an admirable history

Much to the relief of most of the party, Belphegor quite unceremoniously takes his leave—one minute he's there, the next he's not.

Your personal belongings are returned to you—cellphones, wallets, whatever you had on you. Maon, helpfully, gathers up the items from Tsuyukusa and Bakura. Anything else stays behind in the rooms. Probably doesn't matter—it's not like this place is going to be in business much longer.

"I'm clearing out whoever's downstairs," says Tristan, in a voice that offers no room for argument. "The rest of you can meet me down there in a few minutes. After that, I'll get you home."

For some reason, nobody seems to be in a terribly good mood about all of this, but hey, questionably free grilled cheese.

. . .

When you head downstairs, you find the attached booze and grilled cheese bar, as Tristan promised, totally empty except for the serving and kitchen staff, and it's probably best not to ask questions. Cheerful pop music plays on the radio overhead, and there are several long wooden tables with a rustic sort of decor. There's also a television currently playing some sort of Sports, and a few quieter areas with some comfy chairs and maybe some board games.

If you try to leave, you'll be stopped—so just settle in and order some food for now. It's not on your tab.

You are in a small, square room—no more than five or six paces across in either direction. The floor is a sanded-over dry wood, and the walls appear to be mottled stone. There is one door, very clearly locked, and one window, which is painted over entirely in blues and greens, light filtering in from behind it as if shining through water. There is a piece of red tape stuck to the bottom edge of the window where it is sealed to the small wooden ledge. A variety of shells, sand, and other debris are on the window ledge and beneath it

There is a table in the middle of the room, and chairs around that, and it seems to be set up for tea? A captain's rolltop desk also sits down here, one leg broken so that it's tilted onto its side. There are what appears to be barnacles on all of these pieces of furniture.

One wall is a huge mural, depicting some sort of monstrous humanoid covered in tentacles rising from the ocean depths. The details of its face are missing, as is a piece of the sky, and what appears (from the legs) to be people facing it — there are three smooth disc-shaped cutouts missing from it.

Beyond that, the contents are even odder. There is one very large treasure chest resting against one wall, locked with a combination lock. A ship's wheel is propped up in one corner, balanced on a coil of rope. A scuba diver's helmet leans against another wall, next to an anchor. Several casks are in the corner.

The sound of waves rushing and flowing fills the room. Everything has a faint brackish smell.

You are in a small, rectangular room—about ten paces long and six across. A fairly cramped classroom, with a heavy desk at the front of the room underneath a chalkboard that could use a thorough cleaning. There are four rows of student desks, with 19 desks total. A low set of bookshelves run along one wall, lined with books and binders, some school supplies, a globe.

The back of the room has a single door out, which appears to be firmly locked, and the three windows are heavily boarded over and marked with a line of red tape. The tiles under your feet are scuffed and unpleasant with a thin layer of slimy dust.

Hanging from a hook near the front of the room (was that once meant to be for a slide projector?) is a tied and knotted noose, swaying slightly in a non-existent breeze. You can smell blood in the air.

Across the chalkboard is scrawled:
TB NFX NYVPR
As you take a look around, a bright red clock up on the wall starts to count down from 60 minutes. Underneath, you see the small bright pinprick of light on a camera and speaker.