Jarvis stayed firm. "Snow might cover it up, but it also keeps everything preserved." Matthew took a beat to get it. In this kind of freeze, every mark and item would stay intact, so it wouldn't rot or disappear. Still, it was a ton of work. In this weather, all he really wanted was some shelter, a fire, and a hot drink. Before he could daydream about that, he noticed Jarvis, eyes red and tense, looking like he was about to explode. Matthew bolted. "I'll go find it right now!" Jarvis stared at Zyrell's body, muttering silently. Zyrell, I'll find who did this. If I fail, I won't survive either. Matthew rushed toward the largest tent. All the smaller tents around were zipped shut. The people inside had frozen in their sleep—no clues there. Only the main tent, with its flap open as if someone had come and gone, might hold some clues. It was also a bit warmer than standing in the open. Shivering, Matthew stacked pillows, sheets, and tablecloths onto a wooden nightstand. He pulled out a lighter, struggled to get a flame going, and warmed his hands. Just as a fleeting warmth brushed past, Jarvis' footsteps and urgent voice cut in from outside. "Found anything yet?" Matthew panicked. He'd been busy warming up and slacking. He grabbed a few random items nearby to hand them over. Jarvis frowned at the objects—a diary, two wine glasses, and a feather from some unknown bird. "These are the clues?" Matthew nodded. He had grabbed them quickly but had actually glanced at each. "Jarvis, there's no booze, but there are two wine glasses. Isn't that weird? And I skimmed this diary. It's like a warehouse log." He opened it and handed it over. "Section A, Row 1, instant food; Row 2, snacks; Section B, Row 1, bedding; Row 2, toiletries..." Jarvis stared at the cramped Broric writing. "You can read this?" Matthew widened his eyes. "Did you forget? I work in foreign trade. I actually majored in business Broric!" He waved it off. "Anyway, that's not the point. Three years into this apocalypse—who'd still keep pre-apocalypse warehouse logs? This has to be post-apocalypse stuff!" Jarvis didn't care. "And what does this have to do with my brother?" Matthew got frustrated. "Your brother and the others probably hid a huge stash somewhere!" Jarvis didn't budge. "I just want to know who killed Zyrell. What he did while alive doesn't interest me." Matthew pursed his lips speechlessly. Yeah, you're proud and aloof. You don't even care about supplies. No wonder you keep threatening to kill yourself—you're nuts. He would never say that out loud, though. He just picked up the last item. "This is ... a feather. People shed hair, not feathers. That's also weird." Matthew glanced away, feeling a bit guilty. Honestly, the feather was just filler. He'd been messing around in the tent too long. Jarvis would have flipped if he hadn't grabbed something.The feather was probably from a bird killed for food. Nothing special. Jarvis didn't comment and turned to stare at the fire. Matthew awkwardly explained, "I'm not slacking! It's freezing. I lit this so we don't die out here." Jarvis frowned. "What did you burn?" Matthew said, "Relax. Just pillows and a tablecloth. I didn't ruin anything important." Jarvis said nothing more. They were indeed freezing. Matthew tried to take the lead. "What about you? Find anything?" Jarvis shook his head. "Nothing." The tents were quiet. Everyone inside was frozen in peaceful sleep. What clues could they leave behind? So far, he'd only found two tanned people who were different. Like Zyrell, they'd been killed, but there were no clues on them either. Matthew clicked his tongue, annoyed. Look at him—all serious. But he's not even doing better than me. He pouted. "So, what should we do now?"