As the door that was about to be opened clanked shut in front of them, the sound of metal on stone lingered briefly in the still air.

Silas’s hands, marked with dried blood, disappeared into the folds of his sleeves as the silence between them grew thick. He tilted his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Oh? I certainly did not mean to startle the honorable Town Lord," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of playful mockery. "It’s a rather simple matter, after all."

Poliana walked ahead, her back straight, but her fingers betrayed her tension as they twitched briefly. She kept her gaze forward, her tone strained yet controlled. "Of course, Senior Ji. Ask away! Ask away!" Her words came quickly, almost rushed, as if eager to steer the conversation. "My nerves... they aren’t what they used to be. Between the trouble in Rhysling and Heretics seeping into our country..." She paused briefly, fingers curling tight. "Whenever there is Heresy involved, usually one of them is not far behind… it stirs concerns that someone else from the Blacklist might appear. Perhaps not at that level you faced, but still, unsettling."

Silas stroked his chin thoughtfully, his smile deepening. "If someone from that cursed list were to show up," he mused, voice smooth, "I would promise on my life to annihilate such a creature."

Poliana’s thoughts churned behind her calm exterior. ''And ruin everything it took a decade to build'', she thought bitterly. Outwardly, she kept her expression measured, though her shoulders tightened imperceptibly.

Silas’s hands slid out of his sleeves, the bloodstained fabric brushing against his sides. His smile grew a touch more curious. "Before I share my thoughts, though," he began, eyes glinting with interest, "there’s a small question that lingers in my mind. Truthfully now… Why choose such an aged appearance? An Elementalist—especially a Cryomancer—can easily preserve their youth."

Poliana’s eye twitched at the question, her lips pressed into a thin line. "True enough. But my younger self was reckless. Far too drawn to dangerous pursuits." Her voice hardened as she continued, "An unfortunate encounter with a Witch left me in this state... and without my elder brother."

Silas’s smile faded, his tone shifting to something darker. "How inconsiderate of me." His gaze searched her face, unrelenting. "Yet, I wonder—how did you survive when he did not? And your inability to reverse the effects... a jinx, perhaps?"

Poliana let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. "A Witch demanded my brother’s blood for her rituals. He, in his charming way, showed her how to shove a cattle brand where it doesn’t belong. She didn’t appreciate the humor."

Her voice took on a cold edge. "Before anyone could react, she tore half his throat out with a swipe and disappeared into mist. I tried to save him, but when I touched his neck, my own Energy turned on me. The damage..." She shook her head, pausing briefly. "It was a passing cultivator from our glorious Elrean, in Akribanipal, who saved me. But the damage was permanent. I saw no reason to waste resources masking the effects."

Silas’s gaze narrowed as he absorbed the details. "Akribanipal," he repeated. "A port city in Rodam. Not a place one passes through lightly. The only reason to go there is to cross the Grand Shifting Sea. Quite bold, if that was your intention." His voice softened slightly. "It’s unfortunate what happened to you and your brother. Witches... they hold grudges. Long ones. Deny them once, and they rarely forget."

Poliana’s features softened just a touch, her voice more casual now. "That was three centuries ago. If anything, it ended my wandering days. Brought me here, to the Empire. Since then, I’ve built a life. A good one, despite the occasional nightmare."

She straightened her shoulders, regaining some measure of control as she turned the conversation. "What have you noticed about my town, Senior Ji?"

Silas allowed the question to settle for a moment before speaking, his smile lingering, but his voice more pointed. "It’s... perfectly average," he replied, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone. "So average, in fact, that one could walk through it and not notice a single thing out of place. Which, as I’m sure you know, is unnatural in itself. Wouldn’t you agree?"

Poliana’s fingers tensed again, but her expression remained neutral. "I take pride in maintaining order here," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "A peaceful town is what any ruler would want."

Silas’s smile thinned, his eyes watching her with a quiet intensity. "Indeed. But you’ve been a little too eager to accommodate me, haven’t you?" His words were soft, but they cut through the air like a blade. "Too eager to ingratiate yourself, to keep me from looking too closely. It makes me wonder if you hoped I wouldn’t notice certain..."

Poliana blinked, the faintest flicker of something crossing her face before she spoke again, her tone steady. "I’m simply being a good host."

"Of course," Silas said, nodding. His gaze drifted lazily around the corridor they came from, before locking back onto her. "And then there’s that statue. I am still horribly curious about that play called ''The Rotten'', but the weeping man in the town square. It's simply… too obvious of a showing."

Poliana’s breath hitched, just for a second. But her voice didn’t falter. "I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary in that regard."

Silas chuckled softly, his expression unreadable. "No, I’m sure you don’t. Let us continue."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

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Poliana stormed into her office, slamming the door behind her with such force the walls seemed to shake. She paced back and forth, her movements sharp, fueled by anger that simmered just below the surface. Thomas, her clerk, stood by the desk, silent but watchful, knowing better than to interrupt when she was like this.

"He noticed," Poliana spat, her voice tight with barely suppressed fury. "That hidden snake of a man, Senior Ji, noticed the 'freebie' I gave him and didn't bite into it." Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, shaking. "He practically spat at my face that the statue story was too simple and too easily revealed! That humiliation wasn’t enough for him, was it?" Her eyes flashed as she glared at Thomas. "He pointed out that I was nudging him, trying to manipulate his actions, and then—" she paused, her voice growing more venomous, "he said I misdirected the Inquisitor. Had it turned out that man wasn’t a fake, I would have been guilty of obstructing a member of the Church from performing his duties. Do you understand the severity of that coming from a 'Special Inspector'?"

Thomas shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed somewhere near the window. ''At least the old bat can't weasel herself out from scrutiny'', he thought, though he was careful to keep his expression blank. ''That Senior Ji seems to have only focused on her behaviors, not letting her bring up anyone else during their conversation.''

He nodded, his tone neutral. "Yes, Town Lord. Quite serious indeed."

"And as if that wasn’t enough, he somehow found out about another problem," Poliana’s voice dropped into a low, frustrated growl, "the affluent citizens have almost universally dismissed their staff. His room was under constant surveillance. How the hell did he get wind of that? It took three fucking years of steady displacement to get everything running."

Her eyes burned into him, searching for a solution, but Thomas merely blinked. "It seems the situation is worse than we anticipated, Town Lord."

Poliana snorted derisively, her face flushing with anger. "Tell Rianus to have his men checked for their eyesight!" she yelled suddenly, her voice bouncing off the walls of the small office. "If that man could see through our people so easily, we’ve been slacking. I want answers from Rianus, and I want them soon."

Thomas gave her a short bow, though internally, he was biting back a smirk. ''She’s panicking now, at least for once it isn't me.'' he thought. He tried to maintain his usual tone as he replied, "Of course, I’ll see to it immediately." But before he could turn to leave, Poliana cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"My origin…," she said bitterly, rubbing her face as if trying to wash away the weight of her past, "…brother killed by a Witch." The words seemed to stick in her throat, and her face twisted with old resentment.

Thomas, barely paying attention, nodded mechanically. "Noted." His voice was flat, though internally he wondered why she even bothered sharing the story.

"Get me the 'other' orb," she snapped, her hands trembling as she pressed her fingers to her temples.

Thomas bowed his head and quickly turned on his heels, making his way downstairs from her office. The descent was brisk, though his thoughts raced. He pushed open the door to a small room below and rummaged through a locked chest, retrieving the cracked crystal ball—the [Limited Echo] she had asked for. The crystal was marred by deep fissures, its surface jagged, but it remained functional. He hurried back to her office, cradling the orb carefully in his hands as he re-entered.

Without a word, Thomas handed the orb to her and left, sensing that Poliana needed to be alone. As he closed the door behind him, Poliana sat at her desk, staring down at the cracked crystal in her hand. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, before placing her palm over the orb. The surface pulsed weakly for a moment, and then a faint glow emerged from the cracks. Slowly, the crystal came to life, connecting to another person.

The figure on the other side was obscured, their features hidden by some form of enchantment, but Poliana could hear the sound of applause, faint yet distinct, coming from their surroundings. Whoever held the other end of the orb was clearly in the midst of a crowd.

Poliana’s expression tightened. "We may have a problem coming," she said, her voice firm but laced with the frustration of the day’s events. "We need to talk."

There was a pause, and then the sound of slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the orb. It was loud enough to suggest the figure was somewhere public, but the tone carried a lazy confidence.

"My dear," came a languid, masculine voice, dripping with amusement. "You worry far too much."

Poliana’s jaw clenched, her frustration mounting. "This isn’t just another 'inconvenience'."

"Ah, the Special Inspector then?" the voice drawled, sounding utterly unconcerned. "The infamous cultivator who stood up to the big bad monster. But really, you’ve handled worse then suicidal rogue cultivators..."

The voice on the other end of the orb let out a low chuckle. "You’ve always had a knack for theatrics, Poliana. Let the man poke around. He’ll find exactly what we want him to find. That’s the beauty of it."

Her eyes darkened as she leaned forward. "And if he finds more?"

The figure was silent for a moment, the crowd’s noise still faintly audible in the background. Then the voice returned, quieter now, but no less amused. "Then I suppose we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t leave Sichal with his eyes intact, won’t we?"

As the conversation through the orb ended, the faint glow flickered once before the connection cut out entirely, leaving Poliana alone inside of her office.

She slumped back in her chair, releasing a long, exhausted sigh. "At least he’ll finally move a fucking muscle," she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with frustration. She massaged her temples, the tension of the day’s events weighing heavily on her.

A calm, unsettling voice suddenly whispered right beside her ear, "I rather like my eyes... Noble Town Lord, may you kindly tell this Ji, who was that?"

Poliana's heart leaped into her throat. Her body froze for a split second, the absurdity of the voice’s proximity, of its impossible presence, leaving her momentarily paralyzed. Quickly, she turned her head, her mind slower than her instincts.

There, practically leaning against her shoulder, was Senior Ji, his soft smile radiating something far colder than his words suggested. His eyes, however, remained as hard and unreadable as ever.

Before she could react fully, to leap away or say something—before the shock could fully register—she felt an uppercut slam into her jaw with brutal precision. The force sent her head snapping back, a burst of pain shooting through her skull. She barely had time to register the sensation of a needle driving up through her jaw, piercing through her tongue and into her palate. Her eyes widened in horror as a cold, metallic liquid sprayed down her throat from the needle’s tip.

Her limbs quickly grew heavy, the numbness spreading through her like wildfire. Her throat began to swell, and panic surged through her as her airway began to close, her breaths becoming desperate, shallow gasps.

The room spun around her, her vision blurring as she struggled to remain conscious, helpless against the cruelty that lay in wait.