Waterlogged
The bloated body is stripped of color. Thick patches of skin have imploded, creasing the flesh in deformed clumps. The face reminds Sayo of a Sphynx cat beyond her prime. Her bloodless lips are puckered, forced into place by the countless wrinkles creasing on her cheeks.
She still reeks of seawater. Sayo's nose twitches, but the stench has already filled the locked meeting room. She focuses on the grime clinging to the girl's bare arms and the stringy mess of her jet-black hair. Stray bits of seaweed seem sewed into the bite marks on her shoulders, calves, and hips, evident she had become fish food for the trout or sharks.
The girl is Japanese. She appears to be around Jessica's age, but unlike Jessica, she is as dead as any girl who washed up on the shore can be. Her appearance had thrown the family conference into chaos when Rosa and the cousins located her corpse while searching for Maria in the storm. The screams Battler and Jessica emitted still ring in her ears. She had hidden behind George, shielding Maria with her skirt while Rosa frantically shouted at the nearby Genji for help.
What happened next didn't matter. The adults were shocked, but she had given the command to Genji while they fretted whether to call the police. The typhoon had swept through, and she had already cut the phone lines amidst the confusion. The solution she had given, which Genji offered to Krauss, was to keep the body in a tarp and secure it in a locked room. Krauss acted as if it had been Kinzo's command, subduing his troublesome siblings before they could inquire further.
After all, they are currently discussing more important matters. Money is the root of all evil. Even the tragic discovery of a girl's corpse wouldn't deter them from the true purpose of the conference.
While they bicker over Kinzo's wealth, she observes their visitor. Sayo keeps the tarp pinched between her fingers. It's soaked to the bone, chilling her skin, but what she feels is only a fraction compared to the chill that had seeped through the girl's flesh and organs.
Nanjo had given the corpse a cursory examination. He says she has drowned, but anyone could have gleaned that. With the swelling of her stomach, she must have swallowed several liters of water. It filled her up until she had more water than blood flowing in her body, and she sank to the bottom of the depths, smothered by rain and waves.
But she is unfortunate. She had been spat back out on the cursed island of the witch. If she had been devoured or submerged, then she wouldn't have been involved with the tragedy unfolding as the minutes passed. Perhaps, if a miracle had occurred, a fisherman would have discovered her as he reeled in his net, and she would have been provided proper identification and burial, mourned by family and friends.
Now, she is a second, lesser mystery. When everyone wakes up, six people will be dead. She has already decided on the targets, and they will soon be like their guest. While she is pale and the odor of the sea contaminates her, four adults and two servants will be dyed in blood-red from the holes in their heads, and instead of their usual perfumes and colognes spritzing their necks, bodily fluids will waft off them. Soon enough, this girl will be forgotten while the bodies pile up, and Sayo plays the starring role.
But Sayo can't shake off her intrigue. Throughout all of her planning, she has never anticipated an extra person invading her island. She would have rather had a living being, not a carcass, joining in the story she weaved. Now, she can only gaze at the puffy, dark eyelids, the centerpieces among the fleshy folds of what may have been a beautiful face.
She shudders and caresses the girl's jaw. The skin lacks elasticity, allowing them to dig in, leaving red welts when she tugs them out. Curiously, she scratches downward. Red lines are left behind, and her fingernails easily slice through the mottled tissue, curdled blood pressing outward like pus.
Sayo recoils. She shakes her head and examines herself. Although blood trickles out from the girl's new injuries, her hands are clean. She supposes that is why she prefers using guns. There would have been an uncomfortable liquid staining her sleeves. No evidence must be left behind, not that the police would be involved with either case.
Still, she continues. She pinches her eyelids, which she notices lack eyelashes, and peels them apart. The girl's sclera is grayer than dishwater. Veins streak across them in an intricate pattern. But her pupils drive out a gasp from Sayo. They had expanded to the point of covering her irises. Black pools entice Sayo to sink as well, unable to tear her gaze away, and with a swallow, she flicks her right eye, forcing it to stare at the nearest bookshelf.
"I suppose I could end up like you," she murmurs, resting her hand on the girl's chin. "Are you a warning from God? A symbol of what I could end up as? If my body doesn't explode with the rest, will I drown like you?"
The girl doesn't answer. Sayo could have forced her, of course. Shannon and Kanon claiming to have checked on the body at Genji's behest only to discover her dancing a resurrected jig would have been another peculiarity caused by Beatrice. Waving her arms, kicking her legs, cackling in the witch's tongue, she could have lived until her body collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs when burned by the anti-magic toxin.
Sayo sighs. She can figure out how to incorporate the corpse later. The siblings will soon settle for the night, and she retrieves the tarp. She sets it over the body as if she is putting the girl to bed. She leaves it on her collarbone, dark spots decorating her skin like buttons, and she smooths aside stray strands of hair. The idea to read her a bedtime story tickles her fancy, and she smiles.
"Good night, our dear guest," she murmurs and readjusts the girl's right eye. "I'll see you soon. Perhaps, if you are considerate, you'll be welcomed to the Golden Land."
Sayo leaves after bowing to her. She flicks off the lights switch and locks the door behind her. She hears the grumbling adults dispersing a few hallways over, their footsteps heavy. Sucking in a breath, she grabs her unattended cart, prepared for the first twilight.