Interrogating the Souls

The police, followed by the military, had been urgently dispatched. With nearly fifty civilian casualties, there was no way to avoid the uproar. Moreover, the fact that they had been hidden deep inside the gate, and the nuclear device shattered in what was nearly a perfect evidence destruction—only discovered by a black mage cleaning the gate, who brought them all out—spread like wildfire, escalating the incident into a major scandal.

Guilds and government officials involved began facing investigations, and daily reports linking the Doomsday Cult kept the media in a frenzy. Amid all this, a detective came to see me. "So, given the circumstances, you pinpointed the bodies' locations, right?"

I looked at the detective clutching his notepad, waiting for my response. "I've already told you everything."

"This is just verification. The gate's closed, and you're the one who found it."

"You're not trying to pin this on a black mage just because you can't catch the real culprit, are you?"

"Do we look like trash to you?"

"We've been treated like trash so many times."

"That's defamation, you know?"

"I've got plenty to say too, but think about it. If you want to frame a 2nd gen black mage, you'd need a whole process—and solid circumstantial evidence."

"2nd gen...?"

The detective gave me a look of disbelief. "There aren't even ten 2nd gen black mages left in the country, and you're one of them?"

What does this guy even know to come here? I'd clearly explained everything at the station as the discoverer, including my identity. Perhaps that's why. I immediately unleashed my mana, subdued the man claiming to be a detective, and said, "You're no detective."

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

"Impersonating a public official—and a detective, no less—must carry a hefty penalty."

"I-I...!"

As he started thrashing about, a familiar voice rang out. "Now, now, Mr. Geum Seong-chan, that's enough. He'll have a heart attack."

I turned to see the real detective I'd spoken with before. He approached, cuffed the subdued man's wrists. "You're under emergency arrest for impersonating a public official and fraud."

As the fake was handed off to the accompanying officers, with Miranda rights recited, I turned to the detective before me. "Didn't I already hand over the evidence?"

"We caught the Doomsday Cultists... but we were too late."

"They escaped?"

"They all killed themselves. Same old story—it's infuriating."

It'd be simpler if they got caught, served time, and that was that. But Doomsday Cultists usually chose death when exposed. I'd asked just in case something was overlooked. As expected from extremists... "Your superiors don't know?"

"Not even the related parties. They seem connected to some government folks, and since it wasn't an emergency arrest, investigations hit limits."

"Then why come to me?"

"To ask for your cooperation. Among the top black mages in the country, you're the only one I know."

"You want to summon souls. But that won't hold up as evidence."

"It might not be admissible, but we can get info. Then we build evidence step by step."

He was desperate to nab the puppetmaster. I glanced at Go Yu-jin, who nodded—go ahead. With things quiet lately after back-and-forth at the station, I followed to wrap this up properly. We arrived at a funeral home. "Surprised they even hold funerals for trash like this."

"No choice."

You can't punish the dead. The inevitable frustration grated. We moved to the morgue where the bodies lay, only to find blockers. "Absolutely not! No cooperation! We won't!"

I glanced at the detective—bereaved family, he said. "Don't do this. Your family might be victims too—brainwashed, or coerced into impossible choices. Why block us from catching those who forced them?"

"How do you know what you'll do to them! Move!"

It was almost comical. They were outraged their dead family would be used, but blind to the real victims slain by their hands—pure selfishness. As the commotion grew, sharp reporters swarmed. I asked the detective, "Better not bite off more than you can chew. Wrap it moderately?"

"...

If we let this slide every time it repeats, it's bullshit."

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mobilized fellow officers for force—questionable, but he told me, "I'll take responsibility."

That won't fly... I scratched my head, unease rising, then lightly released mana. A gentle sleep curse dropped the rabble like sacks. The watching detective panicked, so I said, "I'm curious too—who's the Doomsday Cult's mid-level handler."

Doomsday Cultists were demons devouring the world. But we always nabbed grunts, who suicided like clockwork. Even if stopped, they'd clam up till death. We'd tried everything for confessions, but by then, mids had vanished, yielding nothing. Rinse, repeat. Entering the morgue, the deads' death auras hit full force.

"Souls... you can summon them, right?"

"Possible, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but there are many."

Obviously numerous. Self-inflicted, sure—but maybe coerced. Three suicides, so I pulsed mana, identified them, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then cast Call of Spirits. Using it often lately. Two souls materialized. I stepped back the tense detective and questioned, "Who ordered your deaths?"