The whispers died instantly.
Only breathing remained—uneven, restrained—as every gaze locked onto him.
Then the boy smiled again.
“Yes… Forget-Me-Not Grass.”
Rein lowered his voice as he rolled the blackened leaf between his fingers—slowly, deliberately.
“Ingrid found it,” he continued. “Sharp eyes. Good instincts.”
“She found it beside the overturned herb brazier in Librarian Belle’s room.”
He turned the leaf once more between his fingers.
“Now then…” Rein’s gaze shifted meaningfully toward the girl before him.
“What exactly does it do, Senior Seris?”
Seris shifted slightly. Her expression carried something unfamiliar—something none of them could quite define.
The second-year student, heir to the royal physician lineage, remained silent for a moment before exhaling.
She adjusted her glasses slowly and replied in a calm, steady tone.
“When burned correctly,” Seris said evenly,
“the smoke disrupts short-term memory in anyone who inhales it.”
Rein stepped forward a half pace. His smile never left his face.
“Correct,” he said evenly. “And that explains why everyone remembers the blackout differently.”
He paused, letting the realization sink in.
“The answer is simpler than it looks.”
He let the silence tighten.
“Everyone here inhaled Forget-Me-Not Grass.”
A low murmur rippled through the room—this time thick with unease. Several students glanced around nervously; a few even stepped back without realizing it. One of them abruptly raised both hands to cover her face.
Rein’s voice cut through the tension.
“Of course,” he said calmly.
“There is a countermeasure.”
He looked straight at Seris.
“If you took a protective potion beforehand—this would do nothing.”
He turned back to Seris.
“I’m right, aren’t I, Senior Seris?”
She hesitated—just long enough to suggest calculation—before adjusting her glasses once more and nodding slowly.
Rein muttered, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself, though his words carried clearly.
“Ingrid’s potion tasted terrible,” he said quietly.
A brief pause.
“I have to admit—her knowledge of herbs is exceptional.”
“Master Rachel examined everyone for magical interference and found nothing abnormal. Which makes sense,” he added. “Because this wasn’t magic.”
The messy-haired boy slipped the leaf back into his cloak pocket with deliberate calm. His posture shifted—from stillness to purposeful motion—as he began pacing.
“You’re probably wondering why none of you noticed the poisoning,” he said.
He stopped in front of Seris.
“In a heightened state like tonight’s, it’s only natural. Our senses fail to register subtle differences when the mind is focused elsewhere.”
“And the library normally carries a blend of herbal scents,” he continued. “Which makes it even harder to notice. Especially if the culprit burned Forget-Me-Not Grass together with ordinary herbs.”
He paused—and looked directly at Seris, as if inviting her to finish the thought.
After a brief moment, she spoke.
“In that case, detection would be extremely difficult. Even specialists can be deceived.”
Rein raised his finger and tapped the tip of his own nose.
The gesture was simple—but every eye in the room locked onto him.
“Exactly…” he said softly.
“I overlooked that clue too. Just like everyone else.”
He spoke plainly.
From the first step he took into the library—
From the very first breath—
Rein’s body had sensed that something about the scent was off. The difference was faint, but it was there.
Yet the mind of Dr. Rhys—still newly integrated with this body—had not reacted in time.
He had missed it.
And that oversight had nearly cost both Ingrid and himself their lives.
If he had realized it earlier…
Perhaps Librarian Belle would not have suffered in their place.
After a moment of silence, the boy spoke again.
“The next problem,” Rein said, shifting his gaze toward the pried-open door of Belle’s room. Even under the dim glow of the mana lamps, his eyes could clearly discern the damage.
“Is this: how did Forget-Me-Not Grass end up in the herb brazier inside Belle’s room? And when?”
Suddenly, he frowned—and stopped mid-sentence, as if struck by a new thought.
The others exchanged confused looks.
“…Did I miss something?” Rein muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. He ran a hand through his already-messy hair, frustration evident in the motion.
After pacing twice across the floor, he stopped and turned directly toward Seris.
She tilted her head slightly, weighing her words before responding in an even tone.
“You suspect that I poisoned everyone, don’t you?”
The question landed like a concealed explosive.
The room fell silent—every breath held.
“If I say yes…” Rein paused, his voice sharpening,
“…then tell me—who else in this room knows how to use Forget-Me-Not Grass, if not Senior Seris?”
Seris raised an eyebrow slightly. She showed no outward fear, but behind her lenses, something complex stirred.
She crossed her arms, fortifying herself, and replied at once—cool, precise.
“Lucien,” Seris replied at once. “He knew how to use it.”
Rein froze for a moment.
Silence returned.
Then he exhaled slowly.
“Unfortunately,” Rein said flatly, deliberately letting the words linger,
“he can’t speak anymore.”
He continued, his voice firmer now.
“But you can, Senior Seris.”
She adjusted her glasses again, meeting his gaze head-on.
“I didn’t do it,” she said evenly. “The situation—”
She stopped, her eyes lowering slightly as if searching her thoughts.
Before she could continue, Rein pressed forward.
Leaning in just enough to exert pressure, his eyes locked onto hers.
“But you did speak with Lucien—both in the cafeteria and earlier in the library. Correct?”
Seris’s eyes widened—just for a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
She lowered her head slightly.
“I don’t know where you got that information,” she said, shaking her head faintly.
“But you’re mistaken. I had nothing to do with Lucien’s death.”
“Then explain this,” Rein said quietly.
“Why is the Poison Domain book so important to you?”
The question detonated.
Seris went completely still.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Her hand rose to adjust her glasses again—an unconscious motion this time. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze remained fixed on Rein, cold and guarded.
“Where did you hear that book’s name?” she asked instead of answering.
Rein narrowed his eyes slightly. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Going to say you don’t know it?”
“…No,” Seris replied.
Her answer made the entire room hold its breath.
“I know it very well.”
Her voice dropped—controlled, restrained, and heavy.
This time, Rein fell silent.
His eyes flickered—for a heartbeat.
“In truth,” Seris said evenly, “I don’t want to speak of this. It concerns the Glenwood family, and we have no intention of letting it leak beyond these walls.”
Her tone was calm.
Every word sounded like a locked door.
Rein shifted slightly—just enough to show he wasn’t satisfied.
“But if I don’t explain,” Seris continued, meeting his gaze directly, “then I become the number one suspect. Don’t I?”
Rein held his silence for a moment longer, then smiled faintly.
“Right now, I’m playing the role of a cruel king,” he said lightly.
“And you fit the murderer part very well.”
Seris glanced around the quiet library. The stillness was real—but so was the suffocating pressure beneath it, the mistrust in every stare aimed at her.
She drew a long breath, suppressing whatever threatened to rise, and spoke again—flat, controlled.
“Lucien came to me several times,” she began, her eyes fixed on the boy before her.
“He wanted a specific herbal formula.”
She paused.
“One that’s dangerous.”
Rein’s eyebrow lifted. “And did you give it to him?”
“As I told Master Rachel—of course not.” Seris’s reply was immediate, sharp.
“No matter how many times he said it was ‘only for research.’”
Rein’s lips pressed into a thin line before he asked again.
“Then why come to you? Doesn’t anyone else in the Healing Department know that formula?”
Seris gave a small smile—tired, not amused.
“Because that formula originates from the Poison Domain,” she said, lowering her voice slightly without losing clarity. “A forbidden book kept under strict protection in the Healing Library. Lucien didn’t even have the right to touch it.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“He arranged to meet me in the library earlier to confirm that fact.”
Rein nodded. Now he understood why Lucien had targeted Seris.
But another question immediately surfaced.
“Then…” Rein asked slowly, “how do you know what’s inside that book?”
Seris went quiet.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed—subtly, but unmistakably. As if she’d just made a decision she’d been avoiding.
“Because the Glenwood family…” she began, each word measured, pride and regret braided together beneath the calm, “possesses another copy of Poison Domain.”
Rein’s lips parted slightly. “A copy?”
“A transcription,” Seris confirmed, staring forward. “A replica our ancestors secretly made over a century ago.”
“Secretly,” Rein repeated.
Seris nodded once.
“Yes. It is forbidden within the Kingdom of Arcadia.” Her eyes hardened behind the lenses. “But for us—royal physicians—to study poison is necessary. So we can identify it. Counter it. Save lives when the unexpected happens.”
Her voice slowed, deliberate.
“Medicine is poison. Poison is medicine.”
“It depends on the hand that wields it—not the label stamped onto it.”
“And because of that knowledge…”
She paused.
“The king survived an assassination attempt decades ago.”
Rein didn’t interrupt.
“A Glenwood physician neutralized the toxin in time. The king lived. And in return… our family was pardoned for violating the edict.”
Rein listened carefully, then asked the next question like a scalpel.
“So Lucien knew.”
“Yes,” Seris admitted quietly. A thread of worry flickered through her gaze. “He knew my family had a transcribed copy of Poison Domain. And he used it to pressure me.”
“To pressure you?” Rein echoed.
Seris nodded again—this time her eyes sharpened, as if she’d decided she would not be pushed.
“Yes. But I refused to bend.” Her voice remained level. “The last time he asked to meet, he tried to buy the formula from me.”
A faint, restrained disdain crossed her expression.
“The Glenwoods may not be wealthy like other nobles, but we’ve been physicians for generations. We have principles. We have a line we do not cross.”
“So I refused him—again.”
Rein didn’t waste a second.
“And what did he do next?”
Seris answered, calm but heavy.“He told me I would regret refusing him.”
Her eyes hardened.
“He was very certain.”
A small smile touched her lips—quiet, unwavering.
“But I don’t regret my decision.”
She paused, then looked Rein straight in the eyes.
“I know Lucien saw me as a rival. Especially in alchemy.” Her tone was honest, almost indifferent. “But I never cared. I only wanted to inherit my family’s will—and carry it properly.”
Rein lifted a hand and rubbed his chin slowly.
He understood that feeling too well.
Back when he’d still been Dr. Rhys Rattana, people had envied him, challenged him, circled him like predators since his student years.
And he had never cared.
The only thing that mattered back then was the same thing that mattered now:
Solving the puzzle the world refused to explain.
Behind Seris’s glasses, something glimmered—something eerily familiar.
For a moment, her eyes looked like his used to.
The library sank into an uncomfortable silence.
Then Rein exhaled—softly.
That single breath felt like a latch releasing, just enough for the air to move again.
“Thank you for the information,” he said.
Simple words. Yet his tone carried an undertone that was hard to read.
He interlaced both hands behind his neck as if relaxing—yet his eyes held none of that ease.
Then Rein turned—slowly—toward Lenora.
His blue gaze pinned her like an assessment.
“You were the first person to find Lucien’s body,” Rein said calmly. “In that case—I’m borrowing you for a moment.”
He offered a thin smile toward the others.
“Everyone else, wait here.”
“B-but…” Lenora’s voice trembled. She looked like she wanted to refuse—but didn’t dare.
Rein didn’t let her finish.
He raised his index finger and wagged it slowly, like scolding a mischievous child.
“Ah-ah.”
His voice sounded playful.
His eyes did not.
“No refusing. That’s a king’s order.”
Then he turned and began walking toward the place where Lucien had been found—whether Lenora wanted to follow or not.
She hesitated for a heartbeat… then moved after him, slow and unwilling.
Rein led her through the heavy silence toward the Forbidden Section.
No one had dared step inside after Master Rachel’s command.
Lucien’s corpse still lay facedown where it had fallen.
The dim mana lamps reflected faintly on the polished white stone floor.
The scent of death lingered—thick, persistent—as if time here had stopped at the exact moment Lucien’s life ended.
Lenora followed at a distance.
Her shoulders were drawn tight, hands clasped so hard her knuckles whitened. Her light-brown eyes swept the shelves warily—until they collided with the lifeless body on the floor.
She froze.
Rein stopped not far from the corpse—yet he didn’t look at it.
Not even once.
His gaze fixed instead on the scattered books, the forbidden shelf—on the spot where the Poison Domain volume had been placed.
“So this is it…” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
“The place you found him first.”
Lenora’s attention snapped back to him. Confusion and suspicion clouded her face.
Rein turned.
The playful air from before vanished without a trace.
His eyes became flat—cold.
And with that stillness, the pressure in the air deepened.
Lenora’s breathing grew louder—irregular. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep fear from spilling out, yet her eyes kept drifting back to the corpse like a magnet she couldn’t resist.
“Don’t tense up that much, Lenora,” Rein said lightly. “I didn’t bring you here to look at a body.”
He paused.
“I just want to talk. Somewhere no one can hear.”
Lenora flinched. “T-talk? About what? I already told Master Rachel everything. After the blackout… I just happened to walk over and found his… body…”
Her voice shook at the end. She looked away immediately.
“Right. Happened,” Rein echoed, scratching his head like he was exhausted beyond words.
“You know, tonight is full of ‘coincidences.’ So many it’s almost irritating.”
He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, like addressing an unseen god.
“Like someone up there is telling the same joke again and again… rolling the same face on the dice—over and over.”
He let the mockery hang, then leaned back against a nearby shelf and crossed his arms.
“I think there’s something you didn’t say,” Rein said quietly.
He paused, letting the silence tighten.
“Or maybe… you simply forgot to say it.”
His eyes dragged over Lenora openly—her worn cloak, her carefully repaired leather shoes, the shoulder bag with a strap frayed and thinning.
Maybe I need better bait.
Without warning, Rein changed the subject.
“The Academy uniform is expensive,” he remarked. “So is tuition. Equipment. Books.”
His tone stayed casual—too casual.
“For a student who didn’t come from a great house… keeping your footing in a place like this must be… difficult.”
Lenora stiffened.
Confusion widened her eyes. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry—as if Rein’s words had turned into a stone lodged in her chest.
“Wh… what are you talking about?” she asked softly, almost afraid that speaking louder might expose something inside her.
Rein smiled faintly.
“I’m just admiring it,” he said simply—every word chosen with care.
“People who struggle for their future… deserve respect.”
He paused—tilted his head, his gaze never leaving her.
“But sometimes…” Rein’s voice lowered.
“Poverty squeezes you into choices that are… risky.”
The word “risky” was emphasized only slightly.
To Lenora, it landed like a steel hammer to the heart.
She bit down hard enough to taste blood—and, without realizing it, took a step back.
Rein’s eyes narrowed.
No movement. No twitch. No shift in color or breath escaped him.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” Lenora said, her voice visibly trembling—like she was trying to slip out of the snare his words had tightened around her. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to go back to the others—”
The fish took the bait.
She tried to retreat.
Rein shifted—almost casually—and somehow ended up blocking her path.
“You’ve been in contact with Lucien,” he said.
His tone was cold.
The question hit her like an arrow to the chest.
Rein decided to gamble.
A bluff.
Lenora stopped dead—as if the floor had turned to ice beneath her feet. Her eyes widened.
Rein’s brow lifted, and a thin smile appeared.
At least I used to be runner-up in MIT Poker Club.
Lenora pressed her lips together, then the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“Who told you…?”
She hesitated.
“Or was it… Noah…”
Her voice dropped when she said the last name.
Noah? Interesting.
Rein kept his expression frozen in that same cool smile.
“It doesn’t matter who told me,” he replied evenly, confidence threaded through every syllable. “What matters is this—now you’re in trouble, whether you like it or not.”
“B-but I didn’t kill him! I don’t think—” Lenora blurted, panicked, her voice cracking.
Then she slapped both hands over her mouth.
Too late.
She’d already revealed more than she intended.
Rein watched her quietly, then spoke—soft, steady, but firm enough to make her listen.
“All right. You should tell me the truth.”
He tapped the Forensic Magic Investigator insignia pinned to his black cloak.
“As an officer, I can protect you as a witness—if you cooperate.”
He paused.
“How does that sound?”
Lenora fell silent.
Then she raised her head.
Her eyes were bloodshot, fixed on him—confused, desperate.
“Rein… you have to help me,” she whispered, lips shaking. “I—I’m not involved. Not in any of this.”
Rein nodded slowly. His face stayed blank, but something sharp gleamed in his eyes.
“A king doesn’t retract his words.”
It sounded like a joke.
But the way he said it wasn’t joking at all.
These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.
Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.
Herbs
Forget-Me-Not Grass
– A rare herb that, when burned correctly, releases smoke that disrupts short-term memory.
– Odor can be masked by blending with other herbal scents.
– Effects are non-magical, making it undetectable by most mana scanning techniques (e.g. Master Rachel’s Magic Detection).
– Used in this chapter to explain memory discrepancies during the blackout in the sealed library.
– Counteracted by protective potions taken beforehand.
– Classified knowledge—known only to specialists in herbal medicine, especially those from the Glenwood family.
Protective Potion (Anti-Toxin / Memory Seal)
– A potion designed to nullify the effects of herbs like Forget-Me-Not Grass.
– Presumably created using advanced herbalism or alchemical knowledge.
– Taken before exposure for immunity.
Books
Poison Domain (Update)
– A banned book containing dangerous alchemical and toxicological knowledge.
– Kept under strict protection in the Healing Library, accessible only to a few authorized individuals.
– A transcribed copy exists within the Glenwood family, made secretly over a century ago.
– Its knowledge helped save the king during an assassination attempt.
Key Characters
Seris Glenwood (Update)
– A second-year student and heir to the Glenwood family.
– Refused to give Lucien access to dangerous herbal formulas.
– Admits knowledge of Forget-Me-Not Grass, the Poison Domain, and Lucien’s pressure tactics.
– Maintains strong principles and loyalty to her family’s code.
– Under suspicion, but holds a calm and calculated demeanor throughout interrogation.
Other
The Glenwood Family
– A noble bloodline serving as royal physicians for generations.
– Known for extensive knowledge in both healing and poisons.
– Their motto (implied):
“Medicine is poison. Poison is medicine. It depends on the hand that wields it.”
– Keeper of a secret transcription of the Poison Domain.
Knowledge doesn’t choose sides.
People do.
the most lethal thing isn’t poison—
it’s intention.
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— Re:Naissance