I stepped on the duct tape

Ah...

I'm using a little bit of chess-board thinking again right now, fellow Reader.

You're supposed to be my ally in this, aren't you?

Then why would you pick this option? You must know that the second I step on the duct tape, one of my loafers is going to become caught. My balance will be thrown off. I'll stumble. I'll follow from the ledge and head-first towards the soaked, muddy ground, 2.5 floors below me. My body will be injured when it gracelessly flops upon the ground. If I'm lucky enough not to die from an awkward landing on my neck, I'll be treated to one of Erika's detective minions coming around and finishing me off shortly, or perhaps that culprit, Kyrie.

It's clear to me... Erika's gotten to you too, hasn't she? She's using the detective's authority to tell you that she's the detective and I'm the criminal, right? You're just doing what you have to, from a mystery standpoint. After all, if I caught up to her at this point, this whole story would have to become an erotica somehow, wouldn't it? You love that Rokkenjima mystery so much that you aren't going to let me have this, are you?

But no...

I won't give up.

Erika may have all of the rest of you enslaved- even you, Reader- but she doesn't have me!

I'm not a **** to Erika!

This is still my story!

I'll try again!

and again and again and again

and again and again!!

Shoot me! Beat me! Throw me out the window! Hit me with the toolbox! Stab me with an iron poker! Garrote me with that duct tape of yours!

It's still my story! It isn't all about Erika! You'll see! I don't give a damn about Erika!

Erika...!

Erika...!

Eriiiikaaaaa!

Time passed. Sobbing miserably for as long as I drew breath, longing for Erika, I died at the side of the guest house via internal bleeding, with none of the others ever finding me.