Hotel Krat was the only haven left. That was the crucial flaw that made it a target. 

Carcasses, Alchemists, and Puppets alike used their weapons to scare the innocent with their presence. The main mahogany door was bending to their will. It bulged and bulged; not even Polendina could prevent the disaster from occurring. Gemini had already sent a message to Pinocchio, but the journey back would be blocked by the now corrupted Parade Master.

The door burst, and the attackers ran in, all swinging their makeshift weapons, and bodies fell to the floor. Those seeking safety were the first to let go of their final thoughts. The butler whisked Lady Antonia, Venigni, and Sophia up to Gepetto’s workshop. Innocent humans crawled after them, begging for mercy, but it was far too late. They barricaded the door with work tables and spare parts, and retreated towards the far corner of the dimly lit room. They could breathe, but at the cost of hearing the breaking of prized possessions and painful screams emitting from downstairs. Commotion raged itself across the hotel, and even the large gold coin tree seemed to glow dimmer that night. Little did the staff know that the very room they were sitting in was that of the mastermind’s. They had just locked themselves in the cage, however the inhabitant was already at the helm of the attack, and was not home. 

… 

The Parade Master was slain, its electrical skull rolled in the storm, short circuiting. Pinnocchio ran and ran, Gemini pushing him harder than ever. By the time the poor boy had returned, it was far too late. The doors were left wide open, and in the midst of it all was a banner. Hung by the limbs of the victims, it said “Hypocrite” in dark, bold letters written with blood. He fell to his knees, and the puppet cried, revealing the humanity that his grief-stricken maker had purposefully carved out for him. The only thing left was the old piano, which seemed to have been spared purposefully. 

After all of Krat went eerily silent, Pinocchio raced up the stairs and pounded on the only safe room in the hotel. He revealed himself, and soon the door was open to him. Venigni stood in his way, a codex clasped tightly in his hand.

“It was Gepetto. He’s the one that caused this, my poor friend.”

Now, Pinocchio realized. The humanity that he held so dear was meant for the master’s own son, not him. Whether or not it was by choice, the leader behind the Frenzy would steal Pinocchio’s heart, only in an effort to revive his son. A pawn in a game, that was all he was.

The marionette’s heart wept, while his world watched in a painful sorrow. The rain poured as hard as his tears, masking the only peaceful tune left: The sound of the puppet’s heart beating, interweaved with the withered piano in the corner, softly singing a distant memory.