"Tell me—how did Mr. Walter Wycliffe come into contact with such a heavily corrupted artifact?"
Cirino's mind raced. The question was simple enough, yet with the Choir, simple never meant safe. One wrong word could be twisted into a noose. The Choir's reputation preceded it—swift, absolute, and merciless. He knew most of the horror stories were exaggerations… probably. But paranoia was a soldier's friend, and it whispered loudly now.
His gaze flicked to Agnes. He couldn't lie with her around—that much was obvious. But how exactly did her power work? Judging from the way her violet eyes followed every twitch of his face, every change in his breath, she wasn't sensing some mystical truth… more like reading him.
A hypothesis formed: she could only detect lies someone knew they were telling. Meaning, as long as he stayed within the bounds of technical truth, he might just slip by.
Time to test that theory.
"I sold it to him," Cirino said evenly.
Technically false—the sale hadn't been finalized yet. The artifact was still pending inspection for Malethic traces. But it was close enough.
He turned to watch Agnes' reaction. She squinted, leaned forward… then sprang upright, pointing an accusing finger.
"Lie! We caught you red-handed, criminal!"
Cirino sighed through his nose.
So much for that theory.
Hypothesis disproven, but now it lead to more questions. Did this truly mean that Agnes' senses told her whether something was actually true or not? If he spouted random countries and asked her if a demon was hiding there, would she be able to tell if he was lying or not when he had no access to such information?
I'll shelve these thoughts, I need to focus on not losing my head.
Alyssa nodded slightly toward the young Scion-in-training, then crossed her arms, fixing Cirino with a look that spoke volumes. Rollo, as ever, just typed away, the clatter of keys filling the space between heartbeats.
"Alright," Cirino relented, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "It wasn't sold yet. It was still in the process of being checked for Malethic corruption before any sale was made. That clearly failed."
"Truth! Better not lie next time!" Agnes declared proudly, giving Cirino a sharp nod.
"I see," Alyssa began, but Rollo lifted his head from the typewriter.
"Wait," he interrupted. "You said you tried to get it checked for Malethic corruption outside the Choir? With who?"
"Walter Wycliffe," Cirino replied. "He was studying Chthonis Studies."
"Truth!" Agnes called again, punctuating her judgment with a bright grin and a thumbs-up. "Keep it up, criminal—you're doing well!"
Thanks, little girl,
Cirino thought dryly, jaw tightening. It still stung a little that a child barely out of schooling was apparently closer to becoming divine than he'd ever be.
Rollo sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I knew that sham of a discipline was a terrible idea. What were the Khayons thinking, implementing it?"
"They thought it would be prudent," Alyssa said, thoughtful. Her hand rested against her chin. "If more people understood the demon realms, perhaps fewer would fall victim to them. But it's a dangerous game—they're playing with fire."
"It already has," Cirino muttered, his voice low.
He glanced toward Agnes, half-expecting her to shout Lie! again—but she stayed quiet. Her expression was blank, uncertain.
Huh.
So she couldn't tell when something was inconclusive. Not a clear truth or falsehood, but somewhere in between.
That was good to know.
Alyssa decided to move things along. Her usual amused air gave way to a colder, more commanding tone as she straightened her posture and crossed her arms.
"You said you attempted to sell it to Wycliffe and Sons, but had it tested first. Did that mean you were aware of the possibility of corruption when you handed it to Mr. Wycliffe?"
Shit.
That question could land him with a fine—or worse, jail time. And he was broke. The thirty Aureals he'd hoped to make had gone up in smoke, leaving him with a single crownmark and three suns to his name. If he even got to keep those.
Cirino's gaze flicked to Agnes, then back to Alyssa.
"Fifty-fifty. I wasn't sure."
Agnes nodded sharply, turning toward Alyssa with a proud little grin. "Truth! You're on a roll, criminal!"
Rollo typed something briskly into his typewriter. Alyssa exhaled, letting one hand drop to her side.
"So you suspected it, then?"
"I was aware of the possibility, yes," Cirino admitted. "But I'd just arrived in the city. I didn't think it was worth running straight to the Inquisition over a hunch. Up until I handed it over, it showed no signs of corruption."
Agnes leaned in, her violet eyes narrowing as if trying to peel apart his words. Then, satisfied, she leaned back and declared, "Truth! You've done well, bystander!"
Upgraded from criminal to bystander. Nice,
Cirino thought dryly.
"You've had it with you? For how long?" Alyssa asked, her brow raised.
Huh—
For this one, he wasn't actually sure. He didn't know when that Phantom Man left him the emerald. Just that it appeared on the desk back on the train when he awoke. He had taken it and fell back to sleep for who-knows-how-long. His memory was a little fuzzy, and he was never really good with it.
But it couldn't have been more than a day or two.
"Probably one or two days." Cirino said.
"Truth!"
Alyssa blinked, then turned to Rollo. The latter looked to him, his mouth agape.
"W-Where did you keep the gem?" Rollo asked. Cirino raised his brow.
"Uh, in my pockets—why?"
"Truth!"
"No special container? No anti-entropy fields? Nothing?" Alyssa chimed in.
"No." Cirino said cautiously.
"Truth!"
Cirino wasn't sure what they were all worried about. To explain, Alyssa took one of the files and passed it over to Cirino. He looked at it, a quick report of the Gem the Choir conducted during the investigation.
"You're not an Inquisitor, but tell me what's wrong with the paper?"
Cirino raised a brow, then moved to check. Everything seemed to check-out, and they even managed to give it a designation. Tier-Five Chthonis Emerald, how lovel—
Tier-Five?
He just noticed. His mind blanked, and he read it again.
"Why... is the gem Tier-Five?" Cirino asked.
This was taught to him in basic military briefings. When facing forces from Chthonis, it's customary to have a tier for each threat. Tier-Ones are individual spawns or small bands of minor demons or cultists. With each tier, the level of Malethis Energy and threat increases.
Tier-Five was apocalyptic, just below Tier-Six and Seven—to which you'd need Shardbearers to even hope to deal with it. From what he's heard, the same system is applied for Malethis Influenced Items or Artifact.
"When our agents examined the gem, they discovered it contained enough Malethis Energy to corrupt the entire city," Rollo said flatly. "You've quite literally been walking around with a doomsday weapon in your pocket."
"Wait—what?" Cirino's voice cracked. Panic clawed up his throat. A doomsday weapon? He shot to his feet, patting himself down in a frenzy. Was there an extra limb somewhere? An eye? Horns? Were his thoughts still his thoughts?
"Calm down, Mr. Cirino," Alyssa said, raising a hand. "We've already examined you. And—by some miracle—you aren't corrupted. Granted, the gem's corruption is ingrained deeply in its own form. It won't corrupt anything it doesn't touch. But the fact that you had it on your person for this long is concerning."
Cirino blinked at her, dumbfounded. "How?"
"That," Rollo said, leaning forward and adjusting his spectacles, "is what we were hoping you could tell us."
That could be an issue. Cirino settled back down, his gaze flicking between the two inquisitors. From the look on his face, they could tell he genuinely had no idea. Alyssa and Rollo exchanged a brief glance before she leaned forward slightly.
"Mr. Cirino," Alyssa began, her tone shifting to something more formal. "These next questions are to determine if you're corrupted."
Cirino frowned. "You said I was already tested."
"I did," she replied evenly. "But in case the readings were inaccurate—we'd rather be thorough. I'm sure you understand we can't risk letting you corrupt the entire city."
Rollo adjusted his spectacles, flipping open a folder and passing it to her. Alyssa accepted it, scanning through the pages before uncapping a pen and jotting something down in neat cursive.
"Now then," she said. "Let's start with the primary candidates. Beginning with the Fifth."
The Fifth?
Alyssa looked up from the page, expression perfectly neutral. "Answer this seriously: do you have any disturbing desire to engage in illicit activities with anyone in this room?"
…
What?
Cirino stared at her, blinking once. Then twice. Surely he'd misheard that.
He must have looked idiotic, because Alyssa sighed and clarified, perfectly deadpan, "Yes, Mr. Cirino. We meant sex."
Cirino's mind flatlined. He turned sharply to Agnes—the child in the room—then back to Alyssa, flustered. "Wha—there's a kid here! Are you serious right now?"
Agnes, completely unbothered, crossed her arms. "Answer the question, criminal. The truth will set you free!"
"No! No, I don't!" Cirino blurted out, face burning red as he slapped a hand over it.
Agnes squinted, then looked toward Alyssa with her usual confidence.
"Truth!" she declared.
Alyssa jotted something down, murmuring under her breath with an almost petulant sigh.
"Really… not even me?"
I can hear you, Lady.
She cleared her throat and flipped to the next page. "Not the Fifth, then. Let's try the Fourth."
Cirino braced himself.
"Mr. Cirino," Alyssa began in a voice of utmost seriousness, "do you feel the compulsion to kidnap Agnes and force her into a rigorous study program that would turn her into a mindless doll?"
What. Are. These. Questions.
He just stared. What did that even mean? He could barely pass a written exam without breaking into a cold sweat—why would he ever force a kid into something like that?
"No," he said flatly. "I wouldn't even be able to pass the entrance exam to Dunsleight National myself, and you expect me to make a study program?"
Agnes nodded solemnly. "Truth! On both accounts!"
Cirino exhaled through his nose, muttering under his breath. "So this is what compelled Sister Marietta to hit me as a child…"
Alyssa lightly chuckled, then offered a look of condolences. Somehow, that made Cirino feel worse. He decided to ignore it.
She scribbled a few more notes on her folder before glancing back up at him.
"Let's try the third," she said. "Do you have a compulsive desire to engage in violence with any of the members present here?"
Cirino looked between them. Does wanting to hit a child count?
"No."
"Liar!" Agnes immediately cried. "The foul criminal has plans to commit assault!"
I guess it does.
"Maybe if someone wasn't so quick to comment on my inability…" Cirino muttered under his breath.
Alyssa caught the remark, suppressing a smile as she jotted another note onto her folder. So far, everything's been inconclusive.
Nothing in the results pointed to corruption—at least, not from the three most prominent forces usually responsible for it. And with a power this potent yet so strangely contained, Alyssa confidently crossed out the Second as well.
If it was the Second, the containment would've been impossible. The Second was infamous for unleashing his terrifying will on mere whims.
Gods help you if you ever had to deal with him.
The other three could, in theory, be managed. The Second could not.
As for the First... no one even knew what the First truly was.
"So far, everything's been in order," Alyssa finally said, her voice steady but faintly edged with curiosity. They had taken everything they needed from this man—or so it seemed. But too many questions still hung in the air.
She leaned forward, eyes locking on Cirino.
"Where did you get the gem, Mr. Cirino?"
Cirino blinked. Would it even be wise to be honest? His thoughts drifted back to the train—to the conversation with that phantom man. He should've been more cautious, more paranoid.
Being away from the battlefield really made me soft, he thought grimly.
"On the train," Cirino finally said, voice even. "While I was on the way here."
There was no point hiding it now. He replayed the scene in his mind, over and over. He hadn't done anything wrong. He had no reason to fear—
Yet he did.
Idiot, he thought bitterly. You were too trusting.
"I got into contact with a stranger," he continued. "White hair, green eyes."
Rollo and Alyssa exchanged a glance. Alyssa's tone sharpened as she asked, "A Salvaeri?"
Cirino raised an eyebrow.
"A winter elf," Rollo clarified. "That's their official term."
Really? I thought they were called the Eylid Fae... His mind flickered back to Sio. Wait—does that mean he's a winter elf too?
"No," Cirino said, shaking his head. "He wasn't an elf. His ears were round, and he didn't give off that psychic presence people always describe. As far as I could tell, he was just a regular human."
"I see," Rollo murmured, fingers clacking against the typewriter keys.
Agnes leaned forward, studying Cirino's face with almost childlike focus. He'd said the stranger was human—but even he wasn't sure of that anymore. No ordinary man would carry a gem like that and still be human. Would she catch the doubt in his mind? Call him a liar for no longer believing his own words?
Instead, Agnes nodded, satisfied. "Truth! Keep it up, bystander!"
Thanks, Ms. Jury, Cirino thought dryly.
Alyssa hummed softly, clutching her chin. "Did you get all that?" she asked without looking away from him.
"I did," Rollo replied, already tearing the sheet from his typewriter. "I'll send it to the archives—see if that description matches anyone in our records."
Alyssa nodded once. "That should be everything, Mr. Cirino."
An inward sigh of relief escaped him. So that meant he was free to go. No gun to the back of the head, no sudden disappearance in some Choir basement. Maybe the rumors were exaggerated after all.
"Alright, I guess I can take my leave—"
Cirino stood, ready to move.
"Not quite," Rollo interjected.
Cirino froze just as he was about to step forward.
"Have you perhaps forgotten," Rollo continued, tone now clinical, colder, "that you attempted to sell a suspected corrupted artifact without reporting it to the proper authorities? Under the Imperial Act of the High-Crown, clause 8-021, that constitutes a criminal offense."
The bespectacled man adjusted his glasses and looked up. "A grievous one, given the harm corrupted artifacts can cause."
Shit...
"Please, sit down, Mr. Cirino," Alyssa said evenly. "Stay put while we hand the transcript to the archives."
She turned to Agnes. "Agnes, dear, keep an eye on him while we're gone."
Agnes snapped to attention. "You can count on me, Lady Baudouin!"
I'm being watched by a twelve-year-old?
If that wasn't humiliating, Cirino didn't know what was. He glanced at his new jailor, her violet eyes gleaming with the radiance of—what was that—wanton justice? He wasn't even sure how to process the phrase, but somehow it fit her perfectly.
Rollo gathered the papers and rose, giving Alyssa a curt nod. "Come on, then."
Without another word, the two inquisitors stepped out, leaving Cirino and Agnes alone in the cold room.
"Not a word, criminal!" Agnes barked the moment the door shut. "You're under my watchful eye! Justice will prevail against you, evildoer!"
Cirino sighed and stared at the ceiling. At that moment, he decided he'd rather be shot in the back of the head.
[...]
"So," Alyssa began, her golden eyes shifting to her companion. "What do you think about our little soldier?"
Rollo adjusted his spectacles, thumbing through the transcripts as they walked. The corridor stretched long and cold, a weave of stone, iron, and dark timber. Around them, members of the Choir murmured in passing—quiet conversation, boots against tile, the occasional flutter of parchment.
"I think we should've just disposed of him," Rollo said plainly. "He's an anomaly. Keeping him alive is a risk we don't understand."
Alyssa gave a faint nod but exhaled through her nose, her tone softening. "Perhaps. But he's shown no sign of corruption. If he were suffering from Malethis degradation, it would've manifested by now."
Malethis—the extra-dimensional energy of Chthonis. Entropy given form. It seeped into realspace through breaches and relics, twisting all it touched. Minds broke, bodies warped, souls rotted—every part of a person becoming a grotesque echo of their flaws.
That Cirino had carried a Tier-Five corruption source in his pocket without suffering even the faintest trace of Entropy or Degradation was, by every known standard, impossible.
"That concerns me more than the alternative," Rollo muttered. "At least if he showed symptoms, we'd know what we're dealing with. But right now?"
He closed the folder and glanced at her. "Right now he's a walking contradiction. And our job, Alyssa, is to purge contradictions."
Alyssa's pace slowed, her boots clicking softly against the stone. She turned her gaze down the hall, thoughtful.
"And yet," she said, "if we purged every contradiction we found, there wouldn't be anyone left in this building, Rollo. You, me—half the Choir—we've all come into contact with Malethis one way or another. Some of us just live to tell the tale."
Rollo frowned. "You're suggesting he's immune?"
"I'm suggesting he's different," she replied. "And that difference might be worth understanding before we throw it into the fire. He needs to be studied, not destroyed."
The recorder shook his head, the faintest trace of disdain curling at his lips. "That's not our mandate."
"Mandates change," Alyssa said simply. "If Cirino truly can resist corruption, he might be the key to shielding others from it. Imagine a world where proximity to Chthonis doesn't spell immediate decay. That's worth a little patience, don't you think?"
Rollo hesitated, his fingers tightening on the folder. "…And if he turns?"
"Then you can have the satisfaction of saying you told me so," Alyssa replied with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes. "Until then, we keep him under watch. Quietly. No records in the central ledger."
"That's against protocol."
"So is letting a potential Eidarch slip through our fingers."
Rollo's expression hardened at that word, but Alyssa was already walking again, her voice echoing down the corridor.
"Have the scion-in-training keep tabs on him. If he shows anything out of the ordinary, I want to be the first to know."
Rollo followed, muttering under his breath. "You're going to get us both executed one day."
"Perhaps," Alyssa said lightly, the faintest smile returning to her lips. "But at least we'll die enlightened."
Rollo snorted. Between he and Alyssa, he wasn't exactly eager to get himself killed. With a shake of his head, he turned to the hall and continued.
For the most part, Agnes wasn't even a part of the Choir. They had just requested a Justiciar Scion Candidate, and the city decided to send them a 12-year-old child.
Are they even trying to hide their contempt? Rollo mused to himself.
Looks like Agnes would be staying here for a little while longer. He supposed he could grant her an honorary title as junior Choir agent. Of course, that title doesn't exactly exist.
But first time for everything, I suppose.