Edward’s eyes lingered on the man tied to the chair, bruised but alive. "This Councillor Auren... is he the tall one with long, black hair tied back?"
"Yes! That’s the one," the man answered quickly, almost too eagerly, as if relieved to be of help.
Edward gave a short nod and didn’t press further.
Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and made for the door, ignoring the man’s uncertain voice behind him.
"Am I free to leave then?"
Edward didn’t answer.
The heavy wooden door creaked as he pushed it open and stepped into the dimly lit corridor
Prince Arthur was already there, waiting for him to come out. His sharp gaze swept Edward as if trying to read the outcome from his posture alone.
"Well?" The Prince finally asked.
"I have a suspect," Edward said carefully, weighing his words. "But the evidence is rather... subjective."
"Subjective?" The Prince tilted his head, frowning faintly.
Edward exhaled before speaking out.
"Councillor Auren stood out. When the chief collapsed, he was unfazed. He was still drinking his cup while others panicked. Now I learn he was overly kind to our fake suspect. He may have been setting him up as a scapegoat."
The Prince remained silent for several long moments, his brow furrowed in thought.
Finally, he spoke, low and deliberate. "Councillor Auren... I’ve heard of him. Ambitious, yes, but also a childhood friend of Chief Warren. They rose together. Do you truly believe he is capable of poisoning a friend for power?"
Edward hesitated.
His mind ran through countless cases, faces of victims, and the shadows cast by those closest to them. Wives who slit throats, brothers who betrayed for wealth, friends who traded loyalty for influence. Cruelty rarely came from strangers.
"Yes," he said at last, his tone hard. "If it’s for personal gains... anyone’s capable."
Arthur studied him, then gave a short nod. He turned toward a nearby soldier, motioning him with a subtle flick of his hand. The man snapped to attention and hurried off to carry out orders Edward could only guess at.
"And what of the suspect inside?" Arthur asked quietly.
"Let him go," Edward said. "But keep someone on him. If he’s being used, he may draw the real killer out."
"Very well." Arthur’s voice carried the weight of reluctant agreement.
"Tomorrow...?" Edward began, but didn’t finish the sentence on purpose, noticing the prying eyes of the royal guards.
Arthur understood instantly.
"We act as planned. For now, you should rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day. Take care, Edward," he said with a thin smile.
"And you, Prince," Edward said as he dipped his head in a respectful manner.
Arthur turned and strode down the corridor, his soldiers falling in behind him.
Edward followed shortly after, exiting the hall and stepping out into the cold night air.
The air bit at his skin, sharp and clean after the stifling atmosphere of the hall. He drew in several deep breaths, letting them out slowly. The weight of the day pressed on him at last—the chaos, the death, the fragments of suspicion pieced together too hastily.
The Chief was dead.
That truth, buried beneath his detective’s instincts, finally struck home. Warren had been a good man. Not perfect, no leader ever was, but he had cared for the town, carried its burdens as best he could. And now, he was gone, taken by poison like some common pawn in a ruthless board game.
Edward’s hand clenched into a fist at his side. He wanted to rage against the injustice, but he knew well that getting emotional would solve nothing. He needed cold clarity to carry him forward.
The streets lay still and eerily quiet.
Lanterns guttered in the wind, and the scattered shadows stretched long across empty cobblestones. He walked in silence, boots crunching against the frost. His thoughts lingered on Councillor Auren, on the faint tremor of unease that wouldn’t leave him.
By the time the townhouse came into sight, his body was heavy with exhaustion. A faint glow seeped through the cracks of the shutters.
"Seems like they’re still awake," he thought to himself.
He quietly opened the door and stepped inside.
A feeling of warmth washed over him, along with the smell of burnt wood from the hearth. By the time he closed the door behind him, two figures appeared from around the corner.
Aeris and Seraphine emerged from the living room, their bare feet whispering against the wooden floor. Both wore simple nightgowns, hair loose and unbound, their faces softened by the hour.
"I... see you two are still awake," Edward said, catching himself after his gaze lingered a beat too long.
Aeris stepped forward, worry shadowing her eyes. "How did the interrogation go?"
Edward set his coat aside and exhaled before speaking.
"There is a suspect. Councillor Auren. The evidence is circumstantial... but he’s our best lead."
"Councillor Auren..." Aeris repeated softly, as if trying to summon the man’s image but failing.
"The prince will have him watched," Edward continued. "For now, we should rest. Tomorrow won’t be easy."
Aeris nodded slowly, then turned toward the staircase.
"What’s tomorrow?" Seraphine asked, brows knitting together in confusion.
"Nothing for you to worry about," Edward said, moving toward the stairs himself.
"What? Not fair!" She swatted his arm lightly, her lips pulling into a small pout. Yet her eyes softened a moment later as the two of them reached the top of the staircase.
"Goodnight, Edward..." she said.
He allowed himself the faintest smile.
"Goodnight."
Aeris disappeared into her room without another word. Seraphine offered him one last smile before slipping away as well.
Edward lingered in the hall, quiet now except for the faint creak of old wood. He summoned Shadow Striker, its unseen presence cloaking the residence. That unease from earlier hadn’t faded—it coiled in his gut, warning of something he was yet to see.
As he entered his room, he changed out of his clothes into simpler ones, the kind he could sleep in without trouble.
He sat on the bed, letting out a long, weary breath, before letting his body sink into the soft cushions of the bed.
The day replayed in his mind again and again. It all blurred together until the exhaustion had finally claimed him.