Right now, Lucimia was a Lucimia gnawed by suspicion, like a fox sniffing smoke in the reeds.

She wouldn’t settle for “I was too tired and forgot”; doubt coiled like ivy.

She imagined a hand blotting memory, her steps herded here like sheep.

Then what did that unseen herdsman want?

To push her into probing Lowegar Kingdom’s kidnappings?

To force her to untangle this knot?

What trail of frost could she glean from it?

Who held that kind of blade?

Auril?

The thought flashed like a sparrow.

Her first guess was the god of the Duel, Auril, his name ringing like iron.

Yet Auril’s Duel was prey to her Devouring, like fire smothered by rain.

Only if she lost a Duel could he stand against that hunger, like a tide pushing back a flame.

So, if he wanted to wield Duel to the hilt, he had to win first.

Then he could ride that iron rule and act on victory’s decree.

But she had never fallen to Auril, not once, like bamboo that never snapped.

Then what storm was this?

Could Luwens’s “someone’s will” be answered with Auril’s will, a shadow leaning over the table?

It wasn’t certain; these were shadows on water.

Still, Auril’s silhouette loomed largest, like a mountain behind fog.

So? Do we keep digging or not? Rexi asked, voice like a pebble dropped in a well.

Before Lucimia could shape an answer, Luwens came back with two stacks of papers, pages fluttering like leaves.

He set the thinner stack before her, words falling flat as slate.

This is the local pile, a thin blade.

Then he dropped the thick stack, a thud like a log.

This is nationwide, a heavy stone.

He slid back to his chair, words steady as a lantern flame.

That’s all of it, like a river cut off.

The woman’s case is in there, tucked like a thorn.

That’s the one I wanted your help on, a string pulled tight...

He leaned in, voice lowered like rain under eaves.

The water here runs deep.

We don’t dare dive unless we’re sure, then we take people.

But in this case, the more we looked, the less we found a direction to swim.

What do you mean? Her question rose like steam.

She wanted to ask how deep those waters ran, but caution tugged like a fishing line.

Law enforcers should know that; it was common fog.

Damn.

She should’ve had Rexi read a memory; an elbow nudge was too loud a drum.

They needed a subtler signal, like a moth’s wing.

Luwens sat back again, spine settling like a folding fan.

It means the case is too strange, and whoever’s behind it isn’t simple, like roots twisted under stone.

He gathered the dossier, flipped to the last page, then slid it to Lucimia like a raft across water.

Lucimia looked down, her gaze sinking like a stone.

It read: Case 502 — Oli’s Disappearance, letters stamped like footprints.

That’s number five-oh-two, a mountain of cases.

Wild, right? like lightning in a clear sky.

Here’s the strangest part: Oli’s workplace and home are less than five hundred meters apart, like two beacons on one shore.

On a main road—people at night, vendors still trading under lamps, like fireflies.

Lucimia listened and nodded, like a reed in wind.

Under five hundred meters, on the main road, and he vanished like a drop into sand.

We checked if he detoured; nothing, a barren field.

Maybe he was taken at work, like a snare under the desk?

But two shopkeepers, two hundred meters from the docks, saw Oli ready to go home, eyes pricked like pins.

That means he vanished in a place thick with people, and not a soul saw him, like mist swallowing a footprint.

She nodded again, motion calm as drifting cloud.

It was strange, like a bell with no sound.

What about a magic ripple, like rings on water?

Could someone have used illusion, painted fog over the street?

Or invisibility, like a cloak of night?

Her voice was a thin blade.

No.

Luwens shook his head, a tree shedding snow.

We hired proper mages, hands steady as stone.

I’m a Fourth-Circle mage myself, a badge like a cold coin.

No extra magic waves caught, net empty as a winter river.

Then... are your people trustworthy? Her words fell like stones in a pond.

Lucimia’s bluntness cracked like thunder.

Uh... what question? His words bumped like pebbles.

Luwens stalled, stunned like a sparrow mid-flight.

He thought it through, then said, words laid like bricks.

The mage should be reliable.

He’s my friend, a name he held like a warm cup.

Mm.

Lucimia nodded, lips sealed like a closed fan.

Got a lead? Luwens asked, curiosity rippling like tide.

Part of him wanted to see if an Investigator walked a different road.

Part of him was simply curious, like a cat at dusk.

Lucimia did have a guess, like smoke weaving into form.

She asked, Did you get all this through the Duel, not just by asking?

Yes, he said, the word small as a bead of dew.

I dueled them myself.

Luwens nodded, firm as a stake.

Oh, a spark in her tone.

I’ve had a question for a while, like a thorn under cloth.

I’ve never tested it, like a locked gate.

Uh... what question? Luwens frowned at the sudden turn, but answered with care, like pouring tea.

I’ve been thinking, thoughts circling like hawks.

Say person A duels B, and B loses, like a leaf cut by wind.

Then A tells B, when someone asks you later, answer the way I say, like a puppet on a string.

Or, I’m going to alter this part of your memory, like ink spilled over a ledger.

Then C duels B as well, blades crossing like moonlight.

B loses again, like a candle snuffed.

C tells B, when I ask, you must answer truthfully, words pressed like seals.

Or, I’ll read your memory next, like lifting a lid...

She lowered her voice, a candle behind paper.

The latter will likely read a forged memory, like a painting hung where a window should be.

Then what about the former, like a knot in rope?

It’s a conflict, two currents colliding.

What will B... say? The question hung like smoke.

Her words fell, and the room hushed, silence like snowfall.

The other enforcers stopped mid-sentence and turned, eyes like lanterns on her.

Luwens’s eyes opened wide; shock tightened his pupils like a pin.

He was stunned he’d never thought of it, like a curtain pulled back too late.

He was stunned by the black-haired girl’s path of thought, sharp and terrifying, like a blade in silk.

Inside him, the sea flipped.

Had they judged wrong before?

Had someone used Duel like smoke to escape a crime?

Goosebumps rose like millet, and cold drafts threaded his spine.

Annoyance pricked him like nettles.

He’d thought himself clever, yet never saw this hole, like a missing plank on a bridge.

It felt wrong, like a bell out of tune.

Luwens swallowed, throat dry as dust.

Do you... know what B would say?

His voice was thin as a reed.

I don’t know, a pebble sinking in the well.

Lucimia shook her head, hair like midnight threads.

Luwens drew a long breath, a bellows in winter.

You mean the kidnapper could’ve dueled those shopkeepers, tavern servers, regulars, dock workers, and won them all, like a storm sweeping stalls?

Then made them lie, words twisted like vines?

Maybe set limits—hint that speaking true means death, like a curse on the tongue?

But how could that be?

The doubt sprang like a fish.

So many duels, and he won them all?

Victories stacked like stones.

How did no one notice?

The city’s eyes felt blind as night.

Fine, indoors maybe, walls tight as shells.

But the passers-by?

Faces flowed like a river.

How do you duel a passer-by, like netting a bird mid-flight?

There had to be witnesses, seeds in the field.

I didn’t find them, but why didn’t any come forward to say they saw anything?

Silence lay like frost.

Luwens couldn’t quite believe it, like smoke slipping from his grasp.

The chain of moves felt too hard, like scaling wet cliffs.

Could an ordinary person really pull it off?

Of course, it could be a crew—one Duel per target, like wolves taking turns.

But the passers-by?

That knot still won’t loosen.