At first, Mirela stood with her arms tightly crossed in a defensive posture, as if erecting an invisible wall between herself and him. Her slender hands were locked together, fingertips digging lightly into her sleeves. Her lips were pressed into a thin line—an irritation concealed beneath a cold, composed exterior. Her gray eyes fixed on the young man without wavering.
“Rude…” Mirela muttered under her breath—just loud enough for Julian beside her to hear. She turned to her brother, one brow lifting slightly. “A vulgar man like that thinks he can work like this?”
Deep down, Mirela had disliked him from the very first moment. The messy hair. The casual posture. The way he carried himself as if the world weighed nothing at all. And when she learned he was Rein—a commoner wrapped in scandal, yet somehow still the mage who had placed third in the Arcadia Grand Magic Tournament—her irritation sharpened into contempt.
To Mirela, putting insolent people in their place wasn’t cruelty—it was duty. House Crest did not tolerate disrespect.
Even if he had been granted the title of Investigator, a position others might fear, it meant little to Mirela compared to a high master like Master Rachel—or the five disciples whose power reached the level of the realm itself.
She stood there, assembling the sharpest possible words in her mind as the boy walked straight toward her.
But what happened next was the exact opposite of what she expected.
Instead of stopping, he walked straight past her—without a glance, without a pause—as if she had never been there at all. His attention was fixed on another target: Sally, the gray-haired girl standing beside Tara.
“What the—?” Mirela ground her teeth. Anger flared instantly. She stood frozen, as if nailed to the floor. A mix of humiliation and fury sent blood rushing to her face until it burned.
Sally looked no less startled when the boy approached. Confusion flickered across her face.
“Uh… I…” she started softly, as if unsure how to respond.
The boy offered a faint smile.
“You said your name is Sally, right?” he said, leaning in just a little—his tone calm, almost disarmingly so. “Then I’ll call you Sally.”
Sally frowned slightly, but before she could answer, the boy continued at once.
“Let me introduce myself again. I’m Rein…” His voice carried clearly—loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room.
Rein didn’t stop there. He turned to Tara beside her, who was trying to make herself as small and quiet as possible. Tara’s face went a shade paler when his gaze settled on her.
His next words hit the room like a bolt of lightning.
Tara’s expression cracked. Her mouth opened as if to protest, but no sound came out. She stared at the boy in front of her, fear widening her eyes. Then she forced herself to breathe, swallowed, and tried to steady her voice.
“What…? I have a fractured bone…”
Rein didn’t flinch at all. He raised his right hand with calm certainty and pointed at Tara’s right arm, carefully wrapped in bandages.
“If your bone is truly fractured,” Rein said evenly, “then I’ll cast a healing spell right now. The result should be… immediate.”
His words were firm, brimming with confidence. He wasn’t joking. He paused, staring at Tara with a chill in his eyes—so cold it felt like the room temperature dropped several degrees.
“I tested healing on Ingrid’s arm just a few hours ago. Good news: her condition was far worse—yet it still regenerated almost immediately.”
Tara’s heartbeat thudded so loudly it felt audible. Her other hand tightened around the bandages without realizing it, while Rein kept his gaze locked on her.
He paused again. Then his voice shifted—lower, icier, enough to raise gooseflesh along her skin.
“But if you’re not actually injured… I can’t guarantee the outcome of my healing spell.” A thin smile tugged at his lips, turning his next words into a warning wrapped in mystery. “…“You might end up growing two… or three extra fingers.”
The entire room fell into silence. Only Tara’s heavy breathing broke it. She stared at him, stunned—unable to decide whether to believe the threat or assume he was mocking her.
“Well?” Rein asked, leaning in closer. His voice remained calm, yet the pressure behind it was enormous. “Want to take the risk?”
Tara’s expression twisted. A storm of emotions hit her all at once. She lifted a hand and pointed at him, her lips trembling slightly—then her sharp voice cut through the air.
“Y-You dare?”
Her jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth, clearly forcing herself not to explode.
Rein stood still for a moment. He blinked slowly, then scratched the back of his neck with an awkward sigh—almost shy.
“I wouldn’t dare, but…” He pressed his lips together slightly, staring into Tara’s eyes burning with fury. He spoke in a tone that tried to sound calm, yet hesitated at the edges. “I’m doing it because I mean well. But if it goes wrong… it’s because I truly didn’t know you weren’t actually injured.”
“Goddess Luminara will understand me for sure.”
His last words drifted through the air like a falling leaf.
As he spoke, a glowing magical ring formed above his palm.
But before he could do anything more, Sally—standing close by—stepped in. She’d been biting her lip since this started, and now she made her decision: she raised her hand and swatted Rein’s palm aside, hard enough to make the spell-ring wobble—and fade instantly.
“Stop…” Sally said. Her voice trembled slightly, but it was firm. She stared at Rein with eyes full of anxiety and fear.
Rein froze. He frowned, looking at Sally with a mix of confusion and irritation. His voice rose.
“Huh? Why? I’m going to heal her.”
Something in Rein’s tone didn’t quite line up with his words.
“Heal her?” Sally echoed, her voice shaking as if she were holding back tears. She slowly shook her head and pleaded, her tone thick with desperation.
“Please, Rein… she isn’t really injured that badly.”
Rein went still. He stared at her longer than usual. The look in his blue eyes said he’d found something interesting.
“Ah…” His voice dropped, cold as melting ice. “Then you two need to stop lying—and tell the truth.”
Sally flinched. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Before she could speak, Rein continued, as if determined to pressure them to the brink.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to say Tara…” He glanced past Sally to the other girl standing behind her. “You’re the number one suspect.”
Tara stiffened, her eyes widening slightly—even as she tried to keep her expression blank.
“The truth is, you know Lucien—your future fiancé. Or should I call him your former fiancé?” Rein tilted his head slightly, tone flat. “Either way, you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“You rejected the engagement, yet you enrolled in the Healing Department—which…” He paused, letting the implication hang. “…how very convenient that your fiancé also studies here.”
He stopped again, as if intentionally allowing his words to seep into both girls’ minds, then continued in a heavier, sharper voice.
“Coincidence? No chance.”
His low tone seemed to echo in the silence.
“Once is coincidence,” Rein said quietly. “Twice is doubt. Three times is a pattern.”
He paused once more, eyes unwavering as they pinned Tara in place.
Tara felt as if that gaze was drilling straight into her mind. She tried to keep her face calm, but inside she was in chaos. The silence after Rein’s words made her feel trapped in a moment with no escape.
“And you met him again,” Rein said softly. “Here. In this library.”
Rein pressed on—his voice cold, his certainty leaving no space for rebuttal.
The words hit Tara like a heavy hammer to the chest. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
“He’s a second-year. You’re a first-year.” Rein’s tone stayed calm—but every syllable landed like a blade against her ribs.
“There’s no way you didn’t know your fiancé studies here. House Wyndfield had to be the one who sent you. And of course…”
He paused—then leaned forward just slightly, close enough that Tara could feel the pressure building.
“…and you came here willingly.”
That final line slipped past whatever fragile armor she had left, like a needle through a seam.
Tara turned her face away—not out of fear, but because what he’d said felt like a blade dragged across her mind. She was about to speak—deny it, defend herself, anything—
Rein cut in first.
“Say something,” Rein said. “If it’s not what I think.”
Tara stood there, silent. Her eyes were reddening—the look of someone who’d held back tears for too long.
And in the end, it was Sally who broke the silence.
She drew a deep breath and spoke—steady, but firm.
“You don’t have proof,” Sally said. “And we didn’t kill Lucien.”
Her voice shook faintly. Her eyes locked onto Rein—the messy-haired boy standing in front of them—but the look he returned was unreadable.
“Maybe.” Rein shrugged, far too relaxed for how tight the air had become. “But deliberately hiding information makes you the primary suspects.”
He paused.
“That part isn’t negotiable.”
Then he tilted his head, voice dropping into something colder—something without mercy.
“So tell me. What did Lucien come to talk to you about… before he died?”
Tara dug her nails into her own arm. The small sting kept her anchored. Her gaze flicked to Sally—silent, but loaded.
Sally inhaled again, slower this time. Then she faced Rein.
“Let me speak with you… privately. Just us.”
Her tone had changed. Less pleading now. More weight.
Rein raised an eyebrow. Surprise flashed over his face for half a heartbeat—then a faint smile returned.
“Sure.” He answered lightly. “A king should always listen to his people.”
He dipped his head—an almost theatrical invitation—then led both girls toward the loan counter. That area was empty, washed in a circle of pale blue light from the mana lamp above, pooling on white stone.
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Once they were far enough from the others, Rein stopped. He turned back. His dark-blue eyes pinned them both.
“All right. Talk, Sally.” His voice was flat.
Sally glanced at Tara one more time, then took a deep breath. Something in her expression shifted—as if she were gathering the last scraps of courage she had.
“The truth is…”
She swallowed.
“I am Tara Wyndfield.”
Rein didn’t respond right away. He watched her longer than normal—like he was running numbers in his head.
“I see.”
Then he turned to the bandaged girl standing beside her.
“Then everything after that makes a lot more sense.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And you are…?”
The girl nodded.
“And I’m… Sally. A maid of House Wyndfield.”
Rein fell silent again for a moment—then gave a small nod.
“Understood. Continue.”
Both girls stared at him. Suspicion shimmered in their eyes—sharp, undeniable. Tara’s lips parted slightly, as if testing the air before committing to the question.
“You’re not surprised at all… so you already knew?” The real Tara asked, her voice quiet but pressurized—measuring whether Rein’s answer would change everything.
Rein smiled faintly. The movement was natural, but his gaze remained still—deep water.
He adjusted his cloak before answering, simple and even.
“Not exactly.” He started. “I just wasn’t sure you were really Sally.”
He paused, watching their reactions—then continued in the same steady rhythm.
“Because your posture doesn’t match a commoner. Honestly, you kept control better than the ‘fake Tara’ did.”
He exhaled, almost amused.
“But I didn’t think you’d actually be Tara Wyndfield.”
He shook his head, then glanced at Tara’s expression shifting in subtle, betrayed ways.
“And if I had to guess,” Rein added, “you swapped hair colors as well. To make it cleaner.”
Tara listened in silence—then let out a soft sigh. When she spoke again, it sounded like someone who’d carried something heavy for far too long—and had finally decided to set it down.
“Sally is like a younger sister to me,” Tara said quietly. Her gaze drifted somewhere far away, pulled into memory. “But she was born into… an unfortunate fate.”
“We were close since childhood. And because we look alike… we used to switch places all the time. Especially when we went outside.”
Rein listened without interrupting. His eyes stayed on Tara—patient, almost clinical.
“But one time…” Tara’s voice faltered. The words trembled at the edges. “We met Lucien…”
She bit her lip, as if trying to trap a feeling before it escaped.
“He liked Sally—when she was pretending to be me. And the two of them… grew closer. Little by little.”
A soft sob rose from the side.
The real Sally lowered her head. Her shoulders shook. Tears slid down her cheeks as her hands clenched tight in front of her.
Tara looked at her, then placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Because of status…” Tara continued after a pause—after that small attempt to steady her. “A commoner and a noble… it was never supposed to happen. And Sally was afraid that if Lucien found out the truth… he’d hate her.”
Only Sally’s quiet sobbing filled the space.
Rein exhaled—slowly. For the first time, something thoughtful surfaced on his face. He spoke after a long silence.
“And then House Varennes came to propose the engagement, didn’t they?” His voice was still flat—but the pressure from earlier was gone.
Tara nodded. A sad smile appeared.
“Yes… my family thought it was a good opportunity.” Her throat tightened. “But I knew I couldn’t do it. I refused. And it didn’t end there.”
“The family pressured me. And we had no other choice… except to build a plan.”
Rein looked like he wanted to say something—then decided not to. He let her keep going.
Tara’s voice turned into something like confession.
“I actually planned to enroll at Arcadia before all this,” she said. “We thought… maybe if Sally met Lucien again—if he learned the truth…”
Her body shook slightly.
“…maybe he would accept her.”
Rein stared at her, unmoving. Then his voice came—calm, but heavy with authority.
“That’s why you hid it from Master Rachel.”
Tara flinched. She lowered her head, guilt tightening her throat.
“If this got back to my family…” she whispered, barely audible, “Sally would be punished severely. I didn’t want that. I’m sorry…”
Rein released a quiet breath—then his next question made Sally flinch mid-sob.
“And now you’re telling me everything.” His voice stayed calm—too calm. “Don’t you think that’s a risk?”
Tara fell silent for a moment. Then she spoke slowly.
“Earlier… you said you were a king, didn’t you?” Her voice was soft—yet threaded with a faint challenge. She looked straight at him.
Rein’s eyebrow lifted, openly amused. He leaned back a fraction and let out a small, dry laugh.
“And…?” he answered with a single word, shrugging like he couldn’t care less—while still inviting her to continue.
Tara’s brow tightened. Her lips pressed into a line, as if she had to force herself past the next sentence.
“A king is a politician,” she said, steadier now. “Power comes from exchange. Something useful. Something fair. If you’re really a king… you already know that.”
Rein didn’t answer immediately. He only watched her, a faint smile hooked at the corner of his mouth.
Tara drew in another breath and leaned forward slightly—as if returning pressure for pressure.
“If I tell you something… information you can use… it might help you. Maybe not much. But enough.”
She paused—deliberately—then delivered the terms.
“You keep this buried.” Her eyes didn’t blink. “What do you say… King Rein?”
She emphasized the title like a blade, testing whether it would cut.
Rein chuckled under his breath at the trick.
“All right.” His voice smoothed out—warm on the surface, sharp underneath. “Answer first.”
His gaze narrowed, pinning the question down.
“What happened between you and Lucien… after you started studying at the same Academy?”
Tara hesitated. Her eyes dropped—like she didn’t want to meet his—then shifted to Sally instead.
“After we came here…” Tara began, reluctant at first. Her voice trembled, then steadied. “Sally started seeing Lucien again. But it was still under the name of the ‘fake Tara.’”
Sally jolted at being named. She looked at Tara—then lowered her gaze.
“But Sally never told him the truth,” Tara said quietly. “Lucien was already consumed by his research.”
Sally’s lips tightened, like she wanted to speak—then chose silence and let Tara carry the story.
“She was afraid it would affect his studies,” Tara finished, exhaling softly.
Rein stood still, eyes calculating. He watched Sally—like he was looking for a crack—then returned his gaze to Tara with a smile that carried hidden meaning.
“Reasonable.” His voice stayed even. “So what project was he working on?”
Sally finally spoke. Her expression had turned inward, thoughtful—almost heavy.
“Lucien was obsessed with alchemy,” she said. “He wanted to be the best. Not just ambition… it was like something was driving him—hard.”
She swallowed.
“House Varennes has been known for it for generations…” Her voice grew faint, edged with sadness. “And he wanted their approval more than anything.”
Rein nodded slowly, eyes lowered as if the answer had been waiting there all along.
“And that,” he murmured, “is why he wanted the forbidden book.”
He paused.
“Poison Domain”
“Yes.” Sally’s hands clenched together, white-knuckled. “I heard him mention it—by accident.”
She paused, then lifted her head to meet Rein’s eyes.
“He was in this library… talking to someone. I didn’t see the person’s face—only heard their voice through the shelves.”
Rein’s brow knit immediately. Suspicion sharpened in his gaze.
“You didn’t see them? Why didn’t you look? Why didn’t you check who he was talking to?”
Sally lowered her eyes. Her hands started to shake.
“I… I didn’t dare,” she whispered. “They were talking like it was something… important.”
Her voice cracked. Tears pooled again.
“I was afraid,” she whispered. “If I got caught… it would turn into something I couldn’t take responsibility for.”
Before her tears could fall, Tara slid closer and placed a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, Sally,” Tara said softly. “You did what you could. This is complicated… and it’s not your fault.”
Rein had gone quiet again—so quiet it felt like the air itself was waiting. His eyes stared forward without focusing on anything.
His lips moved—barely.
“The library… Lucien… and someone else.”
Then he raised his head slowly, voice returning to level calm.
“You know… that person is here tonight, don’t you?”
The question landed like an arrow straight through the center of the room.
Sally flinched. She looked away for a heartbeat, then inhaled deeply—like she was weighing whether to speak at all.
“Yes,” she said at last, her voice guarded. “I didn’t see the face… but I remember the voice. When I heard it again tonight, I recognized it.”
Rein’s eyes narrowed. He nodded once—small, precise.
“So the voice you heard,” Rein said evenly,
“belongs to Seris.”
Sally’s eyes widened. Her lips pressed tight—then she nodded, unwillingly.
“How did you know?” she asked, her left hand clenching at her side.
Rein didn’t answer right away. He folded his arms and leaned back slightly, looking down at his own feet as they tapped the floor in a slow rhythm.
“The pieces…” he murmured, more to himself than to them. “They’re starting to fit.”
Sally and Tara exchanged a confused glance—both trying to catch up to the shape forming in his mind.
Rein lifted his head again. The distant look vanished.
His eyes turned razor-sharp.
He looked straight at them and asked, simply—heavily:
“This isn’t the secret you meant to trade with me.”
Tara answered immediately, hurried.
“No. Tonight—before the blackout—he came to us. He asked her to help him do something.”
Rein listened. Then nodded once.
“Mm.” A quiet sound—confirmation, not surprise.
“Go on,” he said, firmer now. “If it helps me catch the real culprit… I’ll make you a promise.”
His voice flattened into clean authority.
“Your story ends here. Tonight. No one else hears it.”
He paused—let that settle—then asked:
“And what he wanted help with was…?”
Rein fell silent for a beat. His mouth tightened. Then the answer came, slow—measured—like he was choosing every word.
“He wanted the key,” Rein said. “He planned to use tonight’s chaos… to steal a forbidden book.”
He stopped. A faint glint surfaced in his eyes—as if a final connection had just snapped into place.
“Mm.” His voice dropped. “That doesn’t feel like coincidence.”
He lifted a hand to his chin, thinking.
“It’s possible he planned this for a long time… and tonight was simply the first real opening.”
Rein went quiet again, fingertips still at his chin.
“Strange,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. “But the equation…”
A thin smile surfaced.
“…balances.”
Rein turned back to Tara and Sally once more, suspicion sharpening his gaze.
“So in the end,” he said calmly, “you didn’t help him.”
Tara swallowed with difficulty. Steadying herself, she answered in Sally’s place.
“No. We didn’t have time to agree to anything. The blackout happened first. After that, everything unfolded exactly as we told Master Rachel.”
Sally, standing beside her, nodded faintly but added nothing.
Rein studied the two of them for a moment longer, then tilted his head slightly.
“I see.” His tone stayed level. “Then the final piece lies with Seris.”
There was doubt in his voice—but also a sense of near-certainty.
Without another word, Rein spun on his heel. His cloak flared with the motion as he strode past the long counter toward the remaining students. Tara and Sally exchanged a look they couldn’t quite name, then followed in silence.
The five other students gathered nearby turned as one to face him.
Rein stopped in front of them and clapped once.
The sharp sound echoed through the hall, making several of them flinch.
Mirela’s brows drew together into a sharp line. She glared at Rein, ready to speak—but he raised a hand, stopping her cold. His deep blue eyes locked onto hers.
“You don’t have the right to speak.”
“This is a royal order.”
The words came wrapped in a sly smile—half playful, half chilling.
“You—” Mirela began, only to stop when Rein’s gaze sharpened. He lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips in a clear signal for silence.
She clenched her jaw, fury burning in her eyes, but said nothing. Julian reached out and lightly caught her elbow, urging restraint. She exhaled sharply through her nose, swallowing her anger.
Rein looked away from her and turned instead toward Noah, Lenora, and Seris Glenwood.
His expression grew more serious—though a faint smile still lingered.
“Let’s skip the theatrics,” he said. “As you know, I’m already exhausted tonight—first The Walking Dead.”
The group frowned in confusion.
“Then CSI,” he shrugged. “And to top it off, a B-grade soap opera. If this drags on until morning, I might actually suffer.”
He sighed softly, as if this entire night were nothing more than an overlong show playing in his head.
While everyone was still trying to process his words, Rein’s gaze settled on Seris Glenwood—the calmest-looking second-year among them.
“So,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on her,
“let’s talk honestly.”
His voice hardened on the last words.
“Are you hiding something, Senior Seris?”
Seris—usually composed to the point of emotional stillness—flinched ever so slightly. Her lips pressed into a thin line before easing apart. For a brief moment, something flickered across her face… then vanished like a shadow swept away by wind.
“You…” she began—then stopped.
“What are you talking about?”
The question was simple, but her eyes were guarded.
Rein’s smile curved subtly—confident, unmistakably cunning. He slid one hand into his cloak pocket with deliberate slowness, turning the moment into a quiet psychological game.
Every eye in the room followed the motion.
“This,” Rein said softly.
Between his fingers was a small, blackened leaf—no larger than a fingertip, half-scorched and seemingly insignificant.
Yet the atmosphere in the room grew heavy the instant it appeared.
“You know what this is, don’t you?”
He stepped closer to Seris, raising the leaf until it hovered just inches from her glasses. She shifted slightly—but did not step back. Her gaze remained locked on the fragment.
Seris narrowed her eyes, her face calm—though her thoughts clearly raced beneath the surface.
“It is…”
“Forget-Me-Not Grass!”
The moment the words left her mouth, a collective murmur swept through the room.
These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.
Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.
Key Characters
– Sally is actually the noble-born Tara Wyndfield, while the “fake Tara” is her commoner twin sister, Sally.
– They frequently switched identities, a practice made possible due to their near-identical appearance.
– Lucien (the murder victim) unknowingly fell in love with Sally, thinking she was Tara.
– Their identity switch plays a central role in the emotional and narrative twist of the investigation.
Books
– A rumored or restricted book connected to Lucien’s alchemical research.
– Said to contain knowledge or spells tied to lethal substances or dark alchemy.
– Lucien’s ambition to be recognized by House Varennes drove him to seek this book.
Other
– Rein refers to himself metaphorically as a “king” during questioning, establishing dominance and framing the exchange of information as political negotiation.
– Tara picks up on this metaphor, leveraging it to strike a deal: valuable information in exchange for secrecy.
– This exchange illustrates Rein’s manipulation of social dynamics and interrogation strategy.
More often, it slips out quietly—
in a word spoken too quickly,
or a name said without thinking.
but by waiting for the other side to move first.
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The rest… is coming.
— Re:Naissance