Bermuda

“Are you saying that ‘that as well’ was your own idea?” he asked—and he says yes.”

Flinn muttered as he braced one hand on the desk, staring through the glass. Shoren, who had been watching the same spot with his arms crossed, finally tore his gaze away and asked,

“What did you ask him before that?”

The conversation in the interrogation room had lulled, and Flinn had watched until Hugo stood up before turning his head to answer.

“I asked if it truly had been the company commander’s will. Whether there hadn’t been even the slightest personal motive or agreement.”

“Ah.”

Shoren let out a short sigh just as the interrogation room door burst open.

Through the stagnant air appeared Hugo, his expression completely devoid of emotion. Flinn quickly composed himself and approached him.

“Finished?”

“Not yet.”

Hugo released the heavy door without bothering to hold it, and the metal frame slammed back into place with a loud crash.

It looked like an ordinary moment, yet the harsh scrape of the doorframe echoed throughout the surveillance room, sharp enough to grate on the nerves.

Sharp enough that Flinn flinched.

After confirming the door had shut completely, Hugo tossed a bundle of documents—including the written testimony—onto an empty desk. The stack landed with a loud rustle. He had not thrown it particularly hard, yet several loose pages slipped free and slid down onto the floor.

Combined with the cold aura surrounding him as he ran a hand through his hair, the atmosphere in the surveillance room tightened further.

“Hoo...”

Only Flinn moved, his eyes shifting as he bent down to gather the scattered pages. Pretending nothing had happened, he neatly placed them back on the desk.

Hugo looked down at him with cold eyes while loosening his tie. Shoren, who had been rubbing his palm against the back pocket of his trousers, cautiously stepped closer and spoke.

“How did it go?”

Hugo’s blue eyes turned toward the witness sitting alone beyond the glass. The man he had been speaking with moments earlier now looked dazed, as though the long interrogation had drained his mind completely.

He also looked like he might slide right off the chair at any moment, his body slack with exhaustion.

A quiet anger settled across Hugo’s face as he watched him relentlessly. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again and forced down his emotions before speaking.

“This will take longer than expected. The credibility of his testimony is low.”

“Hm. It certainly seemed like that might be the case.”

“The excessively precise timing. The evasion of responsibility. And the strangely rational logic used to defend a specific superior, completely out of character.”

There was deep disappointment in his voice as he listed the points.

“When I asked about accomplices, it might have sounded more believable if he had simply said his superior was an upright man incapable of such a thing. Instead of emphasizing common sense as if he were objectively analyzing the situation from a third party’s perspective.”

Hugo glanced down the corridor lined with other doors and asked,

“Marcus Servan. Is he waiting?”

“Yes. But he hasn’t said a word. Just as you predicted, it may take a while.”

“I’ll speak with him myself.”

When Hugo tilted his chin as if instructing him to lead the way, Shoren lifted a hand as though he wanted to add something. But he quickly realized it would be meaningless and instead said, “This way,” guiding Hugo forward.

The interrogations related to the case continued for half a day, alternating both the suspects and the questioners.

Among them, the least cooperative was, as expected, Marcus Servan—the man who had appeared as the central mastermind in the earlier testimony.

At the far end of the surveillance room corridor, Servan waited alone in a quiet holding cell after being taken into emergency custody. When Hugo first confronted him, he looked extremely anxious, like someone cornered at the edge of a cliff.

Soon afterward, however, he exhaled a rough breath as though resigning himself to whatever fate awaited him. At times he leaned back in the chair with a sharp gaze, lost in long stretches of thought.

Remaining silent was a legitimate tactic during interrogation. But a Council commander would certainly know that choosing silence while under suspicion would place him at a severe disadvantage.

Hugo did not rush him, nor did he apply any physical pressure.

From the beginning, the nature of this case differed from that of a confirmed criminal already transferred for punishment. And since the subject of the interrogation was older as well, Hugo chose to offer him the greatest courtesy he could as both a colleague and a superior.

Of course, inside he simmered with cold contempt and anger.

In that suffocating silence, after receiving that measure of consideration, Servan finally spoke after a long delay.

“I gave the orders.”

His statement did not differ greatly from the testimony Castiel Vine had given against him.

“I told him to send the damaged restraints to the Workshop for repair while simultaneously smuggling in old-model handcuffs and placing them in the equipment management office.”

“Why?”

“I judged that doing so would make any discrepancy in numbers less noticeable. Furthermore, Leonardo Blaine was the only S-grade mage under concentrated management within the Council at the time. If only ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the restraints designated for S-grade mages were replaced, it would not affect other prisoners—and there would be a high probability that he alone would end up wearing the old-model handcuffs.”

Hugo’s brow creased faintly at the answer, which cleverly implied that the plan had targeted a single individual.

“So you’re saying the order was given solely to provoke instability in his magical power control?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why?”

When Hugo asked the brief question, another stretch of meaningless silence followed.

The watches on both of their wrists ticked softly, the seconds clashing with each other in faint discord.

“Let me ask differently. If Leonardo Blaine were to fall into trouble, would that benefit you in any way?”

The question sounded more ordinary than before, yet it seemed to weigh heavily on Company Commander Servan.

“That is... my... my family...”

He struggled several times to speak, but the words would not come. Eventually he shoved his fingers into his hair and clenched it so hard his forearm trembled.

His emotional state looked unstable.

While venting his trapped anxiety through self-inflicted pain, he suddenly lifted his head and stared Hugo straight in the eyes. The whites of his eyes were streaked red with fatigue.

“What difference does any of that make now? The rumor that I hold resentment toward Leonardo Blaine has already spread everywhere. Along with the claim that I ordered everything.”

Hugo’s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened, though none of it showed outwardly.

“That sounds strange. Rumors circulating outside hold no validity. Only the testimony you give here yourself carries weight. And I am giving you every opportunity to speak.”

Servan’s lips twitched before clamping shut again. Watching him, Hugo leaned back against the chair and lifted his chin slightly before continuing.

“To be honest, I find the current situation difficult to understand. If you orchestrated this purely out of personal resentment, the risk involved is far too great. I am not defending your beliefs or your actions, but at the time Leonardo was already burdened with negative public perception because of the disturbance in the Grand Plaza and the verdict from the past. Even without anyone deliberately intervening, he was already in a sufficiently disadvantageous position.”

“I understand what you’re saying. But... in the end, he was released, wasn’t he?”

“Are you trying to say your goal was to manipulate the situation so he would remain detained?”

“......”

“If he had truly become a criminal as you intended, what would have changed? The satisfaction of believing your convictions were correct? Was that worth abandoning your honor, your career, and your comrades?”

Servan’s testimony repeatedly stalled.

Unlike Vine, he could not present a clear chain of cause and effect. Above all, the logic of his claims did not hold together.

“At this point, I hold no particular feelings toward Leonardo Blaine. Rather... hm. It is true that I colluded with a researcher from the Workshop to steal old-model handcuffs and profit from them. Please punish me as soon as possible.”

“...What I want to know is whether this was your personal decision, or whether someone gave you orders.”

“It was my personal decision.”

This time his answer came firmly.

Hugo asked several more questions about possible masterminds, but on that point Servan’s response never changed.

“I gave the orders to my subordinates. Please show leniency at least to the members of our 9th Company who merely followed an unjust command.”

Before entering the interrogation room earlier, Shoren had almost offered advice and then stopped.

Now Hugo thought he understood why.

From the conversation with Servan, he had gained nothing of substance.

It felt like listening to a wound-up puppet repeating the same recorded message again and again.

“Do you intend to apologize to him?”

After a brief silence, Hugo suddenly asked.

An investigator conducting questioning should exclude personal emotion and ask only what is necessary to determine the truth of the case. Hugo had reminded himself of that fact repeatedly and endured the interrogation accordingly.

But this was something he had to ask.

“Even now, do you truly believe the victim was the criminal?”

Servan answered while sitting in a posture so insolent it hardly resembled that of a suspect before the Legion Commander.

“I refuse to answer.”

Frustration tightening his chest, Hugo pressed his lips together.

Before long, another interrogation subject was seated before him.

The highest commander of the unit to which the previous witnesses belonged—and the person responsible for the equipment management office at the time of the incident.

The 11th Battalion Commander of the Council Central Branch, Noel Presentia.

“This is all my fault. I failed to guide my subordinates down the proper path.”

Noel abruptly rose from his seat, dropped to his knees beside the desk, and lowered his head with a hollow expression.

“I will accept full responsibility and step down from my position as battalion commander. But please reconsider exiling Company Commander Servan. What he did is unforgivable, but I ask that he be allowed to remain within the Council and spend the rest of his life making amends.”

He was usually calm and rational.

Yet now he appealed only with desperate emotion.

Hugo pressed a hand against his forehead as though exhausted. As Noel’s pleas grew more intense, Shoren—who had been watching from outside—entered the interrogation room.

With a troubled expression, he finally managed to pull Noel to his feet, and the chaotic situation came to an end.

They had gained nothing.

And that evening, urgent news arrived.

Company Commander Marcus Servan had bitten through his tongue and taken his own life.