Anliena’s words surprised Lucimia, like a ripple breaking the still surface of a midnight pond.

In Lucimia’s mind, the dockworker should have been in step with Anliena to smear her, yet Anliena now offered a Duel to prove the opposite, like laying cards under clear lantern light.

She looked confident, her gaze steady as stone—had she set a Duel beforehand as a shield?

Luwens found Anliena’s proposal workable, and he chose to Duel, like a judge lifting a gavel.

“Next we guess a number. You surrender. Then I ask, and you must answer truthfully. Got it?” His voice dropped like a hammer on iron.

The dockworker nodded and shook, a bobbing buoy in choppy water, nerves jangling like loose wires.

Luwens didn’t wait for consent; he moved to declare the Duel. Lucimia hesitated two heartbeats, then said, voice cold as rain, “Tell him if he doesn’t answer honestly, he dies.”

Luwens froze, then pulled a thread of memory from the Orli case, like unspooling a tight skein.

He still wavered—if someone else used a Duel to make him lie or die, while we say tell the truth or die, two blades would cross at his throat.

As the air tightened like a drawn bow, Anliena stepped in. “Do it. You suspect I told him to lie? This Duel proves it. If he doesn’t die, I didn’t instruct him.” Her tone rang like a bell.

Lucimia slid her gaze to Anliena, a moonlit blade in her eyes; Anliena’s certainty sat heavy as granite.

Luwens hesitated, then agreed. If the dockworker died, it proved evil, coerced or chosen; under Lowegar Kingdom law, aggravated murder is death, cold as iron chains.

Luwens declared the Duel, and the dockworker surrendered swiftly, like a leaf caught by a sudden wind.

“I ask, you answer.” His words landed like stones.

“Al—Alright…” The dockworker’s voice fluttered, a moth at a lantern.

“Do you have any connection to Anliena? Did she order you to slander?”

“No. I have nothing to do with her.” His answer came quick, like an arrow loosed.

The office fell silent, a hush like snow; the three watched him as time dripped slow as resin.

He didn’t die; he sat there breathing, ordinary as fog, and the silence thinned.

Anliena let out a breath, a cloud lifting—this proved she had no tie to him.

Luwens eased too; no death meant the setup held, his terms standing like a fence.

Lucimia’s brows knit, a knot pulled tight.

Luwens pressed on. “Any lies in your testimony?” His words were a steady drum.

“No. I did see two girls enter at that time.” His voice slid like a bead over string.

“This…” Luwens rubbed his head, eyes drifting to the two Investigators, like moths circling flame.

“Maybe he’s a clean witness,” he said. “He told Enforcement what he saw.” His thought moved like mist.

“As for why from 22:00 to 3:00 no one entered the shop, maybe Lucimia isn’t the killer.” He split the path like a fork in a road.

“Maybe the mastermind slipped in later, killed, and framed Lucimia,” he finished, a shadow moving behind a curtain.

Anliena nodded, her chin dipping like a reed in wind; it sounded reasonable.

“Looks that way—just a misunderstanding. Let’s focus on whoever killed the shop owner. Agreed?” She turned to Lucimia, eyes bright as glass.

Lucimia sighed, the sound thin as rain on eaves; she ignored Anliena and, with a thorn of reproach, faced Luwens. “You’re the deputy captain—is this your way of questioning?”

“Huh? What’s wrong with it?” Luwens blinked, confusion hanging like smoke.

“Your questions can’t cut ties to the killer,” Lucimia said, voice sharp as a chisel. “I did enter the shop yesterday. Whether or not someone instructed him, he can still say he saw me.”

“This… then how should we ask?” His words felt like a dull blade.

“I’ll do it.” She rose, resolve like a drawn bowstring.

She stepped to the dockworker; he trembled, knees jittering like grass in a gust.

“I ask, you answer.” Her tone laid a straight line like a ruler.

“Okay…” His reply quivered like a spider’s thread.

“Are you the killer?” The question struck like flint.

“No!” His denial snapped like a twig.

“Mm.” She nodded, then shifted. “Are you connected to the killer? Or was your report ordered by the killer?” Her words shut like a trap.

The dockworker’s eyes flared wide, lanterns blown open; his mouth opened, a fish at the surface, but no sound rose.

“Speak. Why aren’t you answering?” Luwens snapped, voice cracking like a whip.

The dockworker swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork; he looked at Luwens, then Anliena, then Lucimia, and finally fixed on the closed wooden door like a wolf on a gap.

Bang! In the next beat, he shoved Lucimia, slammed into Luwens, and lunged for the door, bursting through like a startled stag.

“Damn. After him—he’s spooked, he’s running!” Luwens rubbed his bruised arm, then shot forward like an arrow.

Outside, the Enforcement team reacted fast; seeing a man burst out, they dropped tasks like stones and sprinted after him.

Lucimia and Anliena hurried to the threshold; the dockworker had cleared the station, with a string of officers trailing like kites.

Say what you will—he’s a laborer. His stamina and legs beat most; he flew down the street like a gust.

Anliena shot Lucimia a glance. “What are you trying to pull?” Her words flicked like a whipcord.

Lucimia gave her a look, a cold slice. “He’s not someone I brought.”

“Nor I.” Anliena’s answer fell clean as a blade.

She said no more. Her toe tapped the ground; her Flight Spell flared like wings, and she streaked after him.

Lucimia restored Rexi to his original form, ignoring his mutters like buzzing bees, and she launched her own Flight Spell.

It happened too fast; she hadn’t expected him to bolt, and he hadn’t broken the rules—like slipping past a gate in fog.

Right—if the mastermind set a Duel to make him lie or die, and Enforcement set one to tell the truth or die, what’s his best move? The thought clicked like a lock.

Run. Say nothing. If he doesn’t answer, he won’t die, like a fish staying deep.

A Duel binds truth only when he speaks; it doesn’t kill him for keeping his mouth shut, a clause hiding like a reed.

He found a gap in the net, an eel’s path through stones.

By refusing to answer, he all but admits ties to the mastermind, and that the report might be on orders, a shadow pointing to a hand.

Wait—maybe she didn’t kill the shop owner either. Maybe the mastermind had eyes on Investigator Lucimia long ago, planning to cut her down, a hunter stalking brush.

Maybe this has nothing to do with her Duel with Anliena, like two roads crossing without touching.

Anliena did cooperate with the dockworker, yet he truly has no tie to Anliena, a line that loops but doesn’t knot.

Lucimia couldn’t sort it; her thoughts tangled like vines. The problem felt rooted in the Orli case, a thorn in old bark.

If she did it, why pick that jewelry shop, a single star among many?

If neither she nor Anliena did, where did the serial killer’s victims go, lost like footprints in rain?