Chapter 46
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Came to Make a Deal (2)
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"..."
The first thing that caught my eye was her battered body, beaten to a pulp.
'Looks like she had a hell of a time for three straight days.'
Not a single inch of her was unscathed from the torture.
I felt no pity.
- Throb.
I still remembered her kicking me in the face.
'And she's the one who pulled off that terrorist attack besides. She deserves her punishment.'
But those defiant purple eyes of hers were as fierce as ever.
I spoke briefly, packing a world of meaning into the words.
"I hope you've been well."
"I should've just killed you back then instead of knocking you out."
Her sharp reaction showed her spirit was unbroken.
"Don't tell me... you came alone? This prison ain't a place for weaklings like you to wander solo."
She asked in a sly, probing tone.
Even in this situation, her voice dripped with intent to try something on me.
Impressive.
"As if. You think I'd be crazy enough to be alone with a major criminal?"
As I stepped aside with those words, the Olfactory Officer and Tactile Officer entered the cell.
"Yo, long time no see."
The Olfactory Officer greeted her lightly, like he was bumping into a gym buddy.
"..."
"I said, long time no see."
The shapeshifter's face suddenly darkened.
She must've recalled some bad memories.
She quickly turned her head to the Tactile Officer and spat,
"And what's this? A tentacle blob? Why'd you bring this freak along?"
One of the tentacles twitched at the racist remark.
At the same time, Tactile Officer Lacrissa Glinapin narrowed her eyes in clear displeasure.
"...What did you just say?"
Oh no.
She hates racial slurs more than anything.
'Especially since she's a deep-sea hybrid, she takes that stuff super personally...'
Things were about to go south right from the start, so I jumped in.
"I've been granted authority over your interrogation by the margrave himself. From here on, I'll be asking you some questions."
She shot me a look that screamed, "You too?"
I ignored it and pressed on.
"What's your name?"
"What's the point of learning the name of someone who's dying in two days?"
A biting retort came flying back.
"...So you know your execution date."
That makes this easier.
"Let me be frank. You don't have much time left. In two days at sunset, you're dead."
Interrogations start with pressure and instilling fear.
The margrave's men had already handled the physical side, so my job was psychological torment.
"Escape's impossible. It's been three days already. And no one's coming to rescue you."
"Ha. You think so?"
"But in exchange, I can buy you some time. All I want is one thing."
I spoke, keeping a meter between us.
"The... kidnapping of the saintess. That wasn't your idea alone, was it? Who put you up to it?"
A mocking laugh burst from her lips.
"You want me to rat out my employer? That's a good one. Guess it was my dad up in heaven?"
Pure sarcasm, but I latched onto her first word.
'Employer.'
That meant this wasn't personal grudge or rebellion. Someone hired her.
I thought calmly.
Who would dare target the saintess of the Holy Church, the continent's largest religious power?
And why would a shapeshifter accept such a job?
Kidnapping the saintess would rock the world.
If she took it on for some payoff, her employer had to be a major player.
'Progress.'
Whether she meant to or not, she was leaking info bit by bit.
Time to dig deeper.
"Shapeshifting is a rare branch of magic... and you showed some slick physical prowess too. Looks like you've had special training. Am I right?"
Shapeshifting falls under magic.
It uses mana to alter one's form, perfect for deception, espionage, and covert ops.
But due to its deceptive nature, it's shunned in society, making shapeshifters rarer than you'd think.
'And a mage with combat skills on par with the Olfactory Officer? Never heard of such a thing.'
Mages suck at fighting, just like me.
They spend their lives buried in spells and mana studies—no time for combat training.
Yet she'd mastered it all.
'She might be someone known in the underworld.'
Someone with those skills wouldn't stay hidden long if I poked around.
But she just laughed mockingly again.
"...It's hilarious how you act like you know it all when you don't know shit. Inquisitor."
"What don't I know?"
"You haven't even figured out who I am, and you think you can pry info out of me? Huh?"
She rattled the shackles binding her arms.
"Worry about your own hide instead. I might slip it on and walk around as you someday."
Threatening me right back.
At that moment,
- BAM!
A fist the size of the shapeshifter's head smashed into the wall beside her.
"Urgh...!"
She flinched, shoulders hunching, staring up at the Olfactory Officer in shock.
"Hey."
His fangs gleamed as he approached slowly.
The wolf growled low.
"Speak to the Central Officer like that one more time, and it won't be the executioner's axe—my teeth will rip your throat out right now."
"H-heh, heh. We'll see about that."
She sneered through a trembling voice, thoroughly cowed.
Something felt off there.
'She knows she's doomed but acts all bold... yet flinches at a sudden threat. Total contradiction.'
She's no brave soul.
She shriveled the second she saw the Olfactory Officer. Obvious.
So why keep mouthing off...?
'She's got something to rely on.'
As I stared silently, our eyes met.
And I finally pinned down that nagging inconsistency.
'Her eye color never changes. Not once.'
When she turned into that country boy Sota, into me, even into the Olfactory Officer—her eyes stayed purple.
'Shapeshifting can change everything.'
Mana-based transformation has no limits.
Hair color to pubic hair—it can alter it all.
So what she did wasn't magic. She wasn't a shapeshifter.
'And no mana signature either.'
The Tactile Officer, second only to the Auditory Officer in mana sensitivity, hadn't reacted. Definitely not mana-related.
A woman who can freely mimic anyone... but whose eye color never changes.
Does such a being exist?
I pondered briefly.
And then,
'Yes.'
I remembered.
I opened my mouth slowly.
"You're... no shapeshifter."
Immigration officers deal with countless races.
From common humans to ultra-rare dragon hatchlings.
We must know each race's traits and cultures inside out.
And right now, one race fit all the criteria in my mind.
A reclusive species, always mimicking humans to hide among them. Hard to spot.
I named it.
"Changeling."
She flinched.
For the first time, her eyes wavered.
"..."
Bingo.
And I recalled changelings' one transformation condition.
Consuming the fur of a living being.
Her bold attitude suddenly made perfect sense.
'She's already stashed fur somewhere and planned her escape.'
I said immediately,
"Tactile Officer."
"Yes."
"Full body search on her, please."
"Search where?"
I paused in silence.
"...Everywhere."
"Got it. Close your eyes, Central Officer. You too, Olfactory Officer."
The order given, Lacrissa shed her clothes.
I and the Olfactory Officer quickly shut our eyes.
Deep-sea hybrid races sometimes reveal their true forms.
She looked human now, but that was just a form taken with our aesthetics in mind.
Her real form was...
- Shlrp. Craaaack.
Dozens, hundreds of tentacles—an indescribable mass.
Seeing the Tactile Officer transform into that grotesque tentacle cluster she'd never witnessed before, she screamed in horror.
"Wh-what the hell is that!?"
"Oh yeah, you called me a tentacle blob earlier. You know that's straight-up racist, right?"
She'd been holding onto that.
- Squelch, squelch.
The sound of something sticky and massive moving echoed.
Followed by a terrified woman's shriek.
"Wh-what? Stay back! What're you doing? Get that away!"
"Excuse me? These are tentacles. Eyes just for show?"
"Wh-where are you touching? Ah, aaagh! You psycho bitch, get off!"
"Keep squirming and it'll hurt more."
The Tactile Officer's signature body search began.
Wrapping and probing every inch with tentacles.
- Gloop, glorp. Shrrrrp.
"Aaaah— mmph!"
Sounds of something forcing into tight spaces, writhing around nonstop.
And soon after.
"Found it, Central Officer."
"Can I open my eyes?"
"One sec..."
- Shlrp.
A slick sound, then the creepy merging of tentacles rang in my ears.
"Okay. All good."
"Let's see."
I opened my eyes. There stood the Tactile Officer back in her demure human girl form, and a changeling slumped limp, looking like she'd been through hell.
The Tactile Officer beamed proudly and held something out.
"Human hair in her mouth, and rat fur between her toes."
"Nothing else suspicious?"
She waggled a tentacle dripping with unidentifiable slime.
"Checked her deepest spots and insides. Nothing."
Deepest spots. Insides.
I averted my gaze slightly at those words.
'She must've really hated her guts.'
Best not ask for details.
"Hah... hah..."
Having been thoroughly violated by a deep-sea abomination, the prisoner had one thing left.
Shock and horror.
The face of someone who'd seen what they shouldn't.
"Well then."
I seized the opening.
"No more escape tools now. Let me ask again."
The psychological balance had shattered.
Now it'd be a one-sided real interrogation.
I asked her once more.
"Who's your backer?"
Her answer was simple.
"Pl-please... save me."
For the first time, desperation replaced the defiance and mockery on Shahal's face.
"Please save me."
Can't blame her.
I passed out cold the one time I saw the Tactile Officer's true form myself.
And now her last lifeline was exposed.
She had nothing left.
'This must be her real self.'
A woman terrified of death.
Pretty cowardly for someone who'd kidnapped a saintess, assaulted officials, and terrorized the border.
'Can't let my guard down.'
Still, no room for complacency.
Remember why I'm here.
'Info first. Her fate comes after.'
Think of this as a negotiation.
All negotiations have a flow.
Hardline after hardline? No—soften with concessions.
After big clashes, offer a bit of cooperation.
I spoke gently.
"You need to tell me what you know. Otherwise, I can't help you."
I cleared my throat slowly.
Focused my mind, stared straight into those purple eyes.
"Philaba Hesha'il Deka Sruba'el. (= Tell the truth and I'll help you.)"
Changelings' tongue slithered from my mouth.
A voice like hissing serpents.
"Wh-what?"
For the first time, she gaped at me in true shock.
"You're... one of us?"
"..."
Silence.
I wouldn't answer carelessly.
Let her assume, let the silence affirm it.
To her cornered mind, I was her only lifeline now.
Exploit that.
"Tell me! You've been one of us all along and just pretended not to know?!"
Silence.
"I-I'll talk! Please, just answer me. I've searched so long for kin, and it was you!"
Shock turned to surprise, surprise to pleading.
She was spilling info freely now, bits dropping like rain.
Pure negotiation.
Give minimal, take maximum.
And finally, the desperate changeling cracked.
"My-my employer—"
Checkmate.
She was finally spilling.
"Evil God C—"
At that instant,
A dark crimson magic circle etched itself beneath her feet.
It spread to cover half the cell in seconds, complex runes sealing with ominous finality.
"Huh?"
"What?"
The circle enclosed me and the changeling perfectly.
"!!!! Central Officer! Get back!"
The Tactile Officer screamed, yanking me away with all her might just as,
- KRAK!
Withered thorn vines erupted from the floor.
"Wh-what?"
"W-wait—"
- Riiip!
No time to react—the vines lunged viciously at the changeling.
"N-no! No! What is this!? Get off!"
Like the Tactile Officer earlier, they coiled around her body, binding tight.
Except these weren't smooth, harmless tentacles—they were man-shredding thorns.
Screams of agony filled the air.
"Haladain, haladain!!! (= H-help! Help me!!!)"
Thinking me kin, she begged in changeling tongue.
She reached out to me.
A hand pleading for salvation.
"Silaha bira Haten Si-, (= My employer's Haten Si-,)"
Just before she could finish.
- Crunch.
The thorns pulverized her body.
- Splaatt!
Blood sprayed everywhere.
We all froze.
"Wh-what the..."
My heart pounded wildly.
One second slower, and I'd be mush too.
"..."
Even the Olfactory Officer stood silent, fur bristling.
- Creak, crumble.
The killer thorns twisted grotesquely on the spot before crumbling to ash and vanishing.
That was it.
So abrupt.
As if nothing happened, silence blanketed the cell again.
"..."
Dazed, I turned to the sole remnant: the magic circle.
This was no ordinary mana spell.
No golden glow, no shamanic style.
Instead, a sinister dark crimson aura pulsed, devouring light like a threat.
"What the hell... was that?"
The dead don't answer.
At that exact moment.
In an abandoned temple of the northern Scardi Empire.
- Thud.
A small stuffed doll adorned with purple buttons for eyes toppled forward.
It lay atop a magic circle inscribed with profane curses.
"Betrayal's a no-no, Shahal. We had a deal."
The woman with jet-black hair scooped up the doll.
She narrowed her blood-red eyes and murmured,
"The Black Hand's sub-master breaking a silence pact? I'm more than disappointed. And now I hear the pilgrimage group got denied entry a few days back..."
Her gaze drifted slowly toward the Crossroad Kingdom.
"So someone's onto us... Wonder who."
She realized not just the saintess, but another obstacle stood in her way.