When Rogue frowned, Chronos spread his hands, emphasizing his empty hands.
“’If you misbehave, a witch will come get you.’ I’m sure you’ve heard that saying,” Chronos said.
For a moment, Rogue locked up.
He had no clue why he’d bring that up, here. Besides, it was—
“Just a tall tale,” Rogue said dismissively.
Something parents said to make their children behave. Unrelated to real witches, a lie only little kids believed.
Chronos nodded.
“Yes, a tall tale indeed. But what if there was a way to make it something else?”
“……What do you mean?”
“Think about it. It’s only a tall tale because the threat of witches has been forgotten. It’s in the distant past and no longer feels real. But if witches existed here and now, no one could laugh it off.”
He sounded very sure of himself. Confident of the outcome. Rogue himself could not refute it. After all, he already knew what witches were like.
“Evil will never go away,” Chronos said. “But, Detective, we can control the volume. Create a precedent, a single all-powerful being who will come to punish those who do wrong. Passing judgment on the world. The fear of that will be a significant deterrent.”
“……And that’s your goal here?”
“Indeed. That is why I’ve been killing people. Re-creating the age of witches. Making the world a better place.”
I should never have bothered listening, Rogue thought. The man’s argument was insane. Not one part of it was acceptable.
But he pondered whether it had some truth to it.
If the witches in the Sixth Precinct had no collars and full use of their powers, would Chronos’s argument hold water?
“……”
He soon dismissed that idea. This was a deal-breaker. How many innocent people would have to die before that equation balanced out?
When Rogue said nothing, Chronos smiled.
“I’m confident my plan will work. And I’d like you to join me, Detective Rogue.”
Like passion had gotten the best of him, Chronos touched his left arm without even realizing it. An odd gesture. Careful, like he was handling something dangerous, even though it was his own arm.
______Secret spells monopolized by the Two Great Noble Houses. Velladonna had said they were activated by melding with the caster’s skin.
“Witches have melded with their magic. Accomplish that, and the necessary condition is achieved. Yes, my melding is yet incomplete. Only my skin has melded. But in time, I will become a true witch. And bring back the ages of witches. You may share in my feat…”
At this point, he crooked his head.
Catherine had slipped in through the back door and stood behind him.
“Don’t move,” she said.
She must have heard his speech. She seemed to be trying very hard to control herself.
“The same witch as before? I’m pleased you survived. I’d prefer to keep all the witches alive.”
“……We have nothing to discuss,” Catherine said.
Chronos held out his hands.
“Would you be willing to help me? With a witch on my side, we could improve the world in no time. Well, Saint? Are you inclined to bring salvation again?”
Catherine looked appalled. Rogue was too furious to speak. He batted aside the outstretched hand, took out his cuffs, and fixed the man with his most contemptuous glare.
“You’re under arrest.”
“You can join me any time,” Chronos said, even as Rogue grabbed his wrist. “I’m a patient man.”
“……You quit talking,” he spat, slapping the cuffs on. “It’s just making me wanna punch you.”
“______Uh-huh, good-bye.”
Rogue wrapped up his call to Velladonna. All the witches’ eyes were on him.
He spoke up, loud enough to reach each corner of the briefing room.
“The Lifetaker will be turned over to a member of the Two Great Noble Houses tomorrow. Unclear whether he’ll face a proper trial, but either way, the case is solved. Thank you for your help.”
Everyone started shouting at once.
“You should be grateful!”
“Pay us!”
“Lap pillow!”
It was raucous.
“Fine, fine, I’ll do what I can, so settle down,” Rogue said. “Can we even manage a quiet finish?”
“Detective…are you really leaving?” Catherine asked. Like a puppy watching her owner head to work.
Rogue hesitated for a moment.
“______Yeah, that was the plan all along,” he insisted.
“But…but you can solve cases right here! Why go somewhere else…?”
“‘One should not overreach.’”
“Huh? Where’d that come from?” Catherine tilted her head curiously.
“It’s a saying we detectives have. If you’ve got goals in life, then quit the force before it kills you. Every rookie gets taught as much. This job carries no guarantee of survival.”
“Then…” Catherine trailed off, possibly seeing where he was going with this.
“The chief’s got a desk for me in management. I won’t be completely avoiding the scene, but it’s a lot safer than going toe-to-toe with the bad guys. Basically, I’ve had my share of close calls.”
Catherine hung her head. Rogue scratched his.
“Yeah, can’t blame ya,” Humafu said, nodding off even as she spoke. “You’re only human. You ain’t like us. Best to get out before you croak.”
“A sound argument,” Miseria said, looking right at Rogue. “If you don’t run when you’ve got the chance, the door might slam shut. Once you turn in Chronos tomorrow, forget this place even existed. I’d suggest you shift your mind to bigger problems, like where you’ll have lunch next.”
“……Yeah,” Rogue said, poker-faced.
Miseria was speaking normally, but remembering how she’d patted his head in the car made him want to scream. He couldn’t believe that wasn’t affecting her at all. Did she have nerves of steel?
“Ladies,” Miseria said, raising both hands. “Let us applaud the fortunate newbie who survived his term at the Sixth Precinct. Put your hands together!”
The witches clapped.
Humafu was yawning through hers, Catherine was sniffing even as she clapped, Angene was grinning—even Rico was quietly applauding in the corner.
Feeling uncomfortable, Rogue turned away.
Behind him, he heard Miseria say, “Aw, he’s blushing! Whoop it up!”
That damn fool.
Then Rico brought in an oversize pizza. She set it on the table and sliced it up. There were bottles of wine, too.
Celebrating a successful case didn’t feel like the witches’ idea.
His head still spinning, he felt someone putting a glass in his hand and pushing him into the crowd of witches. Miseria filled his glass, and everyone gave it an expectant look.
“Ch-cheers……”
He had to say it.
When the party ended, Rogue was looking positively unkempt. He went and washed his face, trying to reorient his thoughts. The time for fun was over.
Rogue still had things to do.
He headed for Chronos’s cell to ask him a few questions.
It wasn’t that long a walk. Chronos was sitting on the bed, leaning forward, eyes shut.
“Hey.”
Chronos opened one eye.
“You? What do you want?”
“You had leverage on Zack Knoll. What?”
“Oh, him. I merely said that if he didn’t help set the gates, I’d tell his family and friends about the massacre.” Chronos shrugged. “I’d read the records on the Cleansing War. He killed everyone in a place called Mizica Village. Unrelated to any strategies. No need to attack the place at all, but one thing led to another…”
Chronos opened his other eye.
“I felt bad about it, but I made use of it. He had a lot of regrets, so I merely had to hint. He’s a pitiable man.”
He spoke sympathetically, but Rogue couldn’t tell if he meant it. Best to wrap this up quickly. He got to the point.
“You must have had other help. Zack Knoll alone could not have set that many sigils.”
“I figured it was best not to rope in too many. He was the only one.”
“Don’t bullshit me. It’ll all come to light soon enough.”
“I can’t help it if you choose not to believe me. I’m resigned to that.”
“……You seem unfazed. You think the Drakenias will get you off the hook?”
Rogue clenched his fist tight, out of Chronos’ sight. He didn’t like this, any of this.
“Who knows? Perhaps they will, perhaps not.”
Chronos brushed back his hair, looking Rogue in the eye.
Son of a bitch.
He looked just like the witches. Above it all—like he thought nothing of humanity.
A chill went down Rogue’s spine.
Chronos Drakenia was in prison, but he had not given up.
He’s still scheming?
“Nice of you to offer concern, but what about yourself?” Chronos asked.
“Me?”
Chronos frowned, worried.
“I heard about it when I was still part of their ranks. Supposedly, every detective assigned to this precinct winds up dead.”
Rogue looked surprised, then snorted.
“I thought as much, but it turned out to be horseshit.”
Chronos shook his head.
“I don’t mean they’re killed while working the case. That would mean the witches get less time outside. They’re killed once the case is wrapped.”
That made Rogue’s heart skip a beat.
What did that mean?
“Last night, a witch named Miseria came to see me. What do you think she said? That the detective would be shot in the head the moment he left the precinct. I’d look out if I were you.”
“N-no, she w-wouldn’t…”
His mouth felt dry.
Would she kill him?
He pictured her face. Always cackling away. Sarcasm and spite, with a touch of tenderness, all mixed together. Just the previous day, she’d been patting his head—
“It’s a sad story, but they are witches. They kill like they breathe,” Chronos said.
______No, they don’t.
Something didn’t add up.
But what?
“______The collars.”
The missing piece snapped into place.
The witches wore collars. How had he forgotten? As long as they wore those, they couldn’t kill anyone. Doing so would mean their own deaths, so why would Miseria kill Rogue?
“You’re ly—”
But even as he started to yell, Rogue’s knees buckled. All strength left his body, and the world became blurry.
What the—?
It was like he was drifting off. If he closed his eyes, he really would fall asleep.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” Chronos said cheerily.
Someone was approaching.
Summoning all his strength, Rogue turned his head.
A figure was looking down at him. Backlit, so he could not make them out.
Then they took another step forward, and it was like she’d pulled off the veil.
“I am sorry.”
It was Catherine.