**A few days had passed since the sudden and suspicious death of Professor Kyle.**
Rumors spread through the Royal Academy like wildfire in a dry meadow, shaking the apparent calm of its scholarly and majestic atmosphere. The news not only echoed within the Academy's grand stone walls but also swiftly reached the ears of the kingdom's high-ranking officials. A direct order was issued:
**"The killer must be identified and apprehended as soon as possible."**
Several specially trained and experienced inspectors were promptly dispatched to the Academy to conduct extensive investigations—not only into Professor Kyle's murder but also into the suspicious death of the talented student, Elizabeth.
In one of the Academy's main conference halls, an emergency meeting was underway among the headmaster, deputies, and senior professors. A heavy, cold silence dominated the room. The dim light of crystal chandeliers cast a glow over the long wooden table, and a frozen hush loomed over everyone. No one dared to speak; only heavy and sometimes anxious glances were exchanged. All awaited the headmaster to break the silence.
The headmaster, a middle-aged man with a serious face and tired eyes, sat in his large black leather chair. The deep lines on his face reflected the pressure, anxiety, and sleeplessness of recent days. His fingers tapped involuntarily on the chair's armrest, his gaze fixed on a distant point. A heavy frown rested on his forehead, as if his mind was miles away, entangled in unsolved puzzles.
To the right of the room sat Professor Charles, as calm and dignified as always. His pressed gray suit complemented by a silver vest reflected his logical and composed personality. Beside him was Professor Satella, a tall woman in a long black robe, her face serious and somber. Her dark hair was tied back, and her piercing eyes were fixed on a point on the table, as if concealing her thoughts from others.
The prolonged silence was finally broken by the headmaster's hoarse and weary voice:
**"Unfortunately... the Academy's situation is more critical than ever. As you all know, we've lost several of our students... and now Professor Kyle, one of our dedicated faculty members, has been murdered. These tragedies have severely damaged the Academy's reputation. Many parents are requesting to withdraw their children. If this continues, the Academy's future is at risk."**
The professors' breathing grew heavier. After a brief pause, Professor Adam, a well-dressed man in a black suit with thin glasses perched on his nose, spoke in a calm yet concerned tone:
**"These reports are deeply troubling... If the killer isn't found promptly, public trust will be destroyed. Headmaster, what measures have you considered to control the situation?"**
The headmaster ran a hand through his disheveled hair, as if trying to organize his tangled thoughts. Then, in a soft yet resolute voice, he said:
**"Special inspectors are on their way—agents from the Royal Security Division, experts in magical detection and interrogation. They'll commence their investigations soon. Please cooperate fully with them. Unfortunately... during interrogations, *magic of compulsion and truth* will be employed to prevent deceit."**
No voices rose in protest, but the atmosphere grew heavier. Even seasoned professors felt uneasy about this decision. The magic of truth shatters the boundaries of privacy, meaning no secret, even the most personal, would remain safe.
Yet, no one objected.
Because everyone knew\... if the killer was hiding among them, perhaps the only way to save the Academy was to cross conventional boundaries.
Suddenly, the sound of knocking echoed through the room, accompanied by firm and orderly footsteps approaching. The headmaster, in a formal and calm tone, said:
**"Please, come in."**
The door opened with a slight creak, and several individuals in formal black attire with cold and serious expressions entered the room. They were all members of the special team, their black uniforms contrasting sharply with the pink shirts beneath their coats—a stark and ruthless appearance indicating the seriousness of their mission.
Among them stepped forward a woman in her early thirties with black hair and shining blue eyes. Her attire was impeccably neat, her face expressionless yet full of strength and determination. In a calm yet firm voice, she said:
**"My name is Yutab. I am a special royal inspector, sent here by direct order of the highest authority in the country, the king, to investigate the recent murders and identify the killer. As long as my colleagues and I are present in this Academy, I ask for your full cooperation."**
The Academy's professors and deputies exchanged anxious and worried glances. The room's atmosphere had grown heavy, and everyone understood that this official and serious presence from the king signified the gravity of the situation—a scenario few had imagined.
The headmaster, with a careful look and a calm yet formal voice, responded to Yutab:
**"Thank you for your introduction, Ms. Yutab. Do you have a specific plan for finding the killer?"**
Yutab looked around the room with determination, then replied:
**"First, I intend to visit the crime scenes and examine them closely. After that, I will interrogate the first individuals who discovered the bodies. Then, I will ask key questions to professors and related individuals to gather more information."**
The professors nodded in agreement, and Professor Adam said in a gentle voice:
**"We're glad you're assisting in this important matter, and we'll do our utmost to answer any questions you have."**
Yutab nodded and gestured to her colleagues, introducing them; each had a serious demeanor, ready to begin their work.
In a corner of the room, Professor Charles sat calmly and motionless in his chair, as always. His gaze was lost in his own world, showing no signs of anxiety or fear. Unlike the others, he neither feared the inspectors' presence nor was shocked by the interrogations. In fact, he had prepared himself in advance—ready to respond calmly and confidently, aligning with the facts in a way that seemed natural while revealing hidden secrets behind the scenes.
The room's atmosphere was now filled with anticipation and tension; moments that were set to unveil the dark secrets of the recent murders, one by one.
One of the investigators stood behind her and said with concern,
"I'm sorry, ma'am... but you've been like this for over an hour. I was worried..."
Youtab ran a hand over her face, exhaled, and replied in a sharp but not angry tone,
"I told you not to disturb me until the scene analysis was over. This level of focus is crucial for me..."
The investigator lowered his head.
"Yes, my apologies... I was just worried about you."
Youtab remained silent for a few moments. Then, with a serious voice, she asked,
"So... were you able to find anything about Elizabeth? Who she was spending time with in her last days? Where she went? Did she have any personal issues or conflicts with anyone? Are there any suspects among the faculty or students? Anything that might help — even the smallest detail matters."
The investigator nodded and began to report, while Youtab gradually pulled herself out of the heavy cloud of her thoughts. But the image of the scene — that heart in her hands — was still pulsing vividly in her mind...
The investigator, looking uneasy and slightly anxious, spoke in a voice laced with tension:
"Unfortunately, we haven't been able to gather anything concrete. In the past few days, Elizabeth mostly spent time with her friends. The last sighting of her was outside the city, in a shop that sells magical items. But the key point is that she didn't get along well with others — in fact, she often bullied them. So, it's likely that someone held a grudge and decided to take revenge. We don't yet know exactly who was behind this, but the evidence points toward someone from one of the Academy's classes or dormitories."
Youtab slowly nodded in confirmation and said in a calm yet firm tone:
"Alright... then the nature of the death is now mostly clear."
The investigator looked surprised and asked, a bit curiously,
"You mean... you've figured out something we haven't?"
Youtab, eyes still fixed on the murder scene vivid in her mind, began explaining:
"The killer is a psychotic artist... They arranged Elizabeth's body in a way that evokes a ritual or some symbolic representation. All of her internal organs were removed and replaced with poisonous flowers. This clearly points to Elizabeth's domineering personality — suggesting she was corrupt from within... Her heart was placed back in her chest, with Elizabeth gripping it tightly with both hands. This shows that she didn't want to let go of who she had been — perhaps she intended to keep tormenting others in the future. The killer isn't just insane — they're also brilliant, with a deep understanding of symbolism and aesthetics."
She paused for a moment, then continued:
"Given the precision and planning involved in this murder, I doubt the killer is one of Elizabeth's classmates. That level of execution isn't expected from a teenager. I'm convinced the perpetrator is an adult."
The investigator, eyes glinting with admiration and amazement, said in a voice filled with respect:
"You're incredible... The way you notice every detail and interpret the hidden truths is just..."
Youtab didn't smile. Her face remained expressionless as she simply said:
"Take me to the second crime scene. I want to see it myself."
Without hesitation, the investigator nodded and led the way. As they walked, he opened the case file and briefed her on what they knew about Professor Kyle and the circumstances of his death.
After several minutes of walking through the Academy's corridors, they entered the amphitheater — where Professor Kyle had been killed. The large, half-lit space with its empty stage and heavy curtains gave off a strange, chilling sense of dread.
Youtab stared silently at the scene, then sat in the front row of the hall. She closed her eyes, focusing intensely, weaving all the collected information together and beginning to reconstruct the scene.
In her mind, the scene came alive just like the one in the greenhouse — vivid and precise. She could feel the breath, the sound, and the light of that fatal moment.
Though the killer's face still eluded her, she sensed a clear and deep connection between Kyle's death and Elizabeth's — a link she knew held the key to solving the case.
She sat in silence, trying to fit each puzzle piece into place, working to unmask the killer...
After more than an hour of silent, eyes-closed reconstruction, Youtab finally opened her eyes and looked at the investigator with intensity:
"Professor Kyle had likely discovered the killer's true identity. The way his body was arranged makes that clear — his eyes were covered with a black ribbon, symbolizing that he had seen the truth and the killer didn't want that truth to ever be seen again. His mouth was sewn shut with red thread — a symbol that he couldn't tell the truth to others. The red color signifies that this silence was enforced through blood and death — the killer intended Kyle's death to represent eternal silence."
The investigator, his hand on his chin, eyes full of thought, asked,
"So Kyle figured out the truth about Elizabeth's killer, and the murderer killed him to keep the secret?"
Youtab slowly nodded and explained,
"Yes. Kyle probably saw the killer after they murdered Elizabeth in the greenhouse. The killer realized they had been seen and, to avoid exposure, killed Kyle. The killer must be one of the Academy's adult staff — Kyle was physically strong, as you'd expect from a swordsmanship professor. But he likely didn't see the murder happen directly. If he had, he would have told everyone. He probably just saw the killer leaving the greenhouse at a restricted hour and became suspicious. He might've tried to get closer to the killer to confirm it — and for that, he was silenced."
The investigator said in amazement,
"Unbelievable... Your analysis is so deep and precise."
Youtab responded flatly, without emotion,
"I want to speak with the professors, the assistants, and the headmaster. One by one. In the conference room. I'll question them all separately."
The investigator nodded.
"Understood. I'll notify them immediately."
Several hours passed as Youtab questioned every professor, assistant, and the headmaster. In the end, with a weary and somewhat frustrated voice, she told the investigator:
"None of them had anything significant to say. Most of what they told me was meaningless chatter that got us nowhere. Even with truth magic, we couldn't compel anyone to reveal anything useful. A few people remain — I still need to speak with them."
The investigator responded calmly:
"Two people are left: Professor Satella and Professor Charles. Professor Satella only had a professional relationship with the victim, but Professor Charles was quite close to Kyle — they often spoke with each other."
Youtab nodded and asked,
"Tell me more about Professor Charles. What kind of person is he?"
The investigator replied with a thoughtful look and a calm voice:
"He's very calm and composed. Always respectful of others. No reports of any suspicious or inappropriate behavior have ever been filed against him. He comes from a noble lineage, but lost his family as a child and grew up in a boarding school. Later, he joined the Academy as a professor and became one of the most skilled mages in the kingdom."
Youtab, her expression calm and contemplative, said,
"Someone with such a background and personality would be hard to suspect — but he's still one of the main suspects. Send in Professor Satella first. I want to speak with each of them separately."
A few minutes later, Professor Satella entered with a neutral expression, showing no signs of emotion. She sat down and said:
"You wanted to see me? I'm ready to answer your questions."
Youtab offered a faint smile.
"I'm glad you're willing to cooperate."
She then pointed to a small clear orb on the table.
"This is a Truth Orb. If you lie, it turns red. If you tell the truth, it stays green. Do you have any problem with this?"
Satella shook her head slowly.
"No problem at all."
Youtab stared into Satella's eyes for a few moments — calm, steady, and analytical. Then she asked in a composed tone:
"Let's begin with the first question. What's your opinion of Professor Kyle?"
Satella paused, as if recalling a distant memory, then answered in a calm, neutral tone:
"We weren't very close. Our conversations were mostly formal and work-related. But I can say he was an ethical and responsible man. He cared about his students, even if he seemed strict. I'd say he was a respectable professor."
Youtab nodded, then asked without delay,
"And what about Elizabeth?"
Satella took a deep breath. This time, her pause lasted longer. Her gaze tightened slightly, as though weighing her words:
"She... was a bright student, but a bit selfish and sometimes inconsiderate. I had to file a few reports about her inappropriate behavior toward classmates. I informed the administration, but never received a response. Still, her death shook me. When you realize the last time you saw someone really was the last time... it leaves a heavy feeling. Good or bad... she was one of my students, and I respected her."
Youtab raised her eyebrows slightly. Her tone grew firmer:
"I know this might be an uncomfortable question, but I have to ask... Did you harm Elizabeth or Professor Kyle in any way?"
Satella let out a small laugh of disbelief and replied firmly,
"Of course not! I had no reason to. Why would I do such a thing?"
The orb glowed a calm, steady green throughout her response. Youtab glanced at it, then looked back at Satella.
"Is there anything you know but haven't told us yet? Anything about the murders — even if it seems trivial to you?"
Satella furrowed her brow, her gaze dropping briefly. After a few seconds of silence, she answered with certainty:
"No. I've told you everything I know."
Youtab nodded slowly.
"Thank you for your honesty and your time. You may go."
Satella stood up, quietly opened the door, and exited the room.
Youtab leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. Her mind was full of scattered data — fragments she needed to piece together. A few minutes passed, and then came a gentle knock at the door.
A polite voice from the other side said,
"May I come in?"
Youtab straightened her back and cleared her throat.
"Yes, come in."
The door opened, and Professor Charles stepped into the room with slow, deliberate steps. He quietly shut the door behind him. His eyes scanned the room—bookshelves lined with aged and formal volumes, dark crimson walls, and framed portraits of former academy professors and headmasters whose stern gazes seemed to weigh down the atmosphere.
With quiet dignity, he walked to the chair across from Youtab and sat. Every movement was precise, controlled.
Youtab offered a soft smile.
"Thank you for your time. I just have a few simple questions, and then you'll be free to go."
Charles inclined his head, his voice calm.
"I'm entirely at your service. I'd be glad to help with the investigation, if I can."
Youtab nodded.
"Very well… Tell me, what's your opinion of Professor Kyle?"
Charles responded without hesitation:
"Kyle was an honorable man. He had a strong sense of justice and a fighter's spirit. We talked often—one of our last conversations was actually about Elizabeth's murder, just a few days before his death. He cared deeply, especially about vulnerable students. He was someone who always tried to distinguish right from wrong."
Youtab gave him a penetrating look.
"Have you ever had any disagreements with him?"
Charles paused briefly, then replied in a measured tone:
"Yes, we had our differences on occasion. It was natural. But it never escalated into hostility or hatred. We were colleagues with contrasting perspectives, nothing more."
Youtab leaned slightly toward the truth orb. It remained green. Unchanging.
She asked,
"When was the last time you saw him?"
Charles answered,
"The day before the announcement of his death. We were discussing the start of the term exams."
But behind that calm tone and precise answer, a darker truth lurked.
Unbeknownst to Youtab, Professor Charles was using his unique and hidden ability—**"Manipulator"**—a rare and powerful skill that allowed him to rewrite reality within the minds of others and even deceive truth-detection devices. He was lying, yet the orb glowed green.
In the past, Charles had claimed he only possessed two elite-level abilities and no unique skill. Everyone had accepted it—even Arthur, with his Eye of Truth, hadn't seen through it. Because the truth Charles presented was seamless. Undetectable.
Still unaware of what was hidden beneath his calm exterior, Youtab lifted her gaze and asked softly:
"And what about Elizabeth? What's your opinion of her?"
Charles was silent for a moment, then let out a bitter, weary smile—one born from years of failed attempts to change someone. His eyes drifted to an undefined point, then he said,
"Elizabeth… was a capable student, but she had a darkness within her that couldn't be ignored. She didn't harm others out of loneliness or a need for attention—no, it was calculated, almost clinical. She seemed to enjoy the suffering of others. I spoke with her, more than once. Even reached out to her parents. But they didn't seem concerned—if anything, they seemed indifferent, maybe even quietly approving. I didn't hate her… I just wished she could understand how much more powerful kindness and friendship could be than dominance and cruelty."
Youtab held his gaze, her tone calm.
"Other professors have said similar things. Thank you for your honest answer. Just one last question."
Charles bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. A heavy silence settled over the room.
Youtab stared directly into his eyes. She didn't blink. Her voice was firm and unwavering:
"Did you kill Professor Kyle or Elizabeth?"
Charles remained silent for a few seconds. His eyes locked onto hers. There was no shock in his gaze—no hint of fear. Only a heavy calm, like someone who had anticipated the question all along. Finally, he spoke:
"No. I harmed neither of them. The thought never even crossed my mind. Yes, Elizabeth's actions troubled me at times, but… murder? No. I'd never do such a thing."
Youtab immediately turned her eyes to the truth orb. Still green. No flicker. No shift.
She looked away and said,
"Thank you for your time. You may go."
Professor Charles rose with his usual composed manner and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Youtab collapsed into her chair. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes glinting with frustration and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clawed at her hair, muttering to herself. She bit her nails with such force it seemed like she wanted to rip herself apart from the inside out.
She was certain—absolutely certain—that one of the professors was the killer. But the truth orb showed no lies. No deceit. Or more accurately… no *detectable* deceit.
Despair welled up inside her like black water, threatening to drown her thoughts. Should she start questioning the students next? Was there an ability that could trick the orb? Doubt seeped in like a slow-acting poison.
Meanwhile, in the academy's corridors, Professor Charles walked calmly toward his office. His face serene, his mind sharp. He knew what he had done, what he had hidden. And more importantly, he knew how to use his *Manipulator* ability to conceal any truth—any truth at all.
He couldn't act again—not yet. The scrutiny was too intense, the suspicions too sharp. He would have to wait. Stay still. Until the academy, once again, drifted into complacency.
Elsewhere, in the academy dorms, Arthur, Julius, and Anous sat in a corner of their shared room. Open books, half-finished cups of tea, and a shared sense of worry filled the space.
The room was, as always, cluttered and chaotic—none of the three seemed to care much for tidiness, or perhaps their minds were too consumed by recent events for order to matter. Clothes lay scattered across chairs and the floor, books and notebooks were piled in precarious towers, and the walls, doors, even the ceiling were plastered with stickers—stars, quotes, odd symbols—courtesy of Anous's ever-creative touch.
A faint scent of flowers and herbs lingered in the air. Potted plants—some large, some small—lined the windowsill and hung from the ceiling, a testament to Julius's love for his greenery. In the corner stood a small wooden shelf filled with soil, gardening tools, and watering bottles.
Arthur's books, as always, were strewn about in a kind of organized chaos. His desk was covered in densely written notebooks, with pens stuck between pages and highlighters long since dried. It was clear his mind was always active, always analyzing.
Anous, ever the enigma and artist, had turned the room into his canvas. His self-designed stickers were placed with no discernible order across the walls, the ceiling, even the lamp. Each one bore a cryptic phrase, a short poem, or a symbolic sketch.
Julius, lying on the floor between a few flower pots, his hands folded behind his head and eyes closed, muttered with a tired but anxious tone,
"Man… I really don't feel safe in this academy anymore. I've lost count of how many bodies have shown up just in the past month."
Anous, sitting on his bed, one leg bouncing nervously, his fingers entwined, responded more seriously,
"Everyone feels that way now—students and teachers alike. Elizabeth's death, then Professor Kyle's… it's clear this is more than just a simple murder case."
Arthur, seated at his desk, marking something in the corner of a notebook with a short pencil, added:
"There's nothing we can really do. Just wait and watch. A few students said they saw people in black uniforms entering the academy today—headed straight for the headmaster's office. Probably investigators from the council or high-level overseers. We'll see what they come up with."
Anous's voice softened.
"For now, all we *can* do is stay alert. Luckily, classes are canceled and exams postponed. We should use this time to prepare—both for school, and for survival."
Julius opened his eyes, gazed at the ceiling cluttered with Anous's stickers, and said in a quiet, sad but warm tone,
"Professor Kyle really was a good teacher… I wanted to learn more from him, especially in swordsmanship. I always felt something special in his class…"
Anous interrupted, studying him carefully:
"You felt alive?"
Julius quickly nodded, eyes lighting up.
"Yes! Exactly that! When he taught, it made me want to be stronger—not just for me, for others too. He really meant a lot to me… the same way Professor Charles's classes mean something to you two."
Arthur, without looking up from his book, replied,
"Kyle may be gone, but his memory remains. Not just in our minds, but in our bodies—in the movements he taught us, in the discipline he expected. He didn't just teach technique; he passed on the spirit of a warrior. We have to make sure that legacy doesn't die."
Julius sighed and murmured,
"You're right…"
Silence fell over the room. The only sound was the soft wind through the half-open window and the faint rustle of a plant's leaves swaying in the breeze. They looked at each other—not in fear or suspicion, but in search of some sign of peace, hope… or a path forward.
After a moment, Anous broke the silence.
"Has it been decided who's going to replace Professor Kyle?"
Arthur, flipping a page, replied without looking up:
"Not yet. Probably once classes resume. Maybe they haven't found someone who can fill his place."
Anous nodded, saying nothing. But in his heart, he knew—
No one could ever truly replace Kyle.