The case carried on, with speed that could be compared to Daimyon's imagination when given the slightest creative spark. It whizzed past sensible limits and dove straight into absurdity—continuing the apt metaphor. As to how accurate the parallel was beyond this point, only those with access to the deepest recesses of the poet's mind could know. Because he surely would not tell anyone. Either way it was reality that mattered, and reality was a bunch of Infinites semi-or-more naked, stripping out of their suffocating garments at feeling the heated tension in the atmosphere.
...that was not exactly the reason for it, still, it played very well into the grand image of the case escalating into its climax. And that was it was all about, was it not?
Taking the literal centre stage like a true protagonist was Davis, whose...reveal was further assisted by a wind that was definitely not natural, convincing Daimyon that Monokuma and thus the mastermind also saw this entire situation as a play. That was...it would have been relieving, had they asked the actors in advance or if actual life-ending death was not part of the script. These itsy-bitsy details killed any chance of all but the most transcendent artistic pleasure, which it would have been thoroughly tasteless to indulge in at this point and time.
So the poet pulled his head down from the clouds and refocused on the situation. He realised that his original reasoning for it held no water—it only got hotter, and the bear's attempts to contain the madness were reminiscent of the times he had given himself a good bonk on the head to stop whatever thought process had been running amok inside. He put a hand on the ribbon that decorated his white shirt and briefly adjusted it with an awkward chuckle that expressed his perplexity in the grand scheme of things. Then he peered inside his notebook again, jotting down a few more thoughts into the drawn timeline that he hoped would be his lighthouse in the fog.
Marianne Roche, meanwhile, remained silent throughout most of the case. She recomposed herself and did not lash out at Davis when he took up defending the putain she had burned to a crisp before, but instead eyed daggers at him, Bliss and a few others that caught her ire in the procedure.
“Although I would not be surprised if her every word turned out to be incoherent babbling...” She spoke up when Cyrus called into question the validity of either Lucas' or Bliss' account. “...but even she would not be stupid enough to lie at this stage of things. The contradiction...” she paused and turned to point at the Infinite Paranormal Investigator, with her other hand still clutching the tube on her necklace. “...lies with you, monsieur!”
...Daimyon's lighthouse was made of paper, it turned to be, as its foundation crumbled when Lucas' account turned out to be errored.
“Hah, what are we but humans, flawed by design...” He shook his head, crossing out the entire timeline with an X before looking up from his book.
...at just the right moment.
His attention, like everyone else's, was immediately captured by Krista who had walked up Lucas' podium. Without as much as a word, she ripped open the man's clothes, revealing a set of bruises—they would not have been cause for alert on people like Isaiah or even Alice, but on a paranormal investigator...as far as Daimyon knew, ghosts could harm anything but one's body, being immaterial and all. That meant...
...no way!
“No...!” Daimyon cried out after Krista's bold accusation, horror previously unheard in his voice. “I cannot believe...such a heinous act, perpetrated by one of us? An Infinite, a friend? Impossible!”
Alas, the hope was for naught. The other suspect, Calvin, was forcibly cleared of guilt, and Davis, with surprising composure, broke down the crime with its every detail, from the setup to the execution. The poet tried to interject, he tried to find some way to clear Lucas' name, but...it all made sense. It all came together to form the account of a vile murder, resulting in the death of a man the whole group had treasured dearly. Daimyon hung his head down in disbelief, the pen shaking in his hands.
Even when the choices presented themselves in the final vote to determine the culprit, he could not bring himself to fully believe that one of his fellows murdered another. He let the timer tick down but in the end, afraid of repercussions if he did not vote, chose himself. It changed nothing as the majority was clearly convinced and thus, Lucas was chosen. When Monokuma confirmed it, Daimyon could only look at the investigator and weakly echo Davis' queries:
“...why?”
