Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

“We shouldn’t know each other.” Navelette’s voice was as calm as still water, answering Funina’s question and seemingly also answering the faint confusion in her own heart.

Great!

He didn't recognize me!

The traveler's heart, which had been hanging in mid-air, fell back to its original position with a "thud".

wrong!

The feeling of relief lasted less than two seconds before another, more bittersweet emotion surged back like a tidal wave, instantly drowning out the previous smugness.

I've taken care of you for so long!

Only five hundred years have passed, five hundred years! And you don't even recognize me?

You ungrateful bastard!

Even if I specifically told Fukaros and Melusen not to mention me, even if I had already prepared myself for the possibility that "he might not remember"... he should still recognize me at first glance when we meet again!

Oh well, never mind...

The advantage of internal monologue is that no matter what dark thoughts or resentments you have, the other person won't hear them.

However, Funina was clearly dissatisfied with this answer: "In this situation, don't you need to see her for who she really is before you're sure?"

Ah!

No! We can't see their true colors!

The traveler's nerves, which had just relaxed, suddenly tightened again.

How to do?

If Navigette really asked her to remove her mask, what reason could she give for refusing? She couldn't exactly say, "I'm a wanted criminal," could she?

"Lady Navelette!"

A crisp, slightly hurried voice came from the entrance of the passage, accompanied by light footsteps.

It was a woman named Meilushin wearing a dark blue uniform. She strode out of the shadows, her face showing the focused concentration typical of a civil servant.

“We have obtained preliminary testimonies from all the relevant suspects, and the investigation of the crime scene has been completed.” She stopped, looked up at Navelette, and spoke in a clear and efficient voice, completely different from Abel’s innocent and naive tone.

"Yes, thank you for your hard work." Navelette nodded slightly, shifting her gaze from the traveler to Melusin.

This brief shift in gaze was, to the traveler, nothing less than a pardon on the rack. She let out a long, silent sigh from beneath her hood.

Navelette then turned to Fryna and the traveler, her voice still businesslike and steady: "Please cooperate with the judicial officers and proceed to the temporary interrogation room to have your statements recorded."

Fu Ningna's voice unconsciously lowered a few decibels: "Does this step... require... require identifying the body?"

Her voice was very soft, as if she were making a last-ditch effort.

Navelette's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, his eyes devoid of blame or pity, only offering a calm, factual statement: "This is a necessary procedure. Please understand."

Of course, Funina knew this was a necessary procedure.

She had sat in the highest position in Fontainebleau, overlooking countless trials and witnessing countless such "necessary procedures." Knowing is one thing, experiencing it firsthand is quite another.

That small sense of schadenfreude—that rational understanding coupled with an emotional desire to skip over it—clearly wouldn't work with Violet.

"Uh...cough cough, no problem." She quickly adjusted her expression, straightened her back, and tried to make her voice sound calm and composed. Then, as if grabbing a piece of driftwood, she turned her head to look at the silent figure in black robes beside her: "Let's go."

Huh? Can't we stay?

Before the traveler could come up with any excuse, Funina's hand had already grabbed her arm without warning. Through the thick black robe, she could feel the slight coolness of her fingers and the undisguised tension.

Then, she was half-dragged and half-pulled away from the relatively safe passage and headed towards the "interrogation area" that had been temporarily requisitioned deep inside the theater.

*

The backstage area of ​​the theater is now completely devoid of the usual bustling and orderly atmosphere before performances.

The guards went in and out, and a few makeshift lights illuminated the area as bright as day, mercilessly revealing the expressions on everyone's faces—whether they were panicked, solemn, or trying their best to remain calm.

This place was temporarily requisitioned as an interrogation room.

Everyone connected to the murder, from the audience member who first discovered the body to members of the magic troupe and theater staff, was confined to this area.

As soon as the traveler and Funina stepped into the area, a familiar voice cut through the noisy whispers and clearly reached their ears.

“Before going on stage, I checked all the magic equipment with Béranger in person. Only after he checked and confirmed that everything was in order did we go on stage to perform.” Linni stood in front of Claurind, her voice no longer as light and playful as it was during her usual performances, but maintaining a clear logic and a sincere tone.

His top hat had been removed at some point, revealing slightly disheveled hair. His usual smile had faded, replaced by seriousness and a hint of helplessness: "Every member of the magic troupe can testify for me. His time of death... how could it have been a day ago?"

He paused, seemingly considering his words: "We discussed the details of today's performance together last night."

The traveler listened to his words and pondered them quietly.

It sounds like the man named Béranger was supposed to be a member of Linni's magic troupe, and Linni had met him shortly before going on stage.

However, the body was in a condition that indicated it had been dead for more than 24 hours...

This isn't right. Very wrong.

If I could examine the body... if I could observe it up close, I might be able to find the real reason why the body appeared to have been dead for a day.

During my time at the Hall of Rebirth, what strange and bizarre corpses hadn't I seen? Feigned death, self-harm after drug-induced hallucinations, even homicides disguised as natural deaths by elemental forces...

but……

She looked down at her tightly fitted black robe.

My current identity is "executioner," not "vice head of the Hall of Rebirth."

“Yes, I did see the deceased before they went on stage.” A female staff member wearing a theater work vest was asked the same question: “Mr. Béranger even greeted me, saying his costume was a bit tight today and asked to borrow my sewing kit…”

Her words corroborated Linni's testimony, but completely contradicted the time of death of the body.

Clarin frowned slightly.

Even the chief duel agent, known for her calm and decisiveness, now wore a look of unyielding seriousness. The notebook before her was filled with testimonies written side-by-side, yet contradictory, forming a self-contradictory loop.

After Navelette appeared in the interrogation area, Claurind turned to the side: "None of the testimonies make sense. Each one is logical on its own, but they are completely contradictory when put together."

"I can only temporarily detain all the relevant suspects and bring them back to the Mo Mang Palace for further cross-examination and analysis."

“Thank you for your hard work.” Navelette took the thick book of testimony from her, his long fingers turning the pages, his eyes scanning the dense handwriting line by line: “I’ll handle the rest.”

Clarind nodded slightly, then turned and walked steadily toward the direction where Frynn and the traveler were. Her gaze lingered on Frynn's face for a moment before settling on the silent figure shrouded in a black robe from head to toe.

"This must be... the 'executioner' lady who was going to challenge me, right?"

Ok?

The traveler paused, his hand instinctively reaching for the pocket where his weapons were stored.

Given all this, are you still going to take on the challenge?

"...Haha!" Funina's laughter rang out at the right moment: "That was all a gimmick made up on the spot to divert the audience's attention. I didn't expect that the person who notified you to come here would misunderstand the meaning."

She waved her hand: "It's all a misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding."

“I see.” Clorind’s gaze lingered on Fryna’s face for a moment, but she didn’t press for details. She simply turned back to the traveler, her tone still professional:

"Then, could you please remove your face covering temporarily so we can verify your identity? This is standard procedure in homicide investigations."

What's meant to happen will happen.

The traveler felt the invisible bell in his chest finally ring out the final time limit.

Forget it, stop trying to be clever. Before things escalate further, just be honest.

Anyway, Linni had seen my face before, so at least he could prove that I was the unfortunate audience member who got caught up in his magic trick, and not some fugitive murderer.

Sigh, doing a good deed in this way, I'm one of a kind.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips touching the thin rope that fastened the hood around her neck. The rough texture of the hemp rope rubbed against her fingertips, and she felt the tight, inflexible knot.

“Actually, I…” she took a deep breath and began to speak.

However, before the words were even finished...

"You can't take her away!"

A hoarse, desperate male voice, almost a roar, followed by a series of disordered footsteps.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

Outside the half-open door of the makeshift interrogation room, a group of people were crowding in.

Most noticeable were four uniformed porters, working in pairs, carrying two heavy stretchers. Each stretcher held a black body bag that revealed the face of the deceased.

Behind the four movers, two uniformed officers were struggling to restrain a middle-aged man who was on the verge of madness. He was wearing a faded, worn-out old jacket, his hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his gaze was fixed on the room.

His face was contorted with extreme emotional turmoil, and every struggle he made was filled with hysterical brute force, to the point that the two interceptors seemed to be struggling.

"What right do you have to take her away!" His voice was completely hoarse, yet he still roared at the top of his lungs.

The porters had clearly received the order to "bring it in." Taking advantage of the moment when the middle-aged man was being stopped, they quickly carried the two stretchers into the room and placed them in a relatively open corner.

That spot was not far from where the traveler was standing.

The traveler's gaze was involuntarily drawn to the two body bags. Upon seeing the corpses, Funina covered her mouth and quickly hid behind the traveler.

One of the bodies was noticeably smaller, measuring approximately 1.7 meters in length. Even through the black waterproof fabric, it was still faintly visible that rigor mortis had fully developed, with the limbs exhibiting a stiff, unnatural curve. It was the body of a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy, who had been dead for at least eighteen hours.

The other body was that of a middle-aged woman. Her limbs were in a relatively natural, lying position inside the body bag, suggesting that she had died within the last few hours.

The traveler had no time to think, because the middle-aged man finally broke free of the blockade and staggered into the room. Before lunging at the body bag, his gaze stopped on a mysterious "executioner" in a black robe.

In an instant, all the expressions on his face froze, then shattered, reforming into an almost ferocious ferocity.

“You!” His finger pointed directly at the traveler, his knuckles white from the force, his entire arm trembling violently: “You are not Blanchard!”

"Who are you! What are you doing pretending to be her! Are you..." His breathing was rapid, his eyes wide as if they were about to burst: "Are you the murderer who killed her!"

Brownshire.

This was the first time the traveler had heard the real name of the "executioner".

She didn't even have time to process the information, nor did she have time to explain anything...

A silvery-white blade flashed unexpectedly to the left of her field of vision.

The light was cold, swift, and pierced straight into her neck.