed?

Jessica’s killer is Yasu’s Beatrice persona, disguised as Shannon. After revealing the fake murder plot and having Jessica call the guesthouse, Beatrice shot her. George was shot by Genji in the rose garden.

Q3: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Kanon, Shannon, Nanjo, Krauss, and Kyrie at the mansion’s rear and in the guest room, and how were they committed?

Shannon and Kanon were “killed” as personas, with Beatrice controlling the body. Beatrice shot Krauss and Nanjo at the rear. Genji, an accomplice, told Kyrie it was a fake murder, had her call the guesthouse, and shot her during the call.

Q4: Who is the culprit behind the murders of Gohda and Kumazawa in the gardening shed, and how were they committed?

Following the fake murder script, Gohda and Kumazawa staged a hanging. Beatrice shot them through a small window. Since their heads were fixed in place and they couldn’t remove the ropes to escape, rapid shots from the window sufficed. Yasu uses a sawed-off shotgun for destructive power, but these two were likely killed by Genji with a standard rifle for accuracy. The two types of corpses—heads half-destroyed or with bullet holes—reflect the different guns used by Beatrice and Genji.

Q5: Who is the culprit behind Maria’s murder in the parlor, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona, likely via poisoning. The headship test is probably irrelevant, as the culprit’s goal is to resolve her love. If neither Battler nor George’s love is fulfilled, she plans to kill everyone with the bomb, so Maria choosing to “survive” would be problematic. Total annihilation is predetermined, and Maria’s will is irrelevant.

Q6: What is Battler’s sin?

Not remembering the promise made to Shannon to “come back for her,” not merely breaking it.

Q7: What is the answer to Beatrice’s question, “Who am I?”

The bomb, represented by Beatrice’s heart, the “raised left hand.” The lowered right hand refers to the same-person trick. The question also asks, “Who is the Beatrice challenging Battler in the game?” This is revealed by solving EP3’s chain-locked rooms and Nanjo’s murder: Beatrice as a persona. Beatrice is Shannon and Kanon, which is the essence of “Who am I?”

Q8: What is the truth of the EP4 game board?

A fake murder plot orchestrated by the colluding family, with Yasu’s Beatrice persona committing real murders behind the scenes. The core of EP1–4’s incidents is realizing the element of “lies.” Detailed methods or circumstances aren’t crucial, as Beatrice doesn’t emphasize them.

Q9: What did Ange discover at Marufuku Bedding Store?

A mass-produced Sakutarou plush. This episode explains the “definition of magic” in Umineko. Ange lied to Maria, giving her a different plush, claiming it was “revived by magic,” rather than admitting it was a mass-produced copy. Which would make Maria happier: saying it’s a different plush or claiming it was magically revived? In Umineko, magic is used by those who know the harsh truth to bring happiness to others.

Q10: What is the truth of the battle between Ange and Kasumi Sumadera’s group on Rokkenjima 12 years later?

Amakusa sniped and killed them from afar. Crucially, Ange fully understood Maria’s magical ideology during this scene. The narrative then abruptly shifts from Rokkenjima to a rooftop with Bern, indicating that the 1998 world is a fictional world, not reality.

EP5

Q1: Who knocked on the dining room door and left a letter during the family conference break, and how?

No such person exists. The entire dining room colluded, lying about the knock.

Q2: Who is the culprit behind the murder of the four cousins in the cousin room, and how were they committed?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. They were alive at the morning discovery, not yet corpses. Virgilia’s death declaration later confirms their deaths, meaning they were killed elsewhere between the discovery and the declaration.

Q3: Who is the culprit behind Genji’s murder in the servant room, and how was it done?

The culprit is Yasu’s Beatrice persona. Genji was alive at the morning discovery and killed between then and Virgilia’s death declaration. Those colluding in the fake murder plot, pressuring Natsuhi, were unaware of the real murders. EP5’s game board is driven by Yasu’s Beatrice persona seeking revenge on Natsuhi. Accomplices like Eva know from Yasu that Kinzo is dead, so they follow a script to corner Natsuhi, but they don’t realize George or Hideyoshi are actually being killed, leading them to obsessively blame the innocent Natsuhi. The stage then shifts to the fantasy courtroom.

Q4: Who is the culprit behind the threatening call from an unknown location and Krauss’s murder, and how were they committed?

The call on the morning of the 5th bypassed the servant room, coming directly via an internal line from Yasu’s Beatrice persona. This call was for real murders, separate from the fake murder plot. After hearing a recording of Krauss’s voice, Krauss was genuinely killed.

Q5: Who is the culprit behind Hideyoshi’s murder in the guest room, and how was it done?

The guest room murder was staged, with the real murder occurring outside the depicted game board. During the fantasy courtroom at midnight on the 5th, Hideyoshi says he was “just killed,” suggesting he was killed close to midnight.

Q6: What kind of existence is Furudo Erika, who suddenly appeared?

A piece created as Bernkastel’s avatar on the game board. As this world is fictional, she can also be seen as a detective character introduced by Tohya Hachijo in the real world.

Q7: Who is the man from 19 years ago?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona.

Q8: What is the significance of the Knox’s Ten Commandments presented in the story?

They are a guide for approaching Umineko as a mystery. If you believe Umineko is a mystery, the eighth commandment, “Solutions must not rely on unpresented clues,” is especially vital, serving as a powerful tool for players. It also addresses the later Queen problem.

Q9: Why did Battler’s perception of Beatrice change significantly?

By reexamining EP1–4’s incidents, Battler realized Beatrice is Shannon and Kanon, and the “lies” in the incidents reminded him of his six-year-old promise. He also realized Yasu’s struggle between his and George’s love led to the incident, making him the root cause of the 1986 events.

Q10: What is the truth of the EP5 game board?

Yasu’s Beatrice persona orchestrated the incident as revenge against Natsuhi, committing real murders behind a fake murder plot. Lambda, observing EP1–4, noticed Battler and Beatrice’s irreconcilable misunderstandings and set up this game board to make Battler approach Beatrice’s incidents as a “mystery,” showing mercy. Lambda, reflecting Yasu’s “absolute will” in the real world, knows all of Yasu’s truths from the start and created EP5’s game board to save Battler and Beatrice.

EP6

Q1: Who is the culprit behind the six murders of the love trial found across various locations, and how were they committed?

It was a fake murder plot to tease Erika, but Erika actually killed everyone except Battler during her autopsy.

Q2: What is the significance of the love trial and duel depicted by Zepar and Furfur?

It illustrates the root cause of the 1986 incident. It shows that Game Master Battler understands the truth. The incident stems from Yasu’s conflicting loves, depicting her struggle to decide who to choose in 1986.

Q3: Who was Battler talking to about his taste in women in the flashback scene?

Shannon. It was Shannon’s persona that originally fell in love with Battler.

Q4: Who is “Mother,” and why did she entrust her love to Beatrice?

Shannon entrusted her love to Beatrice, but “Mother” likely represents the integrated existence of Yasu’s three personas. Unable to bear the pain of Battler not returning, Shannon passed her love to Beatrice, who then became the persona loving Battler.

Q5: What kind of existences are Shannon and Kanon?

They are personas sharing one body. Kanon was created to support Shannon, so he doesn’t act against her love. He participates in the love trial only with Shannon’s permission, as seen when Shannon says, “I’ll give you the right to love.”

Q6: How did Kanon, supposedly in the cousin room, escape?

Shannon, who is also Kanon, escaped through the window of the adjacent room. Red truth states, “No one can claim a name other than their own,” so when Shannon uses the body, she cannot claim to be Kanon. From a persona perspective, Shannon is distinct from Kanon, so only the active persona’s name can be claimed.

Q7: How did Kanon rescue Battler from the chain-locked guest room and then disappear?

Kanon entered the guest room, removed a raincoat, and reverted to Shannon’s clothing. The raincoat was stored in the closet, and Shannon hid in the bedroom. Although Kanon’s persona entered, Shannon took over the body inside. Per the red truth, “No one can claim a name other than their own,” Kanon’s name vanished, leaving only Shannon, who was physically under the bed.

Q8: Why did the two red truths, “The 18th human” and “Only 17 people,” coexist when Erika was removed?

Red truth guarantees “truth,” not “uniqueness.” Both are true, representing the truth when counting personas versus counting physical bodies.

Q9: What is the truth of the EP6 game board?

Erika turned a fake murder plot into a real murder incident. This game proves Battler reached the truth, with key elements like the love trial, Beatrice’s marriage, and Shannon and Kanon being the same person. Shannon’s victory in the love trial foreshadows that Shannon earned the right to happiness on the real Rokkenjima.

Q10: Why did the person locked in the room at the start speak in a feminine manner?

Yasu became trapped in the “locked room” of Rokkenjima due to Battler forgetting his promise. The incident’s locked rooms metaphorically represent Yasu being confined in Rokkenjima by Battler’s “lie.”

EP7

Q1: Who is the culprit in the Beatrice murder incident?

As stated in the story, Lion and Beatrice cannot coexist. When the baby is pushed off a cliff by Natsuhi, it becomes Beatrice; when accepted, it becomes Lion. Beatrice’s existence is “killed” by Lion’s presence.

Q2: Why would the incident not have occurred if Battler hadn’t returned to Rokkenjima in 1986?

Yasu’s goal is to resolve her love. If Battler didn’t return, her love would focus solely on George, eliminating the need for an incident to settle her love. Kanon, created to support Shannon, cannot interfere with her. In reality, Kanon likely doesn’t exist.

Q3: Was there really no letter from Battler to Shannon?

No. Umineko is written from Battler’s regret after learning of Yasu’s love post-incident, so it’s unlikely to depict him as caring for Yasu.

Q4: What was Yasu’s plan for Rokkenjima in 1986?

Yasu set up a roulette: “If the epitaph is solved, choose George; if the truth is uncovered and the promise remembered, choose Battler; if neither happens, kill everyone with the bomb for all personas to be happy in the Golden Land.” The incident is a fake murder plot until the eighth twilight, shifting to total annihilation by bomb on the ninth.

Q5: What is the relationship between Yasu, Shannon, Kanon, Lion, Beatrice, and Clair?

When Natsuhi pushes the baby off the cliff, it becomes Yasu; if accepted, it becomes Lion. Yasu contains the personas Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice. Kanon was created to support Shannon. Clair is a temporary persona to conceal the culprit Beatrice.

Q6: What happened in the two years after Yasu became a witch?

Yasu struggled with the conflict between George’s and Battler’s love, as well as her anguish over her body’s inability to love.

Q7: What is the “Golden Truth” in “Illusions to illusions. …The golden truth locks the lock of illusions”?

In the incident, it’s the “shared truth,” the colluded lies of the culprit’s side. Broadly, it’s “something that gently envelops the truth,” a magical interpretation overlaying harsh truths to find happiness. Beatrice’s golden butterflies reflect her persona being crafted as Battler’s “ideal woman,” not her real appearance, another way of enveloping truth.

Q8: What is the truth of the second son’s couple’s murders depicted in the tea party?

It may be slightly dramatized but is largely true, aligning with foreshadowing throughout the story.

Q9: What is the truth of the scene depicted in Clair’s entrails?

The truth Clair concealed, depicted by Ryukishi07 as the absolute truth in the game, likely not in the forgeries.

Q10: Why didn’t Will’s Twenty Wedges work against Bernkastel?

The real Rokkenjima events aren’t a mystery but a mere massacre. Yasu’s planned mystery was interrupted the day before the incident.

EP8

Q1: What is the difference between a Game Master and a writer?

A Game Master crafts the game’s narrative in the meta-world, strongly influencing the game board. In Umineko, the 1998 world and all but the final epilogue are fictional. A writer uses the 1998 world, meta-world, and game board to send messages to “people in Umineko’s real world.”

Q2: Who are the authors of each EP?

EP1 was written by Yasu; from EP1’s tea party to EP8 (excluding the secret tea party), Tohya Hachijo. The game we play includes Ryukishi07’s perspective, not identical to the message bottles or forgeries.

Q3: What is Beatrice’s heart?

The bomb and the same-person trick, corresponding to the left and right hands in EP4.

Q4: Explain Yasu’s blood relations as far as known.

The daughter of Kinzo and Kuwasawa Beatrice.

Q5: How did Maria influence the incident?

Beatrice’s magic requires others’ acknowledgment to exist, unlike Maria’s self-sustaining white magic. Maria was essential to constructing Beatrice’s magical system.

Q6: Explain red and gold truths.

Red truth, written by Tohya in the forgeries, guarantees only “truth.” Gold truth is a shared truth believed by all.

Q7: Who are Ikuko Hachijo & Featherine, and why do they appear?

In the fictional world, Ikuko appears as “Tohya” to mislead that the forgeries’ author is unrelated to Rokkenjima. Players know Tohya, a memory-lost Battler, wrote the forgeries, but Umineko’s real-world people don’t, believing Ikuko is the author. Thus, the forgeries aren’t proof of real events, and people must decide whether to trust them. Featherine is Ikuko as a witch in the story.

Q8: Who are Bernkastel and Lambdadelta?

Bernkastel is the “Miracle Witch,” representing the miracle of the message bottle reaching Battler, appearing in the forgeries. Lambdadelta reflects Yasu’s “absolute will” and Beatrice’s candy magic, appearing in the forgeries.

Q9: What is the content of the “Book of the Single Truth”?

It depicts the EP7 tea party massacre, likely guaranteed by Tohya’s memories. It probably existed in reality but isn’t necessary, as Tohya knows the real Rokkenjima truth.

Q10: Why does Ikuko Hachijo have the Book of Truth and the key?

In the story, it was found in a hospital and came to Ikuko, but it’s plausible Eva’s diary doesn’t exist. As it was never revealed, its contents might be blank.

Q11: Who sent the message bottles, and why?

Yasu sent them before the incident, anticipating that “if love with George is fulfilled, feelings for Battler would be erased along with the Beatrice persona.” The bottles, crafted to hint at Battler’s sin through the incident’s “lies” and the “culprit’s identity,” are a cipher meaningful only to those who know Battler’s sin. The public, unaware of this sin, can only grasp that “the incident is composed of lies,” unable to understand Yasu’s true message. They were sent for Battler.

Q12: Are the world 12 years later or the meta-world written in the forgeries?

The 1998 world was written by Tohya Hachijo as a message to Ange in the real world. Maria’s magical ideology in EP4 is Tohya’s message to dissuade Ange from pursuing Rokkenjima’s painful truth. The meta-world, written by Tohya, reflects regret, anguish, and an apology for learning Yasu’s love via the message bottle, while guiding the public toward the witch fantasy. Both are in the forgeries.

Q13: Why did Tohya Hachijo publish the forgeries?

As a message to Ange, an apology to the deceased Yasu, to dispel theories blaming Eva or Rudolf’s family, and to lead to the witch fantasy. Tohya’s forgeries and the diary reveal party sealed Rokkenjima in a “cat box,” hoping for Ange’s happiness.

Q14: What happened before the depiction of the third day?

Events similar to EP7’s tea party likely occurred. The incident happened on the 4th, with the island’s explosion at midnight on the 5th, meaning Battler and Yasu spent significant time together. Their conversation is unknown.

Q15: What is the significance of Battler and Beatrice drowning together?

As the culmination of Tohya’s forgeries, it’s an apology to Yasu in heaven. In reality, Yasu, despairing over unfulfilled love, committed suicide. Battler hadn’t realized the truth and wasn’t escaping to marry Yasu. In the forgeries, their drowning is the culmination of Battler’s regret after realizing the truth post-incident, ending the story.

Q16: Is Tohya Hachijo’s confession to Yukari Kotobuki true or false?

The true real world in Umineko is only in this secret tea party. Everything Tohya confessed is true. Though he concluded the forgeries with Beatrice’s drowning, he hadn’t found true emotional closure, still struggling with Battler’s memories.

Q17: What does the Golden Land of the Gospel House represent?

Tohya’s regret for realizing the truth too late finally reaching Yasu. Battler’s persona is gone, joining Yasu in heaven. Tohya’s long suffering ends here.

Q18: Between magic and tricks, which is better for Ange?

Magic. Rokkenjima’s truth is a murderous struggle over gold, and EP8’s story was written to prevent Ange from pursuing such a painful truth.

Q19: What is the meaning of the goats devouring the world?

It symbolizes the many malicious forgeries about Rokkenjima’s truth in the real world. Likely, the theory blaming Rudolf’s family gained traction, prompting Tohya, concerned for Ange, to write and release EP8’s story online.

Q20: What is the overall truth of Umineko no Naku Koro ni?

A story of Tohya’s anguish, conflict, and apology for realizing the truth far too late.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 17 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction8

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP4 Deductions

The Puzzle Setter’s Seriousness

At last, Beatrice-san’s game reaches its conclusion—the fourth game. The fourth game has an overwhelming amount of mysteries to consider, and you can tell the puzzle setter is seriously trying to kill the detective. I can tell… but I’ll solve all the mysteries!! That’s who this detective, Erika Furudo, is!! I’m coming at you with everything I’ve got, Beatrice-san!!

The Incompetent Detective Holed Up in the Guesthouse

In the fourth game, the detective stays holed up in the guesthouse the entire time, making objective truth extremely hard to discern. As expected of the incompetent Battler-san! Even if it weren’t Beatrice-san, I’d gladly insult him as much as he deserves. A detective whose subjectivity is guaranteed, holed up in the guesthouse—what an incompetent fool!! Since there’s no helping it, let’s at least think based on the objective facts Battler-san confirmed. Honestly, what is that guy even thinking?

Multiple Witnesses to Magic

Gohda-san and Kumasawa-san are in the guesthouse, aren’t they? They start saying things like Kinzo-san began a massacre using magic. As I’ve said many times, Kinzo-san is already dead before the game starts—he can’t be witnessed. The moment they claim to have witnessed him, it’s a lie. Now, it’s fine if Gohda-san and Kumasawa-san want to lie, but the content of their lie includes “magic,” which is strange. They don’t just say Kinzo-san committed murder—they say he started killing with magic. Other people make similar claims. Kyrie-san, who called on the phone, told Battler-san she was being attacked by something like golden threads. Magic doesn’t exist. The moment they claim it does, it’s a lie, but multiple people are asserting magic, and the detective confirms this. Ahaha! Oh my, oh my. You’ve all carelessly revealed the truth—your foolishness is so extreme it goes beyond ridiculous and becomes pitiful. Multiple people sharing a common understanding of “magic” and lying about it—that means it’s a staged murder. Everyone is acting. Yes, the key point of the fourth game is a staged murder.

Everyone is claiming magic and making a fuss about murders happening, all to deceive the detective, Battler-san, with this staged act, but behind the scenes, the true culprit, Beatrice-san, is carrying out real murders. In other words, it’s a very complicated situation: the game involves both a “staged murder” and “real murders” happening simultaneously. I’ll say this clearly—the culprit has it really tough!!

The Terrifying Difficulty of Executing the Fourth Game

Let’s talk seriously for a moment. In a game board premised on staged murders, you have to view the story from three perspectives. First, the detective’s side, which is doing the deduction—Battler-san. Then, the culprit’s side, committing the murders—Beatrice-san and her accomplices. In a game board involving staged murders, a new group is added: “the group participating while genuinely believing it’s just a staged act.” This group isn’t cooperating with the true culprit, Beatrice-san’s, murders. They’re only cooperating with an act where no one actually dies—they’re completely unrelated to the murders.

The true culprit, Beatrice-san, has to commit real murders behind the backs of the people participating in the staged act. In other words, the true culprit has to deceive both the detective’s side and the staged act participants. Think about it. Krauss-san makes a phone call to the guesthouse, saying he’s been locked up by Kinzo-san. What do you think would happen if Krauss-san learned the truth that Jessica had actually been killed? Naturally, Krauss-san wouldn’t be able to keep up the staged act. He’d realize that what was supposed to be a staged act involved real murders. “Who killed my daughter?!” he’d start shouting. If this kind of situation occurs, the detective’s side doesn’t even have to do anything—the fact that it’s a staged act would be revealed on its own.

There’s nothing more foolish than a mystery where the truth gets revealed by itself. Because of this, Beatrice-san has to carry out the incident in a way that the staged act participants don’t realize people are being killed. The longer the time drags on, the higher the risk of the murders being discovered. For example, in the first twilight, six people are killed in the dining hall. That means, for Beatrice-san, the moment the staged act participants peek into the dining hall, it’s game over. It’s done. Then comes the killer combo: “Who did this?! It was supposed to be a staged act!” followed by Battler-san saying* “W-What?! It was a staged act?!” That’s why the fourth game’s incident ends in an extremely short time frame, from 10 PM to midnight on the 4th. Beatrice-san managed to pull it off with quick, skillful murders—I honestly think her execution was impressive. It’s a tightrope walk, isn’t it?

The Witch’s Letter This Time Was Apparently Given to Maria by Kinzo-san

On the true culprit’s side, Beatrice-san sent out her usual letter—the witch’s letter. What’s strange this time is how Rosa-san testified about it: “Maria said she got the letter from Father.” Kinzo-san is dead, so he couldn’t have given it to her. That letter is something Beatrice-san, as the culprit, sends out, so I think Beatrice-san probably said something like, “This is from Kinzo to Maria,” when she handed it over, which is why Maria said that. That’s probably how it went.

Identifying the Accomplice in Charge of the Mur mysteries

The issue is the accomplice. While most of the fantasy depictions are lies, I’m not sure if we can completely ignore the flow of events. In other words, depictions like Jessica and George being killed simultaneously might indicate that the culprit’s side is killing them separately. So, the question is: who is the accomplice in charge of the killings? There are too few clues to identify them definitively, which is incredibly frustrating since it involves some speculation, but let’s narrow it down anyway.

If we look closely at the bodies in the incident, there are two types: bodies with their faces blown off and bodies with just a hole in them. The true culprit, Beatrice-san, is found near the well with her face blown off at the end, meaning the gun she used to commit suicide was the type that blows off faces. So, it’s possible that the bodies with their faces blown off were handled by Beatrice. Then what about the bodies with just a hole? It could be that Beatrice-san used a different weapon, but if we think that way, there’s no way to narrow it down. So, as a hypothesis, let’s assume the bodies with just a hole were handled by the accomplice.

Let’s focus on Jessica and George. Jessica has her face blown off, so that’s likely Beatrice-san’s doing. George just has a hole—his face is intact. So, that might be the accomplice’s work. As for accomplices who absolutely couldn’t have killed George, that would be Eva and Hideyoshi. If we consider parents being involved in the murders, they’d have to accept the possibility that their own child might be killed, which introduces the risk of betrayal. So, it’s unlikely that a parent of a child would be an accomplice in the murders.

It’s incredibly frustrating that I can’t make a definitive deduction, but the fourth game board is that kind of game board, so even I can’t fully identify them. As for Gohda-san and Kumasawa-san, who were hanging in the garden shed, they were shot in the forehead while the ropes had enough slack. In other words, they were acting out a hanging as part of the staged act, but then the true culprit actually killed them. They went to the guesthouse after the first twilight and were under the detective’s watch afterward, then were locked in the shed, so they’re likely not accomplices.

The group that claims they were locked in the Kuwadorian likely consists of people in charge of the staged “magic murder” act. If there were an accomplice in that group, they’d need an excuse to leave the group, and no such foreshadowing exists. I can’t say for sure, but it’s highly likely they’re not involved either. This means the accomplice in the murders is very likely among the six people killed in the dining hall at the start: Natsuhi, Rudolf, Rosa, Eva, Hideyoshi, and Genji. Among them, the person who isn’t a parent of a child is Genji. The most likely possibility, based on the clues, is that Genji was the accomplice in charge of the “bodies with just a hole” killings. That’s the best deduction I can construct from the clues—it’s as far as I can go. Let’s proceed with this premise in mind.

First Twilight: The Murder of Six People in the Dining Hall

The first twilight’s murder of six people in the dining hall—let’s dismiss the idea that Kinzo-san killed them with magic. That’s a lie. Beatrice-san and Genji killed Rudolf, Eva, Hideyoshi, Rosa, and Natsuhi—five people in total. The five people, including Kyrie, who were supposedly at Kuwadorian, were likely moved to another room beforehand. As participants in the staged act, they needed to be kept away from the murder scene. It would be bad if they found out about the killings.

Gohda-san and Kumasawa-san Fleeing to the Guesthouse

Gohda-san and Kumasawa-san, who were at the guesthouse, were isolated in the garden shed as per the scenario. They must have had an arrangement with Krauss-san and the others. These two were only participating in the staged act, so they pretended to be hanged with long ropes, probably planning to say, “Actually, we’re alive,” later.

Second Twilight: The Murders of George, Jessica, Kumasawa, and Gohda in the Garden Shed

Now, Jessica-san and George-san were called out by phone. Jessica-san made a phone call to the guesthouse, didn’t she? As usual, she claimed magic was involved, so she must have joined the staged act at some point. Likely, when she was called out by phone, she was told about the staged act and asked to participate. Since Jessica-san has her face blown off, it’s probably Beatrice-san who killed her. George-san just has a hole, so that might be Genji-san’s doing.

Honestly, the fourth game is about realizing “It was a staged act. Magic was a lie,” and I feel like the kind of deduction I’m doing now isn’t really the intended target. There are so few clues for deduction, which feels strange, and there’s extremely little red text. I’m not even sure about the order of the killings or how they were carried out. Kumasawa-san and Gohda-san in the shed were killed at some point. There are two solutions to this shed’s locked room. The first is a key-switching trick: the key found on Gohda’s body was fake, and the culprit actually had the real key. The second is that Genji-san shot the two, who were pretending to be hanged, through the small window with a rifle. Both have issues. In the first case, what if Battler, instead of being fooled by the fake plate, checked the key in the lock? Or what if Battler took the key back to the guesthouse instead of leaving it with Gohda? In the second case, is it even possible to snipe two people through a small window? The narrative says “shooting is possible,” so it must be, but it’s still a circus-like method. It’s one of the two. Frankly, either is fine. The popular theory is the key-switching one, I think.

Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Twilights: The Murders of Nanjo, Krauss, Shannon, Kanon, and Kyrie

Now, the murders of Nanjo, Krauss, Shannon, Kanon, and Kyrie in the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth twilights. Finally, some red text appears: “Kanon is dead. He was the first to die among Kyrie and the other four. In other words, he’s the ninth victim.” Kanon is the ninth. The first five were in the dining hall, then Jessica and George, making seven. After one more person is killed, Kanon dies. This part is unclear. If we place Kanon’s death somewhere between the murders of Gohda, Kumasawa, George, and Jessica, it works, but it’s impossible to pinpoint.

There are people in this game board who don’t have stakes pierced into them. For example, Nanjo, who was found dead behind the mansion, had a stake lying nearby but not pierced into him. On the other hand, Krauss has a stake pierced into him. This must be the puzzle setter’s way of providing information. In previous game boards, the twilight was determined by where the stake was pierced. The fact that Nanjo doesn’t have a stake pierced into him suggests that “the actual killing order differs from the fantasy depiction.” Nanjo is supposed to be part of the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, or eighth twilights, but he might actually correspond to the ninth twilight. Since the murders of Gohda and Kumasawa can be placed before or after the murders of George and Jessica, the order shifts, and that’s likely related to this.

Kyrie-san has a body with just a hole, so I’ll assume Genji-san was responsible. While she was acting out the staged “golden threads” scenario in the guesthouse, Genji-san shot her. Nanjo and Krauss have their heads blown off, so that’s Beatrice’s doing—she killed them behind the mansion. Shannon is unclear. Did she die at some point when her personality was killed, or did she die at the same time as Beatrice’s suicide at the end? It’s one of the two. As for the accomplice, Genji-san, Battler-san eventually confirms his body in the dining hall. His head is half-destroyed, so that’s likely Beatrice’s doing. After finishing most of the killings, Beatrice no longer needed her accomplice, Genji, so she killed him. Beatrice-san kills people like they’re trash!!

Maria’s Murder and the Culprit’s Suicide

Maria-san was likely poisoned. After this, Beatrice-san has a conversation with Battler-san about the promise on the balcony, and finally, Beatrice-san commits suicide at the well. This uses the same trick as the locked room in Natsuhi’s room in the second game to dispose of the weapon. She ties a weight to the gun, drops it into the well, and shoots. The gun falls into the well, making the weapon disappear.

I’ve deduced the incident part, but honestly, I don’t think it’s necessary to go this far. The fourth game is the culmination of Beatrice-san’s game board, designed to make you realize “It was a staged act. There was no magic.” I think noticing the “lie” element is enough.

The Headship Test

In the fourth game, there’s something called the headship test: “To gain two of the following, you must sacrifice one: 1. Your own life, 2. The life of a loved one, 3. The lives of everyone else.” I deduce that this test was only given to Battler-san. In the fantasy depictions, Jessica-san and George-san were given the test, but in the context of a mystery story where the culprit is committing murders, if someone chose “I’ll survive,” what would the culprit do? That creates a problem. Beatrice-san’s incident revolves around confirming the promise with Battler-san. If that miracle isn’t achieved, she sets the risk of a massacre via a bomb. As I deduced in the second game, this risk is necessary for the incident to create the possibility of a miracle. If someone chooses to survive, it becomes very problematic. In other words, it’s highly likely that they weren’t actually given the test and were killed outright. It was probably only given to Battler-san. This is a misdirection for us detectives. We focus on “Which will they choose?” but Beatrice-san’s real intent is likely to see who Battler-san names as his “loved one.” If Battler-san already had a girlfriend, the entire incident would lose its meaning for Beatrice-san. She absolutely wants to confirm who his loved one is. However, asking Battler-san directly, “Who do you like?” would be too obvious a hint. So, she hides her true intent with this method. But wow, what a clueless guy Battler-san is. He jokingly answered “Beatrice,” which must have been irritating, right? It’s surprising Beatrice-san didn’t lose it right there—she somehow held back!

The Detective Observing the Witch

Beatrice, whom Battler-san witnessed on the balcony, was confirmed by the detective’s subjective perspective. It’s the same as the end of the first game. This means the possibility of a witch existing on the game board is guaranteed by the detective’s objective perspective. There’s a chance of misidentification, but considering the deductions about the Nanjo murder and other parts, it’s reasonable to conclude she exists.

Battler Ushiromiya’s Sin

Beatrice-san confirms the promise with Battler-san, but he didn’t remember it, did he? There’s a red text about “Battler Ushiromiya’s sin,” but to be precise, this sin isn’t “breaking the promise.” In the seventh game, Clair says it’s “not even remembering it.” In other words, if he remembers it, he’s safe. Beatrice-san has been embedding messages in the previous games to make him remember the promise. She wants him to reach the “whydunit” through the lies of the incidents and the culprit’s identity—she wants him to remember the promise. That was her goal. But Battler-san didn’t remember it. Disappointed, Beatrice-san completely lost her motivation. He didn’t even notice the messages she embedded in the incidents. The reason is that Battler-san doesn’t approach Beatrice-san’s incidents as a “mystery” like I do.

Anti-Fantasy Deduction Method

He tackled it as anti-fantasy. Anti-fantasy—where any logic that denies the witch is acceptable, the worst kind of thinking. At the end of the fourth game, he threw out ridiculous deductions: small bombs, unknown trap X, unknown person X. It’s a way of thinking that can’t reach the core lie of the incident. How did Beatrice-san feel receiving that? What did she think of Battler-san, who kept throwing out a way of thinking that would never reach her truth? Her heart must have broken, right? She says, “Just kill me already.” She could keep going for an infinite stalemate, but that wouldn’t achieve her goal. As long as he approaches it with anti-fantasy, she can’t win. “So this is infinite magic, huh? How sad,” she said. Her heart was completely broken. Approaching it as a mystery—that was the starting point to reach her heart. Battler-san wasn’t even at that starting point.

Beatrice Has Two Hearts

At the end, Beatrice-san reveals her heart. She raises both hands, and light gathers around them. But the light disappears from her right hand, and she lowers it. While still raising her left hand, she asks, “Who am I?” A bomb goes off. The right hand, which lost its light and was lowered—Lord Lambda-Delta commented on this: “Did you notice she lowered her right hand? That girl is still hiding a powerful trump card.” In the sixth game, Featherine-sama also says, “If you use Beatrice’s heart, you might be able to do something.” This is the trick that was hidden when the light disappeared and the hand was lowered—the same-person trick. That’s why she asks, “Who am I?” The bomb is literal, but it also carries the meaning tied to the right hand: “Who was the Beatrice that was challenging Battler-san in this game?” Beatrice is Shannon and Kanon. That’s the deeper meaning. It’s profound.

The Magic of Reviving Sakutaro

In the fourth game, a mystery central to the entire story is presented: the revival of Sakutaro. Let’s deduce the narrative meaning of this part. Sakutaro himself is stated in red as “something that couldn’t be revived with magic,” so we can deduce it was a mass-produced item. But what’s important is the line Enje-san says. At first, Beatrice-san says, “There’s no way it’s magic!” But because she couldn’t declare in red the rest of “It was the only one in the world, made by Rosa for her daughter’s birthday,” we can infer it was mass-produced. Then Enje-san says this:

“The root of magic, right? If there’s no love, no sadness, no anger, you can’t see magic.”

Let’s think about it. What would happen if you told Maria-san the truth: “Actually, Sakutaro was mass-produced”? Maria-san thinks of Sakutaro as a handmade memento from her mother. Telling her the truth would destroy the fundamental meaning Sakutaro holds for Maria-san. So, if you truly care about Maria-san, if you have love for her, if you understand the sadness and anger she felt losing Sakutaro, then saying, “I revived him with magic,” is more important. And that is precisely what “magic” is in this story. It’s the kindness of someone who knows the harsh truth wrapping it in fantasy to make the other person happy. That’s “magic.” This also ties into why Battler-san held the eighth game. That game board itself is magic.

A Break for Deduction—I’m Tired

This story occasionally has characters saying incomprehensible thingsievement. At the tea party in the first game, Battler-san says this: “Oh, everyone, good work on Umineko no Naku Koro ni!” Good work on Umineko no Naku Koro ni. Huh? What’s that? What is he talking about? Now that I think about it, Lord Lambda-Delta and my master were talking about something called Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, which sounds a bit similar. I don’t quite understand, but is this related to the meta-theatrical layers? I don’t get it, but there must be something called Umineko no Naku Koro ni in the meta-theatrical layers. I don’t understand why Battler-san knows about a layer I can’t perceive, but it’s probably related to the highest-level author. In other words, there’s a layer where this “Umineko no Naku Koro ni” exists, and that perspective is part of this story. We can deduce this from the clues.

When we think this way, a lot of incomprehensible parts can be explained. In the fifth game, there’s an explanation about the fantasy depictions:

“At the end of the first game, it’s explicitly stated that this story is passed down to future generations via a message bottle. …Someone recorded the incident as a story. In other words, this entire story is a world that includes the subjective views of the person who wrote the message bottle. Thus, the observer is not a god but a human. Therefore, the true impartiality of the narrative isn’t guaranteed. The premise that the main text must be from a god’s perspective, which is a standard promise in mysteries, is broken, and this is already clearly stated in the first game. That’s why both the witnesses and the observer (the author) can be doubted.”

First of all, this isn’t a passage from the perspective of Enje-san, who became an author in the real world, looking at Yasu-san. People in the same layer can’t distinguish whether an author is “writing subjectively” or “writing impartially from a god’s perspective.” In novels, the third-person perspective is typically considered a god’s perspective. Because of this, the subjective bias in the third-person parts allows for lies, which is the fundamental logic of the fantasy depictions, and this can’t be discerned by the detective. From the perspective of Enje-san as an author, it’s impossible to definitively determine that Yasu-san’s forgery includes “subjective bias.” In other words, the explanation that “because the message bottle includes the subjective views of the writer, magic and lies are allowed” comes from a perspective one layer above the real-world layer where Enje-san exists as an author. It’s a perspective that views the real-world layer where Enje-san exists as if it were a story world. From this perspective, such logic holds. This means the meta-theatrical layer’s perspective is embedded in the story. This is one clue to the information source issue. Information that Yasu can’t grasp might come from the subjective perspective of this highest-level author.

Well, I designate this area as an “unexaminable domain,” so it’s technically something I shouldn’t examine—it’s more of a hobby to think about. The evidence construction is vague. Actually, this has been the worst mystery I’ve struggled with in terms of evidence construction. I can generate hypotheses all day, but supporting them with evidence is difficult. In the end, I considered the highest-level author as the narrator and thought about subjectivity and such, but the evidence remained vague.

The Manga’s Confession Story

Everyone, I assume you’ve read the Confession manga and reached Sayo Yasuda’s heart. It must have been quite an emotional burden, but as a detective, there’s a part I’d like you to think about: “So, what was the result of her plan in the real Rokkenjima incident?” The actual events of Rokkenjima are a difficult part to deduce, but the manga revealed it—the contents of the cat box. So, what happened to Sayo-san’s plan in the story? And what choice was she forced to make? Thinking about this might be very emotionally taxing. But please, think about it. If you’ve reached her heart, you have an obligation to understand this. Her motive and the truth of the real Rokkenjima incident—if you have these two keys, you should be able to reach the conclusion of her fate. And why Beatrice-san chose to drown herself—you should be able to reach her heart. Please reach that point.

Physical Issues Related to the Same-Person Trick

The theory that Shannon-san and Kanon-san are the same person has a deeper deduction, but I sealed it away because the point seemed so ridiculous. I wondered if a detective should even make such a vulgar deduction. I’ve mentioned before that there are cases in Beatrice-san’s game board where Kanon-san’s body disappears, like in the second and fourth games. Naturally, if Shannon-san survives, Kanon-san’s body doesn’t remain, but couldn’t this work the other way around? In other words, a case where Shannon-san’s body goes missing. I thought this might be because it’s inconvenient for the true culprit if Kanon-san’s body is examined. For example, if I suspect they’re the same person and I’m in front of Kanon-san’s body, I’d naturally examine it to confirm if it’s a fake death or if they’re the same person. Of course, I’d check for a penis. Then, the presence or absence of a penis might reveal the trick. That’s why I thought Kanon-san’s body might not remain. The fact that Shannon-san is flat-chested isn’t the same as Kanon-san not having a penis, so that’s fine. But then I started thinking this might be strange. To begin with, Shannon-san and Kanon-san are recognized as separate people on the game board, a kind of fantasy. Even I, the detective, can’t see them as the same person, which means the coercive power of the higher-layer author is very strong. In other words, Shannon is recognized as Shannon, and Kanon as Kanon—they’re distinguished by personality on the game board. With this premise, when looking at Kanon-san’s body… this is very crude and hard to say, but… isn’t there a possibility that a “fantasy penis” might be present? Since they’re forcibly recognized as Kanon-san by personality, the male aspect of the personality might be reflected in the physical body. Honestly, I don’t know which it is. I haven’t examined Kanon-san’s body, so I don’t know if there’s a penis or not. Which is it? If a fantasy penis is present, there’d be no need for the body to disappear, so I guess there isn’t one. I’m not an idiot! Detectives do make these kinds of deductions too!!

Sayo Yasuda’s Incest Issue and Family Register

Sayo-san is troubled by incest, but there’s an important point: how is she treated in the family register? Even if she’s biologically a third-degree relative, what’s her legal status? The first Beatrice from Italy and her daughter, the Kuwadorian Beatrice, aren’t in the Ushiromiya family register. Kinzo-san has a legal wife, after all. So, when Sayo-san was a baby, she was in an accident, seriously injured, and eventually sent to the Fukuin House. The question is how Genji-san placed her there. If she was placed as an orphan, the government would grant her a new family register with her as the head, for human rights reasons. Since Sayo-san goes by “Yasuda,” we can infer that “Sayo Yasuda” is the head of her own family register. She has no legal connection to the Ushiromiya family. So, even though she’s a third-degree relative by blood, she’s legally able to marry. This leads to the question: does she love the man so much that she’d marry him despite knowing about the incest? It’s a matter of how serious her feelings are. The fact that marriage is legally possible might actually become a source of her distress. She’d either have to deceive her partner or confess and gain their understanding. Gaining their understanding—that’s a high hurdle. “We’re related by blood, but it’s legally fine, so please marry me,” she’d have to say straightforwardly.

Interpretation of the Explosive Murder-Suicide

Let’s talk about something important. Sayo Yasuda’s motive for causing the incident in 1986 was revealed in the manga—she incorporated a massacre via a bomb into the incident. When reading the foreshadowing as a mystery, there are three intertwined meanings, making it very complex. The first is the depicted “fulfillment of love in the Golden Land.” The second, from a real-world perspective, is “a murder-suicide if her love isn’t fulfilled.” The third issue, which was heavily depicted in the second game and likely sticks in your memory, is the magical ideology that “a miracle of magic requires taking a risk.” In the fifth game, Battler-san reaches the truth and says this:

“Don’t mess with me… If it’s such a complicated mystery you’re proud of, don’t set a time limit…! …No, I get it… You prayed within such a slim chance of a miracle, didn’t you…? You were the same as Grandfather…”

Good! It’s very clear. Yes, the explosive murder-suicide via a bomb is a risk set by a time limit. Sayo Yasuda believes that a miracle can only be achieved by overcoming a risk. So, what’s the problem for her? There are three main issues: she’s in love with multiple people, she can’t get pregnant, and she’s a third-degree relative. These issues make her despair—they’re enough to make her give up on love. Are there solutions to these problems? Yes, there are. The issue of loving multiple people can be forcibly resolved by using a random number generator to decide. The issue of not being able to get pregnant can be resolved if her partner accepts it. The incest issue can be resolved through the family register issue I mentioned earlier. However, just because solutions exist doesn’t mean it’s fine. These solutions are merely possibilities—her love succeeding would require a miracle.

When thinking logically, solutions exist, but it’s extremely realistic to assume her love won’t be fulfilled. So, if she still wants to be happy in the real world, what does she need? A specific plan for the incident? No. A miracle. That’s why there’s a time limit set by the bomb. Even if the epitaph is solved during the incident or the mystery is unraveled, there’s still a chance her love won’t be fulfilled. But if she absolutely believes in the core of her magical ideology and carries out the incident with unwavering resolve, and a miracle happens as a result, then perhaps a true miracle might occur. The slim possibility of a solution might come to fruition. That’s why she carries out the incident, believing in that—with absolute resolve. Everyone has the right to be happy.

The Tragedy Depicted in the EP7 Manga

This is a very minor detail, but if you read the end of Volume 8 of the EP7 manga, you’ll notice that Beatrice-san’s body isn’t there. Let’s check how it was depicted in the original work. When Eva-san regains consciousness, the narrative says: “Beside her was the corpse of her beloved husband. The corpses of Krauss and his wife, and Rosa’s corpse. It was a room of death with bodies lying everywhere.” She’s not there—Eva-san didn’t confirm her. So, when Beatrice-san was shot by Kyrie-san, was it stated that she “died”? No, it only said, “The witch spilled blood from her mouth,” leaving her life or death unclear, and it’s not even specified where she was shot. Furthermore, there’s frequent information that the guns Rudolf and Kyrie were using “had misaligned sights.” The clincher is in the eighth game, where a scene likely depicting what happens afterward shows her escaping to the submarine base. So, the deduction that can be constructed from the clues is that she was alive.

Sayo-san carried out the incident with various emotions, but after leaving the VIP room, she must have realized the tragedy had occurred. What’s important is the deaths of George and Jessica. The people she loved died indirectly because of her incident plan. Considering her psychology, she might think, “It’s the same as if I killed them.” This could be one psychological factor in her decision to drown herself. Since the incident was interrupted, we can infer that Battler-san didn’t remember the promise at this point. The epitaph murders, which were a means for him to remember, were halted, so the only possibility is for Battler-san to recall it on his own, but there’s no such foreshadowing.

She caused the deaths of her loved ones, and Battler-san didn’t remember the promise. At this point, what hope does she have? I try desperately to think of possibilities, but I can’t come up with any. It feels like all her hopes were completely taken away. My master said this in the seventh game:

“With a probability of 2,578,916 out of 2,578,917, you live in a world as Clair, toyed with by an inescapable fate, meeting a pitiful end. And with a probability of 1 out of 2,578,917, you live as Rion Ushiromiya and are killed by Kyrie tonight. …In other words, your—no, your fates—are bound by an absolute destiny, with a probability of 2,578,917 out of 2,578,917, trapped in an inescapable dead end, a prison of fate, where no miracle is allowed!”

In terms of probability, Sayo-san’s incident has a 100% chance of resulting in such a tragedy. It’s unavoidable. My master confirmed this through the fragments. But, as I’ve said before, my master isn’t so idle or foolish as to search through 2.57 million fragments just to mock someone. Isn’t it common sense to think they were searching for a fragment where it could be avoided, trying to weave a miracle? However, ironically, what my master confirmed was the fact that “such a fragment didn’t exist.” But just because it didn’t exist doesn’t mean my master would give up. Of course not. They granted a very small miracle: the miracle of the message bottle being found. Since Yasu ultimately reads it, at the very least, her heart was conveyed. It might have been too late, though.

Deduction of the 1998 World

Completely defeating the puzzle setter—that’s who I am, so I’ll strip everything bare down to the final episode. Deduction is possible using the clues as evidence—I’ll make the puzzle setter realize that. I can’t let them think, “Since so few people solved it, I’ll go easier next time.” Normally, I don’t deduce emotions in a mystery. It’s unnecessary, and I’m not interested in things that can’t be solved like a puzzle. But this time, I’ll do it. Because it’s presented as an element to be solved like a puzzle. Emotions can be deduced logically too.

Now, I believe there was the deduction of the 1998 world in the fourth game left to address. Let’s tackle that. Enje-san goes on an adventure with Amatsuka to seek the truth of Rokkenjima, and during this adventure, an episode with Maria-san is inserted. Yes, what’s very important in the fourth game is the episode regarding Maria-san. There’s something called “the magic of finding a fragment of happiness” that Maria-san has. It’s told through a story involving Rosa-san, but this episode is set up by the puzzle setter to help understand the “magic” that’s the core of this story. It’s closely related to the magic of reviving Sakutaro in the Golden Land. Regarding the phenomenon of Sakutaro being revived, Enje-san constructed the interpretation that “he was revived with magic,” but there’s an opposing logic: “he was mass-produced.” So, which is the magic of finding a fragment of happiness? Of course, it’s that he was revived with magic, but what’s important here is the question of “whether the truth is known.” Maria-san doesn’t know the truth that Sakutaro was mass-produced. That’s why the fantasy of “he was revived with magic” works. Fantasy doesn’t work on someone who knows the truth. It’s precisely because the truth isn’t confirmed that fantasy has meaning—the possibility of believing in it exists.

And those who use magic tell lies—magic—because they care about the other person. At the root of this is love for the other person. It’s the same as Battler-san in the eighth game. Because he cared about Enje-san, he showed her a fantasy. In the eighth game, there’s a choice between magic and a trick at the end, and I was in the trick route, right? That’s because I exposed Maria-san’s candy magic in the sixth game. In other words, exposing the truth without caring about the other person’s feelings is an act that ends up hurting them. In the Sakutaro revival part, it would be like telling Maria-san, “He was mass-produced,” instead of “He was revived with magic.” It’s incredibly irritating, but that’s why I’m in the trick route—as someone who exposes fantasies. In other words, a heartless person! …People who pursue the truth through deduction aren’t necessarily heartless, but as an explanation of the concept of magic, I think that’s a simple and good way to put it.

The Foreshadowing of Nanjo’s Son’s Cash Card

In the 1998 world, Enje-san meets Nanjo’s son, and there’s a foreshadowing with a cash card. It was sent to a nonexistent address under the son’s name. Sayo-san did something very strange, but it’s because she’s seeking two possible outcomes. Sayo-san sent this cash card mail expecting it to be returned to Nanjo’s son, but the key point is that “the return period depends on the post office and is uncertain.” In other words, it might return before the incident, or it might return after. In the former case, it could lead to the incident being interrupted for some reason. If the son receives it and tells Nanjo, Nanjo, who knows the situation well, might realize Sayo-san sent it. This could result in the incident being interrupted. This is Sayo-san’s roulette. She’s putting her wish into this mail: “Please stop me.” The incident might be interrupted beforehand, or it might proceed—it all depends on the post office, on the roll of the dice. That’s what Sayo-san is thinking.

This can also be deduced with the opposite logic. If the incident isn’t interrupted and proceeds, there’s a chance Sayo-san’s love might be fulfilled during the incident. So, she takes on the “risk” of the incident being interrupted. By overcoming that risk, a miracle might happen. That’s the logic. Both interpretations are correct. Both are important to Sayo-san.

Without Love, You Can’t See the Truth

In the 1998 world, President Kogoshi appears. He says something very important: “Without love, you can’t see the truth.” This ties into how Enje-san views Eva-san, but what’s important is that this doesn’t mean “interpret with love.” It means “look at things from a different perspective.” In other words, this phrase introduces a way of thinking that broadens your perspective by holding two opposing interpretations. Let’s think about Enje-san. She’s pursuing the truth of Rokkenjima. In the seventh game, my master presented her with a malicious interpretation, but she rejected it. Then, in the eighth game, Battler-san presented her with the opposite, a benevolent interpretation, and she rejected that too. By rejecting both malice and benevolence, she finally saw a truth: “Actually, Enje wasn’t seeking the truth—she was seeking a truth convenient for herself.” What she wanted was a truth where Eva-san was the culprit and her family was innocent. That can’t be called seeking the truth anymore—she was seeking a fantasy. “Without love, you can’t see the truth.” This way of thinking is an excellent method that reveals truths you couldn’t see before.

The Mass-Produced Sakutaro Enje-san Found

At the end of her adventure in the 1998 world, Enje-san discovers a Sakutaro stuffed toy at the captain’s house. She must have thought, “With this, I can save Maria-san.” But that method involves a lie. However, if she truly cares about Maria-san, even a lie is permissible. This is where she finally realizes: “This is magic.” Magic means that someone who knows the truth wraps it in fantasy to make the other person, who doesn’t know, happy. That’s what magic is. Originally, Maria-san had this foundational idea of magic—the magic of finding a fragment of happiness—but because the young Enje-san denied it, saying, “Sakutaro is just a stuffed toy,” and because her mother destroyed the stuffed toy, Maria-san couldn’t maintain this idea. Maria-san’s magic gradually turned darker and more sinister. Having learned about magic in the 1998 world, Enje-san reflects: “If I hadn’t hurt Maria-san that day, the incident might not have happened. If Maria-san had maintained her magic, maybe Sayo-san could have understood magic too. If she could have found a fragment of happiness even in her harsh circumstances, the incident might not have happened in 1986.”

Incomprehensible Scene Transitions in the 1998 World

The 1998 world has some very incomprehensible scenes. For example, there’s the battle at Rokkenjima with Kasumi-san. Once that battle concludes, an incomprehensible scene transition occurs. They suddenly move from Rokkenjima to the rooftop of a city building. There, Enje-san goes to the game board with my master. If you view the 1998 world as reality, you end up ignoring such scenes when constructing logic, but these scene transitions can be considered as assuming a fictional world. At the point of the fourth game, constructing evidence is difficult, so for now, it’s important to hold the hypothesis: “The 1998 world might also be a fictional world.” It might be reality, or it might be a fictional world—keep both interpretations for now. The more likely one is, of course, the fictional world theory. Assuming a fictional world, some of Enje-san’s strange statements can be explained. On the boat heading to Rokkenjima, Enje-san is asked by the Seven Sisters if she believes in magic and answers:

“I’m not acknowledging magic. Magic exists for those who believe in it. Even if I don’t acknowledge it. If someone believes, magic exists in their world. Whether I believe in magic or not doesn’t affect that.”

Enje-san is summoning the Seven Sisters, so she’s essentially acknowledging magic, but she says this. The “magic” here isn’t the magic I’ve been talking about—it’s ordinary fantasy magic. In other words, there might be an author who interprets that magic exists in Enje-san’s heart and writes accordingly. To establish the logic that Enje-san uses magic despite not acknowledging it herself, this kind of logic emerges as a possibility. As one possibility. Enje-san in the game board world meets Mammon-san, who says lines suggesting the adventure in the 1998 world, like, “I’m currently Beatrice-sama’s furniture,” or something like that. From these parts, and the fact that the Sakutaro revival episode connects the 1998 world and the meta-world, we can interpret that “the worlds are connected.” It’s impossible to confirm at this point, so let’s keep it as a strong hypothesis. Enje-san is ultimately declared to have “died in 1998” in the end credits. So, she dies in the end. I think she was killed by Amatsuka, but the cause of death is unclear since multiple deductions are possible. She was killed by Amatsuka. She jumped off the building and hit the ground. Her death in the meta-world was recorded as her death in the 1998 world she belongs to. Various deductions are possible, but there’s no evidence to narrow it down. The safest bet is probably the Amatsuka murder theory.

The Perspective of the 1998 World

One important point is if we assume that the meaning of the 1998 world I’ve been talking about is “something the real Enje-san in the real world is reading as a book.” In this case, the real Enje-san would understand the magic of finding a fragment of happiness and receive the message that pursuing the truth leads to death. In other words, we can deduce Yasu-san’s motive for writing the forgery: to send a message to the real Enje-san in the real world, saying, “The truth is harsh, so please don’t pursue it.” This is significant. It allows us to explain why the older brother, while caring about his younger sister’s happiness, is afraid to meet her directly.

The Greatest Mystery of This Story

Now that I’ve finished deducing all of Beatrice-san’s game boards, let’s deduce a very important point to summarize her game boards. In these four games, Battler-san never once witnesses Shannon-san and Kanon-san at the same time. When deducing the same-person theory, the issue is whether the detective, who is obligated to have an objective perspective, observes the two simultaneously, distinguishing between “the detective’s subjective first-person narrative” and “other narrative styles.” If the detective observes them simultaneously, it’s definitively “they’re different people,” and the same-person theory completely falls apart. However, there’s no such depiction. The detective always observes only one of them at a time. This means it’s possible they’re the same person.

When the real Enje-san in the real world looks at the fictional world, Shannon and Kanon are just two kanji characters. If it’s said that these two kanji characters are the same person, she’d think, “Oh, that’s the setting, huh?” The author wrote the story with that setting. The core trick of the same-person trick actually assumes a story-within-a-story, just like the fantasy depiction tricks. With this, the deduction of the fourth game is complete.

I think while deducing that when considering the 1998 world’s Enje-san in the fourth game and the episode as “something Yasu-san wrote for his sister,” I have to deduce emotions. It’s strange, isn’t it? Deducing emotions. Somehow, I feel like I can sense Yasu-san’s feelings through the 1998 world episodes.

Having Multiple Hypotheses Isn’t Actually That Big of a Hurdle

For parts that can’t be narrowed down, I hold multiple hypotheses. When I finish deducing all eight fragments, I do an “addition.” By adding them up, there must be a combination of hypotheses that forms a single line. In that sense, the fact that individual deduction targets can’t be narrowed down isn’t actually that big of a hurdle. When completing the puzzle to form a single picture, the correct pieces and incorrect pieces become clearly distinguishable based on the overall image of the puzzle. In that sense, this story is a deduction of addition.

Lord Lambda-Delta in the Manga’s Confession

In the latest manga, there was a scene where Sayo-san was turned into Beatrice by Lord Lambda-Delta, right? Thinking back, Lord Lambda-Delta was furious in the third game, and she might have been capable of stripping Beatrice of her form there. She said something about a “shabby appearance.” Shabby, she says, but isn’t Sayo-san normally cute? The only thing shabby is her chest, isn’t it?

The Confession Bottle

A new message bottle appeared in the manga, and I was deducing its significance. Where should I start tracing back? Since I’ve only done fragment deductions up to the fourth game, deductions involving the world structure might be hard to follow, but I’ll go ahead and do it. I broadly divide this story into two worlds for deduction: the real world and the fictional world. It’s very simple. The real world is only the world where Enje-san exists as an author. Everything else—EP4, EP6, the trick route’s 1998 world, the meta-world, the game board world—is collectively considered the “fictional world.”

I incorporated a deduction about Yasu-san’s motive for writing into the fourth game, but one important point is that the one announcing the forgery to the public is Ikuko, who appeared at the press conference, not Battler-san, who is Yasu. This ties into the fact that “if Ikuko is assumed to be the forgery author, it has zero credibility.” For the people in the world and the real Enje-san, Ikuko isn’t related to the incident, so the story she weaves lacks credibility. The player knows Yasu’s information, but the characters in the story don’t.

Because of this information gap, there’s an issue of credibility for both the player and the people in the story world. One problem is that Ikuko, as the forgery author Ikukuro Ito, wrote about the Ushiromiya family’s internal information in such detail that she’s suspected of “being acquainted with someone involved in the incident.” In the manga, a reporter at the press conference said, “Why can you assert it’s the truth? Are you acquainted with someone involved in the incident?” The truth is exactly that—because Battler, someone involved in the incident, is there, they have detailed internal information. But if Yasu’s information were revealed to the public, it would become, “There’s still someone who knows the truth of Rokkenjima!!” The movement to uncover the truth would accelerate, and in the seventh game, what was originally accepted as “a malicious fiction written by a forgery author” would gain credibility as “that might actually be the truth.” That tragedy is necessary for the real Enje-san to see with “both eyes”—a malicious interpretation and a benevolent interpretation—so it had to be written.

In other words, Ikuko had to explain to the media, “I’m not acquainted with someone involved in the incident, but I have a reason for knowing the Ushiromiya family’s internal information in detail.” That’s likely the significance of the new message bottle. She had an unpublished bottle, which is why she knew the details. With this logic, Yasu’s concealment is possible. Just with a new message bottle appearing, a deduction of this level is possible for Erika Furudo.

The Siesta Sisters

Siesta 410 and 45 shoot as a pair, holding hands. I just thought—could that be a suggestion of “a gun that can shoot multiple types of bullets”? Scattershot and regular bullets. Is that how you plant information?! Even I can’t deduce that!! What a convenient gun you have!!

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 18 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction7

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP3 Deductions

The Protagonist of the Third Game Is Eva-san

The third game, how should I put it, contains a lot of core elements of Beatrice-san’s game board, both in terms of tricks and the story itself. This time, Eva-san is the protagonist, isn’t she? Now that I think about it, in the first game, Natsuhi-san was the main focus, and in the second game, Rosa-san played a big role. Is this some sort of “wives taking the spotlight” series, perhaps? It feels like the main role is being passed around in order. However, the fourth game isn’t exactly a main episode for Kyrie-san, and since that person was incredibly active in the real Rokkenjima incident, does that mean she gets no spotlight on the game board? She really went all out, didn’t she?

Yasu’s Forgery in EP3

Now, the third game is clearly presented with the information that it is “a forgery by Ikukuro Ito.” In the second game, there’s the message bottle theory and the forgery theory, which are separate, but the third game is explicitly Yasu-san’s creation. This forgery of the third game by Yasu-san is called Banquet, but here’s the question: Yasu-san should know that Eva wasn’t the culprit in the real Rokkenjima incident, so why did they create and publish a forgery like this? There are several possible deductions. One mainstream theory is that it was to make Enje-san, in the real world, believe that her parents weren’t the culprits and that Eva was the culprit instead. That’s a common deduction, but I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so at all. In fact, the opposite logic can be used to deduce something else. Yasu-san likely wanted to assert that Eva wasn’t the culprit. Probably, that is.

To allow for an interpretation that contradicts the in-story “Eva culprit theory,” you’d need to incorporate the deduction that “even the 1998 world is a fictional world” into the story’s structure. At the end, Enje-san meets Eva-san in the hospital, right? I think this scene is also part of the fictional world. In other words, let’s assume that general readers in the real world are reading this scene as part of the story. Eva-san said some harsh things to Enje-san, didn’t she? That she would leave all her inheritance to Enje-san: “From now on, your life will be constantly monitored by the media. If you do good deeds, you’ll be called a hypocrite; if you do wrong, you’ll be called a criminal. That’s the kind of life waiting for you. I’m giving you that life as a present.” To put it simply, this is about Eva-san herself, isn’t it? Eva-san herself lived that kind of life. She wasn’t actually the culprit, but because she vowed not to tell Enje-san the truth for Enje-san’s sake, her life turned out that way.

Yasu-san would obviously understand this. They know Eva-san isn’t the culprit. So, what did Yasu-san think when they saw Eva-san constantly being vilified by the public? Wouldn’t they have felt a strong sense of discomfort? That should be a normal human reaction. Eva-san was made the culprit without evidence and endlessly slandered—how pitiful. This is likely the true motivation behind writing the third game, Banquet. General readers enjoy the “Eva culprit theory” that aligns with public perception, but at the very end, Eva-san’s lines in the hospital come up. In other words, it’s a sharp irony directed at the public: “You goats who claim Eva is the culprit without evidence—know some shame.” It’s a powerful irony, isn’t Banquet? Thinking about it, Ikukuro Ito-san is a writer of irony throughout the entire story. They must have intended this irony here as well.

Let’s call this Hypothesis B. There’s also Hypothesis A, which I mentioned earlier. Neither can be definitively confirmed based on deductive evidence. You can choose whichever you prefer. For parts that cannot be determined through deduction, I simply give up on narrowing them down. It’s the kind of deduction target that gets stuck at the second stage, as I’ve mentioned before—it can’t reach the third stage of narrowing down.

Eva-san’s Character

When considering Eva-san’s character, the third game provides a clue in the form of “Eva was actually protecting Enje.” At the beginning, in the scene on the boat heading to Rokkenjima, Hideyoshi-san talks about Eva-san’s character. Since the most trustworthy person says this, we can take it as reliable. He said, “Eva-san becomes like a completely different person when she returns to Rokkenjima, but she’s actually a really kind woman.” So, she’s fundamentally kind, apparently. If she’s fundamentally kind, then there must be moments where we need to read her malice in reverse. Yes, like the part where she’s being mean by not telling Enje-san the truth about Rokkenjima. If she’s not telling her out of kindness, it must be because telling her would make Enje-san unhappy. That kind of deduction can be constructed from the foreshadowing.

Shannon’s Memory on the Beach

The day before the incident, Shannon-san shares a memory on the beach, doesn’t she? It’s an episode about Battler-san, and she apparently said something like this: “I’ll come back for you on a white horse—see you again.” Of course, this is information related to the culprit’s motive for causing the incident. The promise Battler-san forgot, the sin Beatrice demands he recall in the fourth game—these are identified by solving the tricks of the incident in the third game, specifically the chain locked rooms and the murder of Nanjo. It’s a very difficult mystery, but deduction is possible. The culprit of the incident is Beatrice-san, but most people wouldn’t notice that. It requires layers upon layers of deep reading to even consider it as a possibility. In that sense, it’s extremely complex. Because it’s so complex, the puzzle setter has an obligation to provide “clues.” The Beatrice culprit theory must be logically deducible from the clues like a puzzle. Why? Because that’s what a mystery is. The placement of clues is the foundation of the trust between the puzzle setter and the detective.

Foreshadowing of the Witch Deduced from Ronove’s Lines

Now, in the third game, information regarding this issue was clearly presented. Ronove appears and says something like this:

“Though I am now a lowly human, I serve as the head furniture of the great witch Beatrice-sama, a being so fearsome that even demons would flee barefoot.”

This presents the information that Beatrice-san is both a witch and a human. That’s the same as me, isn’t it? I am the Witch of Truth. However, I am also a human, an uninvited guest who visited Rokkenjima. A character with dual attributes. When confirming existence in red, depending on the definition of the words, there’s a risk of overlooking someone. I made sure to handle that properly, so in the sixth game, to be counted as a human, I said: “Nice to meet you, hello! I’m the detective, Erika Furudo!! Though I’m an uninvited guest, please welcome me!! I am a visitor, the 18th human on Rokkenjima!!!” If I had said, “I am the Witch of Truth, Erika Furudo,” I wouldn’t have been counted as the 18th human. That would fall under the definition of a witch.

Additional Red Text Rule: Declaring a Witch’s Existence in Red Is Prohibited

In the third game, a rule was added regarding this, wasn’t there? Declaring a witch’s existence in red causes a stalemate. Battler-san would have no way to counter, making it impossible to argue back, and the game board would be permanently stalled. To avoid this, declaring a witch’s existence in red was prohibited. So, Beatrice-san says: “There are no more than 18 humans on this island.” That’s in the fourth game, right? The point, of course, is the definition of “human”—whether it refers to the physical body or the inner personality’s attributes. In the sixth game, Battler-san and the others declare 17 people while excluding the word “human.” At the same time, the 18 people I declared includes the word “human.” In other words, the number declared in red using the word “human” counts something other than physical bodies.

On Beatrice-san’s game board, there are 17 human personalities—Krauss, Natsuhi, Jessica, Eva, Hideyoshi, George, Rudolf, Kyrie, Battler, Rosa, Maria, Genji, Nanjo, Kumasawa, Gohda, Shannon, and Kanon—plus one witch personality, Beatrice. This is about the inner personalities, not physical bodies. With this premise, when it’s declared, “There are no more than 18 humans on this island,” it’s indeed true, but one person is left uncountable due to the definition used in the red text. To count Beatrice, it would need to be stated as “There are no more than X personalities on this island,” but as usual, a witch’s existence cannot be declared in red due to the stalemate rule. It’s a very complicated matter, but this is how Beatrice-san’s game board hides the true culprit using red text. However, as I’ve said multiple times, this must be deducible. The puzzle setter has an obligation to place clues so that it can be solved. Those clues are likely what caused Beatrice-san to nearly die in the latter half of the game. Shall we talk about that later, along with the trick deductions?

First Twilight: The Six-Chain Locked Rooms

Now, the chain locked rooms of the first twilight. In the fantasy depiction the night before the incident, Beatrice-san was, once again, furious. Whenever Shannon-san starts talking about love, Beatrice-san just loses it. This is likely for the same reason as the locked room in Natsuhi’s room in the second game. Beatrice-san hasn’t formed a romantic connection with Battler-san, yet Shannon-san is all giddy because her love has been fulfilled. “I can’t stand your attitude,” she must be thinking.

Let’s briefly confirm the situation of the chain locked rooms. In the first-floor parlor, Shannon’s body is found along with Shannon’s master key and the key to the second-floor guest room. Naturally, with the second-floor guest room key in hand, they head to the second-floor guest room. There, Kumasawa’s body is found in a locked room, along with Kumasawa’s master key and the key to the third-floor waiting room. In this way, six rooms are all locked, forming a chain, with the keys to each room locked inside. The third-floor waiting room has Gohda, the second-floor VIP room has Genji, the boiler room has Kinzo, and the chapel has Kanon—this is the order in which the locked rooms are constructed. The key point is the boiler room where Kinzo-san is. The key to the chapel, which was locked in there, has a red text from the second game: “The chapel’s lock cannot be opened except with the chapel’s key.” So, when Shannon-san’s body is discovered first and everyone goes to the second floor, they move to the chapel. But if the chapel is locked, the key needed to unlock it is locked in the boiler room with Kinzo-san, making it impossible to enter. Therefore, it’s highly likely that the chapel door was open on the morning of the incident. This means the chapel had to be locked from the inside as the final step, likely Kanon-san’s role.

The important point is that Nanjo-san’s autopsy is a lie. This false autopsy allows Shannon-san and Kanon-san to fake their deaths. For the rooms other than Shannon-san and Kanon-san’s, they’re genuinely killed, the keys are left inside, and the rooms are locked with Shannon-san’s key. The key points are the first-floor parlor where Shannon-san is and the chapel where Kanon-san is. The room layout is cleverly designed so that Shannon-san’s room, where the body can be seen from outside, is discovered first. Once Shannon-san’s room is confirmed and everyone moves to the next room, Shannon-san moves to the chapel and acts as Kanon-san’s body.

That’s how the trick works. But in the latter half of the game board, an eight-digit number is written on the door: 07151129. This is a combination of November 29, the day Yasu-san discovered the gold, and July 15, Battler-san’s birthday. Since this is information only the culprit would know, it appears in the latter half, meaning they’re obviously still alive. However, in the chain locked rooms, Shannon-san and Kanon-san’s deaths are declared in red. This means there must be another personality inside Yasu-san’s body; otherwise, there’d be no one to write the eight-digit number in the latter half. Furthermore, someone is needed to tell Eva-san, who solved the epitaph, about the escape route. The Beatrice culprit theory ties into these aspects as well.

The Purpose of the Chain Locked Rooms

I have something very important to say. These chain locked rooms hold significant meaning for the meta-world Beatrice-san. Beatrice-san wants Battler-san to remember their promise. But for Battler-san, that promise is with Shannon-san, not Beatrice-san. In reality, Beatrice-san and Shannon-san are the same person. However, Battler-san definitely doesn’t think of Beatrice-san as Shannon-san. So, even if Battler-san reaches the truth of the incident and understands the meaning behind the trick’s deception, he wouldn’t understand why Beatrice-san is demanding he recall a promise with Shannon-san. Beatrice-san’s goal is to form a romantic connection with Battler-san. She explicitly says in the sixth game, “I created this story to be with you.” This means Beatrice-san needs Battler-san to realize that “Beatrice = Shannon.” One of the methods to achieve that is these chain locked rooms. The purpose of the chain locked rooms is to make it known that “there’s a single person playing multiple roles on the island.” That’s why she deliberately set up such a complicated locked room that needs to be solved through intricate steps.

The chain locked rooms and Beatrice-san’s goal are also related to the Nanjo murder. The culprit of the Nanjo murder is Beatrice-san, but the solution that the culprit is Beatrice relies on the premise that there’s someone who didn’t die in the chain locked rooms. In other words, Shannon and Kanon, who executed the trick as a single person in the chain locked rooms—there’s another person besides these two, and that person killed Nanjo. And that person is Beatrice. By reaching this conclusion, the structure of “Shannon = Beatrice = the promise” is established. Only by going this far does Beatrice-san’s love have a chance of being fulfilled. That’s the purpose of the chain locked rooms.

Second Twilight: The Murder of Rosa and Maria in the Rose Garden

For the second twilight, the murder of Rosa and Maria in the rose garden, Will said, “In the narrated end, there is no falsehood.” Let’s look at the information presented by the situation. Eva solves the epitaph, but Rosa solves it a bit later. I thought, “Oh, the epitaph has been solved, so the money issue is resolved,” but Eva-san and Rosa-san started arguing. They were fighting over whether to tell everyone about solving the epitaph or not. Greedy people will die!! Eva-san is depicted as being consumed by suspicion. Seeing this, the culprit is probably Eva-san, right? She must have argued with Rosa-san in the rose garden. “What’s your problem?!” she might have said, pushing Rosa-san, who then got impaled on the fence and died. Maria started crying and screaming, so she was strangled. That’s probably what happened. At this point, it’s revealed that Hideyoshi-san was smoking in the room. If Eva-san was sleeping in the room, it’d be strange for him to smoke. Wasn’t Eva-san sneaking out of the room? Kyrie-san made that deduction. This likely leads to the next murder.

Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Twilights: The Murders of Rudolf, Kyrie, and Hideyoshi in the Mansion

Now, for the fourth, fifth, and sixth twilights—the murders of Rudolf, Kyrie, and Hideyoshi in the mansion—let’s look at the causes of death. Rudolf-san was killed in the mansion’s hall, his forehead pierced by a stake-like weapon. A fatal wound, obviously, since it’s the head. Kyrie-san was shot in the abdomen, and Hideyoshi-san in the chest. From the situation, we can infer that Kyrie-san and Rudolf-san were trying to confirm with Hideyoshi-san about Eva-san. “Didn’t she sneak out of the room? In other words, isn’t Eva-san the one who killed Rosa and Maria?” Bingo! Good guess! They were correct! When someone is accused of murder and it turns out to be a bingo, it can give rise to murderous intent. Hideyoshi-san probably shot Rudolf-san and Kyrie-san. However, since the bullet to Kyrie-san’s abdomen wasn’t fatal, she fought back, hitting Hideyoshi-san in the chest, and Hideyoshi-san died.

It’s also possible to assume Eva-san as the culprit here, and that might be more likely. Krauss-san and his wife were waiting for Rudolf-san and the others at the entrance, so Eva-san couldn’t sneak out through the entrance. If she were to leave, it’d be through her room’s window. However, there’s the issue of Krauss-san and the others peeking into the room, and there’s no evidence regarding the window, so the theory of Eva-san being the culprit feels a bit vague in terms of evidence. I’d like to push the Eva culprit theory, but it’s probably Hideyoshi-san.

Seventh and Eighth Twilights: The Murders of Krauss and Natsuhi + George’s Disappearance from the Guesthouse

For the seventh and eighth twilights, the murders of Krauss and Natsuhi, the cause of death was strangulation, not a gun. This means there was likely a concern about the sound of gunfire. Will’s deduction is, “The obvious culprit wields the merciless blade.” So, that would be Eva-san, right? In the guesthouse’s first floor, there were Eva, Krauss, and Natsuhi. Before and after this scene, Eva-san makes coffee, doesn’t she? And then she strangles them. This means she probably put sleeping pills in the coffee. Inside the guesthouse, there’s the issue of gunfire noise, so she used strangulation. Afterward, she left the bodies in the arbor. Now, the problem is George-san, who disappeared from the guesthouse around this time. George-san is eventually killed in the mansion. So, who killed George? He was killed outside the guesthouse in a place the detective couldn’t confirm. This would be the surviving Beatrice-san. She killed him. This is likely because the incident reached the ninth twilight. In this third game, the epitaph is solved, but Shannon-san dies at the first twilight. A similar situation happened in the real Rokkenjima incident: the epitaph was solved, but George still died.

The miracle of solving the epitaph is the roulette spin to bring an end to the girl Yasu’s love. According to her rules, if the epitaph is solved, the incident is halted, and the means for Battler-san to recall the promise through the incident’s truth is stopped. This means returning to a state similar to if the incident hadn’t occurred in 1986. This is Shannon-san’s victory condition. When the epitaph is solved, Shannon-san gains the right to fulfill her love. Beatrice-san’s victory condition is for Battler-san to reach the truth of the epitaph murders. In the third game, the epitaph was solved, but since Shannon-san is dead, it becomes completely meaningless. This is likely because the meta-world Beatrice-san is presenting this to her opponent, Battler-san, to make him recall the promise. For the meta-world Beatrice-san, there’s no meaning in fulfilling the love of her piece, Shannon-san. So, even if the epitaph is solved, Shannon-san’s love can’t be fulfilled, meaning the fundamental purpose of causing the incident hasn’t been achieved. That’s why the incident continues toward the final massacre.

The Flaw in the Concept of the Golden Land

The Golden Land is a concept of the afterlife, but it has one flaw. To fulfill love in the Golden Land, both lovers need to go to the afterlife. That makes sense—if one is still alive, their partner can’t come to the afterlife. Shannon-san is dead, right? This means that for Shannon-san to fulfill her love in the Golden Land, George needs to die too. The true culprit, Beatrice, kills George for this reason. If left as is, Eva-san would take George and survive. That would leave Shannon-san all alone in the Golden Land. This is to prevent that, according to her logic. I think that’s awful! Killing someone for that reason!!

Ninth Twilight: The Murder of Nanjo

Now, the Nanjo murder. I’ve already talked about the trick aspect, but there’s one important point here. Eva-san declared a massive amount of red text, didn’t she? Let’s completely ignore that for now. As long as we know who’s dead and who’s alive, that’s enough. “A deduction that can be constructed without contradicting the red text” is the minimum requirement when tackling a mystery. If you add more narrowing elements to this, you risk solution divergence—in other words, it becomes impossible to pinpoint. In the Nanjo murder, Beatrice-san herself declared the truth in red. As a result, she could no longer remain a witch. Thinking about it, the reason for this isn’t entirely clear. Why would a witch cease to be a witch? The logic that “she lost her witch form because she denied her own existence as a witch” likely has two possible cases. In a witch’s game board, a witch only needs to protect one mystery. Conversely, the human side must explain everything with human means. So, we can assume a case where, by explaining the Nanjo murder, all the mysteries of the game board are explained by human means. This would cause Beatrice-san to cease being a witch.

Let’s think about this with George. If George killed Nanjo, would all the mysteries be solved? Since the chain locked rooms remain unsolved, this logic doesn’t hold. So, a possible alternative is the logic that “the identity of the Nanjo murder’s culprit itself leads to the denial of the witch.” This aligns perfectly with the Beatrice culprit theory. This is likely the correct answer. Beatrice is a single personality using Shannon-san and Kanon-san’s body, and physically, she’s human. That’s why she was able to kill Nanjo. Declaring this in red would obviously make it impossible for her to remain a witch. Regarding this part, I was quite moved by a clue the puzzle setter provided. It’s an incredibly powerful clue. The spirit of fair play is perfectly exemplified here, and I’m deeply impressed. Amazing. Let’s excerpt it:

“If Battler broke the promise and secretly overheard it… in that instant, Battler could become the victor of the game with Beato. …He would understand all the mysteries of this island, all the magic and tricks, locked rooms, curses, legends… and all the stories of anger and sadness. However… he can only know this when he reaches the truth with his own hands. Yes… Beatrice has always wished from the beginning that Battler would reach that truth on his own. It’s not a truth to be taught. It’s a truth Battler must reach with his own power.”

Isn’t this the truth already? It’s slightly obscured, but this is the truth, isn’t it? Beatrice-san wants Battler-san to reach the truth on his own. That’s her goal, and the red text Beatrice-san used to explain the Nanjo murder connects to the entire truth. This passage turns all the previous deductions from speculation into certainty. That’s the incredibly fun moment in deduction.

Beatrice-san Losing Her Witch Form

Beatrice-san ceased to be a witch, but why did she return to her original form? The foreshadowing here is amazing too:

“No, it was magic. You were indeed the Golden Witch. Even if you deny it yourself, I’ll acknowledge it. ‘You are indeed the Golden Witch.’”

When Battler spoke those words, in a pitch-black world, a single small golden grain, like a wheat seed, shone brightly. It was… small but powerfully glowing in golden light.

Through the Golden Truth, Battler-san acknowledged her as a witch, which allowed her to regain her witch form. In fact, this Golden Truth is a very important foreshadowing in the context of the entire story, in terms of the “definition of magic.” You could say this is the core of the story. In the context of the incident, the Golden Truth refers to the lies the culprit side tells in collusion, but for the story as a whole, it means “gently wrapping the truth in fantasy.” Through lies. Beatrice-san might not actually be a witch. But Battler-san said, “No, you are a witch.” That might not be the truth, but considering Beatrice-san’s feelings, acknowledging her as a witch is the right thing to do. That’s what kindness is. The essence of the Golden Truth is to wrap “harsh truths” in the warm interpretation of fantasy. Even if it’s a lie, it’s important for pursuing happiness. That’s the meaning woven throughout the entire story.

By the way, I exposed the true nature of the candy magic Maria-san believed in and dragged its guts out!! There’s no such thing as magic, obviously. That’s that, and this is this. I have no intention of feeling bad about it! (Boom!)

Now, the third game ends here, but Lord Lambda-Delta was furious, wasn’t she? “Are you even trying to win?” she said. Since Beatrice-san flipped the table at the moment she was acknowledged as a witch, she must have wanted to believe in the possibility that Battler-san would reach the truth through his deductions. She couldn’t compromise by ending it there. But because of that, I think Lambda-Delta saw through her true intentions. “You don’t actually care whether you win or lose, do you?” she said.

To say something incredibly meta, this is all just “what I, Erika, think.” It’s just an OSS (One-Sided Speculation). Please value your own deductions.

The Information Source Issue Is Actually Already Resolved

I don’t know if this counts as a niche deduction, but there’s something called the information source issue, right? Of course, I’ll eventually tackle such niche deductions, but I think they’re basically a bonus stage to be addressed after solving the fundamental mysteries of the eight fragments. The information source issue has been resolved, but as usual, there’s a problem with constructing evidence. Therefore, it’s not a confirmed deduction—just one hypothesis among many. However, being able to construct an explanation through a single hypothesis is the fun part of deduction. I like producing a bunch of hypotheses and saying, “So, which one is it?” But there are some deduction targets where I can’t prepare multiple options. That’s what’s scary. I feel like the possibility of not being able to construct the correct answer increases. Is this just a matter of feeling, perhaps?

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 18 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction6

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP2 Deductions

Is the Second Game a Forgery or a Message Bottle?

Let’s move on to deducing the second game. In the theatergoing layer, there are two opinions about the second game: it’s a message bottle retrieved by the police, or it’s Tohya’s forgery. The prevailing theory seems to be the message bottle. The distinction between a message bottle and a forgery is hinted at in the story. Let’s examine those clues specifically. First, according to Professor Ootsuki, the contents of the message bottle “start from the day before the incident, have all 18 people dying as a common point, and differ in the details of the incident.” The first game matched exactly what Professor Ootsuki described. However, the second game starts with George and Shannon-san’s date trip. It doesn’t begin the day before the incident. This creates a contradiction. As for Tohya-san’s forgery, the narrative states that “Banquet is Ikukuro Ito’s debut work,” referring to the third game. The tricky part is that it says “Ikukuro Ito’s debut work” rather than “Tohya’s debut work.” This is problematic because, at the start of the sixth game, it’s revealed that “Tohya Hachijo won awards simultaneously at multiple publishers under different pen names,” meaning Ikukuro Ito might not be the only pen name for Tohya-san’s forgeries.

Ultimately, this can’t be conclusively determined from the clues. Let’s try deducing from another perspective: the presence or absence of the meta-world. In the second game, magical depictions appear, such as the Seven Sisters of Purgatory and Beatrice herself (in the dress). These are so-called fantasy depictions. As deduced in the first game, these fantasy depictions are narrative tricks premised on the story being a “story within a story.” Since it’s written from the subjective perspective of the in-story writer, there’s no “guarantee of an omniscient perspective.” When reading a novel written by an in-story writer, you have to doubt their personal views. In other words, even if Writer A depicts magic, it could still be “interpretable as a mystery in the setting.” In a typical novel, third-person narration is objective fact, and depicting magic would confirm its existence. Saying “it was actually a lie” wouldn’t hold up logically. This work, however, uses a narrative trick where “even the third-person narration is subjective.” So, magic is written in the original text. If it weren’t, a logic error would occur, making it impossible to think in mystery terms. There’s no room for debate here.

So, Writer A, who wrote the second game, introduced Beatrice-san. She appears during Shannon-san’s murder, for example, depicted as killing with magic in her dress. This Beatrice-san is likely the same as the meta-world character who’s presenting the game to make Battler-san remember the promise. In terms of narrative continuity, the meta-world is probably written in the original text too. This ties back to the deduction from the first game about “Tohya-san’s apology to Yasu-san.” Through the meta-world story of Battler-san and Beatrice-san’s deduction battle, Tohya-san is apologizing to Yasu-san in heaven. When chained together like this, it feels highly likely that the second game is Tohya-san’s forgery, not a message bottle. Since Ikukuro Ito’s debut forgery is the third game, it might be written under a different pen name or an unpublished manuscript. This can’t be confirmed at this point, so let’s put it on hold for now.

The Overwhelming Amount of Romantic Description in the Story’s First Half

The second game heavily depicts Shannon-san and Kanon-san’s romances in the first half. The sheer volume of text is staggering. The fact that the questioner dedicates so much text to this is a significant clue for a detective. In a mystery, the questioner doesn’t write meaningless scenes. Everything is a foreshadowing, related information, or deduction element for the mystery. The romantic descriptions from the opening to before the incident are a metaphor for the story’s essential truth. Shannon-san, Kanon-san, and Beatrice-san are the same person. It’s suggesting that this single person is in love with different people. The focus is on Beatrice-san, who, before the incident, helps fulfill Shannon-san’s love. But during the incident, in the locked room of Natsuhi’s room where Shannon-san is killed, she acts strangely. Beatrice-san was genuinely furious about Shannon-san’s talk of love. The root reason for her attitude is, “I’m causing this incident to be with Battler, and you’re getting cocky just because your love is already fulfilled, you jerk!” In short, Beatrice-san got pissed off. Come to think of it, Beatrice-san was told to wait for Battler, carrying her love for him, but Shannon-san is all cheerful starting a new love with George. Of course she’d be irritated. It’s like, “What’s your deal?”

The Witch’s Eyewitness Testimony

At the first day’s dinner, Kyrie and Rosa testified they met Beatrice. It looked like it was heading toward a serious discussion, so Battler and the other kids were told to go to the guesthouse and left. The Beatrice that Kyrie-san and Rosa-san saw was in a suit, not a dress. This is a clue from the questioner. It’s likely meant to distinguish the fantasy Beatrice from the culprit Beatrice. In other words, this eyewitness testimony is true. The key point is that Kyrie-san and Rosa-san didn’t think this Beatrice was Shannon-san. They recognized her as an individual, Beatrice. This is the same as how Shannon-san and Kanon-san are recognized, but in the fictional world, the higher-layer writer’s authority forces them to be seen as separate people. That’s Tohya-san or Yasu-san. The game board world requires deducing tricks, including the real-world layer. The same-person trick can’t be solved by looking only at the game board world, so caution is needed.

First Twilight: The Locked Room Murder in the Chapel

Now the incident begins. Exciting, right? Hehe! On the first twilight, Rudolf, Kyrie, Krauss, Natsuhi, Eva, and Hideyoshi were killed in the chapel, their stomachs ripped open vertically. Candy was stuffed in their stomachs, and a witch’s letter was left. I love this gruesome scene. Mysteries are entertainment, after all, and I want to be shocked. Surprises! I just love gory scenes so much. I get all “whoa!” but Battler-san was furious. What’s with him? Our sensibilities don’t quite match here. Beatrice-san says a lot of red truths, but since the trick itself is ridiculously simple, let’s ignore the red truths. Will-san’s deduction is enough.

“Let’s continue. Second game, first twilight. Six people with ripped stomachs in the locked room chapel.”

“Illusion to illusion… The golden truth locks the illusion’s bolt.”

The locked room was a lie, collusion by accomplices. The chapel wasn’t locked. At the scene, Rosa, Shannon, Kanon, Gohda, and Genji were present, but no detective. There’s zero objectivity. None at all. It’s a free-for-all of lies. What was the detective doing, anyway? While murders were happening? Just sleeping normally. If it were me, I’d stay up all night monitoring the entire mansion. The atmosphere was screaming that an incident was coming.

I have a thought about this. The root cause of the chapel’s locked room is that Rosa-san tried to open the door and couldn’t. Normally, you’d think, “Oh, it’s locked.” But since this story lacks narrative objectivity, that description itself could be a lie. So, there’s no contradiction in the trick. However, when the narrative does this, even the foreshadowing presented as clues could be lies. That’s the problem. In a mystery, the truth can be identified with presented clues, but if you have to judge whether a clue is “really a clue” or “a fake clue,” identifying the truth becomes extremely difficult. You can only rely on the detective’s subjective judgment.

Regarding the chapel’s locked room, I’m very interested in how the victims died. Their stomachs were ripped open, but what’s the deal? What’s the direct cause of death? Ripping open a stomach out of nowhere would be unpleasant even for Beatrice-san, the murderer. Even if we assume sleeping pills were mixed into the food, getting your stomach ripped open would make you scream, “Argh!!” So, maybe they were shot in the stomach first to kill them, then ripped open to hide the gunshot wounds? I think about this a lot, but Beatrice-san, the questioner, only gives hints about the locked room trick! I get her feelings. She wants Battler-san to notice the lie in the incident’s trick, so she focuses on the locked room lie. But that doesn’t mean she should ignore the other parts! It’s driving me crazy! I’m sorry for trying to marry Battler-san in the sixth game, so please give me a hint! Should I visit the Golden Land next time? Will they let me in? The door’s already closed, though.

Second Twilight: Jessica and Kanon’s Locked Room Murder + Kanon’s Missing Corpse

Witnessing her parents’ deaths, an enraged Jessica-san goes to the VIP room where Beatrice is supposed to be. Gohda and Kanon follow. Unable to find Beato, Jessica-san returns to her room, accompanied by Kanon-san. When Battler-san, Rosa-san, and others notice Jessica’s delay and go to her room, Jessica-san is found stabbed in the back with a stake, dead. Kanon’s corpse is missing. The key to Jessica’s room is found inside, and Kanon’s master key is found in Jessica’s pocket. Here’s the thing: Shannon-san and Genji-san said they were summoned by Kinzo for clerical work at the same time, but Kinzo was already dead before the game started. That’s a lie. Since Shannon-san and Kanon-san are the same person, this relates to the sequence where Kanon accompanies her. Jessica-san was stabbed in the back with a stake. This likely means she was shot, then a stake was driven into the gunshot wound. The back. Someone close, whom Jessica-san turned her back to, killed her. Probably Shannon-san, right? The culprit is Beatrice-san, but it might have been done in the form of looking like Shannon with Beatrice inside. Kanon-san’s personality is killed at this point. The room is locked with Shannon-san’s master key, completing the locked room. Naturally, since Shannon-san is alive, Kanon-san’s corpse doesn’t remain.

From the second twilight, Rosa-san controls everyone’s movements. Suspecting the servants, Rosa banishes Genji, Kumasawa, Shannon, Gohda, and Nanjo to another room. Good! That was the right move! Rosa, Battler, George, and Maria barricade themselves.

Rosa-san Is Cute

By the way, Rosa-san is cute, isn’t she? Marrying her comes with the adorable Maria-san as a bonus. That’s awesome. Why is she struggling so much? I love Rosa-san. Next to my master, of course.

Seventh and Eighth Twilights: Nanjo and Kumasawa’s Murders and the Locked Room Corpse Disappearance

I got sidetracked. In the servants’ room, an injured Kanon-san appears and kills Kumasawa and Nanjo. The surviving Genji, Shannon, and Gohda report to Rosa, and everyone goes to check, but Kumasawa and Nanjo’s corpses are gone, and the room is a locked room. Well, Genji-san and the others say a lot, but the detective didn’t confirm it. They were acting separately in another room, so it’s not trustworthy. Anyone but the detective could be lying. Kanon-san is dead, so he can’t be witnessed. These people are full of lies! As an honest person, I find it questionable!

Now, about this murder. The part where Kanon-san appears and kills Kumasawa-san and Nanjo-san is likely a lie, but how was the crime actually committed? Gohda-san is here. Committing a murder in front of him might make him uncooperative as an accomplice later. So, for the corpse disappearance trick, they probably had them move to another room. Maybe Kinzo-san’s study? Then, they created signs of a struggle in the servants’ room and reported to Rosa-san. The question is, when were Kumasawa-san and Nanjo-san killed? After reporting to Rosa-san, George, a non-servant piece, joins the servant group, restricting culprit Beatrice-san’s free movement. This means either Genji-san killed them while they were going to get the spiritual mirror from Natsuhi’s room, or Beatrice-san killed them at the destination after moving them and returned as if nothing happened. Various deductions are possible, but there’s only one correct answer. Which is it?

Let’s look for clues. Nanjo and Kumasawa are identified as the seventh and eighth twilights from the stakes. The sequence suggests that the locked room in Natsuhi’s room comes after, but it’s labeled as the fourth, fifth, and sixth twilights. So, the killing order is likely after the locked room in Natsuhi’s room. This makes Genji-san very suspicious. He’s also the one who discovered the corpses. There’s a sudden description of Genji-san stabbing a butterfly with a knife, which feels like a forced clue. I think that’s a bit much! Do it elegantly, please. Elegantly. Well, from the presented clues, the deduction is that Genji-san is the perpetrator. In red truth terms, he’s likely classified as an “accomplice,” not a “culprit,” so it doesn’t conflict with Will’s red truth about servants.

Maria’s Talk of Magic’s Risk

Now, Battler-san, barricading with Rosa-san, has a very important conversation with Maria-san. This is about the risk I mentioned in the first game. Let’s directly quote Maria-san’s statement:

“Magic requires risk. Every great magic has a weakness or risk. No, it must have one.”

“Humans can create miracles by betting their lives. If an immortal human existed, there’s no reason they could create miracles… Us, our lives, witches, ceremonies. We can’t achieve anything without taking risks.”

Battler-san was skeptical. The epitaph being solved stops the incident, but is that true? Isn’t it a lie? In response, Maria-san says magic requires risk. Let’s use gambling as an example. Betting 100 yen versus 1 million yen in horse racing has different risks and returns. Small risks don’t bring miracles, but taking big risks creates the possibility of a miracle. This is also Kinzo-san’s philosophy, but it’s the core belief of the true culprit, Beatrice-san. Let’s focus on Yasu-san in the real world. Through the 1986 incident, she wants to be with Battler-san or George-san, to be happy as a woman. So, she wishes for a miracle where the epitaph is solved or Battler-san reaches the incident’s truth and remembers the promise. But in her philosophy, such a miracle requires risk. As Maria-san says, betting your life’s risk might make a miracle possible. That’s the magical system’s philosophy. The massacre by bomb after the ninth twilight is that risk. Setting a time limit creates an enormous risk. She and her loved ones might die. But if the miracle comes true, her love will be fulfilled. That’s the idea. From the in-story clues, such a philosophy can be deduced.

This is crucial for interpreting the culprit’s heart. The bomb isn’t set just to kill everyone meaninglessly. It’s set because Yasu-san wants to fulfill her love. Well, I still think it’s a bit much. I’d love to slap her across the face. But understanding the heart’s journey to committing murder is important.

Fourth, Fifth, Sixth Twilights: George, Shannon, and Gohda’s Murders in Natsuhi’s Room + Parlor Locked Room and Letter Incident

Back to the incident. George and the others go to get the spiritual mirror from Natsuhi’s room, taking the key from Natsuhi’s corpse in the chapel to counter with occult means. Genji discovers the corpses of Nanjo and Kumasawa and reports to Rosa. What a fake guy, Genji-san. You killed them, didn’t you? When George and the others don’t return, Rosa locks the parlor, and they go to Natsuhi’s room. Here, Rosa-san steps into the hallway, saying she’ll lock up again, and goes back inside. She placed the witch’s letter! Sneaky!! Natsuhi’s room is a locked room, with Gohda, George, and Shannon dead inside. Since Rosa-san controls the key, the culprit can’t use it. It’s a perfect locked room, so Shannon-san committed suicide inside. That’s why only she doesn’t have a stake in her forehead—there’s no one to stab it after her suicide. This locked room’s trick is the classic suicide inside, but where did the murder weapon, the gun, go? Likely another classic trick. A weight tied to a string behind a dresser or vanity, connected to the gun. After the suicide, the string pulls the gun away, making it disappear. The fantasy depiction in the magic world is crucial here. Beatrice-san was furious with Shannon-san. That’s because Beatrice-san’s goal is love with Battler-san. If Shannon-san fulfills her love first, Beatrice has to die. Well, Shannon-san’s victory condition of solving the epitaph isn’t met in the second game, so that’s fine, but Shannon-san’s attitude lacks consideration. She’s all giddy with George, but she doesn’t need to flaunt it! Of course she’d get scolded.

Battler-san’s Observation of Kinzo and the Witch

Now, something very puzzling in the second game is Battler-san witnessing Beatrice-san and Kinzo-san in Kinzo’s study. Kinzo was dead before the game started, so he can’t be witnessed. This means Battler-san saw a fantasy, but the detective is obligated to have an objective perspective and can’t lie. The issue is whether he’s still a detective. In the story, Battler-san declares defeat to the witch on the game board, saying, “Fine, it’s the witch’s doing.” His heart broke arguing with Rosa-san, not wanting to think a family member is the culprit, so he gave up and attributed it to the witch. Admitting defeat to the witch in her game means abandoning deduction, giving up on the human culprit theory. He’s no longer a detective. A fool who doesn’t deduce has no right to call themselves a detective. That’s why he sees a fantasy at the end. The key is that in the first game, what Battler-san saw was objectively ensured, but here, there’s no objectivity. He’s mixing truth and lies in witnessing the witch. Doing this in the second game shows the questioner is serious. They have no intention of letting it be solved! Haha! They didn’t want it solved, but I solved it!!

The Element of Lies in the Incident

From start to finish, this game is a parade of lies. Relentlessly so. Two games in a row full of lies—it’s fair to say there’s intent behind it. Beatrice-san is throwing the truth of the incident’s trick—the lie—at Battler-san. It’s about the promise he broke. She gives hints but doesn’t say it directly. That’s a woman’s heart. There’s also the issue of fairness in the roulette with Shannon-san, so Shannon-san must have a chance to win too. That’s why Beatrice-san can’t tell him directly. The second game ends here. They say the difficulty is exquisite, and indeed, it’s exquisite for the second game. An unconventional mystery is great. The harder, the better. Good!!

My Image of Umineko’s Mystery

I think of this story’s mystery in four layers, like a pyramid. The pyramid has four layers, starting from the bottom and reaching the truth at the top, the fourth layer. That’s how I imagine it. The game board’s mysteries are the first layer, the bottommost layer. Solving all the mysteries up to the sixth game clears the first layer. That’s the image. The second layer is the mystery of motive, based on the game board’s mysteries. It’s insanely complex, so you can’t solve the second layer without accurately grasping the game board’s intent. The third layer is deducing what happened on Rokkenjima in 1986 in the real world, based on the motives. It’s complex too, but by this point, the direction narrows, making deduction easier. The topmost layer, based on all mysteries up to the third layer, is identifying the meaning of the magic ending. In other words, deciphering the story’s ending. That’s the final destination. So, staying in the first layer forever won’t do. It’s the bottommost layer, like a dungeon’s.

I think it’s important to move on from the first layer at some point. You don’t need to deduce the undeducible parts. Mysteries without clues can’t be solved logically. Just solve the parts the questioner minimally wants you to. Move on from the first layer to the second quickly. This story allows freedom in deduction, but that freedom makes me want to impose restrictions, which is a strange psychology. When they say, “You’re free,” a detective like me starts suspecting. They say it’s free, but there’s a direction they want you to aim for, right?

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 19 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction5

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s EP1 Deductions

Identifying the Culprit

I’ve been thinking, but it feels like deductions should start with the basics. I’ve been getting caught up in overly niche deductions for too long. Let’s go through Beatrice-san’s game board step by step, shall we? The first thing to tackle is who the culprit is. If we don’t pin that down first, deductions become very difficult, so let’s start by identifying the culprit right away. Who is the culprit on Beatrice-san’s game board? Of course, it’s possible to identify them through tricks, but the deduction can feel quite vague. That’s because, with three personalities existing within Yasu-san, when a murder happens, it’s hard to tell which personality is committing it. Sure, the culprit might have been identified in the Nanjo murder, but can we logically rule out the possibility that someone other than the Nanjo murder’s perpetrator committed the other murders? That’s tough. After all, we’re talking about the OS inside the body, so it’s impossible to judge by appearance.

In the seventh game, Will said, “Servants being the culprit is forbidden.” Among the three—Shannon, Kanon, and Beato—who isn’t a servant? Beatrice-san, right? Actually, the scene where Will used this red truth is crucial for interpretation. In some mansion, a servant girl was about to be accused as the culprit, wasn’t she? That’s when Will used this red truth, and it’s a clue provided by the questioner. The setup of “a servant girl about to be accused as the culprit” is likely a metaphor for “Shannon being accused as the culprit.” Since the culprit is Beatrice-san, Shannon-san has nothing to do with it. In fact, identifying the culprit becomes very clear when you consider motive. Beatrice-san’s game board is a roulette of love. It’s used as a means to fulfill their love. The question of who the culprit is boils down to who wants the incident to happen and for someone to reach the truth of the incident. The truth of the incident lies in the core trick—the lie—and Battler-san’s sin, the promise, which is tied to the culprit’s identity. In other words, the culprit is the person who wants Battler-san to remember the promise and make their love come true. Shannon-san clearly declared in the story that she chooses George. So, she’s not the culprit. Kanon-san loves Jessica, so he’s out too. Then there’s Beatrice-san, who said in the sixth game’s wedding, “I created this story to be with you. So, the purpose of this world has been achieved.” That’s crystal clear. Every element points to the culprit being Beatrice. In other words, the witch OS named Beatrice inside Yasu-san is the culprit. With that in mind, let’s dive into the first game.

Do You All Remember the Flow of the Incident?

First, let’s recall the general flow of the incident. On the first twilight, Rudolf, Kyrie, Krauss, Gohda, Rosa, and Shannon—six people—were killed in the gardening shed. A magic circle was drawn on the shed’s door, right? On the second twilight, Eva and Hideyoshi died in a chained locked room. Genji-san and Kanon-san noticed something unusual in their room, and that’s how it was discovered. Next, on the fifth twilight, there was a commotion about a foul smell in the boiler room. Kanon-san was killed by someone. Nanjo took him to the servants’ room for treatment, but it seems it was too late, and he died. The group then barricaded themselves in Kinzo-san’s study. There, a witch’s letter suddenly appeared. Suspected by Natsuhi-san, Genji, Kumasawa, Nanjo, and Maria-san—four people—were driven out of the room. Afterward, Nanjo, Genji, and Kumasawa were killed in the first-floor parlor. Maria-san was singing in the room, saying Beatrice-san told her to. Later, Natsuhi-san was summoned to the entrance hall by a letter and killed. Battler-san confirmed hearing a single gunshot. Finally, the surviving Battler-san and others witnessed Beatrice-san, and the first game ended. The first game is wonderfully mysterious, isn’t it? I love it.

What Can Be Gleaned from the Witch’s Letter

Before diving into solving the tricks, there are a few things that really catch my attention. Let’s confirm them as clues first. During the incident, the witch’s letter appears, right? The one urging the solving of the epitaph. There’s a particularly puzzling sentence in the special clause:

<Special Clause> At the end of the contract, Beatrice holds the right to reclaim the gold and interest. However, if someone appears who exposes the hidden contract’s gold, Beatrice must forever relinquish all these rights. The collection of interest will now begin, but if any one of you fulfills the special clause, everything, including what has already been collected, will be returned.

In the first game, it’s suggested that the “interest” includes the lives of the Ushiromiya family. The phrase “everything, including what has already been collected, will be returned” is very strange. For example, people were killed on the first twilight of the first game. If the epitaph is solved afterward, would they come back to life? Of course not. In other words, this witch’s letter is impossible to achieve unless the murders are staged. Considering that the first game is a story within a message bottle, the people who died in this fictional world don’t seem to matter much. This probably refers to Yasu-san executing the incident in the real world.

What Is the Beatrice in Maria-san’s Testimony?

Next, during the murders, Maria-san was singing in the room, but she witnessed the culprit, didn’t she? She clearly named the culprit: Beatrice. Now do you understand why I started with identifying the culprit? Maria-san is simply telling the truth. It’s just that the deducing side thinks, “That can’t be!” and assumes otherwise.

The First Game Is a Message Bottle Story

The first game is a story in a message bottle, but in the fourth game, Professor Ootsuki described its contents: “It starts from the day before the incident, and all 18 people dying is a common point.” One was found by a fisherman, and another was retrieved by the police. The first game indeed starts with the trip to Rokkenjima the day before and ends with all 18 people dead. Since it’s revealed to be a story within a story, deductions must be made with that premise. Normally, in mysteries, the narrative is written from an omniscient perspective, but Beatrice-san’s game board “lacks narrative objectivity from the start.” For example, the descriptions around Eva and Hideyoshi’s murder—magic circles suddenly appearing, the room seeming strange—all that could be lies. Since the narrative lacks objectivity, everything could be a lie. In reality, didn’t they commit the murders?

First Twilight: The Six Murders in the Gardening Shed

For the six murders in the gardening shed on the first twilight, let’s refer to Will-san’s deduction:

“First game, first twilight. Six corpses in the gardening shed.”

“Illusion to illusion… Corpses that cannot return to dust return to illusion.”

What’s this? It’s cool! I want to say stuff like this too. Will-san, for some reason, skips deducing certain parts, doesn’t he? So, I’ll take a crack at it! First, for the initial murder, the starting point of all deductions is whether there’s an objective fact confirmed by the detective’s perspective. In this part, there’s one person whose corpse the detective didn’t confirm: Shannon-san. If we assume the culprit is Beatrice, the Shannon OS could have been killed at this point, but physically, she survives as Kanon or Beatrice, right? Hideyoshi-san is an accomplice bought by the culprit, lying about seeing the corpses. It’s collusion.

Second Twilight: Eva and Hideyoshi’s Murder and the Chain Locked Room

Next, the second twilight: Eva and Hideyoshi’s murder and the chain locked room. Battler-san confirmed the chain after it was cut. The detective didn’t confirm the chain was locked. This means the chain might not have been locked at all. It’s the culprit side’s signature move: collusion. Lies. Since Eva and the others were bought with gold, it’d be easy to get inside with some excuse. Then, they commit the murder in the guestroom normally. Cut the chain, and afterward, Genji and others lie that it was a locked room. Very simple. This kind of “locked room that wasn’t actually locked” is called an illusion locked room. If the chain was genuinely locked, creating a perfect locked room, the murder could only be committed before the locked room was formed or after it was broken. Kinzo-san’s death was clearly revealed in the story. He was already dead before the incident started. So, the culprit just burned his body in the boiler room.

Fifth Twilight: Kanon’s Death in the Boiler Room

For the fifth twilight, Kanon-san’s death in the boiler room, Nanjo performed the autopsy, and the detective didn’t confirm it. This means he could be alive. Nanjo, who did the autopsy, is lying. The lies just keep coming, don’t they? Beatrice-san’s game is relentless with lies. At this point, the detective starts feeling, “Something’s off.” When lies are used so persistently in tricks, it’s reasonable to assume there’s some intent behind it. In the description of Kanon-san’s death, he said something strange: “If Shannon died first, I planned to ruin Beato’s roulette. I’m the zero on Beato’s roulette!” The zero in roulette is like the house taking all, a forfeit. Kanon-san was trying to destroy Beatrice-san’s very purpose at that moment. In other words, physical suicide. Beatrice-san wants Battler-san to reach the truth of the incident and remember the promise. If Kanon-san commits physical suicide, that becomes impossible. In the end, Beatrice-san turned the tables on him. Likely, the Kanon OS died at this point. Physically, he’s alive, but the OS controlling the body isn’t Shannon or Kanon—it’s Beatrice-san.

Sixth, Seventh, Eighth Twilights: Nanjo, Genji, and Kumasawa’s Murders in the Parlor

Now, the smug Beatrice-san kills Nanjo, Genji, and Kumasawa—three people—in the parlor on the sixth, seventh, and eighth twilights. With Shannon-san’s master key, the locked room doesn’t matter. Maria-san witnessed her outright and even revealed the culprit’s name, but no one believed it. The core of this misdirection lies in constantly leading people to think Beatrice-san is a fantasy-world witch. It’s set up so you don’t think of the human culprit Beatrice. That’s why letting Maria-san tell the truth poses no problem.

Ninth Twilight: Natsuhi’s Murder in the Entrance Hall

Now, Natsuhi-san’s murder. Will-san didn’t deduce this, did he? Here’s my chance!!

“First game, ninth twilight. Natsuhi, killed in the entrance hall.”

“Dust to dust. The blade of the fantasy witch pierces even reality.”

Basically, Will skips deducing the obvious parts where the true culprit, Beatrice, commits the murder. Holding back, huh? But isn’t that counterproductive? When he avoids deducing something, I think, “Oh, there’s something here!!” Not deducing is itself a hint. What an idiot!!

Battler-san Observed the Witch

Finally, Battler-san witnessed Beatrice-san. The fact that the detective witnessed her is a powerful hint. It establishes the existence of Beatrice as an objective fact. Natsuhi-san was killed by Beatrice-san, but the biggest point in Beatrice-san’s game board is the boundary between the eighth and ninth twilights. This is critical. I mentioned the strange part of the witch’s letter earlier, didn’t I? Returning the interest is impossible without staged murders. Up to the eighth twilight, it’s presented as a mystery to be solved, aimed at Battler-san’s promise. But after the ninth twilight, the goal is “everyone’s death,” not a mystery issue. I’ll talk about the concept of “risk” in the second game, but the purpose of the massacre after the ninth twilight is “the risk to achieve a miracle.” The Ushiromiya family’s miracle magic, picking one from astronomical odds, is mentioned in the story. Beatrice-san wants to be with Battler-san. So, she wants him to notice the lie in the incident’s trick. If that’s the miracle Beatrice-san wishes for, in her logic, “the miracle is achieved by overcoming risk.” It’s like gambling. Betting big money carries risk, but the return is huge if you win. Betting small has no risk but a small return. That’s what the massacre after the ninth twilight is about. By setting an extremely high risk, she’s trying to achieve a miracle. That’s probably her mindset.

The Strange Sentence in the Message Bottle

After the incident, there’s a description about the message bottle, but the part to note is this:

“If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead by then. There may be a difference in whether there’s a corpse or not.”

There may be a difference in whether there’s a corpse, but I’m probably dead. This is a very odd sentence. Let’s consider a hypothetical. The Rokkenjima tragedy was depicted in the seventh game. Suppose the tragedy didn’t occur in the underground VIP room. The epitaph is solved the day before, the incident is halted, the family peacefully divides the gold, and the conference ends without issue. No one should die, yet in the message bottle thrown before the incident, Yasu-san is certain of her death. This means death must occur even in such a case. This “death without a corpse” is likely a personality’s death. Come to think of it, Beatrice-san looked lifeless in the underground VIP room, completely apathetic. Solving the epitaph equals the death of the Beatrice personality, doesn’t it? The 1986 incident was caused for Yasu’s love resolution. She had to choose between Battler and George. Solving the epitaph means halting the incident, giving up on love with Battler, Beatrice’s death, and the fulfillment of Shannon and George’s already established love. “If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. There may be a difference in whether there’s a corpse or not” likely means that.

Purgatorio

The first game ends here. That’s the broad framework, but a powerful clue about the story’s overall truth is casually presented: Purgatorio. It’s mentioned in the tea party, right? Purgatorio is the title of the Purgatory section of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Purgatory. In it, Dante purifies his sins while climbing Mount Purgatory and ascends to heaven with a woman named Beatrice at the summit. Roughly, that’s Purgatorio, and it’s a metaphor for the magic ending’s conclusion. Tohya-san atones for his sins there and finally goes to heaven with Beatrice-san. It’s a clue presented as Purgatorio, hinting at the truth. Great service, isn’t it!! Tohya-san, or rather, the Battler inside him. His sin is learning of her love through the message bottle. His atonement is the forgeries he wrote. They were written as an apology to Yasu-san in heaven. That apology finally reached her in the end. The story’s truth is truly Purgatorio. Just with the mention of Purgatorio, Erika Furudo can deduce this much.

In terms of the story’s truth, a lot of chained information is presented, like Purgatorio. In that sense, there are solid clues to reach the truth, and identifying it is possible. Come to think of it, in the tea party where Purgatorio is mentioned, Beatrice-san suddenly appears normally. For Tohya-san, Beatrice-san is a symbol of Yasu-san, the object of his apology. There’s a profound sin in letting her drown herself without realizing the truth. The sadness of realizing her love too late after the incident ate away at Tohya-san’s mind. Beatrice-san is very aggressive toward Battler-san, saying, “You’re incompetent,” and turning him into a human chair. That shows how much Tohya-san couldn’t forgive his sin, couldn’t forgive himself. He wanted to be insulted, condemned. His desire to have his sin judged comes through Beatrice-san.

Now, normally, the truth comes after piling up deductions, but talking about the truth in the first game feels a bit off. There are foreshadowing clues, after all. I want to deduce! With my anti-magic resistance Endless Nine, isn’t there a slight chance of giving in? Is 100% impossible? Can someone measure me?

Have You All Read the Manga?

The sixth volume of Umineko’s manga EP8 is the spoiler volume revealing Yasu-san’s motives, but there’s a big problem: it doesn’t specify “which truth is being revealed.” By “which,” I mean whether it’s the motive of the culprit Beatrice killing people in the game board from EP1 to EP4 in the forgery world or Yasu’s motive in the real world. The same-person theory is fully revealed, but Shannon-san and Kanon-san are disguising themselves, yet there’s no explanation of why the disguise isn’t seen through. In other words, the spoiler volume isn’t quite that—it actually “increases the elements to think about.” More elements to think about? That’s great! Good!! Personally, it clarified a lot of vague parts, which was very helpful. Everyone, buy the manga! I’m portrayed as just a villain in the story, but they need to highlight my deductive skills more.

Culprit Beatrice Theory

When considering the culprit Beatrice theory, there’s one interesting point. The culprit Beatrice here refers to the personality inside, so she might look like Shannon-san outwardly. Even if it objectively looks like Shannon-san is killing people, it could be Beatrice-san inside. Ultimately, the culprit can’t be identified by appearance. Even if a Shannon-like person is killing, it doesn’t mean Shannon-san is the culprit. The inside could be someone else. This personality concept is likely heavily influenced by the writer, Tohya-san. He thinks of himself as Tohya but believes there’s another person, Battler, inside him. In other words, the writer himself is in a situation like Shannon and Kanon. A writer who recognizes personalities as separate is crafting the story. Perhaps Tohya-san is putting his own feelings into it. I hear Beatrice-san likes ice cream, but it’s not “I scream,” right? It’s not frozen dessert. Thinking about Beatrice-san’s motive makes things consistent but also a bit vague.

For a detective thinking in mystery terms, the greatest emotional support is the clues provided by the questioner. If you’re presenting a mystery, the writer’s pride demands that clues be provided. That’s the fundamental rule of the battle between author and reader. For a detective, the existence of clues is the greatest emotional support. As long as they exist, I can truly believe deduction is possible. It can absolutely be solved. It must be solvable. There’s no way it can’t be solved. That’s the detective’s support, the will to fight, the strength to resist fantasy.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 20 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction4

Chapter of Erika Furudo’s Miscellaneous Deductions

The Golden Land of the House of the Gospel – Ange

At the end of the story, the House of the Gospel appears, right? There, the Golden Land is revived, but if you look closely, Ange-san is there, isn’t she? Ange-san. And not just Ange-san, but a young, 18-year-old Ange-san. The Golden Land is a concept of the afterlife, so for Battler-san, it’s fine to say, “His personality died, so he went to the Golden Land.” But Ange-san isn’t dead, is she? Yet, she’s in the Golden Land, which is the afterlife. This suggests the possibility that the Ange-san who became a writer and the 18-year-old Ange-san in the Golden Land might be different people. This is a deduction tied to the structure of the world. In the end roll of EP4, it’s written that Ange-san died in 1998, right? She was probably killed by Kasumi-san on Rokkenjima. That’s why she’s in the Golden Land. Doesn’t this mean that the Ange-san in the sleight-of-hand route also ends up being killed by Kasumi-san after all? The Ange-san who went on an adventure ultimately gets killed by Kasumi-san on Rokkenjima. That’s why, in the end, she’s in the Golden Land, the afterlife. So, what is the Ange-san who became a writer? Isn’t everything outside of the Ange-san who became a writer part of a fictional world? It’s not that the real world is parallel.

The Problem of Kanon’s Corpse

I have one thought regarding the theory that they’re the same person. Kanon-san’s corpse often disappears, doesn’t it? Of course, if Shannon-san is alive because they’re the same person, Kanon-san’s corpse would disappear. But as I mentioned before, the reverse should also be possible. A case where Shannon-san’s corpse disappears, and Kanon-san’s corpse remains. In cases where Kanon-san’s corpse remains, Nanjo performs the autopsy and doesn’t let anyone touch it, right? That’s what happens in the first and third games. He prevents touching under the plausible excuse of preserving the scene or for treatment. Why does Kanon-san’s corpse disappear? Isn’t it to prevent the corpse from being examined? Let’s say I suspect that Shannon-san and Kanon-san are the same person. In that situation, if Kanon-san’s corpse is there, I’d naturally examine the body. After all, this story shamelessly uses the classic trick of faking death without hesitation, so of course I’d check. I’d even check Kanon-san’s… penis. …Penis? Aha! That’s it! That’s why the corpse disappears! This is brilliant! Ahahahaha! They make the corpse disappear to prevent the same-person trick from being exposed by checking the genitals! If the core trick of the story is revealed just by examining the corpse, that’d be pretty embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Just by examining the corpse, Erika Furudo can reach the truth! What do you think, Beatrice-san? Shall I use my detective authority to force an examination next time?

Why Ange Doesn’t Appear in the Message Bottle

The message bottle was written by Sayo Yasuda, but Ange-san isn’t in it, right? She suddenly didn’t attend the family conference that day, and it’s impossible to reflect that information in a message bottle written before the incident. Yet, Ange-san isn’t there. Why is that? It could be a coincidence, or perhaps only stories without Ange-san were picked up. Since it’s impossible to reflect Ange-san’s absence in a message bottle written before the incident, the reason Ange-san isn’t in the message bottle ultimately has no causal connection to the real world. This is probably related to the essence of Sayo-san’s fundamental plan for the incident, isn’t it? If Ange-san gets involved in the incident, what happens? Recall what happened to Battler-san when Ange-san was killed in the fourth game. He was consumed by anger, wasn’t he? That’s probably what it comes down to. Up until that point, Beatrice-san secretly wanted to be in love with Battler-san. Sure, Battler-san forgot his promise, but the possibility remained that “reaching the truth of the incident could make him remember the promise.” However, Beatrice-san’s intentions were completely shattered by Ange-san’s death. At that moment, Battler-san felt nothing but anger toward Beatrice-san. Love was out of the question. If a six-year-old Ange had actually come to Rokkenjima, she’d naturally be at risk of being killed during the incident. Beatrice-san takes care not to kill even Maria-san in a cruel way, but even if she showed such consideration for Ange-san, once she’s dead, there’s nothing but anger toward the culprit.

At worst, even if the truth of the incident is reached, the anger might remain. After all, a beloved little sister was killed. Even in cases where Rudolf and Kyrie are killed, there’s a reasonable level of anger, but with Ange-san, it’s on the level of touching a dragon’s reverse scale. Considering this, Ange-san is an extremely incompatible presence for Sayo-san. She’s the worst piece on the board, you could say. That’s why she was intentionally left out of the message bottle. What do you think of this hypothesis? It’s just a hypothesis. I’ve deduced it, but whether it’s true is unknown.

What’s This Parallel World Theory?

I wanted to deduce the motive behind Hachijo Tohya writing the third game, but come to think of it, I haven’t even touched on the world structure deduction yet. Here’s the thing. There’s this parallel world theory often mentioned in the world structure, right? Isn’t that just fantasy? What’s a parallel world? Let me say it again: What’s a parallel world? If you’re going to claim a parallel world, explain the logical, scientific reason why the world splits into parallels. Without that, saying “it’s parallel” is the same as saying “I saw magic.” The real world doesn’t split into parallels. Think about it logically. There’s a phrase I absolutely hate: “That’s just how this story is.” It’s the epitome of stopping thought, but some people use it to dismiss the same-person theory. Why do they look like different people? Because that’s how the story is. That’s just how it is. What does “that’s just how it is” mean? If you’re abandoning deduction, please exit the stage. When faced with a story like this, I get really irritated. I want to uncover the truth, tear the questioner to shreds, and say, “How’s my deduction?” That’s why I go all out to reveal the truth, but abandoning deduction is like getting punched for nothing. That’s frustrating.

The Meaning of Featherine’s Existence

In the final episode, Featherine-sama was writing something, right? What do you think that was? I have a hypothesis. Why does Featherine-sama appear in the first place? I think she appears “to avoid a logic error.” This logic error is about the “Shannon-Kanon same-person theory.” When viewing this story from the theatergoing layer, there’s a person named Yasu or Tohya writing the game board world. By assuming a “story within a story,” the same-person theory can be explained in a mystery sense. However, from the perspective of the “in-story real-world layer,” the writer becomes a person in the same layer, and the writer disappears. Let’s consider the in-story real world, the world where writer Ange-san exists. If she sees Yasu’s message bottle, how would the Shannon-Kanon same-person theory hold up logically? For Ange-san, Yasu isn’t an in-story writer but a person in the same layer. The character who appeared to solve this problem is Lady Featherine, the in-story writer, isn’t she? By assuming she’s the writer, the Shannon-Kanon same-person theory can be explained in a mystery sense even for writer Ange-san. So, what Featherine-sama wrote in the end is the very story we’ve been reading. Well, it’s just “that kind of setting.” The real writers are Yasu and Tohya. Lady Featherine is, after all, just six katakana characters in a fictional world. I, Erika Furudo, deny even Lady Featherine!!

When Tackling a Mystery, Read the Context Accurately

When tackling a mystery, grasping the context accurately is extremely important. In this story, there was a point of contention in the theatergoing layer: “There are no unidentified corpses, and all survivors have alibis!” This is the red truth regarding Natsuhi’s murder in the first game. What do you think? All survivors have alibis. Many deduced, “The culprit has an alibi!!” leading to the red truth contradiction debate. There’s great material for thinking about this. In the chained closed room, there’s a red truth: “The six were instantly killed!” Kinzo-san died of illness, so is that instant death? Beatrice-san says, “Well, in the complete sense of death, it might have taken a few seconds or minutes. But in any case, they were completely unable to take any actions of their own will. In that sense, I can declare it instant death!” Got it? She’s manipulating the definition of words. In this definition, it’s instant death. Back to Natsuhi’s murder red truth. Before that red truth, Battler-san made a very important blue truth statement:

“I assume the culprit is someone without an alibi. That’s a dead person! Among the first six corpses, there’s an unidentified corpse with a crushed face. It’s possible that this is a fake corpse, and Culprit X, posing as a victim, killed the two!”

Battler-san assumed the culprit was a dead person in blue truth. Naturally, this obligates a red truth counterargument. So, when Kanon-san is killed in the first game, Beatrice-san says:

“All survivors have alibis! And let’s include the dead too!! In other words, no human or dead person on the island could have killed Kanon!”

This is clear when viewed in context. Since Battler-san assumed a dead person as the culprit and built a deduction in blue truth, Beatrice-san naturally counters in that context. And finally, the red truth for Natsuhi’s murder comes: “There are no unidentified corpses, and all survivors have alibis!” In other words, those ostensibly killed are “the dead culprit.” This includes Shannon-san, who is thought to have died on the first twilight. So, the red truth doesn’t contradict. It holds up normally. Looking only at the red truth might make it seem contradictory, but you’ll fall for misdirection if you don’t consider the context. They use every trick to make you think it’s fantasy. A detective can’t succumb to that.

Is It Okay for Servants to Commit Murder as Accomplices?

Furthermore, building on the red truth contradiction debate, let’s look at this red truth:

“Servants being the culprit is forbidden!! …Van Dine’s Twenty Rules, Rule 11.”

The issue here is the word “culprit.” Culprit. It’s a vague term. The definition of culprit isn’t clear. Considering the red truth contradiction debate, it’s possible it’s used with an odd definition. There’s one deducible red truth: “After Jessica’s injury, Eva was always under Battler’s observation. Battler is neither the culprit nor an accomplice. Thus, Eva’s perfect alibi is proven.” This is about Nanjo’s murder, but the key point is the use of “culprit” and “accomplice.” So, regardless of the definition, there’s a clear distinction between culprit and accomplice. For example, Genji-san. Is he the culprit or an accomplice? He’s a servant. If Genji-san is defined as an accomplice, is it okay for a servant to commit murder? If Genji-san is an accomplice by definition, this red truth doesn’t apply. It doesn’t say, “Servants being accomplices is forbidden.” Considering this, it seems Genji-san might be committing murders during the incident.

In the second game’s Nanjo and Kumasawa murder, for example. The solution is that it’s perfectly possible for the true culprit, Beatrice-san, to commit the murder, but the clues presented in the story don’t seem to point to Beatrice-san. Conversely, clues pointing to Genji-san are presented. That’s the thing. This story makes you rack your brain. Which is it?! Who committed the murder?! I almost gave in. I consider it a defeat if there are multiple solutions. If I can’t narrow it down, the questioner wins. It’s a serious showdown. The answer is Genji. If you assume Beatrice-san did it, you’d have to ignore all the episodes depicted in the story, which is nonsensical. Genji-san seems to be committing murders normally, and I think he’s quite active in the fourth game too. The fourth game has few clues, making it hard to narrow down. There aren’t many red truths either.

When thinking about accomplices in the sense of committing murder, not just as co-conspirators, it seems Genji-san is the only one. I want clues. Isn’t there a clue service? There are corpses without stakes, just lying nearby. That’s probably a hint that the actual killing order differs. Up to the third game, the twilights were marked by stakes. But such clues don’t advance the deduction! I want to clearly identify who killed whom in what order, but the fourth game seems impossible. It’s probably not a game that demands that. I understand, but a detective’s saga is to want to specify it anyway… Why are some corpses’ faces blown off while others just have holes? Is it different weapons? For example, George has just a hole, but Jessica’s face is blown off. Different guns or bullets, probably, but the question is why choose to blow off some faces and just make holes in others. I don’t understand the reason. If different people are responsible for the killings, that might explain it, but there’s no evidence. I’m completely stuck. Honestly, I give up here. I don’t know.

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni and My Master

My master was active in the Higurashi fragment too, wasn’t she? Her poetry is wonderful. In that fragment, she desperately wove a miracle fragment and successfully won a happy future. But the next world had no fragment to avoid tragedy. After all, she searched through 2.57 million fragments and found none. Imagining my master’s feelings at that time breaks my heart… My master is just a tsundere. Acting tough but cute! So cute!! Hug! …I got slapped. Silently.

I Quite Like Lady Lambdadelta Too

I actually like Lady Lambdadelta too. I love her face when she’s genuinely angry. With a detective’s memory, I’ve recorded it in my mind as a visual. When Lambdadelta gets angry, she sometimes spills hints about the game board, which helps with deductions. She said to Beatrice-san, “How long are you going to mess around? Are you serious about winning?” That’s when I thought, “Aha!” Beatrice-san wants to lose. Well, “lose” might not be the right term. Beatrice-san has been saying from the start that her goal is to get Battler-san to acknowledge her as a witch. If her goal is to get Battler-san to acknowledge her as a witch, making him submit to a witch fantasy isn’t the only way. If Battler-san reaches the truth and understands Beatrice-san’s heart, he could say, “I acknowledge Beato as a witch” in the golden truth. That way, both Battler-san and Beatrice-san win. That’s the true goal, isn’t it? Both winning. That’s truly a miracle. Battler-san can understand Beatrice-san’s heart, and Beatrice-san gets acknowledged as a witch by the person she loves. Isn’t that wonderful? I want to be like that with my master too.

The Element of Information Disparity

Looking at the fragments, it seems there’s a bias in how information is presented depending on the layer. This… hmm. In the theatergoing layer, the theatergoing witch reveals that “Tohya Hachijo is Battler.” That’s the brother Ange-san reunited with. But in the in-story real-world layer, one layer below, this information isn’t given to the general public. From the theatergoing layer, since Tohya-san’s information is revealed, you’d naturally conclude, “The stories so far were written based on Battler’s memories.” But in the in-story real-world layer, all that happens is Ikuko-san saying, “I am Ikukuro Ito” at a press conference. So, there’s an information disparity as the basis for credibility. For example, the truth of the tragedy is depicted in the seventh story. In the theatergoing layer, based on Tohya’s information, you’d assume it’s true. But in the in-story real-world layer, it becomes a question of “whether to trust Ikuko.” Why would you trust a fiction written by a mystery writer unrelated to Rokkenjima? So, even seeing the same tragedy story, the credibility differs greatly due to the information disparity. For example, if I published a story claiming to reveal the truth of the 300 million yen incident, would you believe it? I wrote it. Me, who has no connection to the incident. Of course you wouldn’t. It’s only credible if it’s revealed that “Erika was actually acquainted with someone involved in the incident.”

Ange and Ikukuro Ito

So, how did Ange-san view that story? How did she perceive Ikukuro Ito’s forgeries? Sure, with detailed information about the Ushiromiya family, she might have some thoughts, but it’s still just speculation. It comes down to whether she can trust Ikuko, the woman who appeared as the author. The forgery is designed with the trap that “even presenting the truth won’t be believed.” That’s malicious. Really malicious!! Some might say there’s no way Tohya would reveal Rokkenjima’s tragedy, but that’s not true. Even if he did, it wouldn’t be believed. Instead, people would say, “Ikukuro Ito, aren’t you getting a bit too full of yourself?” Why bother revealing something that won’t be believed? It’s to convey a malicious interpretation to Ange-san, who’s reading the forgery. Kyrie-san insulted Ange-san, saying, “I don’t like that brat at all.” That’s a malicious interpretation. How would Ange-san feel when presented with such a malicious interpretation? She wouldn’t believe it. She’d feel nothing but disgust.

But what if she’s presented with a loving interpretation? Like the warm truth interpretation in the eighth game. In the real world where Ange-san lives, malicious interpretations are widespread—Rudolf’s family culprit theory, Eva’s conspiracy theory. Growing up in such an environment, Ange-san wouldn’t easily believe a loving interpretation either. So, she wouldn’t believe either a loving or a malicious interpretation. What would she believe, then? Probably the truth that Eva was the culprit. The tragedy happened, but her family were all victims. That’s the convenient truth Ange-san seeks. But in reality, Eva might not be the culprit. There could be a different truth. By knowing both malicious and loving interpretations, Ange-san finally realizes, “I wasn’t seeking the truth; I was seeking a truth convenient for me.” That’s Tohya-san’s true intent. Just knowing Tohya’s information, Erika Furudo can deduce this much. What do you think, everyone?

The Cipher Trick and Maria’s Signature

Ciphers. They become understandable with specific information. Beatrice-san’s game board is, in a sense, a cipher directed at Battler-san. Cipher. The key is Shannon-san’s statement on the beach in the third game. The first game is a story in a message bottle. At that point, the key to solving this cipher isn’t presented. So, only Battler-san, who already has the cipher’s key, would understand the true meaning of the message bottle. The promise, in other words. Ordinary people reading the message bottle might reach the point of recognizing a collusion trick, but they wouldn’t grasp the hidden intent beyond that without the cipher’s key. The main point isn’t here, but from here. There’s something curious about a mystery only understandable to those with the cipher’s key.

It’s Sayo Yasuda’s inclusion of Maria-san’s signature at the end of the message bottle. I’ve always wondered why Maria-san’s signature was added. I couldn’t figure out the reason. Isn’t it a cipher too? The public used Maria-san’s name to create various forgeries, but Maria-san didn’t actually write them. Isn’t this directed at someone who knows the truth that “Maria didn’t write this message bottle”? Someone who knows Maria-san well would judge that she wouldn’t write something like this, that it’s someone else. It’s just a guess, not solid deduction, but it feels like that. A cipher only understandable to those connected to the Ushiromiya family. That’s the purpose of Maria-san’s signature, isn’t it?

The Culprit’s Inner Personality

In the first game, I’m very curious about the true culprit’s movements. Shannon-san dies on the first twilight, Kanon-san on the fifth twilight, ostensibly, and someone kills Natsuhi-san at the end. Of course, the culprit is Beatrice-san, but what’s happening with Shannon-san and Kanon-san inside her body? That’s what I’m curious about. Without a red truth death declaration, it’s unclear what happened to Shannon-san and Kanon-san. Kanon-san said something odd: “If Shannon died before me, I planned to ruin Beato’s roulette. I’m the zero on Beato’s roulette!” Thinking about this, Kanon-san probably intended to kill the Beatrice personality by committing suicide with the body. But in reality, he was counterattacked and killed. Is that it? So, physically, the true culprit survives to the end, but personality-wise, Shannon-san and Kanon-san die as per the story. This aligns with Kanon-san’s statement and Maria-san saying Beatrice came. Beatrice-san is the culprit, and while she’s human on the game board, Beatrice as an entity is a witch, right? The culprit was a witch. Isn’t this related to the core of the story? Yes, the witch fantasy in the real world. The truth of Rokkenjima was left ambiguous due to the interruption of Ikuko-san’s diary reveal party, deemed inappropriate. As a result, the witch fantasy persists. The image that Rokkenjima’s tragedy was committed by a witch remains. But in reality, Rudolf and Kyrie were the culprits, so the witch fantasy is magic. It’s the same kind as Sakutaro’s revival magic or candy magic, protecting Ange-san with lies. That’s the significance of “Culprit Beatrice.”

Sayo and Shannon

Shannon-san. She told George in the story that her real name is Sayo. Kanon-san goes by Kanya. If her real-world physical gender is female, what exactly does the name Sayo refer to? There’s a Shannon personality defined by genuinely loving George. On the fourth day in the arbor during the tragedy, she clearly declared to George that she loves him, and Battler is the past. This Shannon personality, who loves George, has the real name Sayo. But if she’s just a normal girl in the real world, regardless of such distinctions, her real name is Sayo. So, the name Sayo is used both in an integrated sense and specifically for the Shannon personality. This Sayo-san embellishes herself with the witch fantasy, becoming Beatrice. So, the “feelings for Battler” of the integrated Sayo-san are separated, creating Beatrice, a character with the purpose of loving Battler.

What I’m saying is, I don’t fully understand the strict definition of the name Sayo. It refers to both Shannon-san and the integrated entity. Probably, when all embellishments are stripped away, the one lamenting as Krell’s guts, “a body incapable of love,” is Sayo. But if she were male in reality, would her real name be Kanya? Where did the name Kanya come from?

The Trick Was Revealed in the Manga!?

They say the mystery of Beatrice-san’s game board was fully revealed in the manga. Willard-san casually explained the specific tricks in the seventh game, I hear. All I got was some incomprehensible poem like “Dust to dust”… Third game, ninth twilight. The old doctor killed in the corridor before the servants’ room. Dust to dust. The blade of the fantasy witch pierces even reality. How’s that? Since Willard-san left it alone, I explained it instead.

Me and Ryukishi07-sensei

Like a guardian protecting the writer. That’s how deduction should be. But when you’re ready to punch with deduction, and the opponent’s heart is broken over something unrelated to deduction, what do I do with this frustration from not getting a real fight? First, heal their heart. The fight comes after. I’ll make you fully experience the terror of a detective deducing in a mystery. I’m eagerly awaiting the third game.

Ange and the 1998 Layer

I was mostly in the magic world, so I didn’t know much about the real-world story, but the 1998 world where Ange-san is has quite a few mysteries presented, doesn’t it? It’s unfair to present mysteries where I don’t know! First, I’m very curious about the Ange-san in the magic route. She’s depicted as sorting out her feelings on a building’s rooftop. In a mystery, emotional deduction, or deducing a person’s heart, must be done through logic, not imagination. Interpreting Ange-san’s heart is very important. Considering the questioner’s intent, the state Ange-san reached must have a cause. There’s a famous line: “Every result has a cause.” This applies to heart deduction too. Psychological consistency must be pursued. That Ange-san stopped herself from jumping off the building, but in that route, she becomes an Ange-san who didn’t go on Rokkenjima’s adventure. So, what factors helped her sort out Rokkenjima’s incident in her heart? We must clarify the cause of her heart’s resolution, but the first impression is:

Because she met her brother on the game board.

This holds in a fantasy world structure. But in a realistic, mystery-based cause, “going from the 1998 world to the 1986 world to meet her brother” is unacceptable. That’s not satisfying. In a mystery sense, the solution might be: She kept reading Tohya Hachijo’s stories and decided to stop pursuing Rokkenjima’s truth. The key factor in her psychological resolution is, of course, the eighth game. In the final game, Ange-san sorted out her heart. The question is whether to take the “fantasy interpretation” of experiencing it or the “mystery interpretation” of reading Tohya’s forgery. Even if the experience is the same, the former and latter differ fundamentally in world structure. There’s one critical point: whether she knows the contents of Rokkenjima’s cat box. In the fantasy world structure, where she met her brother on the game board, Ange-san knows the cat box’s contents since she read the Book of One Truth. But in the mystery interpretation, where she read a forgery, the contents aren’t specified, so Ange-san doesn’t know. Even if depicted, it becomes a question of “whether to trust Ikukuro Ito, who appeared at the press conference.” Pursuing psychological consistency splits into an Ange-san who knows the truth and one who doesn’t.

So, in the eighth game’s final choice between magic and sleight-of-hand, is knowing Rokkenjima’s truth happy for Ange-san? Is knowing her parents were murderers in the sleight-of-hand happy, or is believing in the witch’s magic fantasy happier? Does Ange-san have the strength to bear the truth? She might. But she might not. Knowing the truth carelessly might lead Ange-san to suicide. Assuming she’s strong enough to handle the truth might lead to the worst outcome: her suicide. What could Tohya-san, with Battler’s memories, do for his sister? It’s to seal Rokkenjima’s sad truth in the cat box, protecting Ange-san from the tragedy’s truth. She doesn’t need to know the truth. Especially if it’s a truth that harms her. George and Jessica said in the quiz tournament: “Think carefully about what’s important to Ange-san.” The information that makes Ange-san happy or hurts her is chosen by her. If there’s something Ange-san truly values, she must protect it herself. An Ange-san who doesn’t know the truth and one who does. Even if she has something precious, a cruel truth could destroy it all. Before the truth, fantasy loses meaning. It’s because she doesn’t know the truth that she can cherish certain feelings. That’s the heart of Ange-san, reached by pursuing logic. Just by Ange-san stopping herself from jumping off the building, such a deduction is possible.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 21 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction3

The Deduction Target That Must Be Prioritized

This… this kind of truth… It’s my first time experiencing something like this… My thoughts are all jumbled. What is this emotion I’m feeling right now? A detective solves the problems posed by the questioner. To think that such a truth lies at the end of this deductive showdown… Let me say it clearly: I’ve pinpointed the truth. But the nature of that truth is so… so… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s an incredibly, incredibly sad story. Yet, at the very end, there’s a true happy ending. It’s a beautiful truth. I’ve never encountered a mystery like this before. It’s incredible. I genuinely feel that way. I don’t know if the truth I’ve reached is the actual truth, but I’m convinced it’s worth believing in. I see. The magic of this story is about covering sadness with kindness, isn’t it? So that’s what the Golden Truth means. The truth I’m referring to isn’t about the tricks of the incidents, the culprit, or the contents of the cat box. The truth I’ve pinpointed is “what happened to the writer Tohya in the real world and its conclusion.” I see, so that’s why it’s Purgatorio. The foreshadowing was laid out with such care.

Phew. I’m calming down a bit. In the fragments of this story, the priority isn’t solving the tricks or identifying the culprit. It’s about completely pinpointing what Yasu, this person, was trying to do in 1986 in the real world. That’s the key to reaching the truth of this story. Put another way, if you don’t solve this, pinpointing the truth is impossible. 100% impossible. I can say that with certainty. Why? Because Tohya’s story exists beyond the incident Yasu caused in 1986. A tragic incident happened in 1986. What happened to Tohya as a result? He didn’t lose his memory, regain it, and want to organize it. No, Tohya was confronted with an incredibly sad, malice-filled reality. That’s likely the truth of this story.

Linked Information A and B

First, what was Yasu, this girl, trying to do in 1986? Let’s consider the typhoon. In the game board world, a typhoon always hits on the day of the incident. In the real world, that’s impossible. Even if typhoons often come around the same time each year, it’s pure fantasy to say one hits the family conference day 100% of the time. Naturally, Yasu didn’t factor in whether a typhoon would hit on the incident day. It doesn’t matter to her whether it comes or not. This suggests that, even in a situation where the island isn’t isolated from the outside world, it’s not a problem for Yasu. This points to the high likelihood of a staged incident. Let’s call this Linked Information A.

Next, the cash cards. In the fourth game, it’s revealed that over 20 cash cards were sent to the victims’ families before the incident. The idea of “bribes for accomplices’ collusion” doesn’t make sense since the number far exceeds the island’s population. Instead, it’s reasonable to assume they were sent as “compensation for the murders.” This is Linked Information B.

Linked Information A and B contradict each other. The incident is likely staged, yet apology money is sent to the families. This doesn’t add up. Thus, deducing what Yasu was trying to do in 1986 based on circumstantial evidence is impossible. So, let’s change direction.

Two-Stage Motive Identification: Purpose and Specific Plan

What was Yasu trying to do in 1986? First, identify her purpose. Then, determine the specific means she used to achieve it—her plan. This is a two-stage approach. The true culprit, Clair, narrates up to two years before the incident and says, “If you don’t understand by now, I won’t say any more.” From this, we can judge that she’s provided all the information needed to identify the motive. The key is her line: “We had a duel. It was almost settled. But 1986 was just too merciless. Why did it have to be 1986…?” The word “duel” rings a bell. It’s from the sixth game Battler wove—the duel of the love trial. That’s where the same person trick was revealed. Clair says she couldn’t decide her own or their fate and left it all to a roulette. In other words, Battler’s return in 1986 made it impossible for her to choose whether to be with George or Battler.

The Roulette of Love

Whether Yasu in the real world had multiple personalities like on the game board is questionable, but for clarity, let’s think in terms of personalities. In 1986, Shannon is in love with George, Beatrice is in love with Battler, and Kanon is in love with Jessica. Multiple loves coexist. The questioner’s assertion in the story is: “The qualification for love is one man and one woman. The beloved must be one person.” Loving multiple people simultaneously isn’t allowed. Thus, Yasu’s purpose in the 1986 incident was likely “to let a random number generator—a roulette—decide her multiple loves.” She couldn’t choose herself, so she decided to roll the dice, so to speak, and let the result determine the name. In 1986, Yasu was using the incident as a dice to settle her love. That’s her purpose.

In Beatrice’s game board, Beatrice was trying to make Battler remember their promise. The red truth states: “Beato wished for you to solve it and created this game, this story’s mystery, so that it could be solved.” The epitaph murders are likely a route to fulfill Battler and Beatrice’s love. Reaching the truth of the epitaph murders, like Battler in the fifth game, drastically changes one’s perception of the culprit. The incident is probably premised on being staged, but let’s address the plan later. Solving the epitaph, as repeatedly stated on the game board, is a mechanism for the culprit to voluntarily stop the incident. Thus, epitaph murders = stopping the Battler route, meaning Shannon, whose love is already established, would end up with George.

The Kanon-Jessica Problem

Now, the issue is Kanon. Based on the foreshadowing and clues in the main story, the essence of the incident is clearly presented in the fifth game. The family solves the epitaph and discovers the gold, but afterward, a meta-world scene with Battler, Virgilia, and Beatrice provides clear information. The essence of the 1986 incident is the epitaph and the epitaph murders. It’s described with the metaphor of a scale, where Beatrice’s goal is to see which way the scale tips—epitaph or epitaph murders. In other words, it’s the Battler route or the George route. However, there’s no mention of a Jessica route. Since the essence of the 1986 incident is Yasu letting a random number generator decide her love, if Kanon and Jessica’s love exists in the real world, there should be a “route where Kanon wins during the incident.” That’s the purpose of causing the incident. This involves some speculation, which frustrates me, but Kanon likely doesn’t exist in the real world. If he did, a Kanon route should be part of the incident. Its absence suggests that’s the case. The evidence for Kanon is undeniably vague, so I’ll put it on hold for now.

Plan Identification

Next, the specific plan. In the actual 1986 incident, what kind of incident did Yasu envision to settle her love? We need to identify the specific incident details. This must align with Linked Information A and B without contradiction and achieve Yasu’s goal of settling her love. Let’s consider the epitaph being solved. If it’s solved before the incident, no one dies, and the incident ends. The issue is cases like the third game, where murders occur during the incident, and then the epitaph is solved. If Yasu planned to kill people, the implications of solving the epitaph before versus during the incident differ. Let’s think simply: would the love of a murderer be fulfilled? This is a key point tied to the Battler route. In Beatrice’s game board, where the epitaph murders’ message leads to recalling the promise, it’s fine because the game board is like chess—pieces “die” without real consequences. But in the real world, that’s not the case. Would you think a murderer’s love could be fulfilled just because you recalled a past promise? Common sense says no. This actually contradicts the next piece of linked information provided in the story.

At the end of the contract, Beatrice has the right to collect the gold and interest. However, if someone uncovers the hidden contract’s gold, Beatrice must forever relinquish all these rights. The collection of interest will proceed from now, but if any one of you fulfills the special clause, I will return everything, including what has already been collected.

This is from the message bottle Yasu threw into the sea before the incident, as seen in the witch’s letter from the first game. “I will return everything, including what has already been collected.” The interest explicitly includes the lives of the Ushiromiya family. Lives return if the epitaph is solved. This only holds in a staged murder scenario. Thus, at least until the eighth twilight, the mystery’s murders must not involve actual killing. If they do, the purpose of the incident becomes unachievable. Considering Linked Information B about the cash cards, Yasu’s motive and plan can be fully pinpointed.

Complete Identification

The incident is executed as a staged murder until the eighth twilight, and on the ninth twilight, a bomb wipes everyone out. Before this mass annihilation by the bomb, Yasu hopes the epitaph is solved or Battler reaches the truth of the epitaph murders—this is the roulette she desires. The bomb annihilation is likely what’s repeatedly called “the miracle magic of picking one from the Ushiromiya family’s astronomical odds,” as per Kinzo’s magical philosophy that miracles are achieved by overcoming risks. By risking mass annihilation with a bomb, if the miracle of the epitaph being solved or the epitaph murders’ mystery being uncovered occurs, Yasu’s love would be fulfilled—that’s likely her belief.

What Happened to the Plan on the Real Rokkenjima?

With this premise, let’s consider “what happened to Yasu’s roulette on the real Rokkenjima.” The epitaph was solved before the incident, meaning “the George route was confirmed.” In the seventh game’s tragedy story, Beatrice looked dead in the VIP room, likely accepting her personality’s death as the George route was finalized. That’s why it’s repeatedly said there’s only one way to kill Beatrice. The issue is that George is killed afterward. As stated multiple times, Yasu’s purpose is to settle her love. The miracle was achieved—the epitaph was solved. But despite that, George died. This negates the point of solving the epitaph. Her love with George vanished in that moment.

Now, Battler and Beatrice escaped to the submarine base, but since the epitaph was solved before the incident, the epitaph murders were halted. This means the means for Battler to recall the promise was stopped, so it’s highly likely he didn’t realize Yasu’s feelings at that point. Since the George route was already confirmed within her, there’s no way her love with Battler, who hasn’t recalled the promise, would be fulfilled. It contradicts her own rules, and Battler hasn’t noticed anything. There’s no move left.

Could she have carried out a suicide by bomb in that situation? With the family already informed, it’s likely impossible. At the moment of drowning, Yasu likely lost all the options she envisioned before the incident. What choice did Yasu make in this situation? The most likely possibility is, as depicted in the final game, suicide by drowning. The love routes she wished for through this incident all vanished. She likely felt responsibility for George’s death.

Tohya Hachijo and the Message Bottle

The 1986 incident ends here, but the issue is Battler. After the incident, as Tohya, he writes forgeries. He’s reached the truth of the incident, but on the real Rokkenjima, no question was posed. For Battler to reach the truth, he needs to encounter Yasu’s murder mystery story at least once. So when did Battler, in the real world, first encounter the murder mystery story?

At Ikuko’s house, when he saw the message bottle’s story on the PC.

This means he realized Yasu’s feelings too late, after the incident. From the message bottle’s lie and the culprit’s identity, he recalled the promise. Perhaps if he had remembered at the moment of drowning, she wouldn’t have taken her life. That’s likely the truth of this story. Of course, Tohya suffered. His mention of a suicide attempt might stem from this. But all that suffering reached her in heaven at the Golden Land of the Gospel House, didn’t it? That’s the meaning of “dedicating this story to my beloved witch, Beatrice.” In the fifth game, Battler screamed that he wished he’d reached Beatrice’s truth sooner—that’s likely about Tohya himself. This story is Tohya’s apology for being too late to reach Yasu’s truth.

The Delicate Balance of the Narrative Trick

Reflecting on it, this story feels quite unique. Of course, it’s logically solvable, but whether it’s fair is borderline. For example, Kinzo appears in the first game. In a typical novel, third-person narration depicting Kinzo is an objective fact, and saying it’s a lie wouldn’t hold. If it’s revealed he was dead, you’d assume “this story adopts special rules.” But this story says, “Even that objective third-person perspective was subjective.” In other words, “Yasu, the writer, depicts the subjective view that Kinzo is alive. Since the writer is a human with biases, not a god, the possibility that he’s dead can’t be ruled out.” This works as a mystery, but it feels like it’s on a delicate line as a narrative trick. I don’t think it’s unfair, though.

The same applies to magic. Even if magic is depicted, as long as a human writer pens it, the absolute truth isn’t guaranteed. Behind the surface depiction of magic, you must consider interpretations possible in a mystery. The narrative isn’t from a god’s perspective. The presence of magic in the text completely shuts down a fantasy interpretation. There’s no such thing as a magical world. Depicting magic while allowing a mystery interpretation is only possible in this unique case. Otherwise, a logic error occurs.

The Magic Depicted in This World

While the story’s truth is somewhat resolved, we must consider the “magic” the questioner strongly asserts in this story. What exactly is the definition of magic? Two scenes in the story apply. The resurrection of Sakutaro in the Golden Land in the fourth game and the candy magic in the sixth game. In the fourth game, there’s a crucial line from Ange. When Beatrice blesses Sakutaro’s revival, Ange says:

“That’s the root of magic, isn’t it? Without love, without sadness, without anger, you can’t see magic.”

Magic requires love, sadness, and anger to be seen. This becomes clear when considering the truth of Sakutaro’s revival. The red truth confirms he couldn’t be revived with magic. So, Ange gave Maria a mass-produced Sakutaro, lying that it was “revived with magic.” The key is what happiness means to Maria. Is it better to reveal the truth that it’s a mass-produced item, not her mother’s handmade one, or to lie and say it was revived with magic? Ange chose the latter. That’s what magic is in this story. Magic is “when someone who knows a painful truth wraps it in an illusion to make another person happy.” That’s the definition of magic. In the candy magic scene, the magic was exposed as a trick—by me. The questioner’s assertion is that exposing the illusion meant to make someone happy and revealing the truth will deeply sadden them.

Magic in this story is rooted in care for others. Battler embellishing the final game with fantasy, weaving a false 1986, aligns with this definition of magic. That game board is magic. Even if it’s a false 1986, he wanted Ange to be happy. So he hid the real truth and wrapped it in a warm illusion—that’s the final game board.

Considering this definition of magic, the question arises: “Who is Beatrice’s witch illusion protecting?” Magic is an illusion used to shield someone from a painful truth. The seemingly cruel murder mystery story is actually wrapping Rokkenjima’s truth in a witch illusion. Since Rokkenjima’s truth is the tragedy of the seventh game, Ange is the one who would suffer from knowing it. Thus, Beatrice is protecting Ange with this illusion. So what’s depicted in the forgeries Tohya writes in the real world? Following the questioner’s assertions, the detective battles between Beatrice and Battler in the magical world and the witch illusion of the game board are written as is. If the magic hides Rokkenjima’s truth with the illusion that it’s the witch’s doing to protect Ange, this interpretation forms a viable hypothesis. In the real world, the truth remains unknown, leaving only the witch illusion. Those who use magic must know the truth behind it. Because they know the painful truth, the anger, sadness, and love for others give magic its purpose.

Ange and Magic

Ange, who became a writer, was writing Sakutaro’s story. To write a magical story about finding fragments of happiness, she must know the truth behind it. As a writer, Ange likely senses the real truth, even if it’s not confirmed. She knows the truth behind the magic and the warmth of the surface illusion. That’s who Ange, the writer, is.

Misdirection

This work has many malicious misdirections, and looking at the story from the theatergoing layer, they seem to exist in the world’s structure too. For example, many think Shannon is the culprit in Beatrice’s game board, but it’s actually Beatrice. Shannon isn’t the culprit. That’s a malicious misdirection, but there’s one in the world’s structure too. The story is designed to make you conscious of layers—game board world, meta-world. This can lead to a trap: mistaking the 1998 world for the real world. “Oh, the world with Ange, unrelated to layers, is the real world.” Falling for this misdirection leads to theories like the “parallel world theory.” The 1998 world is a fictional forgery world, not reality. This is clearly stated in the eighth game. Looking closely, you can see transitions from the 1998 world to the meta-world or vice versa. There are plenty of linked clues, so deduction can narrow it down. In the magic trick ending, Ange somehow has a quiz prize from the game board world on a boat in the 1998 world. That’s a provided clue.

The Worst Locked Room

This is the worst locked room, isn’t it… Hahaha!! So I was being spared?! The logic error locked room. The solution “Shannon is under the bedroom” might not hold because the logic can be swapped. Until the sixth game, Beatrice’s existence as a culprit piece on the board was hidden, despite clues being placed. The red truth about the island’s population doesn’t naturally suggest Beatrice is mixed in, and the illusion narrative misleads thinking. Normally, you wouldn’t consider Beatrice as a human on the board. If I had realized Shannon and Kanon were the same person, I’d counter, “If Kanon isn’t in the guest room, then Shannon is there, right?” But the questioner, Beatrice, can swap the logic to “Beatrice is in the guest room.”

This is the worst locked room. It’s unsolvable. It’s an ultra-S difficulty. I realized from the two types of red truth about the island’s population in the sixth game that “there are two counting methods.” That was my deduction’s starting point. During the logic error locked room debate, I hadn’t noticed at all. I didn’t even consider Beatrice being on the board. In that state, with the logic swapped, it’s frankly unsolvable. Impossible. Even if solvable, building evidence is extremely difficult. In other words, I was being spared. They gave me an easier mystery.

Hahahahahahaha!! Are you saying I only solved it because of hints?! That I wouldn’t have without them?! I’m genuinely pissed off for the first time in a while. I’ll expose everything thoroughly. Everything! If you hadn’t angered me, I might’ve left it vague.

Silly Goose

The deduction that Beatrice is on the board is actually hinted at in the red truth. During the chapel locked room debate, this red truth comes up: “The contents of the envelope I entrusted to Maria were indeed the chapel’s key.” She said “I.” Silly goose!!

Why I Love My Master

On an unrelated note, I don’t think I’ve mentioned why I love my master. In the seventh game, when my master told the tragedy story, did you notice something odd? Not exactly odd, but… They said there’s a 2,578,917 chance that neither Lion nor Beatrice could avoid the tragedy. Purely out of curiosity, would a witch search through 2.57 million fragments just to mock people? Even weaving 50 fragments is tough. 2.57 million? I thought, maybe my master had the opposite intention. Will said, “You’re not a god. All you can do is mock fate.” Exactly. Mocking nonexistent miracles is fine, but… if you want to save someone and the miracle doesn’t exist, there’s nothing you can do. It doesn’t exist. I thought, my master is a tsundere. The story often says you can’t see the truth without love, and that’s exactly it. That’s why I love my master. There’s one phenomenon in the real world that could be called a miracle: the message bottle being found. Perhaps… heh heh, imagining it is fun. I won’t pursue the truth here. It might be true, it might not. That’s fine. The truth doesn’t matter. A detective pursues only the mystery.

The Necessity of the Same Person Trick

Since Beatrice’s attitude irritated me, I’ll deliberately share a deduction that’s vague due to weak evidence. The deduction that Beatrice doesn’t exist. This story is broadly divided into two worlds: the fictional world and the real world. The fictional world is written by Yasu and Tohya, and the real world is where those writings exist as books. The game board world is a story in the fictional world. Suppose Yasu caused the incident in 1986 in the real world. It was interrupted the day before, but assume it was executed. What trick would Yasu use?

Vaguely imagining, you’d think it’s the same person trick from the fictional world. But in the real world, is it possible for one person to perfectly disguise as another? Common sense says it’s impossible. So, the question is: why does Beatrice use the same person trick? Her goal is to make Battler recall the “promise” through the incident’s lie and the culprit’s identity, not to impersonate someone else. The reason is to make him realize that “the promise made with Shannon is now inherited by Beatrice, and it’s Beatrice who loves Battler now.” Think about it: for Battler, the promise was with Shannon, not Beatrice. He even said, “Who are you?!” to Beatrice, meaning he doesn’t think she’s Shannon. For Beatrice to fulfill her love with Battler, he needs to realize Beatrice = Shannon. Only then does “the promise with Shannon is now with Beatrice” click. For this, Battler must logically deduce the same person trick somewhere on the game board. Where?

Likely the chain locked room and Nanjo’s murder. The chain locked room is designed to be solved with the same person trick. In Nanjo’s murder, Beatrice is the culprit, so there must be someone besides the “dead” Shannon and Kanon. Through this trick, Shannon = Beatrice is established, linking the promise with Shannon to Beatrice. But frankly, it’s complicated. Let me say it again: it’s complicated.

Why go through such steps? The root cause is the setting that “Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice are perceived as separate people in the fictional world.” This makes the same person trick necessary. But in the real world, if Yasu is just a normal girl, not a multiple personality, there’s no need for the same person trick, right? The incident’s core, as stated repeatedly, is the promise. The lie of the trick and the culprit’s identity need to evoke the promise. If the person Battler made the promise with and the culprit is just “Yasu,” a normal girl, the necessity for the same person trick vanishes. It’s not needed. This is “highly realistic and mystery-oriented for executing the incident in the real world.” No fantasy is involved. There’s no need for perfect disguises in the real world.

Thinking this way, is there really a witch like Beatrice? Frankly, Beatrice is like a “symbol of Yasu’s feelings for Battler.” It’s fine to think of real-world Yasu’s “feelings for Battler.” Yasu’s heart as a normal girl—her love for George and Battler—is dramatized in the fictional world as the personalities of Shannon and Beatrice. This feels very mystery-like, with no fantasy needed. It’s just a hypothesis, but this suggests Beatrice doesn’t exist in the real world. It’s just one girl. Pfft! Beatrice doesn’t exist in reality!! …What’s this? I feel so empty. Instead of satisfying my grudge from the logic error locked room, I feel incredibly empty. Just let me slap Beatrice once.

Deduction Lacking Evidence

That said, this kind of deduction lacks evidence. It’s not solidly supported. Such deductions leave me feeling uneasy, so they’re not something to show others. I only shared it because Beatrice pissed me off so much. Evidence is crucial in deduction, but it’s also vital for the deducer to be aware of how well the evidence is constructed.

Umineko and the Meaning of Discussion

In a story like this, where a single solution can’t be definitively pinpointed, the meaning of discussion becomes unique. It’s great for detectives to debate, but trying to outwit or defeat each other is meaningless. Why? Because, due to the devil’s proof, you can’t deny the possibility that the winning theory is wrong. In such cases, you bear full responsibility for your deduction. You can’t blame others. Whether you’re right or wrong, you bear it all. So what’s the value of discussion? Defeating, insulting, or outwitting others is pointless. The value, under the premise of taking full responsibility, is learning “an unknown solution X you didn’t think of.” Someone else might have the questioner’s correct solution. You verify that information at your own responsibility, but there’s no shame in learning a solution from others. Deduction is about pursuing possibilities—using foreshadowing, clues, and scene analysis to face the questioner. Even so, sometimes the questioner’s mystery can’t be solved. That’s when discussion is needed. Since you bear full responsibility, you must scrutinize others’ theories. If, through logical reasoning, you believe a theory is correct, that conclusion is already your deduction. You might not create 1 from 0, but you can turn 1 into 10.

By continuing this, you’ll gain confidence, deductive skill, and trust in your own reasoning. That’s a detective’s growth, isn’t it? That’s how I deduce with all my might, aiming to kill the questioner. A mystery is a battle to the death between detective and questioner. I go all out to kill. But that’s rooted in trust. Did my truth deal a fatal blow to the questioner? Or are they unscathed? Heh heh. That’s the thrill of a mystery. Maybe we both think we’ve won. For a detective, the enemy is the questioner, not fellow detectives.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 22 days ago

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Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction2

Beginning Specific Re-examination

Now, having thoroughly reviewed Beatrice’s game board, the materials are all in place. All that’s left is to think. When considering the “same person theory” with personality as the focus, the first thing that stands out is the story leading up to the start of the incidents in the second game. The narrative heavily emphasizes Shannon and Kanon’s romantic relationships. Initially, I dismissed this part as trivial nonsense, but if they are indeed the same person, that section should be seen as a scene deliberately arranged with clues.

Shannon is in love with George. Kanon, on the other hand, is in love with Jessica—or at least, he’s at the starting point of a potential romance. If they are the same person, this creates a contradiction. One individual loving multiple people simultaneously. This bears a striking resemblance to the romantic trial Battler depicts in the sixth game. Considering Battler’s hint, the qualification for love is that it involves one man and one woman, and the beloved must be a single person. The idea of someone already loving multiple people at the starting point of a romance is outright unacceptable, according to this assertion.

In other words, the opening of the second game illustrates a single individual simultaneously pursuing multiple romantic relationships. What’s particularly noteworthy is Beatrice’s handling in this context. In the same person theory, Beatrice’s placement is highly suspicious. This refers to the piece-Beatrice who appears in a suit.

Who or What Is Beatrice?

My initial impression was that the suit-wearing Beatrice is a false narrative created by the Game Master Beatrice. The idea of a witch blatantly appearing in the story is utterly absurd, and there’s no way I’d take such a thing at face value. However, when thinking as a detective in a mystery, I cannot arbitrarily dismiss the possibility that “a person like Beatrice actually appeared” without evidence. At this stage, where I haven’t yet built a solid foundation of evidence, I must consider the possibility that “such a person actually appeared” as part of my reasoning.

Let’s call this Hypothesis A. In the same person theory, which centers on Shannon and Kanon, should we consider Beatrice as a third person alongside them, or should we exclude Beatrice and think of only two people? This is a fundamental issue, tied to both the romantic narrative and the tricks behind the incidents, potentially forming the core of the story.

This issue ultimately leads to whether Beatrice is involved in the romantic narrative. If Beatrice appears on the game board as a human like the others, there must be a reason for her presence. And that reason is likely central to the truth of Beatrice’s game board. Beatrice and love, huh? All I’ve got are bitter romantic experiences, and yet here we are. A witch in love with love? Hahaha… love. I miss my master.

The Case of the Detective Observing the Witch

No, that’s not it. I let stray thoughts creep in. Let’s continue. The issue is that there are cases in Beatrice’s game board where the detective witnesses the witch. A detective cannot falsify their subjective observations. What the detective sees is an objective fact, with no room for illusions. This is a fundamental premise.

There are three such cases. In the finale of the first game, the surviving children, including Battler, witness Beatrice in front of the portrait. Battler’s statement, “Who are you?!” indicates that she isn’t a familiar face.

Next, near the end of the second game, Beatrice and Kinzo are witnessed in Kinzo’s study. This scene can be deemed an illusion because Kinzo is already dead before the game begins, making it impossible to witness him. Claiming to have seen him proves the scene is false. This case is likely tied to the moment before this sighting when Battler declares his surrender to the witch on the game board. Having fully submitted to the witch, Battler ceases to be a detective at that point. Thus, the false depiction of witnessing Beatrice and Kinzo is permitted.

Finally, the balcony scene in the fourth game. This is an undeniable case of witnessing the witch, with no room for excuses. The detective hasn’t lost their qualifications, and claiming a misidentification is a weak argument. Mistaking someone in a prolonged conversation is not a reasonable judgment. If it were a fleeting glimpse of someone who seemed like Beatrice, a misidentification might hold, but a lengthy conversation cannot be explained as such. To me, calling that a misidentification feels like saying, “I saw a Baltan Alien on the balcony.” What kind of misidentification is that supposed to be? While misidentification is technically a possibility, in a mystery’s puzzle-like reasoning, common-sense judgments take priority. Avoiding overcomplications and pursuing straightforward solutions is the safest approach when tackling a mystery.

There are two cases in Beatrice’s game board where the detective witnesses the witch. The question is whether the witch exists on the game board. In other words, does a human Beatrice, who speaks of being a witch, appear? Considering the detective’s subjective perspective, the conclusion might lean toward her existence, but this detective, Erika Furudo, won’t be convinced by such vague evidence. It’s time to fully activate my chain-reasoning method.

Starting the Chain Reasoning: Targeting Nanjo’s Murder

The core of Beatrice’s game board likely lies in the murder of Nanjo in the third game. That incident is probably directly connected to the entire truth of the game board. It also ties to whether Beatrice exists on the board and, if she does, why she’s there. As always, this is repetitive, but when solving a trick as a mystery, relying solely on information related to the trick leads to a fragmented solution state, much like the logic error in the locked room. Just as I found related information for the logic error locked room, Nanjo’s murder can be pinpointed using the same method.

George as the culprit. Kyrie as the culprit. Rudolf as the culprit. These “who is the culprit” arguments are the bare minimum to consider, respecting Eva’s red truth. However, identifying the culprit based solely on this is impossible. In the chain-reasoning method, I decipher the intentions embedded by the questioner in the narrative and incorporate them as linked information.

For Nanjo’s murder, beyond “who killed Nanjo,” there’s the question of “why does Beatrice lose her witch form when she reveals the truth?” This second point is the key to slicing the false witch in half. There are likely two cases where the witch can no longer remain a witch. In the witch’s game board, the witch side wins by preserving even a single mystery. Conversely, if all mysteries are solved, the witch’s illusion collapses.

Suppose George is the culprit. If George kills Nanjo, does that mean all mysteries in the third game are solved, causing the witch’s illusion to vanish? No, because the chain locked room remains unsolved, so the witch’s illusion persists. Thus, Beatrice didn’t lose her witch form because all tricks were solved. So why did she lose it? It’s likely because the answer to Nanjo’s murder reveals the witch’s true identity.

If Beatrice were to claim she killed Nanjo, she would be admitting the witch is human, thereby negating her own witch persona. As a result, she loses her witch form. Considering this second point, it’s impossible to explain unless Beatrice herself is the culprit. It can only be her. …The Depths of Oblivion are so empty. I’m getting hungry…

The Truth Behind the Red Truth of the Island’s Population

From the cases where the detective witnesses the witch and Nanjo’s murder, we can construct the hypothesis that the suit-wearing Beatrice exists on the board as a human. A human in body, but a witch in personality. This is a trick of dual attributes, much like myself. I am a detective, but also the Witch of Truth. That’s why, in the sixth game, to avoid touching the definition of a witch, I presented myself as an uninvited guest, a visitor. A phrasing that defines me as human.

However, in Beatrice’s game board, where no such phrasing is used, the piece-Beatrice creates an illusion when the red truth declares, “No more than 18 humans exist.” She appears on the board as if she doesn’t exist in the red truth. It’s a wordplay trick. While no more than 18 human bodies exist, there are more than 18 personalities. It’s a ridiculously simple trick once you see through it. But well done, Beatrice. As the saying goes, “To hide a leaf, place it in a forest.” To hide the culprit Beatrice, place her within the illusionary narrative. The illusionary narrative was, in fact, used to conceal the true culprit.

The Reason for Beatrice’s Existence as a Character

So, what is the purpose of Beatrice existing as a human piece on the board? As mentioned earlier in the second game, Shannon and Kanon are struggling with their romantic dilemmas. So what is Beatrice, then? Hmph… I’m terrible at love stories… For a grown witch to be fussing over love, I think it’s a bit much. If they, as the same person, are struggling with love, is Beatrice in a similar situation?

Let’s build a hypothesis. The clue might lie in the fifth game. The red truth states: “Beato wished for you to solve it and created this game, this story’s mystery, so that it could be solved.” Hmm. In a mystery, you solve the whodunit, howdunit, and whydunit. In typical mysteries, exposing the trick often narrows down the person capable of executing it. “You’re the only one who could’ve done this trick!”—that’s how the whodunit is identified. In a typical mystery, the culprit confesses their motive last. But in Beatrice’s game board, the trick is “lies,” and the culprits are Beatrice, or perhaps Shannon and Kanon. Once these are identified, the whydunit remains… Ah!!

The Cipher Trick

Is the whydunit a mechanism derived from the whodunit and howdunit?!

Beatrice’s attitude on the balcony in the fourth game was peculiar. She spoke as if Battler had committed some sin. Considering the information up to the sixth game, this seems to refer to a promise made with Shannon in the past. If Beatrice and Shannon are the same person on the game board, Beatrice is conveying a message to Battler by incorporating the element of lies into the incident’s tricks. The trick of the incidents is lies, and the culprit’s identity is Shannon, or perhaps Beatrice. The result of reaching the whodunit and howdunit leads to a mechanism where only Battler would recall the past promise. It’s a cipher meant for a specific person.

In the fifth game, Battler realizes this. Beatrice was Shannon. She wanted him to remember the promise they made through the message of the incidents. That’s likely the truth. The chain locked room probably cannot be solved without considering the same person trick. Battler likely realized the existence of the same person through the chain locked room and Nanjo’s murder. Both Shannon and Kanon were dead when Nanjo was killed. Thus, Beatrice is the person who didn’t die in the chain locked room. Shannon was Beatrice. When Battler realized this, he apologized to Beatrice. And Beatrice passed away. …I’m not tearing up, okay?

The Essence of the Incidents and Love

There’s one point that needs to be firmly established: why does Beatrice want Battler to remember the promise? From the game board, it’s clear that Shannon has chosen George. Battler is in the past. She loves only George now. So why does Beatrice… Is Beatrice in love with Battler? Come to think of it, in the sixth game, during the final wedding scene, Beatrice says: “I created this story to be with you. The purpose of this world has been fulfilled. So from now on, you weave it. Our story moving forward.” She created the game board’s world to be united with Battler. So… Beatrice joins their romantic conflict? Wait, Kanon doesn’t seem to have started a romance in 1986. I thought Shannon was likely to marry George, but with Battler returning in 1986, doesn’t that clash with Beatrice’s feelings? The epitaph and the epitaph murders… the roulette… Ugh, I’m bad at love stories. Is the essence of the 1986 incidents actually unrelated to the murders?

The Incidents and the Roulette

Even if murders occur, it’s merely the pieces on the game board being killed. Pieces are just pieces, and their fate is determined by the player’s moves, like in chess. If so, the question isn’t why they’re killed but why the Game Master tells this story. It’s to make Battler remember the promise. However, Beatrice incorporates a mechanism to halt the incidents at her discretion. If the epitaph is solved, the incidents stop. This eliminates the possibility of Battler remembering the promise. In that case, Shannon, whose romance is already established, gains the advantage. The epitaph and the epitaph murders… are they the eyes of the roulette? I’m starting to calm down. Thinking it over, Beatrice’s game board is like a love letter disguised as a murder mystery. Reaching the truth of the incidents leads to the promise. That’s why she was so disappointed in the fourth game when Battler failed to remember. The essence of the incidents likely lies in the romantic trial Battler depicted. The qualification for love is one man and one woman. The beloved is one person. Shannon and Beatrice are physically one person. They cannot choose both George and Battler. So they sought to settle it in 1986. That’s the story of 1986.

The epitaph murders to make Battler remember the promise. The epitaph’s riddle to eliminate the chance of him remembering. This is essentially choosing between Battler and George. Instead of deciding herself, Beatrice leaves it to a random number generator—the incidents. The witch’s letter states that if the epitaph is solved, the collected interest will be returned. This likely hints at a staged murder. You can’t return lives if they’re actually taken. It’s only possible with a staged murder. Especially if the incidents’ purpose is to settle a romantic conflict. Though, the final bomb wiping everyone out is probably real.

When I first learned that Beatrice’s incident trick was collusion, I thought it was a ridiculous trick. But now, I don’t think that at all. It feels like a trap designed to make you stop thinking there, but the collusion itself is the true mystery of her game board.

Kanon’s Corpse

One thing bothers me: why does Kanon’s corpse often disappear? In the second and fourth games, his body vanishes. In the third game, too, in the latter half, Battler and the others witness Shannon pretending to be dead next to George, so Kanon shouldn’t be in the chapel. If we assume the same person theory, it shouldn’t matter if Shannon’s corpse disappears and Kanon’s remains. Yet Kanon’s corpse always vanishes. Why? Is it just coincidence, or is it intentional? If we overthink it, Kanon might exist on the board as a personality but be an illusion in some sense.

The Kanon-Jessica Route

Another concern is that, when placing romance at the story’s core, there’s no Kanon-Jessica route in the 1986 incidents. This feels off. It’s as if Kanon is treated as a nonexistent person from the start. The core of the 1986 incidents is explained in the fifth game: the epitaph and the epitaph murders, choosing between George and Battler. The Jessica route is excluded, which is strange. Is there a way to interpret a Jessica route that I haven’t thought of? What is the physical gender of Shannon and the others? Probably female, but I can’t rule out male. From Kanon’s apparent resignation of love in Beatrice’s game board, I lean toward female, but there’s no evidence. For Kanon, there are no mystery clues in Beatrice’s game board. It’s completely unsolvable. Reasoning without foreshadowing is just delusion, worthless. But if romance is the incident’s core, Kanon should be solvable. The roulette’s perspective can negate it, but it’s not absolute evidence. Damn that witch…

The Same Person Trick

The same person trick has two major elements to unravel: how the detective perceives them subjectively and why everyone in the story sees them as separate people. It’s certain that Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice are the same person as a trick. But I don’t see them as such. Even with my detective authority in the fifth game, I couldn’t tell they were the same. They clearly appeared as different people to me, the detective. Likely, Battler, the detective until the fourth game, felt the same. Realizing they were the same came from logically deducing the chain locked room and Nanjo’s murder, not from appearances. The detective cannot falsify their subjective perspective, yet they appear as separate people. This fantasy-like phenomenon occurs in Beatrice’s game board. Mathematically, the conclusion is: “In the game board’s world, even the detective cannot see them as the same person.” This is an absolute rule or setting.

First, let’s distinguish the same person trick between the detective’s subjective perspective and the parts where false narratives are possible. The latter isn’t worth thinking about, so we’ll ignore it. In all the mystery game boards, the detective never witnesses Shannon and Kanon simultaneously. Thus, there’s no clear evidence for the detective to definitively deny they are separate people. Therefore, the same person hypothesis can be constructed.

Even if this issue is resolved, the question remains: why can’t any of the characters in the story see through their disguise? One hypothesis is that “it’s not that they aren’t seeing through it; they’re all colluding to play along.” This might work for the servants. Krauss or Natsuhi’s involvement is a bit questionable but potentially feasible. However, it absolutely doesn’t hold for Jessica. Having been with the Ushiromiya family for years and constantly interacting with Shannon and Kanon, Jessica is in love with Kanon, while Shannon is in love with George. If Jessica were colluding, it would mean she’s supporting Shannon while knowing they’re the same person, which creates an absurd narrative. Thus, Jessica’s piece negates the solution that “the same person trick is established through collusion.” So that’s not it.

There must be a logical reason why all characters, including the detective, perceive them as separate people. That explanation is essential to constructing the same person theory.

Starting the Hypothesis for the Same Person Trick

The detective cannot falsify their subjective perspective. This leads to one possibility: it’s correct for the detective to perceive them as separate people. Even if they are physically the same person, when personality is the focus, their individual personalities exist distinctly. In the real world, people are judged by appearance. However, in that world, they might be judged by personality. Frankly, that’s fantasy. It’s not possible in reality. When such an impossible fantasy occurs, there are two patterns to suspect. Either this story is not a mystery but a fantasy, or the game board world itself is a fictional creation, with a true real world existing above it. In a fictional world, fantasy poses no issue. The game board alone may be fantasy, but when including the upper layer, it becomes a mystery. It’s likely one of these, but since I’m tackling Beatrice’s game as a mystery, the latter is the choice.

The upper layer, huh? A layer above where I am, the theatergoing layer, perhaps? It might sound crazy to say this, but the red truth system itself presupposes a strong fantasy: “recognizing speech as red.” To think about this fantasy as a mystery, there’s only one way. It’s a world of text. People can’t distinguish speech by color. That’s only possible when dialogue is written in colored text.

So, am I just a written existence too? Even if Kanon exists on the game board, in the upper theatergoing layer beyond my perception, he might not exist. This cannot be definitively confirmed, and I don’t know about the theatergoing layer. However, the writer’s intentions in that layer might be reflected. Kanon doesn’t exist in the theatergoing layer. That’s why his corpse always disappears, suggesting he’s an illusion. The Jessica route in the roulette doesn’t exist in the theatergoing layer, so it doesn’t exist in the lower game board world either.

Erika’s Notebook

Such vague reasoning isn’t what I call deduction. It should be condemned as mere delusion. It’s valid as a hypothesis, but without evidence, it’s not deduction. However… well, I’ll jot it down as Hypothesis A in my Erika Notebook. Deduction often progresses through the act of writing. The human brain can’t process multiple things simultaneously. So, I organize thoughts in writing and use my mind solely for reasoning. Trying to handle both deduction and information organization in your head usually leads to poor results. That’s what this Erika Noto is for! Ja-jaan! (showing it off)

I Love My Master

My master once mentioned that the message bottle Beatrice sent out became a big topic in later years. Apparently, my master went through quite a struggle to find that fragment. I thought the chances of that message bottle being found were pretty high, but according to my master, only one exists in the fragment world. My master found it and turned it into a miracle. What a wonderful story. That’s why I love my master. Just a tsundere, you know. My master.

Returning from the Depths of Oblivion

Now, while I was starving in the Depths of Oblivion, my master’s cat came to pick me up. Battler was holding his final game board, so it was perfect timing. I confronted him directly with the Beatrice culprit theory. Honestly, parts of my reasoning were still incomplete, and I wanted to enjoy thinking more in the Depths of Oblivion. But when he brought up the phone call from the fifth game using the same logic as Nanjo’s murder, I nearly burst out laughing. Once I started my serious deduction, there’s no way I’d struggle with something like that. Solving it is a given. A mystery is a puzzle, after all. Anyway, I got to shine as a villain again, but the story wrapped up nicely, and my role as a piece is over. I can finally return to being a pure detective.

The Fragments of the Eight Theatergoing Layers

Apparently, Lady Featherine was observing my thoughts in the Depths of Oblivion. She gave me a delightful gift: the fragments of the eight theatergoing layers. According to her, it’s a grand mystery encompassing layers I can’t normally perceive. The mysteries of the game board world I’ve been pondering are just a fraction of the whole. How intriguing! What kind of story is it when viewed from the theatergoing layer? I’m dying to know. Before even getting to the mysteries, I want to enjoy it as a pure reader first! Heh heh heh. I love this thrill. What kind of story and mysteries will be presented? Show me what you’ve got!

Finished Watching for Now

I’ve gone through all the fragments, and let me say one thing: it’s long. It took nearly 100 hours to finish all of them. That’s abnormally long for a mystery. And the number of mysteries woven into the fragments is insane. The mysteries of Beatrice’s game board were, as Featherine said, just a small part.

Reader vs. Author

After finishing the final fragment, I realized something. This is a story that ends with the detective having all the clues, as is typical in mysteries. Normally, this is where the detective’s grand performance begins, but these fragments stop just before that. In other words… “Solve it if you can. I’ve given you all the clues. This is a head-to-head battle between you and me,” the questioner’s challenge declares. Do you think this detective, Erika Furudo, can’t pinpoint the truth after being given all the clues? Hahaha! Such confidence! Splendid! Absolutely splendid!! I’ll come at you with everything I’ve got, so brace yourself, whoever you are, the writer of these fragments in the theatergoing layer.

Counterattack Begins

I don’t like being underestimated, so let me tell you something that’ll make you shudder, dear questioner. The truth of the Rokkenjima tragedy isn’t explicitly revealed in the fragments, but the tragedy story my master told in the seventh game—that’s the contents of the cat box. It’s not definitive proof, but as a logical conclusion derived mathematically, that’s the result.

Thought you could keep it hidden?

As long as you’re obligated to place clues, deduction is always possible. And there are too many clues about the cat box’s contents. Far too many. It’s practically overkill.

Linked Information A

Eva is found in Kuwadorian in the real world. The question is, how did Eva get to Kuwadorian? The clues provided in the story are: “There’s a passage to an underground tunnel in the underground VIP room” and “Rosa accidentally stumbled upon it as a child.” The latter is a fluke, and Rosa herself says she doesn’t think she could find it again, so it’s not a viable solution. Thus, it must be through the underground VIP room, which suggests the epitaph was solved. The possibility that the epitaph was solved on the real Rokkenjima aligns with that tragedy story. Let’s call this Linked Information A. The more linked information, the better—it narrows down the truth.

Linked Information B

Eva survives in the real world. If Eva were the mastermind, why aren’t her family, George and Hideyoshi, alive? If Eva were the main culprit, she wouldn’t kill them, yet they don’t survive. This suggests someone other than Eva committed the murders. That’s why only Eva survives. This is Linked Information B.

Linked Information C

Linked Information C is Eva’s stubborn refusal to tell Ange the contents of the cat box. This could mean either “she’s hiding it out of malice” or “she’s intentionally concealing a truth that would sadden Ange.” Based on Battler’s final game board, it’s likely the latter.

Linked Information D

Linked Information D is a bit subtle, but there’s Battler’s alternate self, “Tohya,” at the end. He tells Ange, “We escaped to the submarine base.” “We”—plural. Battler escaped with someone, likely Beatrice. She’s shot by Kyrie, but the text only says, “The witch spilled blood from her mouth,” not that she died. There’s also information that their guns’ aim was off. In the scene where Eva regains consciousness, the corpses are described: “Beside her was the corpse of her beloved husband, the corpses of Krauss and his wife, Rosa’s corpse, a room of death with bodies strewn about.” Beatrice’s corpse is conspicuously absent. Such meticulous clue placement! Kind of you. So, Tohya escaped with Yasu via the underground tunnel and a boat. This likely happened after the tragedy story my master told.

Linked Information E

Linked Information E is Battler’s lines in the final game board. I won’t list them all, but many suggest that Rudolf and Kyrie are behind the tragedy.

The clues A through E point to the tragedy story my master told in the seventh game. All the clues align with it. It’s not definitive proof, but it’s the only conclusion deducible through reasoning. No matter how you try to hide the truth, in a mystery where clues are placed, the truth cannot be concealed from a detective’s eyes. My anti-magic resistance isn’t just Endless Nine—it’s 100%. Perfect. How does it feel to have the truth pinpointed? How does it feel? Hahaha! Splendid. This is the most thrilling mystery I’ve encountered in a while. My intellectual curiosity is itching. I’ll thoroughly expose the truth, dear questioner.

The True Form of a Detective

I got lost in thought for a moment, but tackling a story like this is incredibly fun and stimulates my intellectual curiosity. However, I think there’s a misconception about detectives solving cases. Many fictional detectives brilliantly expose tricks and culprits, pinpointing the truth. That’s actually a kind of fantasy. Real detectives can’t do that. Their deductions are, at best, “inferences.” No matter how much evidence they gather, they can’t eliminate the possibility of being wrong. Would a detective confidently declare, “You’re the culprit!” in such a state? What if it’s a mistake, and they’re not the culprit? Detectives always worry about causing a miscarriage of justice. So, they desperately build evidence, agonize over it, and finally construct a hypothesis they can believe in. That’s the true form of a detective. Their deduction may be certain to them, but due to the devil’s proof, whether it’s truly correct is unknowable. A detective must never turn away from this absolute truth.

In a work that throws a challenge to the reader like this, you can’t confirm if your deduction is correct until the questioner reveals the answer. There’s always the possibility of being wrong. So why does a detective still take on the challenge? As my reasoning shows, it’s because they believe the truth can be pinpointed through the clues provided. The devil’s proof makes it undeniably uncertain. Yet, through logical reasoning, it’s possible to pinpoint it. That’s the strength of a detective’s heart. Believing it’s a mystery. Believing it’s a solvable story. That’s the spirit a detective absolutely needs.

The Four Stages of Deduction

Deduction can be broadly divided into four stages. I don’t know how other detectives think, but for me, deduction starts at the first stage and refers to the hypothesis that survives until the fourth stage.

Stage 1

The first stage is the initial phase of thinking about solutions to the questioner’s challenge. Using the analogy of a bow and target, it’s like shooting arrows at a target in the dark. You must imagine infinitely, considering any hypothesis, whether grounded in evidence or not. It’s perfectly fine to let your imagination run wild.

Stage 2

The second stage is firing a barrage of arrows at the dark target. You generate deductions en masse. This isn’t limited to your own theories—referencing others’ deductions is also effective. In this fragment’s story, the logic error locked room is one of the many arrows shot in this stage. Infinite imagination and arrows are highly effective here.

Stage 3

The third stage is the narrowing-down phase. Among the arrows shot at the dark target, some might have grazed it. You evaluate the many hypotheses generated based on foreshadowing, ranking them by validity.

Stage 4

The fourth stage is selecting the surviving hypotheses as the final conclusion and firing the decisive arrow at the dark target. For me, deduction is the hypothesis that survives to this stage.

Some reasoning targets only reach the second stage, but those are likely not the core elements the questioner wants solved. They’re parts to be ignored. A detective needs the courage to dismiss unsolvable elements as such. For example, Beatrice’s chapel locked room. She made the locking mechanism the issue, but from our perspective, that locked room raises many concerns. The actual crime procedure, the murder weapon, the circumstances, whether sedatives were used in the food—these parts should be outright dismissed as unsolvable. There’s no foreshadowing, so they’re unsolvable. That’s because Beatrice’s goal is for Battler to remember the promise, and she wants him to notice the lies, the core of the incident’s message. Thus, the locking mechanism, tied to the lies, is the focus. Conversely, the other parts don’t matter to the questioner. So, what seems unsolvable doesn’t need to be solved. It has no deductive value.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni

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takepon007 · 23 days ago

Text

Detective Erika Furudo’s Serious Deduction

Erika in the Abyss of Oblivion

Phew, so this is the Abyss of Oblivion. It’s a rather boring place, but to enjoy the present Battler-san gave me, I suppose you could say it’s not entirely unsuitable. Mysteries always shift their deductions based on information. The deduction I used when I fought Beato—let’s discard that. That deduction was missing a certain premise. I had thought Beato’s game somehow stayed within the conventional framework of mysteries, but considering Battler-san’s present, it seems there’s a possibility that an unexpected trick might have been used. Shall we verify that? I don’t have anything else to do anyway.

Discomfort with the Red Text System

The final red text declarations of the number of people on the island, made by Beato and Battler—they declared two different numbers. This means I must have misunderstood the “red text system” itself. Red speaks only the truth. That much is correct. However, since truth isn’t necessarily singular, in cases where multiple truths exist—like the logic substitution in the logic error closed room—red text can declare either one. To put it simply, “Battler is competent” and “Battler is incompetent” are contradictory truths, yet both can be declared simultaneously. This must be the true essence of the red text system, the fundamental part I had misunderstood.

Number of People on the Island

Now then, 17 people and 18 people. Since different numbers were declared simultaneously, we should assume they are “declaring different truths based on different concepts.” Both 17 and 18 are true, and the difference likely stems from the counting method. On the game board, I was thinking in terms of the 18-person count. If I purely count the humans I observed, including myself, it’s true that there are 18 people. So, the reduced count of 17 must be counting something I didn’t observe. Now, the issue is Kanon-san. I counted him as one person. I observed him as a normal human existing on the game board, but for some reason, Kanon-san wasn’t in the guest room. Considering my search procedure in that guest room, there’s one place I physically didn’t search: under the bedroom bed, after I returned from the bathroom the second time. Since it was declared in red that Kanon-san wasn’t there, I didn’t search, but if someone other than Kanon-san was there, that changes things. That debate consistently focused on Kanon-san as the point of discussion, so whether someone else was in the guest room wasn’t the issue. If the red text count of 17 assumes that a person I originally counted as two is being counted as one, then someone must have been there.

Same-Person Trick

In other words, a same-person trick. To put it bluntly, it’s probably Shannon-san and Kanon-san. Let’s construct a hypothesis… Hmm, I see, there are two possible patterns. One of them is likely correct. While we call it a same-person trick, the specifics can be broken down further—what kind of same-person trick is it? The first type is a disguise-based name trick: a single person plays another by disguising themselves and using different names. The second is a personality trick: instead of disguising as another person, a single body is shared by different personalities, where the personality itself is considered the subject. These two patterns are fundamentally different in their approach. The name trick assumes the body as the subject. Both Shannon-san and Kanon-san are the same person to that body, and there’s no deeper meaning beyond using different names. In contrast, with the personality trick, the subject is the personality. For Kanon-san, Shannon-san is a different person by definition. Since the subject is the personality, even though they share a body, Shannon-san and Kanon-san are distinct individuals. For Shannon-san, “herself” is defined as Shannon-san, and Kanon-san isn’t included in that definition.

Re-Verification of the Logic Error Closed Room Begins

Now, the preparations are complete. Shall we re-verify Beato’s red text? The point of contention is likely this red text: “When rescuing Battler, the only one who entered the guest room was Kanon.” It specifies that only Kanon-san entered the guest room. Additionally, it was declared in red that “all names cannot be claimed by anyone other than the person themselves.” In the case of a name trick, since both Shannon-san and Kanon-san are the same person, this red text about only Kanon-san entering the guest room creates a contradiction. Shannon-san is also “herself” and would be defined as having entered the guest room, which doesn’t align with the logic of “only Kanon entered.” So, that’s incorrect. If we assume a personality trick, when Kanon-san entered the guest room, the body was being used by Kanon’s personality, meaning “himself” refers only to Kanon-san, and claiming Shannon-san’s name becomes impossible. In this case, there’s no contradiction. By elimination, it must be a personality trick. I see, a personality trick… Personality? Something feels off…

Erika Grasps a Clue to the Truth

If the red text declaration of 17 people refers to bodies, then the count of 18 must assume personalities are being counted, making it 18. …Wait!! No way, no way…!! Let’s check all the past red texts about the number of people on the island. This is strange, it’s odd!! As expected, all the red texts include the restriction of “humans”… Normally, when referring to bodies as humans, there’s no issue, but if personalities are specified as humans, that creates a gap for a witch—a witch personality—to slip in… Could it be that the culprit on Beato’s game board… isn’t Shannon!? This is getting interesting. Battler-san, it seems you’ve given me a wonderful present. I feel like I might be able to reach the entire truth now. Whether my deduction is correct or not, I’ll definitely confirm it the next time we meet! Just being presented with different truths is nothing to Erika Furudo—I can deduce this much. Hehehe, this is getting fun…

The Peculiarity of Beatrice’s Game Board

There was always something strange about Beatrice-san’s game board. That is, many of the tricks relied on collusion. A trick where something thought to be a closed room turned out not to be because of collusion—that’s far too simplistic as a trick. It’s not worth thinking about. However, if we consider the culprit’s identity under the assumption of a personality trick, even a seemingly simplistic trick allows for deeper interpretation—or rather, demands deeper interpretation. Collusion, simply put, is a lie. Beatrice-san’s game uses lies as its tricks. Looking at the game boards so far, it seems the target of these challenges is specifically Battler-san. Beatrice-san is using the trick of lies aimed at Battler-san. In a mystery, there are three things to uncover: Whodunit—who is the culprit? Howdunit—how was it done? And finally, Whydunit—why did they do it? Regarding Whodunit, we need to reconsider. Howdunit can be confirmed as the trick of lies. The last remaining Whydunit—this is something I hadn’t even considered, but in Beatrice-san’s game, perhaps this is what we should be thinking about?

Beatrice and Whydunit

Whydunit ultimately concerns the heart, and in the world of mystery—a logical puzzle—it’s not something typically deduced through reasoning. However, that’s a general rule, and there are mysteries designed to allow such deductions. In other words, Beatrice-san… wants Battler-san to understand her heart? Ahahahahahahaha!! The heart!! That witch, talking about the heart!!

The False Witch

Let’s construct a hypothesis. I had thought the culprit on Beatrice-san’s game board was Shannon-san. However, after considering Battler-san’s present, the possibility arises that a witch is mixed into the game board. Yes, a false witch. One hypothesis derived from reverse-engineering the logic error closed room is a same-person trick rooted in personality expression. Beatrice-san uses the trick of lies as the core, targeting Battler-san with her challenges. Let me be clear: this is abnormal. You could even call it exceptional. A mystery aimed at the masses can, of course, be solved by the masses. A mystery is fundamentally a puzzle—like a mathematical equation, a calculation to be solved—and that’s the true joy of mysteries. However, the mystery of Beatrice-san’s game board might only be solvable by Battler-san. It’s aimed specifically at him. I feel like I need to think about why Beatrice-san uses such an extremely exceptional trick.

A Special Mystery Aimed at a Specific Person

A mystery that only Battler-san can solve? …How interesting. Declaring the number of people on the island in red was your downfall. I’ve already constructed multiple hypotheses. An extremely exceptional mystery aimed at a specific person. Even so, no mystery writer can escape the fundamental principles of mystery. Yes, Knox’s 8th Rule and Van Dine’s 1st Rule. A mystery writer is free to create any kind of mystery, no matter how complex or exceptional the trick. As long as they place clues, everything is permissible. Conversely, a story that doesn’t place clues is no longer a mystery—it’s a fantasy.

The Ultimate Weapon to Tear Through Fantasy: Chain Deduction Method

To think that a mystery posed to this Erika Furudo could be unsolvable—that arrogance, I’ll shatter it to pieces. Let’s now unleash the special method of thinking I had sealed away. A mystery that places clues is one where the mystery writer imbues intent into the placement of those clues. This isn’t limited to the basic elements mysteries aim to solve—like the specifics of the trick or the identity of the culprit. In fact, many mystery writers place significant intent in seemingly trivial scenes—scenes that, at first glance, seem unrelated to the three basic elements mysteries solve, but which provide insight through narrative interpretation. A seemingly trivial scene might actually be a crucial clue, or even the truth itself. That’s the clue the mystery writer places. The chain deduction method—this method of thinking, which builds interconnected links across every element, is the worst possible match for a mystery that places clues, a weapon that completely destroys it.

Let me give an example. The logic error closed room. When considering that closed room trick specifically in the context of the 6th game, there are four elements that need to be explained. Beatrice-san provided quite a bit of red text, but in tackling a mystery, the mindset of “anything goes as long as it doesn’t contradict the red text” is completely wrong. That approach leads to a state of solution divergence—meaning it becomes unsolvable.

First, the logic error closed room must be a solution that can be constructed without contradicting the red text. This is the bare minimum requirement, but meeting it doesn’t necessarily make a solution valid. The other three elements are what’s important. I’ve come up with four elements in total, but there might be a fifth one as well.

Second, there are the clues placed by the mystery writer, derived from interpreting the scene. The logic error closed room is a trick presented by Beatrice-san based on some truth she gained through the trial of love. Therefore, the solution to that closed room trick must naturally be related to that trial of love. This aspect involves pursuing “narrative consistency” with the intent of ensuring everything aligns. Even if a trick doesn’t contradict the red text, a solution that has no connection to the trial of love is highly likely to deviate from the mystery writer’s intent. That means the likelihood of it being incorrect skyrockets. The chain deduction method isn’t perfect, but when tackling a mystery, it’s a method of pursuing interconnected elements to get closer to the mystery writer’s intent. It’s a method to increase the likelihood of finding the correct solution.

In that sense, the third element is consistency with Featherine’s statement: “If you use Beatrice’s heart, you can figure it out.” Featherine implied that Beatrice’s heart is a crucial clue to solving the closed room trick. In this case, the premise of what Beatrice’s heart even is becomes extremely important. When closely examining the 4th game, in the scene where Beatrice’s heart is presented, Beatrice-san acts strangely. She says, “I’ll show you my heart now,” and raises both hands. Light gathers in both hands, but for some reason, the light disappears from her right hand, and she lowers it, leaving only her left hand glowing as she asks, “Who am I?” The right hand, which lost its light and was lowered, becomes the point of discussion, but Lady Lambdadelta said to my master, “Did you notice her lowering her right hand? That girl is still hiding a powerful trump card.” The left hand, which retained the light and was used for the challenge, is likely the bomb. So, the right hand—the powerful trump card that was lowered—must be what Featherine meant by Beatrice’s heart. Therefore, the third element of consistency to address is that it must explain a powerful trick at the core of the story, beyond the bomb.

Finally, there’s the blatant narrative text: “The greatest mystery of this story will soon be revealed.” The solution to the logic error closed room must be this story’s greatest mystery.

Now, the clues I’ve identified are these four, but how many solutions could possibly satisfy all four? This is the method of thinking—and the approach—that is the worst possible match for a mystery. Beatrice-san’s game board cannot escape this. Even if it’s a challenge posed to Battler-san, I should absolutely be able to solve it—no, I must solve it. Because that’s what a mystery is. I swear on the history of mysteries, there’s no way I can’t solve it. If I can’t solve it, then it’s not a mystery!!

Erika Furudo’s Choice

A detective who doesn’t even consider the possibility of not solving a mystery—what kind of existence is that to a mystery writer? Perhaps something akin to a demon? Hehehe… It feels like I’d forgotten this for a while—the true joy of mysteries. The method of thinking I take is one that cannot be used without wholeheartedly trusting the mystery writer. That’s why I had sealed it away for so long. If I truly want to solve Beatrice-san’s challenge, I have to believe she’s placed clues for me. I can’t use the chain deduction method without trusting Beatrice-san. This method is a way of tackling a classic mystery that presupposes the placement of clues. I can’t say I haven’t been indulging in excuses like, “It’s just a fantasy wearing the skin of a mystery.” I might have approached it with a casual attitude, thinking, “I’ll tear open its guts and expose the witch’s true identity.” But if I truly want to solve it, I have to make a choice here. Is Beatrice-san’s game board a mystery, or a fantasy? If I stick to mysteries, I’m confident I can solve any story. But if it’s not even a mystery to begin with…

There’s one thing that piques my interest. Beatrice-san’s game board is constructed in a very peculiar way. It might be trying to make the solver deduce the Whydunit—in other words, the heart. Normally, the heart isn’t something that can be deduced logically or as a puzzle. But perhaps, just maybe, I can experience a kind of mystery I’ve never tasted before. Maybe there’s a new kind of enjoyment that mysteries haven’t offered until now. Isn’t that a good enough reason to trust the mystery writer and tackle it as a mystery? Very well. This time, I’ll love Beatrice-san with all my heart. But be prepared, okay? My love is heavy, you know?

#umineko

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