Should I admit I didn’t even check, let that stone skip across the pond of doubt?

Forget it—no need to weave knots. I’ll just say not yet and let the wind pass.

Not yet, but I’ve got a new lead, a thread to pull. I need another case file.

What do you need? Luwens’s trust was a steady lantern in the dusk, and he matched my pace.

Lucimia weighed her words like pebbles in her palm, then spoke after a long pause. Give me village-attack files—beasts, bandits, Evil Entity cultists, or the Dark Deity.

She didn’t ask about black-robed men, letting that fish stay low under the reeds to avoid ripples.

After all, if that storm had hit, law enforcers would’ve felt the rain. If even an Investigator hadn’t, that’d be strange.

Village attacks… Luwens thought for two breaths, then answered. From what I know, there are tons. Beasts love weak villages, like wolves nosing thin fences. So these cases are everywhere.

The drift under that was simple: too many to sift, too many weeds after rain. He looked to confirm if she truly wanted monster attacks.

Lucimia considered, her gaze a pin pressed to a map. Then how about attacks by Evil Entity cultists or the Dark Deity?

Only one. Just an octopus. It was cleared quick, and the stain didn’t spread. With Auril here, those things don’t even dare step through the fog. Luwens’s answer was clean as a cut.

Octopus… Elyssus?

Lucimia shook off that ripple and fixed on the rock beneath it: there was no case of black-robed men attacking a village.

Her brows drew together like storm clouds.

Could Olivya’s followers hit a village and never report it to town? Did no one know?

That shouldn’t be. If a whole village lost its people, the void would howl, and word would run like wildfire.

She couldn’t ask straight out: did any village get wiped out?

That question would bare her throat. She’d asked Luwens before about Kalan Village. He didn’t know it. That meant he’d heard of no village being destroyed.

How was that possible?

Maybe Olivya’s followers wore bandit skins, so officials filed them as bandit raids.

They never used any Evil Entity tricks or Blessing flare.

Lucimia thought, then said, Give me the bandit-raids-on-villages cases.

No problem.

Luwens spoke and strode off, boots tapping like quick rain. He returned with a stack of files, jogging, papers fluttering like pale wings.

Lucimia took the bundle and glanced at the last case number: 13.

That meant these were few, a thin line on a ledger.

She slid them into her Storage Ring, thanked Luwens with a nod, and turned to go.

Luwens paused in place, tongue wetting his lip, hand rubbing his head like grass bent by wind, as if wrestling with a thought.

Lucimia caught it, stopped, and looked back, a question hanging like mist.

Seeing he’d been seen, Luwens leaned close and dropped his voice, a whisper in the reeds. Do the missing-person kidnappings have anything to do with these bandit raids?

So that’s what he wanted to ask, Lucimia thought, the words a quiet ripple.

I’m still investigating.

Alright. If you need help, tell me. If you’ve got progress, I hope you’ll share. His tone was a warm ember.

Mm. Okay.

Lucimia dipped her head and left the Enforcement Post, shadow slipping into streetlight.

She used Teleportation Magic again. In a blink of frost, she was back in the guest room.

She glanced around; no sign of Rexi, not even a sleeve on a chair.

Looks like she’s still downstairs drinking… Lucimia shook her head, a leaf flicked by wind.

She let it be, sat back down, and drew out the bandit case files, paper rustling like dry reeds.

Mm… File One: they took the grain. No one was hurt. That’s not it.

Second case: they took the horses. Hooves gone, silence left.

…

Seventh: they took chickens, sheep, cows. A barn ransacked like a field after locusts.

Ninth: they took the villagers’ quilts. Warmth stolen like a winter draft.

Huh? Tenth has people taken—women. Lucimia’s eyes lit like lamps. She flipped that file open with care.

Most of the abducted women were married. They’ve been rescued, and the bandits were dealt with… What? It’s already resolved. Her rising heartbeat sank like a stone.

Hm? The eleventh is also abductions? Her pulse ticked up again, a drum in fog. She read on.

Bandits tried to take maidens from the village. The villagers challenged them to a Duel. The bandits lost and were executed on the spot… What is even going on… Her voice trailed off like smoke.

Lucimia set her gaze on the last two cases, a final prayer to distant stars. But the pages held no hint, not even a loose thread.

How can it be like this…?

She slumped into the chair, hollow as a clay cup.

She couldn’t make sense of it. If Olivya’s followers moved in force and struck Kalan Village, how could such a thunderclap leave no echo?

Did Yuna lie to her? Or did Yuna tell the truth but get her memory rewritten?

Memory…

Lucimia’s thoughts turned to Rexi again, a compass needle tugged north.

Honestly, she didn’t know Rexi’s details well, only the silhouettes on a screen.

Bevi said Rexi’s a royal daughter. When she was little, her father took her by ship to other shores, calling it travel to the world. One day they came back, and her memories were gone. He told Bevi to look after Rexi, and Rexi gained Memory Power.

After that, her father was turned into a puppet by Ment, strings tight as wire.

Nirael said Rexi used to love studying, quiet and mature, a lantern under a calm eave. Sounded like a clever mind.

And now, Lucimia had noticed Rexi’s use of Authority Power hardly drained her, a well that didn’t drop.

So she suspected this wasn’t the same Rexi, not simple amnesia. It was energy out of control, a storm that flipped the boat of a self.

To keep an extreme persona from doing evil, Rexi used Authority Power and rewrote the second persona’s memory and worldview, a brush over a mirror.

That was Lucimia’s guess, a sketch in faint ink.

One knot still hadn’t come undone—how did Rexi get Memory Power?

Now Lucimia almost knew. Most likely she found it in the Lowegar Kingdom.

From the Empire, you travel by ship. Where else needs sails but Lowegar?

Rexi’s father must’ve found intel on Memory Power. In this land of Duel, after decades of moves, he Dueled down every Memory Power holder.

He was imperial royalty. With reach, resources, and teeth, finding memory users wasn’t impossible.

Those who flowed with him got favors and conceded. Those who stood against him were cut by Duels.

Maybe he himself won Memory Power through a Duel, then Dueled Rexi and lost on purpose or by fate.

Of course, maybe the original Rexi took the Duels herself, blade to blade.

Since that’s the case… Lucimia drew a deep breath, cool as night air.

In the next heartbeat, she dropped her mask. All her Evil Entity miasma rushed out like a black tide: tentacles, a Fuzzy Orb, countless slicing gleams, layered silhouettes—phantom, twisted, terrifying.

The room plunged into cold, winter spilling under the door.

In the very next second, a longsword sigil bloomed across the floor like frost etching.

If you want to call me, you don’t need to do it like this. Auril’s low voice rolled from every wall, then straight into her mind.

Lucimia flipped the chair around, sat astride it, and stared at the sword’s shine. Her words were a quiet thread.

Auril, you know Rexi, don’t you?