The Evidence That Doesn't Add Up
"I'm only stating facts. A situation that would have killed anyone else, and she didn't resist at all. That's far too unnatural."
Delphine stood frozen, waiting for an answer. Sweat beaded in my captured hand. Partly it was because I'd died and come back to life, but the biggest reason was simply nerves.
I never felt nervous even in real combat, and here I was, this tense in a hospital room.
The biometric monitor beeped, beeped, in its steady, regular rhythm.
When I held out for a long while without answering, Delphine let out a sigh.
"...Fine. I understand."
Understood what, exactly?
"Yes, Mother. I understand."
The grip on my hand loosened. Delphine lowered my hand onto the blanket and stroked the back of it, gently, over and over.
"I pushed too hard. I'm sorry."
"..."
"You're suffering like this, and what am I even doing here. Honestly."
Delphine suddenly rubbed at her eyes with the back of her own hand. She scrubbed so hard that her eyelids swelled red almost immediately.
"Later. When your throat is fully healed, I'll ask you again then. For now, just rest."
Rest. As if I could.
It didn't matter that I'd died. The problem was that I, who was supposed to be dead, was still alive. They'd come looking for the culprit soon, and what on earth was I supposed to say then?
A knot tightened in my chest at the thought that the Doctor might get dragged into this because of me.
Delphine swapped the warmed ice pack for a fresh one and laid it against my throat.
"Too cold? Bear with it just a little."
I closed my eyes without answering.
Rest for now. Think about the rest later.
The chair creaked as Delphine leaned back against it.
"Are you going to sleep, Mother?"
"..."
"...Good night."
Then the edge of the blanket pulled taut.
Delphine tucked it in around me with meticulous care. It should have felt like a protective touch, but strangely, it felt like the hands of someone binding me so I couldn't run.
Delphine rested her arms across the bed rail.
"There's no rush. They said your voice would come back in a few days. I want to hear you sing again, and talk with you again..."
A few days.
"When it does, I want to hear it for certain. From your own lips, Mother."
Knock, knock.
A knock echoed through the room.
"Come in."
It was a far more chilling voice than the one she'd used talking to me earlier — a voice that seemed ready to devour someone whole.
The door opened.
"Delphine."
A woman's voice. Dimitria.
"We'll have someone posted outside the sickroom starting tonight."
"Thank you."
"How is she?"
"Sleeping."
I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even.
I heard someone approach the bed.
"Her color's still poor. Has the swelling gone down at all?"
"...No."
This time the footsteps hurried around to the other side of the bed. There was a thud as a hand came down on the bed rail.
"Sister, it's me, Luna."
A voice thick with tears. It was Luna.
The youngest of the cadre, but an earnest girl whose sense of responsibility ran deeper than anyone's.
"I swear, when I got the news that you'd collapsed, my legs gave out and I tumbled right down the stairs. Skinned both my knees."
"Luna."
Dimitria called out to her.
"Oh — I'm sorry. That's not what matters right now..."
I could feel Luna shaking her head.
I kept my eyes closed and focused on the sounds.
Dimitria. Luna.
Three presences I could sense.
Who was the fourth?
Dimitria asked,
"...Is the Doctor not coming in?"
"Ah, right."
For a moment, my breath caught in my throat.
It was the Doctor's voice.
The same voice I'd heard while the silk cord was strangling the life out of me.
So the Doctor came too.
God, I wanted to ask.
What the hell is going on? If Delphine and the others hadn't been in this room, I would have pinned him down and demanded answers right then and there.
My heart pounded violently.
Beep. Beep-beep.
The biometric monitor reacted instantly.
Calm down.
I swallowed a breath.
In for a count of three, out for a count of five — a breathing pattern drilled into my body through hundreds of repetitions in real combat.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The monitor's rhythm settled back into place.
"...Forgive me. I'll come in now."
The Doctor entered. His footsteps stopped precisely three paces from the bed, and did not come any closer — as if drawing a line in the floor between us.
"How is her condition?"
"The doctor said her voice should return in a few days."
Delphine answered.
"I see. That's a relief."
"It is."
Delphine cut him off.
"Everyone, sit down. Unless you'd rather keep standing."
The scrape of chairs filled the room. Four presences settled into place around the sickbed.
"...Could someone walk me through what happened? I haven't been told anything yet."
the Doctor asked. His voice was no different from usual — even his habit of letting his sentences trail off was exactly the same.
Right. If he'd actually betrayed me, he wouldn't have started with strangulation.
"Didn't you receive the report?"
"I only heard that she collapsed. I don't know the details."
"...Then allow me."
Delphine straightened her posture.
"Last night, Mother headed toward the Abandoned Village. Without warning, an unknown enemy ambushed her. She was found with her throat strangled."
The sickroom went quiet.
Luna's breathing wavered faintly. Even if Luna was a cadre member, this was hardly a story for a child's ears. Not that it mattered in this world, where children were deployed all the same if they had the ability.
"Who did it?"
"We don't know yet. Arisugawa found her and moved her to the infirmary, and she's been transferred here since."
Dimitria asked, sounding puzzled.
"Why was she out there alone at that hour?"
No one answered.
"That area is effectively uninhabited. And yet the report says she went out on her own in the dead of night."
The Doctor spoke up carefully.
"...It isn't the first time Lady Selene has moved alone. She did so fairly often in the past, as I recall."
"I know that. But this time is different."
Delphine continued, her voice sharpening at the edges.
"Was she really alone?"
No one answered. I felt a gaze come to rest on my face.
"Isn't it possible someone was with her? Someone could have lured her out there."
Luna murmured in a small voice.
"Lured...?"
"It's only speculation for now."
Delphine shook her head.
"...We'll have to ask her directly. She can't speak right now."
The Doctor fell silent for a moment.
With my eyes closed, I focused on nothing but his breathing.
Regular. Too regular.
Doctor, what is going on?
"We need to tighten security. You said you're posting personnel outside the sickroom starting tonight?"
"Yes, I've already given the order."
Dimitria answered.
Luna ventured timidly,
"Sister... I mean, Lady Selene. Please get well soon. I'll stay right here until you're better — skinned knees and all."
Dimitria let out a short sigh.
"Luna, quiet for now."
"Yes, ma'am..."
Silence settled over the room again.
The Doctor spoke slowly.
"...Might I examine her a bit more closely? Her throat, I mean."
Delphine answered,
"Not now. The doctor told us not to touch it. He said it just needs a few more days — until then, rest comes first."
"Understood."
The Doctor's voice dropped low.
My fingers curled into the blanket.
They dug between the folds of the sheet.
I can hold out. For now, I can.
Dimitria tilted her head.
"Although there is something strange about all this."
"...What do you mean, strange?"
When Delphine asked, Dimitria hesitated. She was never one to watch her footing with people, and yet she seemed to be gauging Delphine's mood — which said everything about how murderous Delphine's presence had become.
"Honestly? An ordinary person would already be dead."
"Dead...?"
Luna clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.
Then the Doctor asked,
"You mean to say Lady Selene survived through sheer luck?"
I'm probably the only person in this room who understands what that question is really asking. Why did the murder fail?
"Less luck, more the fact that she is who she is. She endured it because she's Selene. Anyone else would already be gone from that bed."
The Doctor said nothing more. He didn't press further.
I swallowed a laugh.
The Doctor had executed the plan I'd laid out for him flawlessly.
The problem was my body. It was too strong — that was the problem.
"Why was Arisugawa out there in the first place?"
Delphine asked, her voice edged like a blade.
Luna chimed in, curious as well.
"Right. She had no reason to go out that way."
"According to her statement, she detected an unusual mana reaction nearby. She was sweeping the area to confirm it when she found her, apparently."
A mana reaction.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Everything was proceeding exactly according to the sequence I'd scripted for them.
Delphine exhaled a long, slow breath.
"A mana reaction."
"Yes."
"What kind of reaction, exactly?"
"...Forensics is still investigating."
Delphine crossed her arms, stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then went on in a voice gone cold and flat.
"That area's ambient mana residue is practically zero. The idea that a distinctive reaction just happened to be detected there — I can't believe that's coincidence."
"She's right."
When Luna chimed in, the Doctor only pressed his lips together and listened.
Then Dimitria spoke again.
"And one more thing. This I confirmed directly with the attending physician."
"...Go on."
"There are ligature marks on Selene's neck. But not a single scratch from fingernails."
In an instant, a stillness fell over the sickroom, as if someone had doused the air in ice water.
"When a person is being strangled, the body instinctively claws at whatever's around the throat. Dying of asphyxiation isn't something reason can override. People thrash, tear at their own necks, claw at their attacker."
She was right.
Someone being strangled will always resist.
Come to think of it, skin cells under the fingernails were sometimes how stranglers got caught in the first place.
Dimitria's voice dropped even lower.
"And yet there was no trace of resistance at all."
The Doctor's breathing came a beat late, following hers.
Delphine's voice trembled as she asked,
"You're saying Mother didn't fight back?"
"Hard to say. Only that she didn't resist — not even at the end, while someone was crushing her throat."
So this is what it feels like to hear an autopsy report read aloud in front of the living victim.
Delphine's voice turned to ice.
"So what exactly are you trying to say, Dimitria?"
"I'm only stating facts. A situation that would have killed anyone else, and she didn't resist at all. That's far too unnatural."
I kept silent, both eyes closed.
Dimitria's deduction was terrifyingly accurate.
It should have been the perfect crime. All that had happened was that I'd survived, and now the whole affair had knotted itself into an inconvenient mess.
The swelling in my throat had gone down noticeably.
There was no longer any need for ice packs, and the sharp pain that came with every swallow had dulled to a mere ache.
According to the doctor, my vocal cords were undamaged — as long as I didn't strain them, I'd be able to speak again soon.
What an absurdly resilient body this is.
The truth was, I could speak even now if I wanted to.
Simple answers had been within my reach from the very beginning.
I had kept up the pretense of being unable to speak, because my head was pounding with complications.
Just as Dimitria had pointed out, there was not a single trace of resistance on me.
If I couldn't explain that away, the suspicion would only fester and grow.
Delphine never left the sickroom.
Deployments, training — everything was pushed aside while she kept watch at my side. Every time I opened my eyes, she seemed on the verge of pressing me with some question, and every time, she clenched her jaw shut again.
"How are you feeling now? Are you all right?"
"..."
I gave a small, silent nod. Delphine's expression softened for a moment, then froze over again.
She must know, too.
That I was desperately hiding something.
And the Doctor — he never appeared at the sickroom again after that day.