If guilt had arisen inside him by the slightest, then his facial expression gave away none of it. As if nothing had happened just seconds ago, he spoke with a tone as apathetic as his face.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Grottel. My name is Mason Blight, an officer under the Republic. You may refer to me as Mason throughout our time together.”

“N-nice to—.”

Lylie coughed, his saliva and blood splattering all over his torn clothes. Mason watched as Lylie suffered to his own bodily fluids and scribbled letters on Finn’s aged notebook with his right hand, his left firmly put on top of the murky ball.

“So, Mr Grottel. Let’s redo the questioning, shall we? Have you experienced something abnormal?”

With blood and spit still stuck in his throat, Lylie considered cracking a joke, but halted when he saw his captor’s eyes. Mason bore down upon him with an icy gaze, as if warning him of the consequences should he act up.

Lylie decided he should comply, for now.

He forced a smile onto his face. “Nothing much, just a little paranoid and forgetful.”

The crystal ball gleamed, swirling as all of them observed it. Then, the murky contents pushed themselves aside, revealing stripes of colour behind them.

“Orange, yellow, blue, indigo, and violet.”

Mason nodded and wrote something down on the notebook, while Finn jittered where he stood.

He didn’t know what was going on, but it shouldn’t be anything good based on Finn’s movements and the tug on his mind.

Now that he thought of it, since when did the tugs first appear? Its appearance is as peculiar as its significance, as it served him multiple times in the past already. Yet no matter how hard he tried to recall, the exact moment of its first appearance was lost to him.

A sudden urge to laugh disrupted his thoughts. It was stronger than ever before, and he struggled to maintain a normal expression.

It was then that he realized something was wrong. His lapse in memories, these urges to drop everything and laugh, and the occasional tugs. Just what in the world was happening to him?

“Next,” Mason said. “How did you negate our power?”

With giggles almost seeping through, Lylie kept a straight face and replied. “Are you talking about how your words affected me? If so, then I’d have to disappoint you. Not only was today the first time I’ve seen such a wicked spell, but I also do not know what broke me free from it.”

The crystal ball stirred again, dispersing those striped of colour with its murky contents, and that did not appeal to Lylie.

What was the purpose of the crystal ball? Was it only a trinket to confuse and worry suspects, or was it something more than just an ornament? Considering how they owned a mind-controlling spell Lylie has never heard of, the possibility of it being something more is disturbingly high.

Lylie stared at the crystal ball, ignoring the throbbing sensation throughout his body. Once again, its murky contents were pushed aside, revealing a similar set of colours.

“Orange, yellow, blue, and violet,” Mason wrote something on the notebook again. The stripes, Lylie assumed.

He gulped as a fleeting thought caught his attention. What if the crystal ball was some sort of an advanced lie detector? From what he knew, a lie-detecting contraption called a polygraph worked by putting sensors all over the recipient’s body, recording their bodily reactions when they answered questions.

Yet the results might as well just be guesses due to the unpredictable nature of the human body.

Mason continued, unaware of Lylie’s inner distress.

“So, you are saying that you somehow managed to resist the power of both a Wayfarer and a Pilgrim, despite being none of them yourself?”

Lylie’s eyebrows furrowed at those terms. Wayfarer? Pilgrim? What were they supposed to be? Some sort of nobility titles?

“Never heard of them before,” Lylie said.

Mason hummed in response, his magnetic somehow turning into a pleasant melody, as the crystal ball stirred under their scrutiny. This time, the same combination emerged. A stripe of orange, yellow, blue, and violet.

In a practised manner, Mason repeated said colours and wrote them on the aged notebook. Finn, on the other hand, stared at the crystal ball in thought.

Things were going smoother than Lylie expected. The violent showcase from earlier seemed unnecessary, as all they did were to ask several questions with intimidation sprinkled on top.

He ignored the taste of iron and scraped for positivity, otherwise, the burning sensation throughout his body, mostly his legs, would demand too much attention.

“Congratulations, Mr Grottel. So far, your responses are acceptable to a certain degree,” Mason said, upholding his cold nature. “However, I must warn you. The next few questions are of the utmost importance, and you are required to ruminate your answers widely, understood?

After getting a nod from Lylie, he returned the gesture and asked. “Then, do you still have a family?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Something cold poured down Lylie’s back, and his heart skipped a beat. It took a while for his heartbeat to escalate, forming sweat down his blood-smeared face.

“…I do, what about them?”

The sound of words being scribbled resounded throughout the room, each stroke forming thoughts in his mind.

“Yellow, blue, violet.”

Mason put down the pen and stared at the bloodied suspect in front of him. “Having a family is a blessing. They care for you, worry for you, and serve as a last haven for some. Tell us more about your family, both living and deceased.

Lylie tried to ascertain the motives behind the question. Admitting it was tough, but he was almost sure his family is being used as a threat against him. Mason’s demeanour left little to be interpreted.

“I don’t see how they are related to our conversation,” he said.

“I did not inquire your opinion, Mr Grottel. Answer the question truthfully,” Mason decreed.

Just what were these people playing at? He bit his lower lip, his mind spinning at full throttle. Sure, they might be annoying at times. But they were still his family, one that he treasured deeply.

Feigning a smirk, he ignored the sweat in his eyes and replied. “We are a family of six. Wealthy, yes, but nothing special compared to other notable families.”

“I see.” With another swipe of wrist, he jotted down on the notebook, this time taking longer than before. He spoke without even lifting his eyes. “Describe their appearance and personality in detail.”

A vein bulged on Lylie’s forehead. He glared at Mason, and after eliciting no response, shifted his eyes to the person standing beside him. Finn was also reluctant to help, proven by his troubled smile.

“You see, officer. I don’t know what you two are planning, but I swear by my name, if you dare to even touch a hair of my family, I will make sure both of you—”

—Bang!

A loud metallic noise rang through the room, as Lylie’s head was forced to meet with the metal table. A piercing pain emanated from his forehead, the origin being the point of contact between him and the desk.

Lylie’s thoughts dulled as a thin barrier blurred reality around him. Yet even so, he was still capable of hearing the panic from his former partner in crime and current—perhaps also a former friend.

Not even the ever-so-slowly spreading shade of red registered to his dazed mind, and he watched as blood pooled below his head. Through the daze, visions of random memories passed through his mind.

How hilarious.

What was? Who knows, all he felt was the invasive urge to laugh coursing through his body. Invasive enough for him to snicker under his breath.

Everything was spinning, his blood was escaping him, and the pain was blurred behind the gaudy but illusory lights flashing through his mind. How hilarious.

And so, he giggled. Loud enough to halt the ongoing argument in front of him, and loud enough to draw all attention back to him.

Their inquisitive noises were hidden behind the absurdity of his imagination, becoming mere background noise for the pestilent ringing in his ears.

Another fuel to elevate his giggles to cackles.

Watching him spiral down to madness were Mason and Finn, apathetic and perturbed, respectively.

Finn gulped as the chortles turned more delirious and deranged as time goes. They tried to gain Lylie’s attention through words and actions, and each time caused the man to become more erratic and his laughter to escalate.

They listened to his laughter in silence before Finn couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Sir, is it really necessary for us to force him to this state? Yes, we managed to determine his abnormality. So, shouldn’t we treat him immediately?”

“Be patient,” Mason said, his wrists moving at a remarkable speed through the notebook. “Before we proceed, tell me what you know of his condition.”

Finn knew his captain asked not because he wasn’t aware of Lylie’s abnormality, but because he wanted to test his studies. So, he recalled as much information as he could and began reciting them.

“Degeneration, common for our kind, highly rare for civilians. A process where one’s soul is overwhelmed by provenances, with symptoms being emotionally unstable, bodily mutations, mental corruption, and attracting the supernatural on severe occasions.”

“Good.” Mason nodded, putting down his pen and staring at the guffawing man, now facing the ceiling while the chains shrieked to restrain his convulsing body. “Now, in detail, tell me what happens when a civilian undergoes a degeneration.”

An image of a mutated monstrosity crossed Finn’s mind. One with degeneration so severe, they lost all resemblance to man except for their numerous bulging organs and strange limbs. That day wasn’t great for his stomach, which was why he was a bit surprised by Lylie’s nonchalance when he showed him the picture.

“If left untreated, the victim will eventually cross a mental threshold, suffering a mental breakdown and absurd mutations. Anything from tumours to wings, before finally succumbing to madness and transforming to a berserker, destroying anything it sees.”

“Correct. I see you have not abandoned your studies completely,” Mason said, earning a wry smile from Finn. With a wave of Mason’s hand, the manic noise from Lylie was muted, as if someone forcibly muted the air surrounding Lylie.

“Then, does this look like a civilian degeneration to you?” Mason said.

Finn stared at Lylie. His eyes were bloodshot and the chains now wet from the blood he spilt as he flailed around. “No, sir,” Finn answered, his neck bending down and shoulders slumped.

Mason nodded, approving of Finn’s answer.

“Correct. Which, in turn, qualifies him as a Rogue.”

Now confirmed by his captain, Finn clenched his fists and closed his eyes, well aware of how most rogues were treated. Bringing Lylie here was a gamble, a gamble that he hoped wouldn’t end like this.

But alas, what’s done has been done—until his captain spoke.

“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement.”

Finn opened his eyes and stared at his captain, still sitting down without a trace of emotion.

What did he mean by that? During his time serving under him, Finn saw how ruthless and decisive his captain acted against rogues and other threats. Almost every time, Mason would subdue suspected individuals and execute all which failed to prove their innocence.

So, what was he implying?

“Think about it,” Mason said. “We call them rogues, yet true rogues are those who affiliate themselves with criminal gatherings. Every single one of our kind has launched an extensive search against said organizations, and we have uprooted perhaps only one or two of them in the last couple of centuries. Do you know the reason behind such a disappointing result?”

Finn thought for a second.

“Because they were too slippery to catch?”

“Too slippery, too discreet, too cryptic,” Mason nodded. “Often times the tails we pursue would end at a roadblock. Even if we did gain something, its benefits compared to our sacrifices are lacking. This is due to most of them integrating members into their ranks in an efficient and seamless manner.”

Mason sighed and stared at the laughing man.

“With that in mind, the prospect of your friend stumbling to our world by chance…is not zero.”