Chapter 106: Confusion

  Kyaaaaaa!

  The shriek was a high-pitched, terrified lance that pierced the stillness of the palace, echoing off the stone walls and shattering the quiet night.

  Raito didn't hesitate. He burst from the room, adrenaline flooding his system, but he stopped dead in the doorway as a sharp hiss of pain sounded behind him. Yukari had tried to follow, but her injured ankle buckled under the sudden movement. Without a word, Raito turned and scooped her up into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. He sprinted down the corridor, his bare feet slapping against the cold marble, carrying her as easily as if she were a feather. As they reached the grand staircase, Raito shifted her weight slightly to free his right hand, which flew to the hilt of Koenka, the crimson blade humming with a low, expectant energy. In his arms, Yukari’s fingers twitched, already condensing moisture from the air into sharp, crystalline daggers of ice, ready to defend them both.

  They burst into the palace courtyard, weapons raised, scanning the shadows for an enemy.

  But there was no assailant. No dark assassin melting into the night. Instead, a cluster of palace guards and maids were gathered in a tight, trembling circle near the ornamental gardens, their lanterns casting long, erratic shadows on the manicured grass.

  "False alarm?" Raito whispered, his grip on his sword relaxing slightly, though his heart still hammered against his ribs. He gently lowered Yukari to the ground, keeping a steadying hand on her waist.

  "I don't think so," Yukari murmured, leaning her weight onto her good leg, her gaze fixed on the way the guards were standing—backs rigid, spears lowered, but not in defense. In horror.

  Sheathed their weapons, they approached cautiously.

  Moments later, the heavy thud of boots and the rustle of silk announced the arrival of the others. Bob, still in his nightclothes but looking surprisingly alert, rushed in, followed closely by a stoic Mila. King Ahmed, his royal robe hastily thrown over his sleeping attire, strode forward with Tanvir and Zhu Lihua flanking him. Samira and Malik, looking pale and disheveled, brought up the rear.

  "What is the commotion?!" King Ahmed shouted, his voice booming with authority, demanding order in the face of fear.

  A guard broke from the circle, dropping to one knee before his monarch. His face was ashen, his helmet askew.

  "Your Majesty," he stammered, pointing a trembling finger towards the center of the circle. "It's... it's that."

  "That what?" the King demanded, his patience fraying.

  "It's better if you see it for yourself, Sire," the guard whispered, unable to meet the King's eyes.

  The group moved closer, the guards parting to let them through. The lanterns illuminated a scene so visceral, so grotesque, that it seemed to violate the very beauty of the palace gardens.

  Sprawled amongst the blooming night-jasmine, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, was a man. He was dead. There was no question of it. A long, brutal javelin had been driven through his chest with such force that it pinned him to the earth, the wooden shaft standing stark and cruel against the moonlit flowers. Dark blood pooled beneath him, staining the white petals crimson.

  Bob gasped, his massive hand shooting out to cover Samira’s eyes, pulling her face into his chest to shield her from the gut-wrenching sight. Malik turned away, gagging.

  "Who is that?!" King Ahmed barked, his voice shaking with a mixture of rage and revulsion. "Who did this?! Answer me!"

  "Guards! Maids! Did anyone see what happened?!" Tanvir shouted, his own voice rough with urgency as he scanned the terrified faces of the staff.

  "I... I was the one who saw it first, Your Majesty."

  A young maid stepped forward, her hands raised in a timid, trembling gesture. Her face was streaked with tears, her apron stained with dirt where she had fallen.

  "How did this happen?" the King questioned, stepping toward her.

  "I... I don't know, sir," she sobbed, shivering violently. "I was just delivering the laundry to the barracks... I took the shortcut through the garden... and I saw a red liquid dripping down around the plants. I thought it was paint... or wine... but when I checked..." She choked on a sob, pointing a shaking finger at the body. "That man was already dead."

  "Your Majesty!" Another guard, an officer by his insignia, stepped forward and saluted sharply, though his face was grim. "We have determined the identity of the corpse, sir."

  "And who is it?" Ahmed demanded.

  The guard swallowed hard. "It's... Mr. Adou, sir. The scholar of ancient languages."

  "What?!" The King shouted, his voice echoing off the palace walls.

  "Heh... hehehe," King Ahmed let out a small, hollow laugh, the sound jarring in the tense silence. He stumbled back, his hand clutching at his chest. "A scholar dead... in my own courtyard... in the middle of the night... and no one saw the culprit."

  His voice cracked, the regal authority shattering under the weight of the absurdity. "Do you know how absurd this is? First the fire... my wife is still unconscious... and now this!" He swayed, his legs giving out.

  "Brother!" Bob lunged forward, catching the King's collapsing frame in his massive arms. "Brother, are you alright?"

  "Of course not, Brother," Ahmed whispered, his voice thick with despair as he leaned heavily against the merchant. "This is one of the biggest tragedies in my lifetime as a King. I wonder... what would Father have said to me if he saw this?" He drooped, the weight of the crown suddenly too heavy to bear.

  "Another dead," Yukari remarked quietly, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene. "Two deaths... in the same day."

  "Some situation we got ourselves roped into," Zhu Lihua muttered, crossing her arms. She turned to the mercenary beside her. "Is Zarateph always like this, Mila?"

  "No. Never," Mila commented, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, her eyes scanning the darkness beyond the torchlight. "This is very new."

  "No... no... no..."

  A frantic, choked sobbing broke through the murmurs. Malik stumbled backward, his hands covering his mouth, his eyes wide with horror behind his glasses.

  "Not Mr. Adou," he cried. "He said... he said he was about to take me on as his disciple! There was so much I wanted to learn from him!"

  Samira, freed from Bob's protective grasp, rushed to his side. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as he shook.

  "Wait," Yukari said suddenly, turning her head. She reached out to her side, expecting to find a warm hand or a sturdy shoulder. "Where is Raito?"

  She scanned the immediate area. He was missing from her side.

  "Blood... still fresh," a low, analytical mutter drifted from the center of the circle. "No rigor mortis. So he was killed not long ago."

  Yukari and Tanvir's heads snapped toward the corpse. There, crouched right next to the grisly scene, was Raito. He was leaning in close, inspecting the javelin wound with a focused intensity that bordered on disturbing.

  "AH!" Yukari and Tanvir shouted in unison.

  They exchanged a single look, a nod of mutual agreement passing between the ex-general and the museum director. They moved as one.

  Yukari hobbled forward on her good leg, while Tanvir strode with purpose. Together, they grabbed Raito by the back of his nightshirt and hauled him backward, dragging him away from the body.

  "Why can't you stay still?!" Yukari scolded, her voice a harsh whisper.

  "Kid, you are desecrating the dead!" Tanvir barked, shaking Raito slightly. "Have some respect!"

  "But I need to get close to know the full details of his death!" Raito protested, his feet dragging on the grass. "The angle of the entry wound... the force required..."

  "He died by someone piercing his heart!" Tanvir snapped, cutting him off. "That's the detail! End of story!"

  "Please, not tonight," Yukari pleaded, her hand tightening on his arm. She looked at him, her silver eyes reflecting the lantern light and the deep exhaustion of the night. "Everyone is already distraught as is. Can you promise me... just for right now... not to play detective?"

  Raito looked at her, then at the grieving King, the sobbing Malik, and the terrified staff. He slumped.

  "Okay, okay, alright," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "I will stay here."

  "Good," Yukari sighed, reaching up to gently pat his head.

  "Guards!" Tanvir turned his attention back to the soldiers, his voice booming with renewed authority. "Please take care of the body! And don't forget to find any evidence on what or who did it! Search the bushes, check for footprints! Understand?"

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Yes, sir!" The guards saluted in unison, their earlier shock replaced by the familiar comfort of following orders. They moved quickly, cordoning off the area and beginning their grim work.

  Tanvir walked over to the King, who was still leaning heavily on Bob. "Your Majesty," he said softly. "It's late. You need some rest. Let's pick this up tomorrow when the sun is up and heads are clearer."

  King Ahmed nodded slowly, his face drawn and weary. "Yes... I suppose you are right, old friend." He turned his head slightly. "Brother... I will need one of your strongest brews tonight."

  Bob looked at him, concern etched into his features. "Are you sure, Brother?"

  "Yes, I'm sure," the King admitted, his voice hollow. "I think I need it to sleep."

  "Right. I'll get it," Bob said firmly. He gently helped the King stand upright, then turned to Mila. "Mila, come with me."

  Bob left the courtyard, his strides long and purposeful, with Mila following silently in his wake as his escort. King Ahmed, supported by Samira and a still-shaking Malik, slowly made his way back towards the royal chambers, leaving the garden to the dead.

  Soon, only four figures remained in the flickering torchlight: Raito, Yukari, Tanvir, and Zhu Lihua.

  "Do you think this is related to the structure we are supposed to investigate?" Zhu asked, breaking the heavy silence. Her arms were crossed, her gaze fixed on the covered body being lifted onto a stretcher.

  Tanvir sighed, running a hand over his bald head. "To be honest, I don't know. Everything so far just doesn't add up." He kicked at a loose pebble. "We only discovered where the structure is. We haven't even seen it in person, nor set foot in it. So why all of these atrocities? Why now?"

  "This also doesn't feel like 'IT's' work," Zhu commented, her voice low.

  "I doubt 'IT' is even involved," Tanvir agreed, glancing at the sky. "We still have our autonomy. And 'IT' is most likely focused on repairs after what that doll, Emile, did to its fortress. It wouldn't waste resources on petty murders."

  He looked back at Zhu, his expression grim. "Anyways, let's keep an eye out. A threat like this is not normal, whether 'IT' is involved or not."

  "Agreed," Zhu said with a sharp nod.

  Yukari watched the two Lords talking longingly, barely keeping up with the conversation, who is this ‘IT’ everyone kept talking about, she thought.

  She turned her head to share her thoughts with Raito.

  "Ah!"

  Her shout alerted Tanvir and Zhu, who spun around instantly, her fist ready to swing.

  "What is it, Linlin?" Zhu asked, scanning the shadows.

  "Raito is gone again!" Yukari cried, pointing to the empty space beside her where her husband had been standing just moments before.

  In a narrow, shadowed alleyway just beyond the palace walls, the sound of frantic footsteps slapped against the cobblestones. A shadowy figure was running, their breath coming in ragged gasps as they fled from the direction of the palace courtyard, their hood pulled low over their face.

  Suddenly, a blur of motion cut them off. Raito stepped out from a sharp turn, blocking the path.

  "Going somewhere?" Raito asked, a cold, humorless grin spreading across his face.

  "Hieee!" The figure shrieked, skidding to a halt. They stumbled backward, their eyes darting around for an escape route as Raito took a slow, deliberate step forward.

  The figure spun around to run back the way they came, but found themselves facing a dead end—a high, smooth stone wall.

  Cornered.

  Raito walked closer, his shadow elongating in the dim light. He raised his hand and slammed it against the wall beside the figure's head.

  CRACK.

  The stone splintered under his palm. A flicker of deep, pitch-black flame danced along his knuckles for a split second before vanishing, leaving a scorched mark on the wall.

  "Talk," Raito said, his voice dropping to a gruff, menacing growl that channeled every ounce of intimidation he could muster.

  "Who are you?" he demanded, looming over the trembling figure. "What were you doing in the palace courtyard? And why are you running?"

  A nearby lantern flickered, its light briefly illuminating the face beneath the hood. It was an older man, perhaps in his late forties, with a weathered face and terrified eyes.

  "Please! Don't kill me!" the man begged, sinking to his knees.

  "I won't," Raito said, his voice unwavering. He leaned in closer. "But I can't promise you safety unless you tell me everything I need to know."

  "Fine, I'll talk!" The man cracked instantly, fear overwhelming him. He scrambled back, pressing his spine against the rough stone wall. "My name is Zahir! I was part of the Scholar Twelve! I was there during the fire! Don't you remember?"

  "No, not really," Raito admitted, his tone flat. He leaned closer. "That still doesn't answer my question. Why are you in the palace courtyard tonight? I thought all the scholars had houses here or designated dorms in the city?"

  "I was supposed to meet Adou tonight!" Zahir blurted out, his eyes darting nervously around the alley. "An important discussion... or at least it was supposed to be. Very urgent, based on his letter."

  Zahir fumbled in his pocket with trembling fingers, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He slid it across the cobblestones to Raito. "Something about a traitor."

  Raito picked up the letter, holding it to the faint light of the distant lantern. The handwriting was hurried, the ink blotchy.

  Meet me at the palace courtyard tonight at 11. Urgent. It's better there—more guards means it's safer. I believe we have a traitor in our midst.

  "How do I know this isn't forged?" Raito asked, his eyes narrowing.

  "Check the handwriting!" Zahir insisted, desperation in his voice. "Compare it to Adou's journal in the archives! It should match perfectly!"

  "Alright, fine," Raito said, pocketing the letter. "Then... did you manage to discuss this 'important matter'?"

  Zahir let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "What do you think, detective boy?! Adou is dead! Murdered under the watchful eyes of the palace guards, no less! Of course I didn't get my chance!"

  "Okay," Raito said, scratching his head. "So why did you run? Why couldn't you just stay and tell us everything? The King and Tanvir were there. And Malik, too."

  "And risk the traitor killing me there too?!" Zahir shrieked. "Don't be stupid! What part of 'Adou died while under palace guard supervision' did you not understand?"

  He spat on the ground. "And that Malik boy... useless as a pebble. 'Part of Scholar Twelve' my ass."

  "Oh?" Raito raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden venom. "You don't like Malik? What happened to camaraderie, excitement, and the pursuit of the greater good?"

  "That was all just BS!" Zahir scoffed, his fear momentarily replaced by bitterness. "We all have our own agenda for joining this scholar group. I'm just in it for the research money the Queen promised!"

  He gestured wildly. "Also, of course no one likes that boy Malik! He is just a wet napkin who lucked himself into everything! The discovery, the relationship with the royals... all luck, I say! Dragging all of us real scholars down with his incompetence!"

  Zahir took a ragged breath, looking Raito in the eye. "Now are we done? Because if we are, I would like to excuse myself. I need to get myself far, far away from this city—or maybe even this region—before I get involved in whatever this is."

  Raito stared at him for a moment, processing the man's selfishness and fear.

  "Before I let you go," Raito said, his voice low, "Have you been to Volnear? Or know something about clear resin?"

  "Volnear?!" Zahir sputtered, his face twisting in disgust. "Why would I ever set foot in that region? The things they use there are weird, unnatural!" He shook his head violently. "I'm a scholar of anthropology! I study cultures and people, not sticky goop! No need for resin here."

  He looked up at Raito, his eyes pleading. "So are we done?"

  "Yeah, we're done," Raito said, stepping back and gesturing to the open end of the alley. "Go."

  Zahir looked at him sheepishly for a split second, then scrambled to his feet and bolted, disappearing into the dead of the night without looking back.

  Raito watched him go, letting out a long, heavy sigh. He rubbed his temples.

  "This is getting way out of my league," he muttered to the empty alley. "How did Master Shilook do this?"

  He looked up at the moon, feeling the weight of the mystery pressing down on him.

  "I really need my own Ruboo," he said softly, before turning and walking back toward the palace.

  The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of the palace guest room, painting patterns of gold on the plush carpet.

  Yukari woke with a start, her hand instinctively reaching out across the expanse of the king-sized bed. Her fingers met only cool, undisturbed sheets.

  She sat up, her heart giving a small, anxious flutter. The space beside her was empty. The pillow was smooth.

  "Raito?" she called out softly.

  Silence.

  "He is still not back," she murmured to herself, a frown creasing her brow. She scanned the room, hoping to see him slumped in a chair or raiding the fruit bowl, but the room was empty.

  "This really isn't like him," she whispered, clutching the sheet to her chest. Raito was chaotic, yes. but certainly not impulsive. He would never disappeared without a word for this long, not when things were this dangerous.

  A cold tendril of fear curled in her stomach. "I hope this is just Shilook fever," she muttered, "and not..."

  Her mind drifted to dark places—the black flame.

  "No!" Yukari shook her head violently, her midnight-blue hair flying. She brought both hands up and slapped her own cheeks.

  Smack!

  "Positive, Lin! Positive!" she scolded herself, her voice firm in the empty room. "You are a girl of Meihua! Believe in your husband!"

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She swung her legs out of bed, her injured ankle giving a twinge of protest, but she ignored it. She had a husband to find.

  Yukari moved down the palace aisle, the rhythm of her crutch on the stone floor echoing her determined heartbeat. Click, step, click, step. She didn't know exactly where she was going, but she hoped the familiar faces of the palace would guide her.

  The palace was already awake. Maids bustled by with armfuls of linens, and guards stood at their posts, their armor gleaming.

  As she passed the courtyard, she paused. The scene of last night's horror—the blood-soaked grass, the twisted body of Mr. Adou—was gone. It had been restored with unnerving efficiency. The flowers were pristine, the grass lush and green. There was no sign that a man had died there just hours ago. It was as if the tragedy had been wiped clean from the face of the world.

  She shivered, pushing the thought away, and continued down the corridor.

  Approaching her from the opposite direction was a figure that made her stop. It was a boy with messy black hair, trudging along as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His clothes were rumpled, his face pale and drawn. Dark, heavy bags hung under his eyes, visible from a mile away. He clutched a stack of thick, leather-bound books to his chest, his gaze fixed on the floor.

  "Morning," Yukari said automatically as they passed each other, her mind still scanning the hall for Raito.

  "Oh... morning," the boy mumbled back, his voice a tired croak, shuffling past her without looking up.

  Yukari took two more steps before her brain caught up with her eyes. She froze. The messy hair. The voice.

  "Raito?" she called out, spinning around on her good leg.

  The boy stopped. He turned slowly, blinking sluggishly. "Yes?"

  It was him. But he looked like he had aged ten years in a single night. He looked like a zombie scholar who had crawled out of a library grave.

  Yukari didn't hesitate. She hobbled back to him as fast as her crutch would allow, reaching out with her free hand.

  Pinch.

  She grabbed his cheek and twisted, hard.

  "OW OW OW!" Raito yelped, dropping one of the books. "Why?!"

  "Real," Yukari commented, releasing his cheek and nodding to herself.

  "Of course I am!" Raito rubbed his face, looking at her with betrayed, sleep-deprived eyes. "Why the violence?"

  "Because you didn't come back last night!" Yukari scolded, her worry manifesting as irritation. She looked him up and down, taking in the disheveled clothes, the exhaustion etched into his face. "What happened? And why do you look like you are homeless and haven't slept in a week?"

  "Because I had to check something," Raito mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He shifted the stack of books to one arm and reached into his rumpled jacket pocket. "Look, here is a note Mr. Adou left for Mr. Zahir."

  He slid a crumpled piece of paper into Yukari's hand.

  Yukari took it, scanning the hurried handwriting. "And where did you get this?" she asked, puzzled.

  "Mr. Zahir himself," Raito said, puffing out his chest slightly, though the effect was ruined by a massive yawn. "He was running away from the palace courtyard last night. I tracked him down. Interrogated him."

  "Okay, I'm confused," Yukari said, waving the paper. "Who is Mr. Zahir? Why is he meeting Mr. Adou late at night? And you promised me that you will not play detective last night!"

  Her voice rose with each question, a barrage of concern and annoyance.

  "I know, I know," Raito said, holding up a tired hand to calm her down. "I will explain everything. But first..."

  He swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back slightly.

  "...I need a nap. A shower. And food."

  And with that, he collapsed.

  THUD.

  He hit the aisle floor face-first, instantly asleep, snoring softly into the marble.

  Yukari stood over him, mouth agape. She looked around the busy corridor at the passing maids and guards, who were now staring at the unconscious boy and the girl with the crutch. Her face burned with embarrassment.

  "Seriously?" she whispered, nudging him with her foot. He didn't move.