She narrowed her eyes slightly, watching Master Rachel pacing back and forth behind the counter with the look of someone deep in thought. But when Ingrid looked away from the elf instructor and turned her gaze to Rein, who stood nearby, the boy’s posture was the complete opposite. He leaned against the counter, chin tipped up a little, his messy hair falling over his forehead. Those deep blue eyes stared at the ceiling, as though he were letting his emotions drift along with some private train of thought—
—or maybe he was just staring at the ceiling and calling it thinking.
The silence stretched, tight and uncomfortable—the kind that followed when two people reached the same conclusion without explaining how.
Ingrid glanced toward the seven students standing scattered on the other side of the counter. Some had their arms crossed in a defensive posture. Others shifted their weight as if trying to avoid eye contact. Soft murmurs floated through the air—whispers that no one meant to be heard clearly.
The long boots of Master Rachel struck the stone floor in steady rhythm as she paced behind the counter. One slender hand lingered at her chin as she paced, her movements measured—too deliberate to be idle.
Ingrid noticed a faint crease forming between the elf woman’s brows, and the way she moved looked like someone carrying a heavy mental burden.
Not long after, Master Rachel stopped. She exhaled deeply, as if trying to loosen her thoughts, then stepped out from behind the counter and sank into the same chair as before. The blue light from the mana lamps overhead made her face clearer. Her expression was calm, but there was something in her gaze—something that suggested she was being troubled from within.
“Really strange…” Ingrid murmured under her breath.
She realized Master Rachel hadn’t spoken at all since the room had fallen into that silence—only occasionally flicking her eyes toward Tara and Sally. The two girls looked like they felt the same pressure; both had retreated to stand close to the wall at one end of the long counter. Their quiet whispering rose now and then, but not loud enough for Ingrid to catch the words.
Rachel’s silence dragged on—and it irritated Ingrid more than any accusation would have.
The elf instructor’s calm was almost too calm—as though she were waiting for something, or quietly observing.
Rein let out a slow breath. The face that was usually confident now looked like someone drifting into his own world. His deep blue eyes remained fixed on the old vaulted stone ceiling, carved with ancient patterns. His brows were furrowed—just like Master Rachel’s.
Then suddenly Rein lowered his gaze and turned to Ingrid.
“Are there spells that can control the mind?” His voice was quiet, but cutting through the silence so close to her ear that Ingrid flinched slightly.
“There are,” Ingrid answered, making her tone as even as possible. Her lips pressed together as if she were sorting her thoughts before continuing.
“Mind control is forbidden in Arcadia,” Ingrid said flatly. “Same legal tier as necromancy that overrides the dead.”
Rein cut in. “If it’s forbidden, would anyone actually dare to practice it?”
“Of course they would,” Ingrid replied at once, meeting his eyes to emphasize the truth of it.
“Just because it’s illegal doesn’t mean no one breaks the law. People who don’t care about rules—or who are driven by personal motives—might train it in secret, even if it risks getting caught by the Mage Tower.”
“But…” Ingrid paused, then flicked her eyes toward the elf instructor still sitting silently.
“If it were that kind of magic… in front of Master Rachel, I don’t think it would work.”
Rein raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Why do you think that?”
“Don’t forget—she’s a special advisor to the Forensic Magic Division,” Ingrid said, her voice firm.
“If anything like that were used, she would’ve detected it from the beginning. And I’m sure she wouldn’t have let things go this far.”
Rein listened, then nodded slightly, as if rearranging new information in his head.
“So Forensic Magic can’t force the truth,” Rein said quietly. “Not legally.”
He lifted his brows a little as he tilted his head to watch Ingrid closely. Confidence immediately surfaced in her eyes at the question.
At the very least, she had scored the highest in the class in Magical Law.
The blonde girl in glasses inhaled slowly before answering in a decisive tone.
“Exactly. Because it’s forbidden by law.” She lifted a hand to touch the silver rim of her glasses—a gesture she often made when explaining something complicated. “And even if someone used mind bending to ‘catch lies,’ once it reached Magic Court…” She paused, making the next sentence heavier.
“Because once a thought is planted,” Ingrid said, “no court can prove it was ever real.”
“So even with magic, murder cases are still a mess,” Rein muttered.
Ingrid raised her eyebrows slightly. Deep down, though, she was starting to get used to his strange behavior and odd remarks.
Master Rachel remained seated where she was. One hand turned pages in her ancient Index—its pale leather cover faded from long use. The dry rustle of paper sounded softly in the stillness. She lowered a quill pen—its handle tipped with a clear crystal—to the old book.
Whatever she wrote, she did not let anyone see it.
After a few moments, she closed the book with a soft thud of hard leather covers meeting, then set it down on the dark oak table beside her.
Her deep crimson eyes fixed on the two siblings with the same reddish-brown hair.
“Mirela and Julian Crest—step forward here,” she said softly, but with unmistakable authority.
“Um… Julian, bring one chair from there. Yes, that one.”
The tall young man with short reddish-brown hair nodded quickly and went to drag a wooden chair over. The legs scraped across the hard floor with a loud creak that carried through the room. He followed behind his sister, Mirela Crest, in silence.
Mirela walked ahead without hesitation, her irritation visible despite the controlled way she carried herself.
They both sat down on separate chairs opposite the elf instructor. Mirela, the redhead noble leaned back, arms folded tightly under her elbows, silver-gray eyes openly sweeping over her counterpart.
Finally, the girl from House Crest let out a heavy sigh, then spoke. Her voice was tense, threaded with annoyance.
“I shouldn’t be here, Master Rachel. You should let Julian and me leave now.” Her words were crisp and unapologetic, steeped in the reflexive authority of the upper class.
Julian, seated beside her, lowered his head slightly, as if he wanted no part in this situation. His face was pale, like someone who had only just escaped something horrifying.
Master Rachel leaned back in her chair. Her red eyes stared directly at Mirela with quiet calm.
“I’m sorry, but right now I’m not exercising authority as an instructor of Arcadia Academy. I am exercising my authority as a special advisor to Forensic Magic. Even House Crest does not stand above forensic procedure.”
Her tone was perfectly still, yet every word carried the weight of a hammer striking stone. The chill embedded in her statement made Mirela catch her breath. Her lips trembled slightly before she bit them, trying to hide the surge of frustration and anger rising inside her.
Julian, seeing his sister’s reaction, quickly bowed his head low toward Master Rachel.
“I—I apologize on my sister’s behalf, Master Rachel…”
“He… he didn’t mean to,” Julian said, his voice so light it was as if he feared making her even more displeased.
A faint smile surfaced on Master Rachel’s face, but it didn’t relax the room in the slightest.
“It’s all right, Julian. I’ve known your family well—for over eighty years.”
Those words made Mirela narrow her eyes in suspicion. Before she could say anything, Master Rachel leaned forward a little. Her scarlet gaze met Mirela’s silver-gray eyes head-on, as if she were conveying something through that stare alone.
“So even if your grandfather—Duke Alaric Crest—were standing here, he would still be subject to my authority.”
The sentence struck Mirela like an arrow to the heart. Her eyes widened; shock plainly spilled across her face. Her voice trembled as she answered, not quite at full volume.
“M… Master Rachel, you— Fine. “If you have questions… then hurry up and ask them.”
Her reply sounded sharp, but the hesitation threaded through it revealed that her confidence was starting to crack. Master Rachel leaned back against the chair again, her expression returning to its usual calm.
The elf instructor spoke in an indifferent tone, yet an invisible pressure seeped out from her words.
“Tell me what happened from the beginning.”
The siblings sitting before her exchanged looks. Mirela’s gaze was full of displeasure, while Julian seemed hesitant, repeatedly avoiding both the instructor’s eyes and his sister’s. He bit his lip, as if gathering the last of his courage.
In the end, Julian decided to speak first. His voice was light and slightly trembling, but clear enough in the library’s oppressive silence.
“We were behind schedule today. I forgot something… had to go back to the classroom. That’s when the undead appeared. My sister and I… we hid beneath the stairs. We thought we were safe. We thought they wouldn't see us.”
“But you tripped over something and made a huge noise, so those rotting corpses turned toward us!” Mirela cut in at once. Her voice was loud and razor-sharp. Her pale face flushed slightly with anger, and her dark gray eyes drilled into her brother.
Julian flinched, but quickly steadied himself. He pushed back in a softer voice, raising his hands as if shielding himself from the scolding.
“I was scared! It happened so fast—I… I didn’t mean to!”
“You idiot! “You dragged House Crest’s name through the mud—over a handful of zombies!” Mirela, the redhead noble snapped, arms crossed tight, her tone so forceful it was almost a shout. “It was just a few zombies—what are you afraid of? Or do you think you’ll survive if you face something worse than this?”
Julian lowered his eyes to the floor. His lips pressed tight; his fist clenched at his side until it shook.
Across from them, Master Rachel let out a quiet sigh. She shook her head as if tired of it, then spoke in a calm but decisive voice.
“That’s in the past, Mirela. Yelling won’t change anything. Now… go on, Julian. What happened next?”
The reddish-brown-haired boy slowly lifted his head. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself, then answered with a touch more steadiness.
“Yes…That guy—” He pointed toward Rein, the boy leaning against the wooden counter behind the elf instructor. Rein’s blue eyes looked back without a trace of emotion.
“He suddenly showed up to help us, brought us in here to hide… and said he was just following Master Chloe’s orders.”
Rein listened in silence and said nothing. He only twitched his lips into a faint smile—so slight it was almost invisible.
“And after that?” the elf instructor pressed on, her voice soft but firm, as though she were peeling the truth layer by layer.
“When we got into the library, we found two girls. One had an arm injury, and the other was taking care of her…” Julian answered, glancing toward the two girls sitting at the corner of the counter. They still looked frightened and exhausted, their pale faces reflecting what they’d just endured.
“…Then that guy hurried back outside again, and came back with four more students. That made eight people total in here—everyone who’s here now.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Master Rachel listened without interrupting. She studied the boy in front of her, then slowly nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as if reviewing the information.
“Good. Then answer me this: you both knew Lucien—the one who was murdered—didn’t you?” Her tone was straightforward, and the question dropped a heavy silence over the entire room.
Mirela lifted her brows high. Her bright red lips twisted into a cold smile.
“Hmph… just the Varennes family’s illegitimate brat. Of course I know him. That story’s infamous among nobles like us. But let me be clear—we weren’t personally acquainted.” She shrugged, indifferent, arms still crossed, staring back at the instructor with a challenging look.
“But he was in the same year as you, wasn’t he, Mirela?” Master Rachel asked lightly—her tone flat, yet probing.
Mirela bit her lip and shot back quickly. “Greet him? You know our family and his family—”
“…Yes. I’m aware that House Crest and House Varennes share an unresolved blood debt,” Master Rachel finished coolly, her gaze locked on Mirela, refusing to let her slip away.
Mirela narrowed her eyes. Her expression hardened. “But his death definitely wasn’t us!” she said firmly, confidence leaving almost no opening.
“…I never said it was,” Master Rachel replied, leaning back against the oak chair. The wood creaked softly as a faint, unreadable smile appeared on her face.
Both sides fell silent again. The hush returned—only this time it carried even more weight—until the next question shattered it at once.
“All right. During the blackout… what happened?”
Julian froze. His brows knit together, carving a deep line across his forehead. Under the pale blue light from the mana lamps, his already-ashen face looked even more bloodless.
“I… can’t remember that part,” he said in a low voice, as if the words were too heavy to speak.
Mirela, sitting beside him, lifted her head immediately at the answer. Irritation flashed in her eyes—impossible to hide.
“Did you hit your head on something, Julian?” she demanded, the tone mixing worry and frustration. “That damned light was out for nearly five minutes!”
“But I really can’t remember!” Julian fired back instantly, his voice defensive. “I only remember it went dark, and then it was bright again, but…” He hesitated, then continued uncertainly. “I’m not sure how many minutes. “It’s like I… blanked out. Or something.”
Mirela narrowed her eyes at her brother, suspicious, lips pressed tight as if swallowing words she couldn’t say easily.
Meanwhile, the elf instructor, leaning into the back of her oak chair, listened without cutting in. Her expression showed mounting doubt, because everyone’s accounts were starting to contradict each other. Details that should have aligned refused to settle.
Rein, still leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, quietly surveyed the scene.
He exhaled so softly it was almost inaudible, then said in a flat voice—
“Hm… so which one of you is the werewolf?”
The remark made Ingrid, standing nearby, lift her eyebrows sharply. Her amber eyes widened slightly.
“You think there’s a werewolf among us? A lycan?” she whispered.
Rein shook his head, the faint smile never quite leaving his face.
“Not a real werewolf,” he said. “I mean the one who isn’t telling the truth.”
“Then why compare it to a werewolf?” Ingrid pressed, curiosity clear in her voice. She leaned in a little toward Rein, as if she wanted the answer immediately.
“Ah… it’s a long story. I’ll explain later—when no one’s about to be accused of murder.”
Rein cut her off, waving a hand as if brushing the question away. But his gaze stayed fixed on the siblings at the center of the hall, his lips tightening.
Master Rachel—who had been listening the whole time—tilted her head slightly. Her red eyes, glittering like a pair of diamonds, swept across everyone in the room with measured scrutiny.
“This discrepancy in time isn’t limited to Tara and Sally, It applies to you two as well.” she murmured—quietly, but loud enough to draw every pair of eyes toward her.
“After the lights came back on, did you notice anything unusual?” she asked next, her tone that of someone accustomed to holding a room in her palm.
Julian thought for a moment before answering—softly, but clearly.
“Everyone’s positions changed from where they were at first, and…” He hesitated, as if swallowing something back, then continued. “Lucien… that guy… he disappeared.”
Rein and Ingrid exchanged a look without speaking. Master Rachel’s brow furrowed slightly, though she didn’t seem particularly shocked.
She sat still for a beat, then asked again. “And during the blackout—did anyone hear or sense anything? Sounds, sparks, anything at all?”
Mirela spoke first. “There was a loud crash once. I think someone bumped into something in the dark. After that, it sounded like movement.” She paused, trying to arrange her memory. “Someone also bumped into me. At first I thought it was Julian… but now I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Julian rushed out, his voice full of confusion. “Maybe I… dozed off during that time…”
Mirela glanced at her brother and let out a heavy sigh, then added in a tone that bordered on sarcasm, “But the blackout lasted five minutes for sure, Master Rachel. As for that common girl saying it was only three minutes—don’t take it seriously. “People like that tend to exaggerate.”
Her eyes locked onto Sally, who was biting her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.
Master Rachel nodded slowly, then said calmly—but with weight. “Understood. I’ll decide for myself what the truth is. Now then—do you have anything else to tell me? Anything at all that felt off?”
The two siblings fell silent. The room became so quiet it was as if everyone was holding their breath—until Julian murmured, uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure he should say it.
“Lucien… before the blackout, I saw him walk over to speak with those two.”
He nodded toward Sally and Tara, who still sat motionless by the counter.
“They definitely talked for a while,” Julian added, his voice even softer than before.
“Hm… Lucien walked over to speak with those two?” Master Rachel murmured, yet she didn’t look as surprised as she should have.
“Thank you, Mirela. Julian. Go wait over there—for now.”
The elf instructor’s voice rang through the silence—simple words, but carrying an authority the two students couldn’t refuse. Mirela and Julian rose quickly, their bodies a little stiff, then walked toward a corner of the room as instructed.
Master Rachel turned back, her sharp gaze shifting to the last three students still waiting. From her composed demeanor, no one could read what lay behind those eyes.
“All right. Your turn.”
The short, clear sentence pulled the attention of all three. Footsteps echoed lightly on stone as they approached.
Ingrid, standing not far away, leaned forward slightly to get a better look. Her eyes went to Seris Glenwood, an older student she wasn’t particularly close to, but had spoken with before as a junior in the Healing Department. Seris was a second-year who always seemed cool and detached, silver-rimmed glasses on her face, her thoughts locked away behind an unreadable gaze.
Seris walked in first—calm, composed, as if pressure simply slid off her. Behind her came a short-haired gray-haired boy, Noah, and another girl, Lenora. Both were first-year healer students as well.
Both Noah and Lenora were commoners, like Ingrid. Naturally, they’d met before—even if they weren’t in the same class.
When they reached the chairs, Seris looked at the two empty seats, then made a small beckoning gesture.
“You two sit here,” she said evenly.
She herself chose to stand off to the side instead, as if refusing to sit—like someone who intended to stay in control of the exchange.
Master Rachel watched them in silence, then spoke in a flat, serious tone. “You entered the library together—with Lucien, correct? I want each of you to tell me what happened. We’ll start with you, Noah.”
Noah—the gray-haired boy seated in front—flinched slightly at hearing his name. He lifted his gaze to the instructor, then nodded quickly, nervous.
“Yes…” He took a deep breath, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. He began speaking, his voice trembling a little trying to keep his voice steady. “At the time… I was working overtime in the Canteen.”
He looked to Lenora, seated beside him, as if asking her to back him up. Lenora caught his glance and immediately added, her voice soft but tired.
“Yes. We both took an overtime job cleaning the Canteen.”
“A part-time job?” Master Rachel repeated, her tone even—yet unmistakably probing.
“Yes,” Noah hurried to answer. “We were trying to earn extra money, and there was an opening for Canteen cleaning, so we applied.”
Master Rachel nodded lightly, as if acknowledging the information. She gestured for him to continue.
“Then what happened?”
“It was already evening,” Noah went on. He paused to gather his thoughts. “We were finishing the last cleanup round when Senior Seris entered the Canteen. I saw her because I was cleaning around the dining tables, while Lenora was in the kitchen.”
“And after that?” Master Rachel’s tone didn’t change, but it made Noah feel as if he were being pressed to speak faster.
“Another man came in,” Noah continued. “The one who’s dead now… He went to talk with Senior Seris. I don’t know what they discussed, but the atmosphere wasn’t friendly. After that, he left.”
Noah glanced toward Seris with the silver glasses, his face seeming to apologize for saying it out loud—but Seris showed no reaction. Her expression stayed perfectly blank.
“And what happened next?” Master Rachel asked again.
Noah swallowed, as though the question weighed heavier than before.
“Not long after that, the zombies flooded in. There were so many we had to run into the kitchen, shut the door, and try to brace it so they couldn’t break in…”
“But someone opened the door in the end,” Master Rachel said, her sharp eyes fixed on Noah.
“Yes…” Noah lowered his voice to a near whisper. “That person…” Noah said, pointing at Rein. “He smashed the door open and told us to follow him.”
Lenora and Seris both looked at Rein at the same time.
As always, the messy-haired boy showed no special reaction. He only offered a faint, unreadable smile.
“He told us this place was dangerous and that we had to follow him—” Noah began, his voice still trembling slightly from the tension of everything that had happened. He forced himself to sit up straight, as if trying to hide the unease in his eyes.
“But behind him… the same man—the one who had just spoken with Senior Seris—followed us as well.”
Noah’s words made the air in the room tighten instantly. Every gaze fixed on him, waiting for more—but he stopped and fell silent, as if weighing whether he should continue.
Lenora, seated beside him, drew a deep breath. She clenched the hem of her clothes more tightly before speaking, her tone steadier—trying to ease the pressure.
“We came up to the third floor and hid in the library,” Lenora said, her voice trembling faintly. “There was already a group inside, but I was panicking—I didn’t really notice who they were.”
“There were already four people inside,” Seris with the silver glasses said. “One man. Three women.”
Her voice sounded more like a report than an ordinary answer. The corner of Seris’s eye flicked toward Tara’s and Mirela’s group.
“There were already four people—one man, three women,” Seris repeated calmly, her gaze sliding toward Tara and Mirela.
Master Rachel sat with her arms crossed, narrowing her eyes at Seris with open suspicion.
“Is that so… then what business did Lucien have with you, Seris?”
The girl with the silver-rimmed glasses shook her head slightly and replied evenly.
“Nothing important,” Seris replied evenly.
The answer was short and direct, yet it made everyone feel as if something was hidden beneath the words.
“Not important?” Master Rachel’s brow tightened. Her tone carried disbelief. “You expect me to believe Lucien merely ran into you by chance and exchanged greetings?”
Seris fell silent for a moment, then answered firmly.
“Yes. We’re both second-year students. It wouldn’t be strange to exchange greetings, would it?”
She met Master Rachel’s eyes head-on—no evasiveness, no obvious lie in her gaze.
Master Rachel stared at her, as if trying to read the truth from her expression and posture, then continued.
“That may be true… but did he ever argue with you? Hold a grudge? Anything of that sort?”
Seris froze. The silence that followed made everyone in the room feel the hesitation shifting inside her. Finally, she spoke.
“Lucien wanted a certain medical formula. I wasn’t in a position to give it to him—even after he offered a large sum of money.”
“And that might have irritated him… a little,” she added, her voice notably softer.
Master Rachel lifted an eyebrow and tapped her finger.
“Is that so? Then why didn’t you sell him that formula?”
Seris went quiet again. She seemed to weigh her answer, then said plainly,
“It violates my family’s rules.”
“Hm… I understand. And the reason you refused at first is because you thought this formula wasn’t a motive—correct?” Master Rachel asked, her eyes still pinned to Seris as if hunting for another thread.
“Yes. I have nothing to hide. It was more of a misunderstanding,” Seris replied openly and directly.
Master Rachel stayed silent for a moment longer, as if assessing how much to trust that.
“Is that so…” she said, narrowing her eyes again. “Then what happened during the blackout?”
The question made all three—Noah, Lenora, and Seris—go still at once.
In the end, Seris answered first.
“The power was out for a long time. Longer than normal… but I can’t recall how many minutes passed.”
“What?” Master Rachel’s voice rose slightly, surprise plain in her tone.
“Yes. Strangely, I’m not certain about that stretch of time at all.” Seris frowned, her face caught in a current of thought. Her hands clasped tightly, one palm pressing the other as if trying to suppress anxiety.
Master Rachel shifted her focus, turning to the two seated students.
“And you two? Lenora? Noah?”
“It was… strange,” Lenora said after a brief hesitation.
“I was standing beside Noah. “I heard a strange sound—like something scraping along a wall… or maybe the stone floor. I can’t be sure.”
Her voice dropped slightly as the memory replayed itself. Her face turned slightly pale, as if speaking it out loud made the unpleasant memory sharpen again.
“Then something passed right in front of me. It was just a blur—a shadow tearing through the light—and then… everything went dark. Like the entire room was swallowed by darkness. I thought it lasted about a minute, but in that moment it felt much longer.”
She paused, lowering her gaze as if trying to gather herself, then looked up again.
“After that, the lights came back on as if nothing had happened.”
Noah, sitting beside her, knit his brow hard, disbelief written all over his face.
“Wait—didn’t the lights go out the moment we came in?” he objected immediately, suspicion sharp in his eyes as he stared at Lenora.
“Of course not!” Lenora shot back at once, her certainty making the atmosphere even tighter.
“We’d been here for more than ten minutes before the lights went out. I remember it clearly—because I was talking with Senior Seris at the time. Right, Senior?”
She turned toward Seris, her eyes practically pleading for confirmation.
Seris, suddenly the target of everyone’s attention, hesitated. She blinked quickly, then answered in an uncertain voice.
“I… I’m not certain.” She lowered her gaze, as if trying to reconstruct the sequence in her head—but still couldn’t find the beginning or end of it.
The room felt like a ship drifting in a confused sea of conflicting accounts.
Rachel stopped tapping her finger. The rhythm broke.
She still seemed to be trying to maintain her composure, but the lines on her forehead made it clear: this was no ordinary murder case anymore.
Ingrid, arms crossed as she listened intently, felt the pressure rising by the second. She bit down hard on her lip, then finally blurted out what she could no longer keep inside.
“If this isn’t mind-bending magic, then none of this makes any sense!”
Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from the confusion building in her skull.
“But you said it wasn’t magic,” Rein said quietly beside her. Calm, simple—yet carrying a question that forced Ingrid to stop and think.
“Then what is happening?” Ingrid asked back, quieter now, though worry still filled her words.
Rein stood in the corner with his arms crossed. He murmured so softly it was almost inaudible:
“Rashomon…”
Ingrid turned sharply, eyes boring into the boy who looked like he was piecing something together. She opened her mouth to ask—but Rein cut her off first, shaking his head lightly and scratching at his hair.
“Don’t ask yet,” he said, scratching at his hair. “I’m still waiting to see when Kurosawa decides to show up.”
These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.
Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system..
Spells and Techniques
Mind-Bending / Mind-Control Magic
– Forbidden class of magic in Arcadia, on par with necromancy.
– Can implant or erase memories, control behavior, and distort perception.
– Dangerous because even Magic Court cannot verify whether altered memories were ever real.
– Ingrid confirms it is illegal and detectable by experts like Master Rachel, suggesting it hasn’t been used in this case—yet the contradictions imply something is distorting perception.
Items
Silver-Rimmed Glasses
– Worn by Ingrid and Seris; symbolic of analytical and intellectual characters.
– Ingrid touches them habitually when explaining legal or magical concepts, suggesting a scholar’s precision.
Key Characters
Mirela & Julian Crest
– Nobles from House Crest, known to hold a blood grudge with House Varennes.
– Their behavior during the investigation was defensive, especially regarding the blackout incident.
– Their memory of the blackout time differs from others, suggesting potential magical interference—or unreliable narration.
Seris Glenwood
– A second-year healer student, intelligent and emotionally composed.
– Was approached by the victim, Lucien, for a rare medical formula. She declined due to her family’s rules.
– Maintains calm under pressure but may be hiding more than she reveals.
Noah
– Took an overtime part-time job cleaning the Academy Canteen alongside Lenora
– Witnessed Lucien speaking with Seris in the Canteen prior to the undead incident
– Observed tension between Lucien and Seris, describing the atmosphere as unfriendly
– Fled into the kitchen during the zombie outbreak and barricaded the door
– Identified Rein as the one who forcibly opened the kitchen door and led them to safety
– Noted that Lucien followed Rein from behind during the escape
Lenora
– Took an overtime part-time job cleaning the Academy Canteen with Noah
– Was working inside the kitchen when Seris and Lucien were present in the Canteen
– Escaped with Noah during the zombie outbreak and followed Rein to the library
– Entered the library and joined a group already inside
– Rein references the social deduction game Werewolf, popular on Earth.
– In the context of the investigation, he uses this metaphor to frame the situation: one person is lying or hiding the truth (the “werewolf”) while the rest are trying to figure out who it is.
– Designed to add psychological pressure, making suspects reflect on whether they’re being deceptive—even unintentionally.
Rashomon Effect
– A narrative phenomenon where multiple individuals recall and report conflicting versions of the same event, each believing their own version to be true.
– Referenced directly by Rein as a metaphor for the contradictory testimonies during the investigation.
– Originates from Akira Kurosawa’s classic film Rashomon, where the truth becomes subjective and elusive.
More often, it hides between contradictions—
where every voice sounds sincere.
then what exactly went wrong?
If you want to stay inside the mystery,
hit Follow and leave a review.
The silence hasn’t finished speaking yet.
— Re:Naissance