Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Wish - [3]
Imperial Academy basement, special interrogation room.
The place was surrounded by mana-blocking stones on all sides, filled with suffocatingly stuffy air.
A windowless secret room. Only a single magic lamp hanging from the ceiling scattered pale light.
"So... let me ask you once more."
The investigator wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead with a handkerchief.
He was a grizzled veteran, but today more than ever, he felt like tossing his resignation letter on the desk and heading straight home.
"What was the reason for forging and distributing the dean's pendant? Whose orders were you following?"
He asked sharply, but the woman seated across from him was yawning.
She wore flowing red silk robes instead of prison garb, leaning back comfortably in her chair without a single restraint.
Long black straight hair, eyes as deep as jet black.
True to her moniker of 'Witch,' she radiated a seductive yet perilously dangerous aura.
"I heard it was effective."
The witch replied in a languid voice.
"I've said it a hundred times already... It was a plan devised by that man Hans. I simply joined in because it seemed brilliant."
"Sigh..."
The investigator let out a deep sigh. The same story again.
"We thoroughly investigated Hans of the Bellua Family. Ledgers, records, even his recent movements—we combed through everything, and not a single shred of evidence turned up."
The investigator slammed his palm on the desk.
"No traces of such a plan, no workshops commissioned for the fakes! Hans has been nothing but diligently handling his family duties. Your claims simply don't hold up."
"What an idiot."
The witch clicked her tongue in disdain.
"Hans came up with the plan, but I beat him to the punch and carried it out first. The moment the idea crossed his mind, I read the ripples... and accepted the invitation, you might say."
"Invitation?"
"Exactly. An invitation that said, 'Catch me if you can.'"
"Sigh..."
The conversation wasn't connecting. Reading future plans ahead of time and acting on them first?
What kind of nonsense was this?
"Even if that's true, it holds no legal weight. Hans hasn't taken any actual action yet—you have. You're the one who committed the crime."
"You're hopeless."
The witch shook her head.
"Causality means nothing. Even if I acted first, the root cause lies with Hans. He provided the cause, and the result followed. The sequence of time is irrelevant."
The investigator sighed deeply once more. Was this why they called her a witch?
This woman was insane. Or perhaps she dwelled in some realm beyond his comprehension.
"Fine. We'll set the forgery aside for now."
The investigator shifted topics.
"Then explain the curse you placed on those items. The people who possessed the goods you distributed suffered accidents. Minor ones, admittedly... but unmistakable curses nonetheless."
"Curse?"
The witch burst into hollow laughter.
"How foolish. It wasn't a curse—it was a substitution."
"Substitution?"
"Yes. Human fates are laced with inevitable misfortunes. Carriage wrecks, fractures from falls, fires..."
The witch snapped her fingers.
"Those items served to shatter those massive calamities into tiny fragments and scatter them. A carriage overturn became a mere trip over a rock. A fracture was overwritten with spilled ink or a stubbed toe."
By her explanation, she had saved those people.
She had transformed fates of death into mere scrapes, making her their savior, worthy of gratitude.
"I saved their lives and warded off great illnesses... and they brand me a criminal for a scraped knee?"
She clicked her tongue with genuine pity.
"Humans, always fixated on the petty misfortune right in front of them, blind to the immense fortune lurking behind. Truly... I never should have ventured out into this world."
It was, of course, an argument no one could accept. Yet he couldn't press her aggressively either.
Not after what had happened during her arrest.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Imperial Knights and Academy mages had stormed in.
"Don't move! You're surrounded!"
The knight captain drew his sword and bellowed. Dozens of elite troops tightened their encirclement around her alone.
The witch smiled leisurely as she set down her teacup, offering no resistance.
"...How bothersome."
The knights charged forward to slap restraints on her.
Clank!
But the instant they did, the steel cuffs twisted like molten candy and sprang free on their own.
As the knights faltered in confusion.
Thud!
The knight captain slipped on perfectly flat ground—for no reason at all.
He lost his balance and tumbled, his boot kicking the vice-captain's shin. The vice-captain staggered and bowled over a nearby mage.
"Gah!"
The knights toppled like dominoes.
"Th-this woman used magic...!"
The mage raised his staff to cast a binding spell. But.
Boom!
Sudden mana backlash erupted. A small explosion burst from the staff's tip, blackening the mage's face.
Neither offensive spells nor bindings worked.
Around her, statistically impossible events unfolded in rapid succession.
Amid the pandemonium, the witch emerged unscathed, walking out under her own power.
"No need for that. I'll go along quietly."
She boarded the carriage with the light steps of someone heading out for a stroll.
Knights and mages alike could only gape at her in stunned silence.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The investigator shuddered. He hadn't been there himself, but he'd heard the tales.
'Sigh...'
Who knew what might happen if they left her be? He prayed someone would come take her off their hands soon. Please.
That was when the interrogation room door opened, and a subordinate stepped in.
"Team leader."
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Well... there's a visitation request."
"Visitation? We're in the middle of an investigation! Send them packing!"
"But... it's Hans from the Bellua Family. He came in person."
The investigator's eyes lit up. The alleged mastermind (according to the witch, at least).
Of course, they'd investigated him repeatedly—no evidence whatsoever.
He must have seen the news... It wouldn't help, but they were grasping at straws.
"Bring him in! Right now!"
The investigator shot to his feet.
"No—tell him to take her away, please! Bail, whatever it takes—we'll accept it all!"
Moments later, the door to the adjacent visitation room swung open.
Hans entered, his face etched with tension. He was in his usual immaculate attire, but his complexion was ghostly pale.
The witch turned her head. Her jet-black eyes scanned him from head to toe.
Hans swallowed hard and took a seat opposite her.
Separated by a single glass wall, their gazes locked.
"You're Hans?"
The witch spoke first. Disappointment dripped from her voice.
"Tsk."
She clicked her tongue openly.
"Below expectations. You're not the man I hoped to see."
"...?"
"The color of your soul is too... ordinary. Dull and tedious. Shackled to numbers and profits—a vulgar soul."
Despite the personal attack right to his face, Hans didn't flare up.
If anything, he felt relieved. It seemed the witch had lost interest in him.
"Did I come to the wrong place..."
The witch turned away, utterly bored.
"I'll give you credit for digging that pit to snare me. Devising such a plan to strike at me."
Hans inwardly reeled—what the hell was this lunatic babbling about?—but kept his composure.
'Just say what I came to say.'
The words Aiman had instructed him to deliver. He had no clue what they meant, but he just needed to relay them faithfully.
"Someone... asked me to ask you this."
"Someone?"
The witch's eyebrow twitched.
"Speak."
"What is your... Ratzon (רצון)?"
The witch, who had shown no spark of interest in anything thus far, froze.
Her pupils quivered, her breathing grew ragged.
She bolted to her feet. Pressing her face right up to the glass wall, she shouted.
"That word... where did you hear it?"
Her voice trembled. Hans recoiled in alarm.
"Who?"
The witch thrust her hand forward as if to seize his collar (the glass, of course, made it impossible).
"Who is this 'someone'?"
Hans recalled Aiman's instructions. If she asked who, he was to tell her.
'What the hell is that guy scheming?'
He was curious about Aiman's intentions, but his task was clear.
"Baron Aiman."
Pass the hot potato. Drawing the attention of a being like her seemed like a bad idea.
Besides, Aiman could probably handle whatever came next.
The witch murmured the name to herself.
"Aiman... Aiman. A fine name."
She issued a command.
"Escort me to that exalted one. I must meet him."
She drew a ragged, torn scrap of a map from her bosom and pressed it against the glass.
"I'll bestow upon him a reward worthy of him. Bring him before me at once."
Of course, that was impossible.