The Expulsion Committee (6)
The underground conference chamber of Vermouth Hall.
The single sentence Ian Darkest spoke froze the entire room solid.
"The one who's been in bed with the Aberrations… is you, Lionel."
Suffocating silence. No one dared open their mouth. Even Ayra Vermouth, watching from the gallery, narrowed her eyes with interest. Beside her, Alfred stared back and forth between Ian and Lionel as if he could not believe what he had just heard.
Linea Judith's face remained calm, yet deep in her green eyes an unreadable tide of emotion was surging.
It was Lionel's low, rage-choked voice that finally shattered the quiet.
"…Have you lost your mind? You dare spew that kind of garbage in this academy's sacred chamber—at me?"
Lionel's face twisted with fury, but deep in his eyes a flicker of panic and unease flashed past. Forcing composure, he turned and shouted at the committee members.
"Esteemed members, you saw it yourselves! Cornered, that bastard is just spouting whatever nonsense comes into his head and desecrating this holy place! Gag him at once and punish him severely!"
"Sir Lionel Darkest, compose yourself."
The chairman's voice was low and heavy with authority.
His expression remained hard, yet a subtle curiosity had kindled in his gaze.
"Cadet Ian Darkest. I will grant you the chance to explain that statement… But take heed. Baseless slander will not be tolerated."
Ian nodded calmly.
"Of course, Mr. Chairman. Before that, however, I believe I should first address the suspicions Sir Lionel has raised against me."
He swept his gaze across the chamber and continued.
"I have never colluded with an Aberration. I know nothing about Cadet James's disappearance. That said… on the night in question, I did detect a suspicious flow of mana near the academy fountain and went to investigate. And there… I encountered something ominous. Whether it has any connection to Cadet James's disappearance, I cannot say."
"Sophistry!"
Lionel shouted again.
"His story doesn't hold together! If he sensed suspicious mana, why didn't he report it to the academy immediately? And what is this 'ominous presence' supposed to be? He is clearly hiding something—or worse… he truly has some connection to the Aberrations!"
Lionel turned to the committee, voice thick with urgent appeal.
"The Empire is already in chaos from the Aberration threat! In a crisis like this, even the smallest suspicion must be investigated thoroughly until the truth is laid bare! I strongly propose the immediate convening of a fact-finding committee regarding Cadet Ian Darkest! Every one of his actions, the way he runs his territory—even the state of his mind—must be scrutinized in detail!"
The atmosphere began to tilt against Ian once more. Lionel's argument was cunning, and the sheer terror carried by the word Aberration clouded rational judgment.
A dead end. If things continued this way, he would be dragged exactly where Lionel wanted him.
Yet Ian showed no panic. If anything, a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Very well. A fact-finding committee—I'll accept it gladly. But before that, may I also call a witness?"
"What witness?"
The chairman asked, brow furrowed. The tone was far from friendly. Ian's credibility was already scraping the floor.
Ian declared it without flinching.
"I call Cadet James as my witness."
"…What?"
The chamber erupted in murmurs. Even Lionel let out a disbelieving snort of laughter.
"He's insane. Completely insane. How do you summon a missing person as a witness? Planning to call up a ghost, are you?"
Ian ignored the mockery. He drew the sword at his hip—or rather, what remained of one. It was nothing but an old, rusted hilt with no blade. A piece of junk he had traded for a single pack of cigarettes on the black market; anyone could see it was worthless scrap.
"This sword… is a relic that lets you meet the souls of those you have killed."
The murmuring swelled louder.
Most of the room clearly thought Ian had either lost his mind or was babbling in desperation.
Only Linea Judith watched the hilt with genuine interest. Beneath her hood, Ayra Vermouth rested her chin on one hand, observing the proceedings as though she were enjoying a particularly entertaining play.
The chairman eyed Ian with open skepticism.
"I cannot accept such an absurd object as evidence. It will need to be verified—to ensure this is not some magical trickery."
"Of course. Please examine it yourself, Mr. Chairman."
Ian courteously offered the hilt.
"The confessional next door appears to be empty. You should be able to check it there without trouble."
The chairman hesitated a moment, then seemed to decide the bizarre situation could not simply be left hanging. After a brief exchange of glances with the magic faculty professor beside him, he took the sword and stepped into the confessional.
Several minutes passed.
A faint black aura rose from within the confessional, then vanished.
When the chairman returned, his expression had subtly changed. He closed his eyes for a moment as if weighing something, then opened them and announced:
"…It is accepted as evidence. Cadet Ian Darkest—summon the soul of Cadet James."
Ian bowed his head once, then took the hilt and walked slowly toward Lionel.
The confident smile drained from Lionel's face, replaced by naked panic.
"Why… why are you coming to me?"
"I already told you, Sir Lionel."
Ian stopped directly in front of him and smiled, cold as winter steel.
"This sword summons the souls of those you have killed."
"I… I haven't killed anyone—!"
"You can't refuse. If you truly have killed no one, there is no reason not to touch this sword, is there? Or… is there something that makes you flinch?"
Whispers rolled toward Lionel like a rising tide.
His perfectly managed expression cracked, just a fraction. He hesitated, then steeled himself and reached for the hilt.
As expected—he's going to use aura.
Ian did not miss the faint blue aura flickering across Lionel's palm. Lionel must have believed that as long as he avoided direct contact, he would be fine—trusting in aura's power to block magical effects. But…
This is an Aberration's artifact. Human common sense doesn't apply.
The instant Lionel's fingers touched the hilt—
SHAAAAA—!
A blood-crimson light exploded from the sword hilt, flooding the entire chamber with a bone-chilling presence. Lionel's hand was yanked forward as if by a magnet and locked onto the hilt; his face contorted in agony and horror.
And at his feet, something like pale smoke began to rise from the floor, slowly taking on human shape.
Pale. Translucent. It was unmistakably James. Yet every trace of the arrogance he had worn in life was gone—only terror and despair filled the soul that now stood before them.
"J… James…?"
Lionel muttered, unable to believe his eyes.
Then he hastily opened his mouth.
"J-James, tell everyone! Ian—that bastard Ian is the one who killed you!"
James's eyes were sunken and dead.
When he parted his lips, a wave of cold spread through the air.
"Li. Lionel ordered it. Follow Ian."
"James!"
"Punishment if I refuse. Soul torn to pieces. Already suffered it dozens of times. So I obeyed."
Agitation rippled rapidly through the gallery.
Lionel was screaming something at James, but no one paid him any attention.
The chairman addressed the spirit.
"Cadet James. Are you presently dead? Or is there still a chance we might rescue you?"
"My soul already belongs to ■■."
"What did you say?"
"■■. ■■■■."
An incomprehensible language of the unknown.
A language that made the stomach turn merely by being heard.
The chairman hastily cut him off.
"…You have our condolences."
James's black eyes showed no reaction at all.
The chairman asked one more question.
"Then tell us this. Who killed you? And how did you die?"
"The soul was already dead. Lionel Darkest's artifact. I followed Ian. And after that. ■■■■■■."
People clamped their hands over their ears.
So that's how the game's [Censorship Deleted] works in this world.
Contrary to Ian's calm understanding, a thin wave of terror washed over the assembly.
The chairman hurriedly raised a hand, silencing James.
Even the fragments that could still be understood were shocking enough. That James had been acting under Lionel's orders. That an unidentified artifact in Lionel's possession had already annihilated roughly half of James's soul.
"Th-this is insane…!"
Lionel, white with terror, tried to fling the hilt away—but the sword clung to his hand and would not let go. He thrashed like a madman, screaming.
"It's all a hallucination! This damned sword is bewitching every one of us! This can't be evidence of anything! I refuse to accept it!"
Despite Lionel's frenzy, Ian remained perfectly composed. In a calm yet unyielding voice, he returned Lionel's own words to him almost verbatim.
"Sir Lionel, did you not say it yourself just moments ago? That any suspicion connected to Aberrations, no matter how small, must be investigated thoroughly and at once until the truth is known. Right now, the most suspicious person here… is you, Sir Lionel Darkest."
Ian turned toward the committee.
"Of course, you are welcome to examine this sword as thoroughly as you like. I will submit it immediately."
He reached to pry the hilt from Lionel's grip. Lionel resisted with everything he had left—but the strength had already drained from his fingers. Ian took the hilt with almost casual ease and handed it to the chairman.
"Now then—will you kindly convene a fact-finding committee regarding Sir Lionel Darkest?"
Ian smiled, the corner of his mouth curling upward.