**One of the towers adjacent to the Royal Academy**
The old tower, with its tall windows and faded wooden frames, overlooked the vast, mysterious courtyard of the Royal Academy. A cold wind slipped through the half-open panes, making the heavy velvet curtain sway gently. Within this tower, a dark and chaotic room had now become the office of Special Inspector Youtab.
The floor was strewn with papers—each marked with traces of blood, names, dates, or fragments of interrogation transcripts. The walls were covered in maps, student photographs, case files, and crisscrossing black and red lines, forming a web that had entangled the inspector's mind.
Youtab, her hair disheveled and clothes clearly unchanged for days, was bizarrely upside down, clinging to the wall. Her feet pressed against it while her head rested on the floor, as if she were trying to change her perspective on the evidence. Her eyes were locked onto one of the dangling papers as she mumbled to herself:
"It's been about a week since I got this case... and I still haven't found a solid lead on the killer."
Her gaze remained fixed on the words pinned to one of the papers on the wall. Then her mumble grew louder:
"Okay, a quick recap... First, the first victim was a student, then a professor... The killer can't be just an Normal student. Most likely, it's someone from the faculty—or maybe even from the board itself. But the interviews... everyone told the truth. At least, apparently. No lies... or they were very well hidden."
She paused, lifted a hand, and scratched her forehead obsessively, breathing heavily.
"Kyle... the swordsmanship instructor. A man with incredible physical strength... but based on his wounds, he didn't put up a fight. That means he trusted the killer. Someone who got close. Quietly. Without leaving a trace..."
With a jolt, she pushed herself off the wall and landed in the middle of the room. She began pacing, anxiously biting her nails. The sound of her footsteps on the old wooden floor echoed like the ticking of an ancient clock, relentlessly counting time.
"But who could it be? Someone who knows both Elizabeth and Kyle? Someone from inside the system? Or maybe... someone pretending to be an outsider?"
At that moment, the soft but heavy sound of a door opening shattered the tense silence of the room. A young man entered. His piercing red eyes, contrasting sharply with his neat black hair, clashed with Youtab's disheveled appearance. He glanced around the room, his brows furrowing slightly.
As he stepped in, the sound of his boots creaked across the old parquet floor. His gaze settled on Youtab, who sat cross-legged on the floor like a child, mumbling to herself, as if lost in another world.
With a dry voice, he said:
"Still drowning in the case, Youtab?"
No response. Only a quiet whisper, words only she could understand.
The young man stepped closer, standing in front of her and snapping his fingers a few times to get her attention. He raised his voice slightly:
"Youtab... Youtab... Youtab?"
On the third call, Youtab suddenly blinked. Her eyes pulled away from some unknown point and locked onto the man's face—as if she had awakened from a deep sleep.
The young man gave a faint smile—one that carried both sympathy and a trace of concern.
"Your doctor said you shouldn't immerse yourself in the case this much... remember? Don't you want to get better?"
Youtab took a deep breath. For a moment, the room fell silent, except for the wind and the rustling of paper... but something had changed in her eyes.
She leaned forward slightly, a calm but firm look settling in her gaze. Her voice was soft and measured, as if she didn't want her words to echo in the cold air of the tower:
"Yohan... the doctor exaggerated. I'm fine. In complete mental health."
Yohan paused for a moment. He closed his crimson eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a heavy sigh. His voice was soft, but full of compassion:
"I know, Youtab... I know your mind is extraordinary. You see things others can't even imagine. But every gift comes with a weakness. And for you, that weakness is your mind. Your mind is like a sharp blade—if used wrong, it cuts itself."
With a wave of his hand, he gestured to the room around them. The dim light of the half-burned candles on the walls cast tangled shadows across the papers and dusty windows.
"Look at this room... it's like the scene of a madness. Chaotic, messy, filled with half-written notes. It's obvious you haven't slept in days. You've bitten your nails so much they're bleeding. Youtab, you're burning yourself away piece by piece."
Yutab scratched her head, her vision briefly blurred. She spoke sharply, trying to hide the weakness in her voice:
"I told you, I'm fine... just... just a little bit more. Just one more step. I *can* find the killer."
With her hands shoved into her coat pockets, her gaze locked on the paper-covered wall. Her voice softened slightly now:
"So... how far have you gotten?"
Yutab stepped away from the wall and slowly approached Yohan. She lowered her voice as if she were whispering a crucial secret in his ear:
"The killer follows a complex pattern. Uses art... symbols, visual compositions to send a message. It's someone Kyle knew. Someone he trusted. But he was caught off guard—killed without any sign of a struggle. That means the killer had to be someone close. Maybe a fellow professor, maybe the deputy, maybe even... the headmaster himself."
Yohan frowned and muttered:
"But according to the interviews, no one lied. Everything was confirmed with truth magic. There's nothing solid we can use to accuse anyone... and yet, you still believe it's one of them."
Yutab sighed and sank into an old wooden chair. Her body slumped, and she buried her face in her hands as if bearing a heavy weight.
"I know!... It's just a theory. But there's a possibility someone manipulated the truth spell. Something nearly impossible. None of the professors have that level of skill—or at least... none that are *officially* recorded."
Yohan leaned forward slightly, resting his chin in his palm, his tone serious yet curious:
"So... do you suspect someone?"
Yutab rubbed her temple with her fingertips, then scratched her head again. Her voice turned reflective, almost distant:
"There are two people who, logically, are the most likely... Professor Charles and Professor Satella."
Yohan's eyes widened, and his brows shot up. His voice was surprised, almost loud:
"Really? Why those two?"
Yutab pointed at the wall, where several faded papers were pinned with precise scribbles.
"It's simple. Both victims were connected to them. Elizabeth, the student, was under both of their tutelage. She spent a lot of time with them. On the other hand, Kyle—the swordsmanship professor—was close to Charles. So, if the killer wanted both victims gone, these two had the most access and opportunity."
Yohan moved toward one of the papers. He pulled down a sheet about Charles and carefully read the handwritten notes.
"What's your take on Professor Charles?"
Yutab dragged her hand down her face. Her voice quivered slightly with fatigue, though her mind was still sharp:
"Comes from a noble family. Lost his parents as a child. Sent to a boarding school... alone, unprotected, but strong. Later became a professor at the academy. He's very calm. No one's ever seen him lose his temper. Always polite, always composed. That level of emotional control... it's suspicious. Either he's truly balanced—or he's hiding something."
Yohan nodded thoughtfully.
"Interesting... and what about Professor Satella?"
Yutab bit her nail briefly, then pointed to a page on the desk:
"She's also from a noble family, but it's different. She was raised under strict discipline, highly competitive. Won numerous awards during her studies—provincial and even kingdom-level. Brilliant and extremely driven, but... rigid. She had issues with Elizabeth. Reported her behavior to the headmaster several times. She didn't like her..."
Yohan pondered, rubbing his chin, then spoke slowly, his voice laced with concern:
"So she might have disliked Elizabeth... might have killed her. Then maybe Professor Kyle figured it out... and he got silenced."
A heavy silence filled the room. A candle flickered; a breeze made the curtain dance. Yutab stared out the window and whispered:
"If you want to hide a secret, you start by eliminating the ones who can *see* the truth..."
She slowly raised her hands in a gesture of uncertainty, her gaze locked on a vague spot on the floor. Her voice trembled ever so slightly—fatigue and doubt clinging to every word:
"It's not clear... I mean, I can't say for sure, but I *know* the probability isn't zero. If this were a normal case, I would've figured out the killer the first day, right at the crime scene. But this... this killer is different. Someone who can bypass the truth. Maybe even *bend* it. Someone who's tampered with people's memories."
She narrowed her eyes and gave a sharp look to the wall covered in notes.
"No one remembers exactly when or how Professor Kyle disappeared. It's like after a certain point... all memories just vanished. No footprints, no witnesses. Normally, someone—*someone*—would've seen where Kyle was last, or who he was with. But this time... complete silence. That means the killer isn't just a murderer; they're a master of the mind. Maybe mental or memory magic, at a level far beyond what's common."
Yohan, eyes half-closed, lowered his voice, sorrow running through his tone:
"So... we don't have any real evidence? We just wait for them to kill again, hoping to get another clue?"
Yutab remained still. She turned her head slightly toward him, and her eyes—now devoid of any exhaustion—locked with his.
"You're right... we don't have concrete proof. But the killer is someone among us. One of the professors, maybe one of the administrators. Their motive might be the same thing that got Elizabeth killed: retribution. And then Kyle... because he figured out who the killer was. The killer struck before being exposed. We interviewed everyone, filtered them all through truth magic, and still... it's like a thick veil covering our eyes."
Yohan looked up at the ceiling. The dim yellow candlelight danced across the plaster designs. He asked quietly:
"Do you think... they'll strike again?"
Yutab shook her head. Her fingers slipped into her hair, as if trying to untangle the chaos in her thoughts:
"No. They're a brilliant maniac. They know exactly what they're doing. They're not dumb enough to kill again now—*not this soon.* Right now, they're in the shadows... watching us. Count on it."
Yohan stood from his chair, arms crossed, staring down at Yutab:
"So... what do we do?"
Yutab put her foot up on the wooden table in front of her, leaned back in her chair, and toyed with her hair as she replied:
"I told the headmaster to pick one of the two—Professor Charles or Professor Satella—to help us on this case."
Yohan frowned. Not with anger, but out of worry and confusion:
"What? Why would you do that? That's incredibly risky."
Yutab shrugged, as if she wasn't fully convinced herself but still stood by her decision:
"They're both intelligent. They know a lot about Kyle and Elizabeth's personalities. They might provide insights we can't see. But if you ask me... I'd prefer to bring Satella into the game."
Yohan looked surprised. He touched his chin thoughtfully:
"Why Satella? Why not Charles?"
Yutab gave a faint, subtle smile. Her voice was soft, but underneath it lay sharp analysis:
"Satella's the one who reported Elizabeth multiple times to the headmaster. That shows she has a strong sense of justice—even if she's strict. She's the kind of person who can't ignore what feels wrong. Plus... she's brilliant. Just reading through her list of achievements tells you what kind of mind she has. I think she might see something from an angle we've completely missed."
For a moment, both were silent. Only the sound of flickering candles dancing with the breeze filled the room. Yohan glanced at the wall, where dozens of notes and photos were connected by colored threads. His voice was like the whisper of a dream:
"Just... don't lose yourself in this case, Yutab. At some point... you've got to stop."
Yutab smiled. But it wasn't the kind of smile people usually wore. There was something in her eyes—something of the hunter's gleam; the thrill of discovery, the joy of nearing the truth... and perhaps, a hunger to confront the darkness.