Advanced Investigation (1)
An interrogation room, tucked away in a corner of the dungeon.
A man named Bob, dragged into the dark, damp room, was trembling violently, as if he could already foresee the future awaiting him.
‘Why me? Why does it have to be me!’
Even as his body shook, he couldn't fathom why he had been the first one called out. When he thought about it, he was just a low-level grunt. He didn't even know who the so-called “moneybags” were, nor had he ever set foot in the meetings where the high-ranking figures who orchestrated this entire scheme gathered.
“I, I really don't know anything, sir! I was just living as a back-alley thug, and they told me I’d get paid well if I just did what I was told…!”
It was all true. He was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill hoodlum, the kind you could see countless times in the back alleys of any city. Calling him a thug or a ruffian was generous; he had no talent for brawling, nor did he possess the skills of a pickpocket. He was just a guy who spent his days threatening passersby for a few coins, only to blow it all on the cheapest booze he could find and cause a scene.
- That’s the guy. Just lure him and bring him to the office, and I’ll pay you the promised money right away!
He knew the person he had to lure was a high-ranking official who held some sway in the North, but—
- Even so, he’s not even a noble. He’s just a petty administrator barely holding his head high in this backwater. What’s there to be afraid of? If things go south, we can just run far away to the south.
The subtle addition had sounded plausible enough to give him courage. He had been flustered by how easily the target had been lured, but that night, when the higher-ups slapped the promised promissory note into his hand, the man’s audacity had grown tenfold.
- If I lure another one, I can keep getting that bonus, right? Heh heh.
It wasn't just the victimized investors who had gone blind after getting a taste of the money. The organization, which always preached about “our family,” was sucking up even the small stipends they had given to their low-level members to grow their own coffers.
Just as Jamie and Roland were heading to the dungeon to find other charges to punish the fraud organization, Aiden sat in his suddenly quiet office, sipping a cup of deeply steeped tea while staring blankly at Kalisa, who was sitting at the desk opposite him.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Are you really not going to help?”
“What are you referring to?”
“You’ll catch their tails eventually, but it’s going to take quite a while.”
“Does it change anything if I step in? Those two are getting quite good at reading ledgers now.”
“It’s not about the ledgers.”
“Well, since they are ledgers from people who set out to commit fraud from the start, we can’t trust them entirely anyway.”
“You understand me, so why do you keep pretending you don’t?”
Aiden downed his tea in one gulp and let out a dry laugh. He could see right through Kalisa, who was pretending to be oblivious even though she understood exactly what he was saying.
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Administrator. Why would I pretend not to understand on purpose?”
“Are you still afraid?”
“Pardon?”
“Or have I failed to earn your trust?”
“Administrator.”
“I told you clearly. Whatever your true identity is, to me, you are just my reliable, capable, and trusted adjutant.”
“…….”
“And I have no intention of letting the abilities my adjutant possesses go to waste.”
Perhaps feeling stifled by Aiden’s words, Kalisa also downed her now-cold tea. Being quick-witted, she couldn't possibly not know what Aiden wanted from her. However—
- Monster! Get away!
- Aaaack! Don’t come near me! Please, I beg you!
A memory from her childhood, which she thought she had forgotten, suddenly surfaced. Kalisa clutched her chest instinctively. There was no pain, but sometimes past memories could affect the present body. And then she realized. Why, even after revealing her identity as a witch, she had refused to use any of her abilities other than the emotion-sharing she had used even before the reveal.
‘Have I not yet completely escaped my past?’
A mage’s magic was called a “miracle” because it brought about visible wonders, but a witch’s sorcery was called “curse-work” because it was invisible and often delved into the things people wanted to hide most. It was rare to find a witch who hadn't been spat upon or kicked at least once after awakening, precisely because of the nature of their abilities.
Perhaps that was why, without even realizing it, Kalisa had defined her identity not as a witch, but as the Northern adjutant, Kalisa Loheim. Because as an adjutant, not a witch, the more she displayed her abilities, the more she received applause instead of scorn.
“…It is still an unstable talent.”
However, Kalisa had no choice but to say the words her superior, who was waiting quietly for her answer, ultimately wanted to hear.
“I could try to trace the memories of the criminals, but since my talent is meager, it’s uncertain whether I’ll find what you want.”
“I see.”
“But I will try. As you said, if my talent can be of help, it would save those two fools quite a bit of time, wouldn’t it?”
She then added, as if to herself:
Those two. They don’t have much talent for interrogation. They aren’t cold or cruel enough by nature.
Jamie might be able to beat a criminal with his innate physique, but that was a skill needed for punishment, not an aptitude suited for interrogation. Roland, who had grown bolder in strange ways since coming to the North, was fundamentally a scholar who had wrestled with texts his whole life, so she couldn't deny that she was the most suitable person for the task.
“If you can’t step in yourself, you could recommend someone capable.”
“I’ll try it first. I need to get used to it, too.”
I want to stand before people proudly as a witch, too.
Kalisa swallowed those words, unable to voice them. She simply offered Aiden a faint smile.
“I’ll be going.”
“Yes.”
The door closed, and Kalisa headed to the dungeon. Aiden, left alone, tapped his fingers on the desk and fell into thought.
‘Now that Kalisa has moved, finding the hidden crimes will be a piece of cake.’
‘She said she can’t see everything, but she can pierce through a person’s heart, and if necessary, peer into the unconscious mind that even the person themselves doesn’t remember, right?’
He had learned this while reading reports on the various abilities witches possessed. According to Kalisa, this was why powerful nobles hated witches. While no one liked having their flaws exposed, it was understandable that nobles who possessed much wealth and power—and who had committed countless sins without even realizing it—would look unfavorably upon witches who could see right through them.
However, Aiden lived an inhuman daily life where his personal privacy was effectively zero. He didn't indulge in luxury, he didn't meet anyone personally, and he didn't have any grand personal desires, so he felt no aversion to Kalisa peering into his mind, whether she did it knowingly or not. In that sense, perhaps Kalisa needed a superior like Aiden just as much as Aiden needed her.
Scratch, scratch.
Aiden, who had been lost in thought for a while, began to move his pen over a blank sheet of paper.
- Changes in interrogation methods
- Lie detection
- The unconscious and hypnosis
- Confession inducement
.
.
.
A list of words followed, disorganized. The ultimate destination of all this was:
‘Advanced investigative techniques.’
Aiden intended to use this attempted financial fraud as a pretext to overhaul the entire legal enforcement process. No matter how much “hanging” was a Northern tradition, it was difficult to handle the current public order of the North, where the population grew and new ways to make money appeared overnight, with hanging alone.
“I, I—!”
“Look at their faces. They look like pale weaklings who’ve never dug a hole in the dirt under the sun in their lives.”
“They don’t know the reward of working hard, so they think of making money by stabbing innocent people in the back!”
“Pah, spit! They’re not even manly enough to do anything but skulk around in the shadows.”
Every single one of them, even the touts, were hung on poles. The Northerners were all holding baskets, chatting in small groups while waiting for the soldier to give the signal, each carrying mud, rotten vegetables, or food scraps.
Thwack—!
“Hey, you there! Don’t you see the flag hasn’t dropped yet? It’s not time, so wait a bit longer!”
“Oh, soldier sir, my hand slipped, so I just…!”
It was unclear how one’s hand could “slip” and land a mushy onion precisely on the face of a swindler hanging on a pole over three meters high, but since it was a “mistake,” the soldier just let it slide. An innocent resident making a small mistake and hitting a criminal was fine.
“…So, when the Northern natives said, ‘Those guys should be hung in front of the Lord’s castle and paraded,’ that was…”
“Yeah. You realize now that wasn’t a metaphor or a figure of speech, right?”
“Yes…”
“So you have to keep your temper in check while you’re here.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
People who sounded like they hadn't been settled in the North for long whispered to each other, shivering as they looked at the hung criminals. The soldier listening to their conversation thought, ‘As expected, hanging is the best way to raise awareness about crime! Why don’t they do this good thing in the capital?’
“I heard that this isn’t the first time they’ve committed fraud?”
Just then, a woman who had brought a basket of moldy bread showed signs of wanting to share what she knew about the criminals. The ears of those around her perked up, and they focused on her voice in an instant. In a world lacking entertainment, the backstories of criminals were always interesting.
“So there were already victims?”
“Not in the North, but somewhere called… Le… anyway. They’re guys who already pulled off a big score in the territory of some Count far below the Lontes territory and then came to the North.”
“Is that for real?”
“Apparently, the three adjutants worked together to find it out? They were caught before they could even start their fraud properly here in the North, but since they found out they extorted the property of imperial citizens, they’re going to punish them here first and then notify that Count Le-something.”
“Tsk. Then they aren’t going to do hard labor in some mountain mine, but go to that Count Le-something? What if he lets them go? Guys like that should be made to work for a long time to pay back the victims’ money.”
“Hey. Let them go? They even defrauded that Count Le-something.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Yes! Adjutant Kalisa found it out herself. Apparently, they sold him some fake land deed?”
“Oh my, goodness. They’ve got no fear, seriously!”
“So if they get handed over to the Count, what do you think will happen to them?”
Swish—.
The woman holding the bread basket held her hand up and made a gesture of slitting her own throat.
“They’re dead men walking, dead men!”
At those words, a burly man who had been eavesdropping nearby muttered to himself in a tone of genuine pity.
“That’s a shame. Tsk. Should I just throw a rock and crack their skulls? That seems like a more comfortable way to die.”
“Hey—. You there! Put that rock down!”
“Ah, I was just touching it, just touching it!”
Ordinary Northerner #1, who had been forced to put down the rock he had been clutching by the soldiers’ intervention. It was a situation where it was quite difficult to evaluate whether they were overflowing with mercy or not.