DISCLAIMER: The author of this story is too embarrassed to show her face right now. She apologizes sincerely for her slow-ass updates. She is a very bad author.

(A/N: Two things. First, I'm thinking of adding chapter names to make this story easier to navigate. Would that bother anyone? Secondly, I saw someone on Instagram was reading this and hashtagging screenshots of the story to #TheConfidantsClub. I don't know if you're still reading this, but shoutout to you if you are.)

December 21st

Anyone who's ever read a book about war or a textbook knows that the winners get to write history. But this time, Kiku Honda and Tino Väinämöinen did not expect that to be the case. Sure, they'd managed to beat Louise Canella time after time. Enough times, in fact, that she'd managed to accumulate three thousand US dollars in debt—preferably cash—to them. When she'd died (and yes, both Kiku and Tino were dead-set from the beginning that it was a suicide, not some silly accident), they'd been scared.

They'd won, but sooner or later, people were going to find out what they'd done. How they'd cheated over and over. Not even for money. Just to win something.

They weren't bad people. They were human. But still, the only saving grace they had was to keep the identities of the other two gamblers who'd helped them beat Louise secret.

The Japanese student and the Finnish student met that Sunday morning at the Café Italia to talk strategy.

"I accidentally told Lukas that one of the gamblers was a boy and one was a girl," Tino admitted to Kiku after finishing half of his coffee. "He's taken to calling them Jack and Jill and he's very set on finding out who they are. And he definitely asked Arthur Kirkland to help him figure things out! Isn't this bad?"

"Jack and Jill?" Kiku replied. "Isn't that a nursery rhyme?"

"Jack and Jill went up the hill... or something like that," Tino said. "He breaks his head open or something."

Kiku sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I know we cannot tell anyone who the other two gamblers are. I mean, you know about one of them... but I feel very bad not saying anything at all. My conscience is struggling."

Tino's nodded. "Yeah. But even if we left Lukas the tiniest thread, he'd probably figure out things anyway."

Kiku's eyes lit up. "I've got it! Can you drive by Arthur Kirkland's house on the way home? I have a wonderful idea."

To: Mathias Køhler

Subject: Untitled

Hey, Mathias. As I'm sure you know, Christmas is approaching. I hope you're having a fun time in Denmark. I want you to enjoy your trip, of course. I want you to have a lot of fun this Christmas. But at the same time, I've just been informed by Arthur that Elizaveta has not found her secret-keeper. If you have any information, please let me know. Now, go have a good time. At least one of us is spending his break back in Scandinavia!

-Lukas Bondevik

—

To: Lukas Bondevik

Subject: Re: Untitled

Yes, I'm having so much fun here, Lukas. It's great. GREAT! Ah, what? Right, Elizaveta. Now I'm not close with her at all, but I'll try my best to scrape up any information. Oh, crap! Christmas is in four days. She'd better get on that! But info, right, right... uh... well, maybe you should try talking to Ivan's cousin. I don't remember her name... wait, maybe she isn't in town anymore? No clue. Anyway, I doubt she'd be of much use. Err, let's see...

-Mathias Køhler

Elizaveta sighed, reading over the email exchange Lukas had just sent her. She wasn't blaming Mathias at all, but it was clear he wasn't going to be of much help here. At least Lukas was making an active effort to help her find her secret-keeper. Elizaveta racked her brain. Who in the world could—? Just then, her laptop let out a message alert. Lukas had forwarded her another email, which was copied and pasted from something Mathias had sent him. This one was also from Mathias. It was pretty short.

I just remembered something! You MUST'VE been to some of Vladimir Lupei's parties, I KNOW you have. You know he's always got enough alcohol to feed all the drunken armies of the world. Anyway, Elizaveta was some kind of alcohol distributor. Maybe you should talk to Vladimir. Best of luck.

Elizaveta mentally slapped herself. How had she not thought of this before?! She'd given Vladimir a few bottles of something one time. Maybe he knew something. She grabbed a school directory and called his home phone number, her heart racing.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Err... Vladimir? It's Elizaveta."

There was a silence on the other end.

"Um, I was just wondering if you... um..." Crap. Elizaveta frowned. She hadn't thought up a mental script at all. "I mean, remember when I sold you some drinks for your party that one time?"

"Yes."

"Did you, ah, that is to say..."

Vladimir sighed. "We aren't all evil, Elizaveta."

"What?"

"I hate you."

"Yes, yes, I hate you too," Elizaveta said, wondering where the conversation was going.

"Yeah, but I'd never ruin your life."

"I never ruined yours," Elizaveta replied. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?"

"What? No. I just wanted to let you know that. If, let's say, you had some kind of secret that I knew about... well, I wouldn't exactly be rushing around to tell anyone, even if some dead German guy were holding a gun to my head. Even if I owed said German guy. On second thought, he kind of owed me..."

"What? Vladimir, really, are you trying to tell me that you're my secret—"

The line went dead.

"Arthur, could you go get the mail?"

"Sure, Mum," Arthur called, grabbing his coat and walking outside. It was snowing. Not really enough to stick to the ground, but the heavy winds sure made going outside very unpleasant. Arthur opened the mailbox and frowned.

The usual stack of junk and letters was there, no problem, but nestled on top of those was a small bouquet of blue cornflowers.

Lukas ran over his notes again.

When he'd first found out that Gilbert had ended his own life, Lukas had been surprised. Surprised because he thought Gilbert was just fine, even if he did have some dark corners in his life. But the more Lukas found out through the Confidants' Club, classmates, and other events, the more it made sense. Because no matter how you looked at it, the truth wasn't pretty. Gilbert had been a gay, bullied kid who made some serious mistakes and got rejected by the person he liked. Not to mention that the only girl he'd ever liked had been run over a bus.

And according to many sources, Gilbert had also been a frequent gambler, though he'd never owed anyone more than about fifty dollars.

Lukas' phone, which was sitting on his bed, rang. Lukas answered.

"It's Arthur. I just got some flowers in the mail."

"Um, good for you," Lukas replied dryly.

"I don't know who they're from."

"Oh, I see. You think I'm capable of solving all the mysteries of the universe now."

Arthur paused. He probably wasn't used to being around someone who was even more sarcastic than he was. "They're, uh, blue cornflowers."

Lukas considered that. "And you said you don't know who they're from? Well, blue cornflowers are Germany's national flower. I'm sure you knew that, though. That's why you called, isn't it? You think there's some deep meaning to this?"

"Yes?" Arthur ventured.

"Yeah, I agree. But let's worry about this later. In the meantime, I need to take a nap. And catch up on some Netflix."

Arthur laughed. "The icy, all-knowing Lukas Bondevik actually shows some human tendencies? Who would've known?"

Lukas snorted. "Well, while you're not busy, if I were you, I'd call my little Hungarian girlfriend and ask her what the deal is with Vladimir Lupei. Bye now."