Pfft.
A clean blow to the stomach forced the man tied to the chair to spit blood. The room was dark, lit only by a dim bulb that revealed how battered and near-death he was.
"Seems you don't want to talk about who was involved."
"Let me remind you—the Academy has the backing of world powers. And you know exactly what happens if one of them decides to take you to their domain."
"You'd be lucky to keep your body intact. After they extract your intel… with methods far worse than this."
"U-Ungh…" Only garbled nonsense escaped his lips.
"You're lucky my 'partner' isn't here. She's… resting. Because of the chaos youre 'cult' caused."
"If she were here, I wouldn't have to do this. We'd have taken another path. But your mind's been sealed. Still—I know you can break free."
"Yet for some reason… even when there's nothing left for you but a quick, painless death… you refuse."
"J-J-J…"
"J-Just…"
"One… question."
"Why… do you keep tormenting us?"
"You think… my boss… wasn't enough?"
"It's only… a matter of time… before they come out on their own…"
"Without the boss… like you said… we're nothing."
The figure who'd struck him stepped closer. His eyes were swollen nearly shut from the beating and the faint light, but he could make out her shape—a long coat and a suit.
Finally, his ears could distinguish her voice: soft, a woman's… yet hardened to steel.
Thud!
She slammed a drawing onto the table—a circle filled with symbols. Many contradicted each other, reducing everything to a void zero. The rest was corroded, unfinished strokes.
"Ghk—!"
A blinding flash hit his eyes. His vision cleared, but his head was forced down, unable to look away from the drawing.
"TELL ME—WHAT WAS YOUR BOSS USING THIS FOR?!"
An oppressive weight crushed his body. The only physical touch was her hand prying his eye open.
"Ah—ahh…"
"I'll… tell you…"
"P-please… stop…"
—!
The pressure intensified—he felt his skull would explode—then vanished.
"Talk. Make it fast. Then I'm done. You'll never see me again. You'll deal with others… far more merciful than I am."
"Th-The boss… never told us about his runes… never said where he got them… B-but this one… he bragged about it. Only showed it… to those in charge of… 'erasing' someone."
"I see. So its purpose was assassination. Like the teleportation glyphs used to send targets to his den."
"Ha… ha… Seems the great detective… doesn't listen well. I said 'erase'. Once someone got caught in that glyph… they vanished. No trace. Literally… erased."
...
...
…
.
Silence. Heavy and long. He felt the weight of her stare.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
"Eh? I thought… you'd ask about the script… in the glyph."
"Unnecessary. You clearly know nothing else. Besides… I already messaged my Master. He'll help. He'll know something."
"HA HA HA! So the 'WORLD'S GREATEST DETECTIVE' will help you?"
"No offense to his teachings, Miss Cielle… but knowing my boss? That script… it's from a very, very old civilization…."
...
The woman reached for the drawing. For the first time during the torture, the chained man noticed something: on her left hand, she wore a white glove.
He didn't hesitate. This might be his last chance to spit venom.
Pfft!
Blood flew from his mouth, staining the glove's pristine white.
...
No reaction. Because something else had frozen her.
—!
Seeing the blood on his glove... she stared at his hand that was clutching the arm the glove belonged to.
Screams tore from her throat—then she collapsed, clutching that arm like a lifeline.
Darkness.
She snapped back to the present.
CRACK!
The man's head slammed through the table, his face grinding into the cold floor.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Blow after blow sent him crashing across the room. Bones shattered.
SHLICK!
"G-GAAAH—!"
His arm was severed—too fast to feel pain. Then his mouth was gagged.
Her eyes were glacial, watching him suffer. But before he blacked out—his arm snapped back into place. Not perfectly. He felt every nerve reconnecting slowly, agonizingly. He couldn't faint.
"I told you… if my 'partner' were here, none of this would've happened. She'd have talked reasonably… used something strange to make you talk."
"Compared to me… she's an 'Angel'."
As she meticulously cleaned her glove, dizziness hit. A headache spiked. Memories threatened to surface—but her mind burned. She pressed the glove to her mouth, stifling vomit. Its scent—sweet, familiar—drifted to her nose.
Her demeanor shifted. Back to sternness… but calm. Normal.
Before leaving, she wiped the room clean with a few gestures. The man lay alone on the floor—no evidence left.
"Open up. Interrogation's done. Bring medical—the culprit tried to kill himself again."
Her voice had lost its earlier gravity. Not cheerful—just neutral.
Outside the room: a spotless, orderly police station—elegant, almost. Nothing like the hell inside.
Doctors rushed past her.
Into the night. Two moons hung over a city of skyscrapers piercing clouds.
She reached the apartment she shared with her partner and other Academy students.
New students stopped her for advice. She answered kindly—lingering, talking to anyone to avoid her room.
Until no one remained.
In the lobby, she checked her wristwatch against the wall clock. Waiting.
"Seems she won't be back tonight either."
"Seriously… where are you, idiot?"
Her room sat at the building's peak. Her side overflowed with books and glyphs like the one from the interrogation.
"Should clean my side. She'd scold me if she saw this…"
...
After tidying, she stared at the other half.
Immaculate, untouched. Dust coated everything—books, desk, armchair, and a piano facing the balcony overlooking the Academy.
"Really… it's been long enough. When are you coming back?"
"Well… fine. Not the first time you've 'gotten lost'. You always come back. No matter what."
"She's always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bet she'll wrap it up soon…"
Drawn to the piano, she longed to hear music again. It'd been so long.
She leaned against the dust-laden piano, remembering the first time she'd heard her partner play—back when she thought it was just decor.
Sleep claimed her there. And for the first time in ages… she smiled.