A cool breeze swept across the training grounds behind the guild. Morgan stood with arms crossed, watching the trainees practice from a distance. The sound of approaching footsteps from two City Guards broke the silence.
"Are you Instructor Morgan?" one of the officers asked.
Morgan turned to look, furrowing his brow as he assessed the uniformed men before him. "Yes, that's me. Do you need something?"
"Do you know a man named Charles Ravencroft?"
"Yes, I know him. Has something happened?"
"Last night he murdered the Treasury Head."
"What?!" Morgan exclaimed in shock.
...
At Charles's residence, City Guard officers were cordoning off the area and searching every corner. Neighbors gathered outside, whispering and wondering what had happened.
Next door, Mrs. Wilson stood in her garden, her gaze shifting between the two officers questioning her and the young neighbor's house being ransacked.
"How long have you known Ravencroft?" an officer asked while his colleague took notes.
"About a year," Mrs. Wilson answered, her eyes still fixed on Charles's house. "Is it true? That Charles killed a high-ranking official?"
"Yes," the officer nodded. "During his time living here, did he have any suspicious visitors who came frequently?"
"I don't know, I didn't pay much attention," she continued glancing at Charles's house periodically.
The officer began to get irritated. "Granny, please finish answering my questions first. Don't worry about what's happening over there."
"You answer my question too," Mrs. Wilson retorted. "Why would Charles kill the Treasury Head?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm gathering information from you, Granny."
"You don't think I know more than you do, you damned boy?"
...
In Charles's bedroom, items were being removed as evidence until almost nothing remained. One officer found a crumpled piece of paper wedged between books, with fragmented text in a strange, unreadable language.
"Sir," he called to his superior, "I found some strange paper."
The lead officer took the paper, examining both sides, but found nothing except the incomprehensible characters.
"What is this?"
"I don't know, sir. I thought you might recognize something."
"I don't either, but it might be important. Take it with us."
Just then, another officer entered, carefully holding a large wine bottle.
"Sir, I found this in the kitchen," he held up the bottle.
The lead officer took it, his eyes widening immediately upon seeing the label. He froze for a moment before swallowing hard.
"Sir... sir... what should we do with this wine bottle?"
The lead officer stared at the bottle in his hand with longing eyes, licking his lips before answering, "Take it back as evidence..." He paused. "But record that we found an empty bottle."
All eyes in the room darted between the wine bottle and the lead officer's face, the atmosphere thick with awkwardness.
...
Rain pattered down in the night, droplets striking the roof of the Treasury Department with rhythmic resonance. Joseph, Edward, and Miranda walked through the rain to the main entrance, their cloaks slightly damp from the spray.
The corridors of the Treasury Department were silent, with only oil lamps lit at intervals, casting long shadows on the marble walls. Upon reaching the checkpoint, two guards stood at attention, looking wary when they saw the unfamiliar group approaching.
Joseph reached into his coat pocket and produced a document bearing the official seal of the City Guard.
The guards examined the document carefully before nodding permission for them to pass.
"You may enter," one guard said.
The three nodded and proceeded to the scene of the crime. The smell of burning and the metallic scent of blood still lingered in the air, despite several hours having passed.
Joseph immediately went to Christopher's desk, his eyes scrutinizing the wooden surface. His hand traced along the edge, searching for any trace of the mechanism Charles had described. He took out the silver ring from his pocket, examining it under the lamplight.
"Should be here..." he muttered, pressing his finger on a spot under the desk, but nothing happened.
Joseph frowned, recalling Charles's account, who had been chained to the wall with a limited view. He tried pressing different spots around the first one, alternating with turning the ring, attempting to unlock the secret mechanism.
'Charles said Isaac reached deep into the mechanism...' he thought, feeling under the desk again, this time reaching further in. 'There must be something...'
"How can we be sure that man's story is true?" Miranda spoke up, her sharp eyes sweeping the room cautiously. She positioned herself where she could see both the door and window.
"Charles wouldn't lie. I trust him," Joseph answered without taking his eyes off the desk.
"Just because you're kind to him doesn't mean he'll reciprocate, Joseph," Miranda insisted firmly. "Perhaps his target from the beginning was Christopher. Even the memory loss could be fabricated."
"The memory loss is real," Edward interjected with conviction. "I examined him myself and confirmed he has no memories from before arriving in this kingdom."
"But that kind of thing could be self-induced," Miranda countered. "Or whoever is behind him could have erased his memories to make his job easier. This man could be a spy from another kingdom who infiltrated ours, waiting for orders until now. Who knows?"
"But if that were true, what would they gain from killing the Treasury Head?" Joseph turned to look at his sister. "What would Charles gain from murdering him?"
Miranda paused before replying softly, "At minimum, it creates chaos in the kingdom. The Treasury Head is a crucial position. His death would certainly impact the kingdom's financial system."
"But if they just wanted to create chaos, why use Charles?" Joseph asked while sliding his finger into a small crevice he'd found on the desk. "Why not use someone else? Or for greater credibility, someone with clear motivation, like one of Christopher's political enemies?"
"Exactly," Edward added. "More importantly, if Charles were truly a spy, he wouldn't be foolish enough to draw attention to himself by taking on various cases and becoming a famous detective."
Miranda raised her hand to her chin, contemplating. "It could be a strategy—building a reputation, becoming well-known so no one would suspect..."
A soft click from the desk interrupted their conversation. A ring-shaped slot appeared on the wall behind them. Joseph quickly approached, carefully inserting the silver ring into the slot.
The hidden compartment opened slowly, but it was empty. Joseph frowned, his hand feeling along the inner wall of the compartment until he felt a small groove just big enough for a fingertip.
He inserted his finger into the groove and pressed down. Another faint mechanical sound followed, and a second hidden compartment opened in the lower part of the wall, right at knee level.
"Clever..." Joseph murmured, bending down to reach into the newly opened compartment, feeling an object inside.
When he pulled it out, he held a book. It looked ancient, as if it had survived hundreds of years. Its cover was made from a strange material he had never seen before—textured like paper but with unnatural durability.
"This is..." he turned the book over, trying to understand what he was holding.
Miranda and Edward moved closer, their eyes fixed on the book in Joseph's hands. The characters on the pages were strange—a language none of them had ever seen.
"This book..." Miranda said softly, her eyes locked on the volume in her brother's hands. "What material was used to create it?"
Joseph carefully turned the pages. Though he couldn't read the text, the illustrations told a story. Complex diagrams appeared on several pages, with connecting lines and various symbols linked together as if explaining something.
Some pages were clear and complete, others had faded to near invisibility, and some showed signs of tearing. The content on each page seemed disconnected. Some portions resembled academic text, others appeared to be experimental logs, and some looked like blueprints, but all were written in the unreadable language.
"An ancient language..." Edward said. "We'll need Abigail to help translate. She's the most knowledgeable about ancient languages in the unit."
Joseph turned to the back of the book, to the section in the best condition. A detailed illustration of a strange creature appeared—a leech-sized black mass with numerous tentacles extending around it.
"What is that thing?" Miranda asked, leaning down to examine the drawing with interest.
"The Black Parasite," Joseph answered, his finger tracing the illustration. "The main ingredient for the body-splitting potion. This section probably details the formula and production method."
He turned to the next page. Although he couldn't read the text, when combined with the information Charles had uncovered, everything started to make sense. "It's the same type of parasite we found in Henry... This is crucial evidence that could prove Charles's innocence."
Joseph closed the book, his expression tense but hopeful. "I need to get back to the prison and tell him about this progress."
...
The sound of chains rattling echoed in the interrogation room. Charles was bound to a wooden chair with thick ropes, sweat trickling down his temples. Fresh wounds were added to old ones that hadn't yet healed.
They began by pulling out his remaining fingernails one by one. Each time the metal pliers clamped down on a nail, pain shot through his entire body, nearly stopping his breath. Blood seeped from his injured fingertips.
Then they took a red-hot iron from the coal furnace. The orange glow reflected in Charles's widened eyes. The sound of burning flesh and its smell filled the air as the hot iron pressed against his skin. Charles clenched his teeth tightly, trying not to scream, but groans still escaped his cracked lips.
"Confess!" a voice shouted, accompanied by a heavy fist to his face. Charles tasted blood in his mouth. "You killed Christopher, didn't you?!"
"No..." he forced out the words. "I... didn't do it..."
Ice-cold water was thrown over him, making the burns from the hot iron sting even more. One of the guards grabbed his hair, forcing his head up.
"Want us to try something else?" a cold voice asked. "We have all night..."
After hours of torture, Charles's body was dragged back to his cell. The chains were locked back in place, and the iron-barred door slammed shut with a resounding clang. The guards walked away, leaving him gasping for breath on the cold floor.
"I always thought you'd someday pay for what you did to me..." a mocking voice came from the wall behind him. "But I never imagined it would be like this... imprisoned and tortured this way."