Isaac approached Christopher's body, which was still being consumed by flames on the desk. Black smoke rose from the lifeless form as he reached out to remove a soot-covered gold ring from the corpse's finger.
He inserted the ring into the slot on the wall.
...Nothing happened. His face showed a flicker of disappointment.
"Not this one..." he muttered, before raising his hand and reaching through the mechanism in the wall as if it were mere air, until he grasped something inside.
A leather-bound book appeared in his hand, clean and free of dust. Isaac opened it with a look of satisfaction, then reached into the mechanism again. His hand searched for a moment but found nothing.
Suddenly, he paused. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and set it aflame.
Gray smoke rose from the burning paper, gradually forming letters. Charles tried to read the message, but from his chained position, the text appeared inverted and difficult to make out.
He could barely discern the words "Found it" clearly visible among the smoke.
Isaac waved his hand, dispersing the smoke hanging in the air, before taking out another piece of paper, writing a message, and burning it to ashes.
Then his gaze shifted back and forth between the wall behind him and Christopher's body, as if weighing a decision.
Finally, he chose Christopher's body, stepping closer to the charred form. Words of incantation flowed from his lips.
"Eena shamu ilumma, nurma ushelu." "Ersetu shulukuma, seru nabtaru!"
A shimmering white-blue light appeared above Christopher's body. Then, something rose from the lifeless form.
It was a soul, shaped like a brain but covered with thousands of mouths that constantly opened and closed, suspended motionless amid the light.
In that moment, a sensation rose in Charles's instincts—a hunger similar to when he had consumed the bandit's consciousness in the forest. A strange attraction pulled him toward devouring this soul, as if it were what he had been seeking all along.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought against this tempting desire. But this time it wasn't as intense as the incident in the forest. He could endure it.
...
In a pitch-black basement somewhere, a single oil lamp cast dim light, revealing a man in a black cloak holding a glass vial.
Inside the vial was a viscous black liquid containing a strange living creature. It resembled a leech but had numerous tentacles extending around its body, thrashing wildly.
On the floor not far from where he stood lay a corpse. The face of the dead man looked identical to Christopher Darcy, as if they were twins.
Suddenly, the corpse began to react. The skin swelled, blisters erupted across the body, muscles convulsed violently, and the skin turned deep red as if scalded. Then the entire body liquefied, evaporating into hot vapor that rose into the air until no trace remained.
The thunderous sound of a door being slammed broke the silence. The hooded man turned sharply toward the noise.
Edward burst into the room, sweat covering his face, breathing heavily. He was followed by an elderly woman wearing a golden wheel pendant—the symbol of religion—that glinted under the lamplight. She was Madame Esther, head of the Suppression Division.
Seeing Edward and the Suppression Division leader appear, the hooded man quickly raised his other hand. In it, he held a strange object—a flat disc made of lead.
In the center of the disc was a human ear embedded in it, fixed with molten lead that had hardened to secure the ear to the disc. The ear appeared fresh, as if recently cut.
The hooded man whispered to the lead disc, his voice calm but distinct: "Treasury Department, capital of the Kingdom of Hydelyn."
The moment the final word left his lips, his form vanished into thin air, like a painting erased from a canvas. Not even a shadow or trace remained to indicate anyone had stood there, along with the glass vial he had been holding.
...
At the Treasury Department, Isaac was completing the final step of crystallizing Christopher's soul. The soul with its thousands of mouths was being encased in a translucent, pointed crystal that glimmered beneath the light.
Suddenly, the hooded man appeared in the middle of the room. His appearance shattered the special barrier that had sealed the room. The chamber that had been cut off from the outside world was now reconnected.
The sound of pounding on the door came from outside. Hope rose in Charles's heart as he remained chained to the wall.
Isaac began to move, his hand reaching for the soul crystal.
In that moment, two powerful impulses collided violently in Charles's mind. One was raw instinct, hungry to devour that soul, stimulating and constricting his heart.
The other was greed, tempting him with the hope of recovering his lost memories, reminding him this might be his only chance to discover who he was, where he came from, and why he was here.
The two desires merged into a single driving force, sweeping away the young man's reason and restraint, leaving only an overwhelming need to possess that soul, regardless of the cost.
"Garanu!" Charles shouted the spell, raising his chained hands.
The soul crystal flew directly toward his hand as if pulled by an immense force. Isaac, caught off guard, grasped only empty air.
His face contorted with shock and rage.
Isaac roared, hurling his sword at the wall-bound Charles, who swung his head aside at the last second. The blade missed his ear by a hair's breadth.
Isaac prepared to strike again, but the hooded man stepped between them.
"There's no time," he whispered, before speaking into the lead disc in his hand and vanishing, with Isaac disappearing along with him.
At that exact moment, the door to the room was broken down.
Two guards rushed in, scanning the situation.
"Christopher is dead. The perpetrator has escaped," Charles quickly reported.
"Which way?" one guard asked.
"I don't know, but he fled outside."
One guard hurried out to check, searching thoroughly but finding no trace. He returned to the room, exchanging glances with his colleague. Both knew they were in trouble.
"We're definitely going to face consequences..." one guard whispered, trying to keep Charles from hearing.
"We need someone to take the blame," the other answered softly.
"That fellow," he glanced at Charles. "An outsider, untrustworthy, and he just lied about the culprit. Unlike Fiona, whom everyone knows well. But this one..." he narrowed his eyes at Charles. "Just showed up today, and then this happens."
"Right, first time here, and trouble follows... definitely suspicious."
Both nodded in agreement before drawing their swords and pointing them at Charles. "You're under arrest, criminal!"
"Wait, what is this—" Charles tried to explain, but before he could finish, one of the guards kicked him hard in the stomach. The world around him darkened immediately, and he lost consciousness.
...
In a dimly lit room, candlelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. A man sat in a luxurious chair, casually sipping deep red wine.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
"Enter," he said in a level voice.
A man stepped into the room. "What is it?" asked the wine-drinker.
"Christopher is dead, sir."
The wine glass paused in mid-air. He adjusted his sitting position. "Dead? How did he die?"
"Killed in the Treasury Department room. Covered with oil-soaked cloth and burned alive."
"And who did it?"
"I heard the guards saying it was a detective named Charles Ravencroft, sir."
"Charles..." he repeated the name slowly, his eyes gleaming with understanding.
"Quickly order our people to use whatever connections we have to take this detective to the royal prison immediately. Skip the interrogation process, claiming it will be done after imprisonment," he set down his wine glass. "And tell our people to prepare... the opportunity has arrived."
"Yes, sir," the messenger hurried from the room to carry out the orders.
The candlelight flickered, revealing a smile on the man's face—a smile full of satisfaction and malice. His shadow stretched long against the wall, distorted and terrifying.
...
Dawn light filtered through the small barred window of the royal prison. Charles lay exhausted in the corner of the cell, his body chained at both hands and feet, covered with wounds. The thin clothes that remained on his body were damp from the water used to revive him after repeatedly losing consciousness.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor before stopping in front of his cell. Charles struggled to open his swollen eyes. The figure of a tall man in clean clothes appeared—light golden hair and a familiar dimpled smile instantly revealed the visitor's identity.
"Joseph..." Charles's hoarse voice was barely audible.
The sound of keys turning in the lock followed. Joseph stepped into the cell, his eyes reflecting shock at the condition of his close friend. Signs of torture were evident across his body: several fingernails had been pulled out, and burn marks from hot irons covered his arms and legs.
"They did this to you?" Joseph's voice was filled with concern.
"Those bastards..." Charles struggled to speak through labored breathing. "They tortured me, forcing me to confess to crimes I didn't commit."
"What exactly happened?"
Charles gathered what little strength he had left to recount everything that had occurred in Christopher's room, from Isaac's appearance to the fight and being framed as the murderer.
"I see..." Joseph nodded slowly. "Now I understand why Michael didn't seek help from the City Guard. With Christopher's power, it would have been too easy to interfere."
"Then..." Charles whispered, "can you move me to the special unit's prison? At least there would be no torture."
"I tried, but was refused," Joseph shook his head. "They claim you're part of the special unit, and transferring you there would lead to bias in judgment."
"Then can you at least ask them to stop the torture?"
"I tried that too, but to no avail," Joseph sighed. "The only solution is to investigate this matter quickly, clear your name as soon as possible. Hang in there."
"Then please hurry," Charles said with a trembling voice. "The silver ring that's the key to the mechanism in Christopher's room... should be at his mansion."
"Don't worry about that," Joseph nodded. "Edward sent people to search the mansion already. They found a silver ring, which I managed to obtain. The next step is to go to the Treasury Department."
Charles's eyes reflected concern. "One more thing... did you bring any sedative? During the torture, I nearly went berserk from being consumed by the hunger. I almost killed the guards several times."
Joseph reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. The amber liquid inside glowed under the dawn light as he handed it to Charles.
Charles took the medicine with trembling hands, trying to open the cap with his injured fingers, but lacking the strength. Joseph helped open it, then supported his friend's head as he drank.
"Thanks..." Charles whispered after swallowing the medicine. The sweet-bitter taste flowed from his throat as the hunger gradually subsided.
Joseph stood up. "I must go now," and hurried out of the cell.
"I'll come back to visit you," he whispered before the cell door closed.
Charles watched his friend leave before collapsing onto the floor. The medicine began to take effect, calming his mind, though the physical pain remained. He closed his eyes, trying to conserve what little strength he had left, knowing the next round of torture would come soon.