Chapter 58: Second Victim.
"What are you two doing? And why is your brother on a leash?" Damien couldn’t help but ask.
Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but Claire gave the leash a sharp tug, cutting him off with a violent cough.
"Oh, don’t worry about him. He wouldn’t stop following Seris around, so she reported him to me. This is his punishment. A lovely day out with his big sister." Claire smiled sweetly before glancing between Damien and Vincent. "Anyway... what makes you two think Leslie was murdered? I thought everyone agreed she died in an accident."
Damien let out a helpless sigh.
"I’m mostly here against my will. Vincent is the one who refused to believe the accident story, but... now I kind of think he might actually be onto something."
Vincent calmly adjusted the knot of his tie.
"Now then, run along, Claire... and Claire’s loyal little dog. Damien and I have a conspiracy to unravel."
Claire merely shrugged.
They were both grown men. If they wanted to waste their afternoon chasing ghost stories, that was their business.
"You boys make sure to get some proper rest, especially you, Damien. We might end up fighting the Eidolon army out in the open soon. Better to be prepared."
The two quietly watched as Claire walked away, dragging Ethan through the snow like a defeated prisoner of war.
Damien waited until they disappeared behind the rows of tents before letting out another sigh.
"Alright then... time to find the next suspect."
...
A few tents away, several men sat around a lively fire with wooden mugs in hand. Laughter rang out from the group every few moments as they shamelessly exchanged stories, each trying harder than the last to convince everyone he was somehow the most desirable man in camp.
"You’re all doing it wrong." One of the men proudly puffed out his chest. "Women like confidence. You look them in the eyes, smile, then let nature do the rest."
The others immediately burst into laughter.
"Confidence? You almost cried tears of joy when Hannah thanked you for carrying those boxes."
"I had dust in my eye."
"Yeah, sure you did."
Another man leaned forward with a smug grin.
"You’re all aiming too high. Forget Hannah. Seris smiled at me yesterday."
"She smiles at everybody."
"Well... she smiled at me slightly longer."
The group roared with laughter again.
"Alright, laugh all you want." The man stood up, wobbling slightly from the alcohol. "I’ll be right back."
"Don’t drop dead out there."
"No promises."
The man wandered behind a nearby storage tent before letting out a relieved sigh.
"Oh finally."
He loosened his trousers and began relieving himself into the snow. Halfway through, something cold brushed against his boot.
He lazily looked down.
A thin strand of black miasma slowly coiled around his foot.
The man frowned.
"Huh..."
Without thinking much of it, he casually nudged it away with his leg and continued peeing.
"Must’ve had a little too much to drink."
The black miasma quietly drifted back. This time it didn’t remain on the ground. It slowly crawled upward until it reached the man’s shoulder.
Still facing the other direction, he frowned again.
"What now?"
A smoky hand suddenly formed from the miasma and gently tapped him on the shoulder.
The man instinctively turned around.
The hand immediately clenched into a fist.
Bam.
...
The man slowly opened his eyes, his vision still spinning. His hands and feet were tightly bound to a chair.
A lantern swung gently overhead, casting moving shadows throughout the tent.
Standing directly before him were two familiar figures.
One sat quietly in a black wheelchair with his chin resting on his hand while black miasma lazily drifted around his feet.
The other stood calmly beside him in a neatly ironed blue suit, smiling as though they were about to enjoy afternoon tea together.
The man’s expression froze.
"Oh... no."
Vincent turned to Damien.
"I must say, the control you have over that black gas is noteworthy. Is it part of your Dormant Ability?"
Damien glanced at Vincent.
"It’s just the intangible form of my undead. It took a while for me to learn to control it, and I call it black miasma. It sounds cooler that way."
Vincent did not argue. He simply turned back toward their next suspect.
Damien immediately got to work, neatly stacking the empty white papers before him.
"Based on the information we have on you, your name is Daniel Mercer, your mother’s maiden name is Eliza, you’re one hundred and sixty-nine centimeters tall, twenty-six this year, your Dormant Ability is Earth Camouflage... and lastly, you really like boiled fish eggs."
Vincent raised a brow.
"Who the hell likes boiled fish eggs?"
Damien maintained a perfectly straight face.
"I know, it’s gross."
Daniel’s eyes darted between the two of them. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew seeing Damien and Vincent in one place could only end badly for him.
"Guys, come on. We’re all civil men here. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go."
Damien and Vincent looked at one another.
Then they both burst into laughter.
Daniel was completely at a loss, unable to understand what he had said that was so amusing.
After they finally settled down, Vincent crouched until they were eye level, making sure Daniel was staring directly into his eyes.
"If you make it out of here alive, you can tell anyone you want. Heck, you can even walk up to Andrea and report us personally." His smile widened. "Let’s see what that accomplishes. In the end, you are powerless before us... and not even Andrea can save you."
Daniel swallowed hard and finally fell silent.
He was no fool. Inside the Tower of Mysteries, strength was what truly mattered. Everyone liked pretending they lived in a stable society, but in truth, the strong still ruled with an iron grip.
Damien flipped over the empty stack of papers on the desk.
"Now then, let’s carry on. Daniel, you’re going to tell us where you were on the night of Leslie’s death, and if you fail to provide us with an alibi... well, I’m sure we’ll think of something terrible."