Glenn rested his chin on his hands, wondering how he should go about it. He watched the kitchen suspiciously, Sahro imitating his posture and every gesture. Both stared intently in the direction of the kitchen, unfazed by the unpleasant expressions of the waiters.

‘...I don’t understand, what is stopping you from just storming into the kitchen and interrogating these cowards?’ Diamanes asked, puzzled. Glenn moistened his lips and tilted his head to the side.

‘Common sense and politeness are the main reasons, but both of those are running really, really thin…’ He replied, his anger growing with every passing second. The simple thought of falling victim to drugs again made his blood boil.

‘I do believe you’ve ingested more than your fill of filth,’ commented Diamanes with a sneer. Glenn gritted his teeth and suddenly slammed his fist on the table, pulling in the attention of the other patrons of the Auberge. He stood up and, with his fists clenched, sat at the counter, staring fixedly at the barman, the Auberge’s owner. He glanced up and down at the portly man, who was sweating profusely. Sahro followed suit and took a seat next to Glenn, both of them concentrated on the owner, who appeared bewildered by the situation.

“Can…Can I help you?” He stammered tentatively as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a rug.

Glenn looked at him coldly and slammed his fist onto the counter, the resounding thud echoing through the tavern. The noise put an end to the discussions of the other customers and drew the attention of those who weren’t already looking.

“I hope you can, or this ‘’Auberge‘’ will have to disappear from the Fringe,” Glenn threatened, the proprietor paling and taking a step back, “...You'd better explain why every one of your customers was drugged last night, and robbed of their prized possessions!” he accused, digging his finger into the proprietor's fat chest, watching his reaction carefully.

The owner's little blue eyes widened as he gasped and covered his mouth with his rug.

"What?D—Drugs? Theft? Impossible!" He composed himself, clutching his round belly, "I assure you, I would never drug any of my customers or steal from them. My reputation means everything to me." The owner paused, then countered, "On what basis do you accuse me, sir?"

The other customers watched Glenn carefully, wondering what this unknown young man, who had been recommended to the Magi Brotherhood by a Cleaner, was going to say. The latter scoffed and gestured to the entire room, where all the patrons appeared lethargic and hungover.

“Who here remembers what happened last night?” He demanded without turning back, his eyes glued to the proprietor’s face. Nobody answered him, as expected. The owner, though…

Glenn grinned wickedly, “Not a single one of your customers remembers what happened last night. But you, on the other hand, do not seem like you forgot even a minute of that wild night, don’t you?”

The chubby man panicked, his hands waving frantically in the air, “I—I don’t know how t—this has happened, b—but I swear I will do my best to find your belongings!” He hurriedly bowed, his belly making his shirt crack under the pressure. The other patrons exchanged glances, still concerned and eager for answers. The owner’s reply wasn’t proof that he didn’t do it, but it did seem like he was innocent…

Most of the customers rose from their seats and gathered behind Glenn, pressuring the owner with him. No one enjoyed being a victim of drugs or being robbed.

Well, almost no one.

But still, drugs are terrible. Don’t do drugs.

Glenn leaned closer to the counter, exhaling a foul breath smelling of vomit and alcohol in the owner's face. Usually, he would feel terrible from not washing his teeth, but not today.

"The only way we could all have been drugged is if someone tampered with the food. Everyone's food,” He insisted while looking back at the other angry customers, “...There's no way the owner wouldn't notice if an employee did something suspicious with the food, right?"

Sahro nodded, while grunts of agreement resounded from the other patrons.

Diamanes whistled, impressed, 'Well, I didn't know you could show yourself to be so dominating.'

Glenn scoffed as he stood up from his stool and headed for the kitchen, closely followed by Sahro and the rest of the Auberge. The plump owner also hurriedly ran next to them, his protests dying in the noise of the unhappy crowd.

'My sister was drugged at a show once. An asshole with a syringe. I became particularly...intolerant with these bastards,' Glenn explained to Diamanes as he entered the kitchen. Halting at the threshold of the room, Glenn surveyed the entire kitchen. It was well-equipped, with multiple cooking stations, each featuring a stove, counter, and an array of pots, pans, and cookware. The stoves were powered by Fire Shards, ensuring precise temperature control.

A large cauldron hung above a fire pit in one corner of the room, and a central counter held the plated dishes waiting to be served, surrounded by bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling. The cooks, in the middle of their work, abruptly stopped and stared at the large group of people in the doorway.

One even dropped his knife in surprise, the knife planting itself on a cutting board.

Glenn stepped forward into the room and drew a deep breath, “Everyone!” He commanded with an authoritative tone, “Nobody moves! You are ALL suspects of drugging and robbing us!”

The cooks gasped and exchanged bewildered glances, whispering in each other’s ears.

'Damn, I've always dreamed of playing detective,' Glenn mused secretly, satisfied with his role.

Diamanes chuckled but added, 'I know you're trying to be cool, but please, don't. It's making even me uncomfortable.'

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Glenn ignored the killjoy’s comment and locked eyes with each cook, sous chef, and kitchen assistant. He also considered the waitstaff as potential culprits. After coordinating with the worried owner, the entire Auberge staff came to a halt, united in facing this investigation.

Every worker was gathered in the kitchen, under the careful watch of Sahro and the other clients. The owner was sitting on a stool, his face crumbled as he realized the consequences of this accident. There was a big chance that the so difficultly built reputation of his prestigious Auberge was going down the drain today.

Glenn turned to the twenty suspects – one chef, two sous-chefs, five cooks, three kitchen assistants, eight waitstaff, and one owner – the entire inn's staff. Someone, or possibly a group, had drugged their food, erasing their memories of the previous night and stealing his prized recommendation plate and money. Without delay, Glenn ensured that all of them could see and hear him as he cleared his throat.

“Someone, or maybe an organized group, drugged this inn’s customers and robbed all of them, including myself!” Glenn hissed angrily. Sahro crossed his arms beside him, standing intimidatingly.

Glenn shook his head and stabbed his thumb in his chest, “...And I swear that I will find the culprit or culprits. Or…” He slowly turned back to the other customers, who nodded at him with dark expressions, “...We’ll turn this whole inn over to find our stuff.” He finished as he looked back at the owner.

The staff displayed a range of reactions. Some exchanged doubtful glances, while others directed anger and curses at Glenn, shouting "How dare you" among some insults, but he remained unfazed. Amid this turmoil, Glenn spotted a small child. The boy stood with tiny arms folded behind his back, eyes downcast, trembling. His oversized assistant's uniform and disheveled black hair concealed his face, but even that couldn't hide how skinny he was. He was opening and closing his mouth repeatedly as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. Squinting his eyes, Glenn felt his anger rise as he discovered some bruises barely hidden by the white shirt. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles whitening, but managed to keep the mask up in the end.

Glenn stared at the faces of all the employees, as he had to come up with a decision, seeing that no one had decided to come forward to denounce themselves. Not that he expected any to do so. He hoped that by putting pressure on all of them, one of these guys would crack and spill the beans. But, the more time passed, the more certain he was that it was the work of a group. To poison so many meals alone seemed impossible. Maybe the whole team of the Auberge was in on it, as far as he could tell.

'Yeah, but you ate mashed potatoes. You all ate mashed potatoes,' mentioned Diamanes in Glenn's mind, making the latter remember the content of his previous vomit. Indeed. Mashed potatoes. It could have been prepared in the big pot over there. Poisoning it would have been fairly simple, even if alone. But still…

“Hmm…” Glenn rubbed his chin, pondering. Maybe he was wrong, then. If there was only one central point that needed to be spiked, a single culprit could entirely suffice.

But what about the stolen belongings? None of the employees wanted to cooperate, or he would already have at least someone explaining why they weren't guilty. They all stayed in their group, talking silently enough that no one could hear them. Glenn suddenly had an idea, thinking back to the little kid.

Glenn suddenly slapped his thighs and announced, "Listen up, everyone! We won't harm the innocent. We want our belongings back and the guilty party held accountable. So, here's a chance for you to vote for the one you find most suspicious."

He grabbed an empty pot from a nearby station placed it on the central counter and declared, "The votes will be anonymous. We understand you may know something but don't trust us. But put yourselves in our shoes! Who would want to be drugged and robbed?"

The staff exchanged glances, the murmurs of agreement growing. Glenn requested paper and a pen from the other patrons behind him and set up his makeshift voting station. Once everything was ready, he ensured the secrecy of the votes and commenced.

The staff obliged, writing their choices on paper and depositing them in the pot. The young boy also attempted to vote, but the owner slapped his arm.

"What do you think you're doing? This is an adult matter. Get the hell out of my sight, fool."

Glenn squinted at the incident but remained silent, convinced that he already knew the outcome. When everyone finished voting, he gestured at Sahro next to him, who flinched in surprise. Unbothered, Glenn continued, “This is Sahro! He will reveal the vote results while I record them. Is everyone okay with that?”

Everyone agreed, so Sahro wasted no time. He unfolded the first paper and announced, "Liam."

A collective gasp swept through the room as all eyes turned toward the trembling child. Sahro remained impassive and moved on to the next paper, declaring, "Liam."

Glenn maintained his composure and marked a second tally next to Liam's name. Sahro continued, unfolding one paper after another. Each time, the staff's votes piled up against Liam, and each time, Glenn marked a new tally next to the boy’s name. Unsurprisingly, when the votes were done, they all pointed to a single person.

Liam.

The owner suddenly erupted in anger and charged toward the kid, grabbing him by the collar, “I KNEW IT!” He roared as he slapped Liam. The kid recoiled back but his teeth were gritted. The owner threw him away like an old bag and kicked away a pan, “I should have never taken you in, you…miserable WRETCH of the Sewers!”

Gasps rippled through the onlookers as understanding dawned. One patron spoke a little louder than others and drew Glenn's attention.

"I heard the Sewers are teeming with miscreants and thieves... I couldn't believe it at first, but if he's from there... maybe the kid actually did it."

Sahro's expression darkened, also listening, his grip tightening on the hilt of his curved sword. He almost unsheathed the weapon, but Glenn stopped him, his teeth gritted and his fists tightly clenched. The Black Heir paused, staring at Glenn’s trembling fist with newfound trust, realizing that he wasn’t stopping him because he wanted to.

Sure, it was the worst place to live. But to convict someone solely on the evidence that he came from there?

It was dirty.

The owner, filled with righteous fury, searched Liam's pockets and produced a bundle of Moon Grass. Glenn paused when he saw the drug, forced to do a double-take. Wasn’t that the stuff he destroyed back in the Cold Beer?

"Ha! Moon Grass! He's the culprit!" The owner roared. Glenn moved swiftly, catching the owner's hand just as it arced to slap Liam again. He clenched his teeth and hoisted the child onto his shoulder, ignoring the stunned stares of both patrons and staff. The boy was as light as a feather, his bones poking into Glenn’s shoulder.

Turning at the threshold of the kitchen, Glenn leveled a stern gaze at the employees.

"No one moves until I'm done. Sahro?"

Sahro nodded and placed his hand on his sword hilt.

Glenn left the kitchen and headed to his room. He deposited Liam on the bed, where the child trembled uncontrollably, before going to the door and setting an Alarm spell with Diamanes’ help. He doubted there would be much use doing so, but it wasn’t like he had any other uses for it anyway. The entity was strangely silent during this process, watching his host’s moves without a word. Glenn took a deep breath, offering a tissue to wipe away Liam's tears, and gripped the boy's shoulder firmly, locking eyes.

"Liam, is it true? Are you the culprit?" He finally demanded.

Liam took shallow breaths, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and rage. Deep, profound rage and hatred. But also something else.

Hope.

Liam shook his head and replied, "No, sniffle. But I know who did it."