Under Thea's subtle prompting, Shado's identification of the suspect went smoothly. Diana wrapped the Lasso of Truth around the man's calf without drawing any attention, and once caught in its power, he spilled everything—his motives, his resentment, his entire emotional journey—as if someone had opened a valve inside him.
"Brand demanded half of our circus's revenue! He was far too greedy!"
"He signed with two other circuses at the same time, forcing all three into a bidding war just to fill his own pockets!"
"He seduced a councilman's daughter and then made me apologize to the councilman on his behalf! He dragged the entire circus's reputation through the mud!"
The balding, lanky man was the circus manager. Under the Lasso, he confessed loudly and clearly. He wasn't a bad person—everything he did had been for the circus. He had no selfish motive. It was Boston Brand's bottomless greed that had driven him to murder.
Watching the man speak with such fervor—like he had completed some sacred mission—Thea couldn't help feeling speechless.
Murderers are good people, victims are bad people… why does this feel so familiar?
"Take him away," Detective Lance ordered after reviewing the evidence. Even he felt a trace of sympathy, but duty was duty, and the murderer was escorted off the scene.
After the police came and went, the once bustling circus grounds fell into complete silence. Only the two invisible women remained.
"Come out. After hearing your former boss's hatred for you, how do you feel?" Thea asked, looking toward a supposedly empty row of seats.
"I… don't know. I didn't realize I was so disliked."
Wearing his signature red bodysuit, Boston Brand had recovered from the nightmare of fear Thea had inflicted earlier. He tried to sit out of habit, burying his face in his hands—but he no longer had tears to shed.
Diana, at her core, had always possessed a scholar's curiosity. Whether it was her early fascination with men or the calf she once watched, anything new piqued her interest. Even after a hundred years, that nature remained. Seeing Boston's strange spirit form made her bright blue eyes sparkle with curiosity.
"This form is truly fascinating… May I test the Lasso on him?" she asked quietly.
Thea gave her a sideways look. "Do you think this is some carnival tossing game? …But fine. Go ahead. I'm curious too. I want to know whether that so-called death goddess had anything to do with this. Earlier, when he didn't manifest, even I couldn't sense him. It was only through that sliver of fear that I found him. Whatever technique he used—it wasn't invisibility. It felt like he slipped into some dimensional fold."
Diana had hesitated earlier, thinking Thea might know the man. Now that she had permission, she happily pulled out the Lasso. With the same enthusiasm as someone tossing a rope ring, she whipped it around Boston Brand and caught him firmly.
"All right. Speak. What exactly are you, and how did you end up like this?"
Though Diana still wore stylish clothing, her presence radiated the commanding force of a Valkyrie reborn. Despite being dead, Boston Brand was utterly terrified.
The fear Thea had unleashed earlier had nearly killed him a second time. After wandering aimlessly without knowing where to go, he eventually drifted back to the circus and witnessed the aftermath of his own death. Conflicted and confused, he was just about to ask Thea— the only person who could see him—what he had become when—
A glowing rope suddenly wrapped around him.
What is going on?!
Outside, no one could touch him, and he couldn't touch anything. But this rope was binding him.
And the horror escalated. As Diana questioned him, his mouth moved uncontrollably, spilling every thought he had. No matter how hard he tried to bite back his words, his body betrayed him, revealing even the secrets he'd never planned to say aloud.
"This guy's a bit of a jerk, but he isn't evil… just delusional," Diana whispered after a few more questions, retracting the Lasso.
"That's what I suspected." Thea nodded. The interrogation matched her earlier deduction. Boston rambled endlessly about sharing life with countless beings, meeting some death goddess, a fallen angel discussing existential philosophy with him…
Thea almost sprayed him right then.
A fallen angel? A being of that level discussing the meaning of existence with a circus acrobat??
Barely twenty minutes had passed since he died. There was no goddess. No cosmic messenger. Everything he saw had been a hallucination born from extreme mental strain and fear.
And the only being he had truly encountered since regaining awareness…
was Thea herself.
Did I create him because I knew all the details of his fate? Or did he only become what he is because I intervened?
The messy chain of cause and effect made her head ache.
"Forget it. Go do whatever you need to do," she waved. "There's nothing more on our end."
She and Diana were essentially on a romantic holiday—she didn't want this ghost lingering around.
But her casual dismissal nearly broke Boston's spirit.
Go? Go where?! I don't have a body—I can't do anything!
If he were alive, he would've yelled at her. But now, stuck between life and death, and with Thea's fear still carved into his soul, he didn't dare.
Thea seemed to realize she'd been too blunt. And this guy's abilities might actually be useful someday.
"All right. Your condition is irreversible. You'll need time to think about your future. If you decide what you want, come find me."
She took out a business card with her email and number and held it out.
"…I can't touch anything," Boston said miserably.
He didn't understand what he was capable of—or rather, he didn't know how to use his abilities yet.
Just then, an elderly man walked past the circus entrance. Thea pointed at him.
"Adjust your soul frequency to match his. See if you can enter his body."
Boston Brand was, in truth, quite clever. In spirit form, his mental manipulation felt almost instinctive. He drifted toward the old man, gathered his focus, and slipped into him effortlessly.
"Huh?"
Controlling the old man's body, he stared down at his hands. A thought occurred, and he turned to Thea.
"So… does that mean I can… live again?"
"I'm afraid not," Thea said gently. "His soul is actively rejecting you. The only reason you took over so easily is because his mental strength is weak, while yours has skyrocketed after death. If you stay inside too long, his aging body will shape your state permanently. You'd spend the rest of your existence trapped in that frail form."
Using her accumulated knowledge, Thea explained it clearly.
Boston clenched the old man's fists, then shot out of the body. The old man, unaware of anything, thought he had simply zoned out for a moment. He checked himself, found nothing wrong, and continued on his way.
Boston Brand's expression twisted in anguish.
"For the sins I committed, this is my punishment. I'm already dead. I won't steal another person's chance to live."
He paused—voice trembling with resolve.
"I… want to be a good person."