Reconstructing the Incident

A few days later, I headed to the Imperial Investigation Bureau under Investigator Pletta Selwyn's guidance.

The bureau was in the complete opposite direction from the Central Imperial Magic Library, so I rarely had any reason to go there.

Come to think of it, it was basically like a police station. What would I even do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there?

Whether in my past life or this one, the best policy was to steer clear of that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sort of thing.

As we entered the bureau, a young officer who had been sitting there dazedly jumped to his feet and saluted.

"Loyalty!"

"Yeah, sure. This is Master Yujin Feltro, cooperating on this case. Make sure his ID badge is ready for pickup on the way out."

"Yes, sir!"

"Good work."

Pletta gave the officer a casual wave and trudged ahead into the building.

That posture, that tone, the rise and fall of her voice... she was exactly like a senior sergeant lording it over a private on his last tour.

She seemed to hold a pretty high position in the bureau, higher than I'd expected.

No wonder she could check out seized evidence on her own discretion.

Pletta's office was on the second floor of the bureau.

Piles of documents were neatly stacked on her desk, and there was even a sleeping bag shoved in the corner—probably for pulling all-nighters right there.

"Sorry about the mess, Master Feltro. Things have been so hectic I haven't had a chance to tidy up."

"No worries. My office is probably the same. On-call rooms double as workshops—they all end up like this."

Come to think of it, both she and I were civil servants.

The Central ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Imperial Magic Library was imperial property, after all.

Fellow bureaucrats shared a certain camaraderie.

Pletta let out a light chuckle at my words and handed me a bundle of papers from her desk.

"Here's the case file. Take your time reading through it, and let me know if anything catches your eye or if you have questions."

I read through it carefully.

"...Hmm."

"What do you think? Anything stand out?"

"Nope, no clue at all."

"Pardon?"

Pletta blinked in confusion at my 100% honest reply.

But what could I do? They all looked suspicious as hell.

Not a proper crime scene, and it's driving me nuts.

Every single person involved had some motive, big or small.

And a butler, maid, gardener... Wiki, you really devoured this whole case, didn't you?

No wonder a gardener stuck out among all those jobs.

Even if the Empire was far more advanced and progressive than your average medieval fantasy nation, noble households still averaged out the same.

Vice-Count Lancaster had clearly made plenty of enemies in life.

"Any leads on cause of death? That seems like the key."

"Not poison, but it looked like mana overload, from what I heard. Blood pouring from his nose and ears, soaking his whole body."

Ugh. Grotesque just imagining it.

Master had drilled the dangers of mana overload into my ears a thousand times.

-Even those dark mages don't mess with mana lightly. Why do you think even their cults stick to orthodox mana control without shortcuts?

That was why I wasn't pushing for 3rd Circle no matter what.

If you weren't born with mana affinity, mages had only two ways to climb ranks.

Master external mana freely, or collect it inside your body for use.

The first had a high floor but low ceiling; the second had high floor and ceiling.

But the second often caused "overload"—unrefined mana shredding organs, leading to the Seven Apertures Bleeding Death.

Unless you had insane ambition, almost no one chose internal collection.

"Was the vice-count a mage? Otherwise, no reason for mana overload."

"That's the mystery. He wasn't. But autopsy showed his heart discolored purple... classic overload symptom."

So that's why dark mages were suspected.

In imperial history, blaming them usually hit the mark for weird shit.

They were like this world's England, after all.

"Suspects in custody?"

"Everyone except ex-Sheriff Gilbert. He's imperial nobility too—no arrest without hard evidence."

"What about Margareta Lancaster here?"

"Pardon? She's the victim's daughter."

Good lord!

I smacked my forehead.

Investigator Pletta, you're not deducing at all.

In noble family cases, you investigate the kids first, root and stem.

"Assume the eldest is off the hook in the army, third at the academy. But this daughter had serious father-daughter friction. Shouldn't she be a suspect? Alibi's just staff word."

Rule one of locked-room murders: Everyone present is a potential killer.

Pletta looked troubled for a moment at my firm stance.

"You're right to keep all possibilities open, Master Feltro, but no need to summon her from the provinces."

"Why not?"

"...Lady Margareta is in the capital right now. Wants to see her father's killer executed before leaving. We can call her as a witness."

"Hmm, fair enough. Would be nice to meet her sometime."

Anyway, I'd read the case overview solid.

A real crime scene or murder mystery straight out of a deduction game.

But how to adapt this to Dimension?

What I made was a Mafia game.

Even analyzing player logs of their thoughts, if they hid on purpose, it'd be useless.

And cramming these five suspects into one Mafia game? Felt like it'd just muddy the info.

Gather 'em all cozy-like and say, Now we'll interrogate your subconscious—which one spills their guts?

They needed isolated spaces, intense mental pressure...

That's when it hit.

A brilliant idea flashed through my mind.

Mental pressure? Just make 'em play a horror game.

No need for log analysis—if the real killer confesses outright, done.

Amnesia, Poppy Playtime, The Corridor... Horror titles from my past life bubbled up.

"Investigator, how long to the crime scene round trip?"

"The scene? Probably a full day, generously."

"Library's closed weekends. We could go then. You free?"

"???? What do you mean?"

I resolved to head to Lancaster Mansion with Pletta for on-site investigation.

For a more vivid, realistic horror experience.