Surviving without God

Gunther froze in the middle of Seril’s room as if rooted to the floor.

‘Try to identify the culprit together!’

The scene was exactly like one of those messages that popped up in a detective game. The platoon members, the Round Table knights, Servan Barkel, who had found the body first. ...And Seril, lying cold on the bed.

“...Seril, no, Seril... wake up!”

Half out of his mind, Servan shook her by the shoulders. Kylis, they said, had gone out that morning to inspect the territory. Having received the news, he was likely already on his way back.

“......”

A fair number of people had gathered in the room, but apart from quiet sniffles and the occasional escaping sigh, not a sound could be heard.

Who would dare speak first? It was still too early for words of comfort. Everyone merely glanced around, seized by the exact same thought.

‘...Who’s the killer?’

Gunther was thinking the same thing. In the silence, he began examining Seril’s room for clues.

‘It was far more...’

Childlike than he had expected. Small adorable trinkets, dolls that were a little old-fashioned but charming, ornaments clearly embroidered by hand. Scribbles still remained on the walls, things Seril had surely left there as a child. This room made it easy to imagine what kind of girl she had once been.

Gunther thought that if Seril were alive, she probably would not have liked having this room put on display for everyone to see. She would likely have said something like:

“Y-you all! B-breaking into a lady’s room without permission is so incredibly rude!”

And she would definitely have mixed up a word somewhere. The corner of Gunther’s mouth twitched faintly.

Yes, he had come to know her well enough. Over those few weeks on the road, they had undeniably grown close. Even if she stumbled over her words, at heart she had been a kind and bright person.

“......”

Gunther stopped himself in time, not allowing emotion to take over. He was the type who knew exactly when he could yield to his feelings and when he could not. Right now was the moment to find the “culprit.”

‘Well... I knew something like this was going to happen.’

Up until now, everything had gone too smoothly. “Seril’s death” was unexpected, but either way, the formless threat had now taken shape. Only by uncovering the truth would he be able to solve the problem—in this life or the next. Gunther steadied himself and began the “investigation.”

‘First, let’s go over the basics.’

Who, when, why, how, where, and what. Gunther began arranging them in the order easiest to answer.

First came the “where” and the “what.” Those were crystal clear. In Seril’s room, Seril herself.

Next—“how.”

Gunther looked at Seril again. At first glance there were almost no external injuries. However, at the crown of her head, hidden among her hair, he noticed a tiny wound no larger than the eye of a needle.

A barely visible puncture. As if a thin needle had silently pierced her once and withdrawn. The wound was so precise and narrow that there was almost no blood.

‘Mana was injected through a needle, causing instant death.’

A murder weapon he had never even heard of before. Seril probably had not even felt pain. True enough, she lay there with a face that looked as though she were merely sleeping deeply.

‘Someone who could use an instrument like that... a method like that...’

Gunther’s gaze slowly shifted toward the window. Werner Camaril was standing there. His characteristic androgynous face looked as though it had turned to stone.

The five Round Table families each had clearly defined specialties. Among them, the Camaril family served as a kind of intelligence bureau.

The sort of business the kingdom called “darkness.” The things the other families, who revered chivalry, turned their eyes away from.

‘Of course, this proves nothing yet... but caution is necessary.’

Then came “when.” Just as Gunther was about to ask, someone beat him to it.

“When was the last time all of you saw Seril?”

Krest Royen seized the initiative. If House Camaril handled intelligence, House Royen oversaw law and internal affairs. Crime scenes like this were familiar ground for him.

When Krest’s question rang beneath the room’s vaulted ceiling, a short oppressive silence followed. The question seemed simple, but it carried a hidden meaning.

‘Who was with Seril last?’

...However, contrary to expectations, the answer came from Servan, who was still collapsed over the bed. Despite the grief consuming him, he understood the importance of this questioning, and lifting his tear-streaked face, he looked at everyone present.

“I... I was the last.”

Everyone focused on him.

“After the banquet, I personally escorted her back to her room. She seemed extremely drunk... since she and Lady Roen had been drinking against each other.”

The tall female warrior standing by the door nodded darkly. According to him, Seril had even sent the maids away, saying she was exhausted from the long journey and asking not to be woken until tomorrow.

“But when she still didn’t appear even by lunch, it felt strange, so I came to check on her, and then...”

Servan’s shoulders trembled violently.

“She... was already like this.”

“Servan.”

Albern quietly approached and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. There was not a trace left of the arrogance he had displayed throughout the journey. Gunther suddenly recalled the story he had once heard from Seril: all the heirs of the families had gotten along like brothers and sisters when they were children. Gunther sighed and looked away.

‘Now all that remains is to determine who and why.’

But for the moment, there were no solid leads regarding the “who.”

‘The possibility that this happened under the influence of Brainwashing can’t be ruled out either.’

Of course, no one present was currently showing signs of mental control. On top of that, everyone had been taking Sanity, which increased their resistance.

Nevertheless, Gunther allowed for every possibility. As he had said many times—this was not a game. The manifestations of “Brainwashing” he knew might not be the only ones. The reality of Luthien always surpassed expectations, and this case was unlikely to be any different.

And still...

If this murder had truly happened because of Brainwashing, Gunther thought he knew only one thing. The reason—the “why” behind Seril being the target.

Step-step-step-step!

Heavy, hurried, uneven footsteps rang out through the corridor. The sound grew closer at a terrifying speed. Everyone in the room froze instantly.

“...The head of the family has arrived.”

Before those words had even faded, the door burst open with a crash. Kylis Barkel. The man usually known for his gentle and restrained nature stormed into the room with a face twisted like that of a demon.

Rustle.

One step. Then another. Swaying, he approached the bed and touched his daughter’s face with the tips of his fingers.

A horrifying silence. Then his trembling lips parted.

“...Until the killer is found, no one will leave the estate grounds. I ask for your understanding.”

Boom!

Outside the castle walls came the thunderous sound of the drawbridge being raised, cutting off the path to the outside.

‘Yes, this is exactly the picture they wanted to see.’

Gunther let out a quiet sigh and looked at the message beginning to flicker.

.

.

.

Ding!

[Act 2, Chapter 1 (True) begins: “At Repose”]

[Displaying brief hint]

The heir of House Barkel, Seril Barkel, has been murdered. The culprit has yet to be identified, and in response, Head Kylis Barkel has ordered the estate grounds sealed. However, the situation is such that you and the Round Table knights must lead Barkel’s healed forces and go reinforce Laska Plain.

Therefore, you must uncover the truth within a limited time. ...Or find other alternatives.

Reward: The reward for this stage will differ radically depending on the method of resolution and its outcome.

***

The investigation moved quickly. Naturally, under Kylis’s supervision. No matter how much of a benefactor Gunther had become to these lands, and no matter how much he had proven himself, he could not seize the initiative in the murder case of a young lady. In the end, they were outsiders.

The investigators hastily gathered by Kylis questioned the platoon members first. Everything was polite, but... what followed was a painstaking verification of alibis.

This was not Border City. There were no magical devices here to replace surveillance cameras. The investigation had to proceed by old, primitive methods.

“Ugh, my head is splitting...”

Unfortunately, among the platoon members, only three had solid alibis: Tarsha Everlight, Parco Draven, and Gunther.

Tarsha had spent the entire night in discussion with the mage from Seiran at the reception. Parco had been absorbed in healing those affected by Brainwashing in the underground prison until dawn. And several knights had seen Gunther training in the yard and confirmed his statement.

“Wh-why, why only me?!”

On the other hand, Blanc Ibel, who had blacked out in her room after two glasses of wine, had absolutely no alibi. The moment the investigators announced a second round of questioning, Blanc’s face turned deathly pale.

In truth, there was nothing to be offended about. Even the Round Table heirs were not exempt. Only Krest and Roen had confirmed alibis. Albern and Werner were also subjected to questioning.

Meanwhile, the platoon members voluntarily gathered in Gunther’s room. They had effectively “locked” themselves in so as not to worsen the situation. After returning from questioning, Blanc collapsed onto the bed.

“M-maybe we should... slip away quietly? That’s impossible, right?”

Tarsha gave a crooked smile and shook her head.

“Kid, at least think before you speak.”

“U-uuuugh...”

The central part of House Barkel’s lands had a triple structure: inner fortress, manor, and outer wall. Under normal circumstances, they could have moved around freely as guests, but now a regime effectively equivalent to martial law had been imposed. Barkel’s knights did not take their eyes off the Night Raven outsiders.

In truth, if not for the reputation Gunther had built, the treatment would have been far harsher. Frightening terrorists from Border City—that was how the people of the kingdom thought of them.

But fortunately, Gunther’s reputation and the services he had rendered earlier at least guaranteed a minimum level of respect toward honored guests. However, if they attempted an awkward escape and were caught, all trust would collapse instantly, and the likelihood of the crime being pinned on them would become extremely high.

Finding the killer—that was the only way to protect themselves, House Barkel, and the entire kingdom. An exhausted Parco yawned and muttered:

“It’s a good thing Senior Cheonmae isn’t here. With her personality, she’d have turned everything upside down already.”

“I-it’s a shame Levi isn’t with us either, but still.”

Yet even in this situation, the platoon members did not fall into despair. Their gazes were fixed on Gunther.

“Well... we got out of those cursed illusions too. Say it, Gunther?”

Gunther let out a quiet sigh.

“Yes, you’re right. There is a way out.”

In truth, the situation was not as hopeless as it seemed. It might even become a chance to turn disaster into an advantage.

Either way, he had Return After Death, and he even still had “that,” the thing obtained as the reward for Act 1, Chapter 5. If things truly went badly, he would simply °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° investigate to the very end, determine who had been brainwashed and how much events had been distorted, then die—and that would be that. On the contrary, he almost felt relieved: after everything had gone suspiciously smoothly, the invisible threat had finally revealed itself.

“Besides, the circle of suspects is narrowing now. Isn’t it?”

Tarsha nodded.

“...Seems that way. The scenario is written so precisely that certain details are starting to stand out too much.”

While Parco and Blanc sat there with puzzled faces, Tarsha and Gunther were already carrying on a silent conversation through their eyes alone. Leaning on her staff, Tarsha rose decisively to her feet.

“Then where do we start? We can’t just sit here doing nothing. Who knows, there may be more victims.”

Gunther thought for a moment, then said:

“First, we need to get Rem out. If I were the killer, I would have killed her first.”

Without hesitation, Tarsha asked back:

“And who is Rem?”

...Oh.

Gunther froze for a moment. The instant Tarsha saw his face, she burst into laughter.

“Who’s Rem, you crow-spawn brat?”

.

.

.

Then a smooth, creeping voice followed:

“You need to say ‘Remesia.’”