Magician in Type-Moon

Page 653

If a face no less beautiful than the Golden Princess were truly hidden beneath that veil, it would be a distorted space where even heaven does not exist.

at this time--

"Oh, I see. There's been a big commotion."

A voice, completely different from the somber and sorrowful atmosphere of the scene, with a detached and indifferent comment, abruptly broke in.

Another man appeared.

He stood at the doorway of the room, not immediately stepping into this bloody place, but instead scanning the interior with an almost scrutinizing gaze.

He casually pressed down on his slightly dull gray hair with one hand, the movement somewhat nonchalant. His face was sharply defined, yet carried a sense of weariness, especially his eyes. When he looked at the horrific scene in the room, his eyes didn't reveal fear or sorrow, but rather a kind of…

The tone was completely different, cold and indifferent, as if assessing an accident that had nothing to do with him.

He is Setra.

He surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over the limp apothecary, the wary curse master, the grieving costume designer, the devastated Lord Bailong, the silent Silver Princess, and Matouchi in the shadows, before finally settling on the horrifying pool of blood and the still figure of the Golden Princess.

"Oh dear." He shook his head, letting out an almost flippant exclamation, a hint of unsettling, amused smile even appearing on his face.

Then, he posed an extremely sharp question that instantly transformed the pervasive sadness into suspicion and tension:

"Does this mean... all of us who stayed behind are suspects?"

These words, like an icicle, pierced through the lingering grief and shock in the air.

In an instant, everyone's eyes were drawn to the gray-haired man who spoke rashly and acted coldly.

“Mr. Setra!” Pharmacist Maio seemed to have recovered slightly from his previous shock and called out in a low voice in a reproachful tone, as if he felt that it was extremely inappropriate for him to make such a joke in this situation.

However, Settra completely ignored Maio's seemingly accusatory words. He continued, still smiling, a smile carrying a wicked sense of indifference, even a smug enjoyment of the chaotic situation:

“I don’t dislike detective novels,” he said casually, “although I never imagined I’d be in such a troublesome position as a ‘suspect’.”

He stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

"If I had to say, a character like mine would be more suited to being a 'victim' who dies at the beginning, or a mastermind behind the scenes. Playing a suspect is really not elegant."

Setra shrugged, letting out a suppressed, low laugh. The laughter sounded particularly jarring and out of place in the silent, blood-soaked room.

That attitude made him seem only fit to be a murderer—this thought probably crossed the minds of more than one person present. His words and actions were full of provocation and disregard for death, perfectly fitting the template of a villain in a play.

However, his performance was not over.

He carefully, with an almost appraising gaze, looked again at the Golden Princess's head, which remained in an eerie "life and death" state, and then stared at the overall situation in the room for a few seconds, as if rapidly piecing together some images in his mind.

Immediately, his smile widened, and he laughed even more happily, as if he had discovered some extremely amusing absurdity.

"Speaking of which, that's really impressive," he commented with a smile, his tone filled with a kind of twisted admiration.

"It was really... over the top, it made me laugh." He shook his head, as if watching a poorly made but exaggerated performance.

"To create this kind of scene in a place filled with so many magicians, with informants and detection spells everywhere..."

He spread his hands, making an exaggerated questioning gesture. "What's the point of doing this? Provocation? Or is the killer a completely reckless madman?"

His question once again sharply pointed to the core contradiction of the incident—committing a crime in such a conspicuous manner in the magician's home base, the motive itself was highly unusual.

"What do you mean?" Arcueid, who had been standing quietly beside Matou Ike, seemed to have been piqued by his words and couldn't help but ask.

Her red eyes flickered with confusion; she tended to ask the most direct questions about the complex intrigues and performances of humanity.

Setra seemed pleased that someone had finally spoken. He turned to Arcueid, his unsettling smile still on his face, and said in a tone as if lecturing a child:

“Listen carefully.” He held up one finger. “I heard before I came here that the Golden Princess’s room was ‘locked’ when you broke in, right?” He emphasized the word “locked.”

"I stayed here for a few days too, so I know,"

He continued, indicating that he was not just speculating, "The rooms of the Golden Princess and the Silver Princess are equipped with specially made 'magic locks'."

His tone became slightly more serious, carrying a technical explanation connotation.

"That lock belongs to the type that corresponds to the individual's magical wavelength. In the Clock Tower, it is something specifically used for the treasure vault or the core area of ​​the highest-level workshop."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over all the magicians present who could understand his words, before uttering the most crucial and shocking conclusion:

“In other words—” His voice carried a cold, penetrating quality, as if revealing the truth.

"The door to the Golden Princess's room can only be opened by the Golden Princess's own magical energy fluctuations!"

Magic lock.

This term was clearly understood by every magician present. Although the specific forms and encryption methods varied, the type described by Setra was undoubtedly the highest and most troublesome—it was probably a Mystic Code that used one's unique magical wavelength itself as the sole key.

Despite its many drawbacks, such as being extremely expensive, usable only by those with magical power (usually magicians), and being unable to flexibly change or add users (unless completely reset, a complex process requiring special permissions), this type of lock is still widely used in magicians' workshops, vaults, and various places requiring the highest level of access control due to its near-absolute robustness (for non-key holders).

Now, Setra points out that the Golden Princess's room also used that kind of magic lock.

This fact, combined with the current situation—the Golden Princess was dead inside the room, and the magic lock was locked when they broke in—

A cold, clear, yet paradoxical chain of logic instantly took shape in everyone's minds.

Setrana's words, spoken with a mocking smile, were like a final verdict, piercing the deathly silence with deadly precision:

"If that's the case... does that mean this is a 'locked room'?"

silence.

A heavy, oppressive silence, filled with countless unanswered questions and a chilling aura, swept through the entire room in an instant, like an invisible shockwave.

The silence swallowed Byron's choked breath, swallowed the trembling of the apothecary Maio, swallowed the appraising gaze of the curse master Mick, swallowed the costume designer Islo's regret for the dress, and also swallowed the unreadable gaze from behind the Silver Princess's veil.

Everyone's expression froze.

The term "locked room" might mean a clever logical game in detective novels, but in the world of magicians, especially in the core workshop of the Izeruma family, it points to more bizarre and dangerous possibilities.

Suicide? Someone who was secretly seeking "escape" and discussing "deals" just last night would end their own life in such a tragic way? And even manage to have the door lock automatically after death?

Perfect imitation? What could be so perfect as to deceive even a lock based on the wavelength of personal magical energy? This almost touches the realm of "magic," or some kind of forbidden technology never before heard of.

Was the lock itself tampered with? Or... was the "locked" state when the body was found a carefully orchestrated illusion?

Countless speculations, doubts, and wariness festered in the silence. The gaze began to wander involuntarily, no longer solely focused on the tragedy on the bed, but starting to scrutinize everyone around—

This includes Setra himself, who just put forward this startling idea.

Matou Ike's calm voice broke the suffocating silence, like ice water poured into boiling oil:

"However, from our perspective as magicians, the concept of a 'locked room' is inherently fragile. It's not that difficult to kill a victim inside a locked room from the outside."

His words were like a bucket of cold water, temporarily extinguishing some of the overly simplistic speculations that had arisen because of the word "secret room."

Indeed, for magicians, there are too many ways to bypass physical barriers, such as passing through walls, phase shifting, space distortion, consciousness projection, and even remotely controlling a victim to commit suicide.

The so-called "locked room" is often just a trick used by murderers to mislead the investigation and add drama.

“That’s true.” Setra nodded readily, seemingly appreciating Matou Ike’s addition, but the smile on his face became increasingly sinister.

He changed the subject, his gaze coiling around Matou Ike and Arcueid like a venomous snake:

“Suspecting the first person to discover the murder is a basic principle of detective stories… Besides,” he deliberately drew out his words, dropping a more targeted bombshell, “the last people to meet with the Golden Princess and have a ‘secret talk’ were—you guys, weren’t they?”

His gaze was fixed on Matou Ike, a slight smile playing on his lips, a smile brimming with provocation and innuendo. Then, as if deeming the attack insufficient, he turned to the almost forgotten head of the family beside him, lost in profound grief and shock, and raised his voice, calling out:

"Bai Longqing!"

Chapter 678 Supervision and Assistance (4k)

Startled by Setra's sudden and almost rude urging, Byron, who had been standing as stiff as a stone statue, trembled slightly.

He slowly and with great difficulty looked away from the horrific scene on the bed, his deep-set eyes filled with bloodshot veins, tears, and a near-mad confusion.

He nodded politely, his movements stiff, as if every subtle action required immense effort.

He didn't speak immediately, but stood still, hanging the ebony cane that had been supporting him all along, now feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds, on his wrist, and then clapped his hands with his slightly trembling hands.

Snap, snap.

Two crisp claps echoed in the silent room, carrying an unquestionable sense of command.

Almost the instant the applause subsided, two figures, as if summoned by a silent call, were drawn in by the applause and silently entered through the doorway.

It was those twin maids, whose beautiful faces were like mirror images of each other.

They were still wearing black and white dresses, their expressions like exquisite dolls, perfect yet lifeless.

But at this moment, their eyes seemed even more vacant than last night, as if they too could feel the enormous changes and pressures permeating the air.

Setra's gaze settled on one of them—the maid who had carried the lantern for the Golden Princess last night and called herself Karina.

"You must be Miss Karina," Setra confirmed, her tone polite but her eyes sharp as needles.

The maid Karina, whose name was called, bowed slightly, her movements precise and accurate: "Yes, sir."

Setra took a step forward, closing in on the maid, her voice low but carrying an undeniable pressure:

"Miss Karina. What exactly did Lady Tiadera and this Mr. Matou 'talk' about last night?"

He deliberately emphasized the word "talk," implying that it was not just a simple exchange of pleasantries.

"I... I left as ordered while Lord Tiadera was discussing matters with her guests, so..."

Karina's voice remained steady, but upon closer listening, a very subtle, almost imperceptible tremor could be detected. She lowered her head, avoiding Setra's gaze, indicating that she was completely unaware.

However, in such a context, such a vague response cannot be tolerated.

"Yes, I know you left your seat." He seemed to magnanimously acknowledge this first, then his words were sharp as knives.

"However, as the Golden Princess's personal maid, regarding Her Highness's sudden secret meeting with a strange male guest late at night... you 'should' be able to 'predict' to some extent the 'reason' for Tiadera's contact with her, right? Even if it's just your guess?"

He emphasized words like "should," "expected," and "reason," as if interrogating the other party about their loyalty and duty.

"........."

Karina kept her head down, her shoulders seemingly tense almost imperceptibly. She fell silent, offering no response for a long while.

This brief silence, under the watchful eyes of countless people, felt exceptionally long and stressful. Her clenched fingers turned slightly white, as if a fierce internal struggle was unfolding.

Karina's body trembled slightly.

As an artificial life form or contracted servant who was raised from childhood and whose soul was almost entirely bound to the Izeruma family, she could not truly disobey her master's explicit orders or invisible pressure.

Under Setra's sharp, suggestive questioning, her defenses finally crumbled.

She kept her head down, her voice broken and halting, like a broken record, struggling to get the words out: