The next morning, Libra is no where to be found.

Upon going into his room, there blood soaking into his bed, rather coagulated, clotting, rotting.

Near the male bath quarters, there the dirt within a ten feet radius looks as though it were raked over with a tree branch. If a struggle had taken place, it is impossible to tell what actually occured. In the women's bath is Libra, drowned in the toilet.