The whole dinner table was frozen as I laid bare what everyone was thinking.
That Cassandra had the same type of bullets on her that might have assassinated the president.
So now, in response, she was just staring at me. Let's just say that I was impressed by her poker face. But what I saw in it nevertheless was her inability to come up with words.
But words were spoken, only in my head.
In James' sharp blue block letters, from the ability he had copied from her. And from their shape, I saw that he was angry.
'What are you doing? Saying this out in the open. Where did your common sense go?'
I scanned the table, seeing everyone's fearful expressions except for those of politically trained people like Willow, who could control theirs.
"We must discuss this eventually instead of letting suspicion fester. And since it's about 11 PM, regarding the shadow, we have no indication that it's here, and from what I figured out through my experience, it's not active, or is less active, this late. The person controlling it does have to sleep too, after all. That's my reasoning, anyway. There's no guarantee, of course, so we always need to take the appropriate countermeasures where needed, but if we always hold back, we're never getting anywhere or are severely limiting ourselves. And this discussion is one such case where we can't afford to hold back."
Now everybody started considering it, but fear still generated doubt and hesitation.
'You didn't consider that person now being aware that we have these bullets?' James's letters showed me.
'In some situations, it's better to expose things to them. If the person knows about the bullets, they will be more careful and less likely to attack us. The same goes for cassandra''s powers.'
Something in James' eyes shifted slightly. He didn't send me a response, so I thought he saw the logic in the premise.
"I agree with Jack," Willow suddenly declared.
And we all turned to look at her, slightly surprised. James most of all.
"What? It's likely not listening, and if it is, they'll know exactly what kind of leadful is to be expected if they try something. So, next to what Jack said, I think doing this now is best too. I certainly won't get my beauty sleep while constantly wondering if we have terrorist weaponry among us or not," Willow elaborated.
And now, the mood at the table changed again, with everyone more reassured about the shadow. So now, all expectation and fear were cast at Cassandra, hoping for an answer to alleviate them.
And she… tried to hide it, but I noticed her eyes subtly looking at James for help, who was himself trying not to stare too obviously at Willow. And after probably some mental exchanges between my brother and the servant, Cassandra answered carefully.
"I know what it looks like, but let's not jump to conclusions. Whoever assassinated the president might have used a whole different power, let alone that I have pistol bullets, not sniper rounds. And Sir Damian, maybe the rounds were given to him by someone visiting. No other servants who were protecting him had these rounds. And now, to find Ms Ruby, Sir Damian has let me bring these bullets along."
The table was still silent, everyone now likely forming theories and opinions of their own as I kept staring into Cassandra's eyes. Her response didn't seem coached by James, given how she delivered it. And it did sound logical, but my theory was too. So I could start poking holes in hers.
"How do you know nobody else back home had these bullets?"
"…I was in Sir Damian's security detail after the Whiteout because of my power. So since we coordinated, I knew what everyone else was capable of."
"Which was?"
'Answer like this so the shadow won't know.'
"…Nothing relevant."
'Me blinding the attacker to disable them. Ernesto could quickly draw his firearm to dispose of them. Valentino could block fast-moving objects at range to protect Sir Damian. We were the main three, next to other people with shooting experience. But except for a group of violent robbers that were quickly and harmlessly dealt with, nobody else was violent toward us.'
'Robbers?'
'Near the beginning. All mortally dealt with.'
Guess even Father wasn't immune to random trouble. It likely happened late at night after I called Jane, since she hadn't mentioned it.
…If she could still care about such things anyway…
No! Concentrate! Focus!
"Alright. Well, it makes sense. That's why my father knew to send you. Do you know what power my father has? Could he protect himself?"
Cassandra opened her mouth to respond, but then caught herself, considered it for a moment, and then responded anyway.
"I don't know what power Sir Damian has. He never told us," she said in a slightly too monotone voice.
She was good. She had incorporated her natural reaction and made it sound like a lie for the shadow despite genuinely not knowing. Of course, she didn't know that my father's power was the shadow she was sent to hunt.
And from the edge of my vision, I saw that James had caught on to something too. What exactly I couldn't read from him, but I could ask what he was thinking about all this later.. Now, I had to direct my attention to Cassandra again.
To give a logical killshot.
"So, since my father hadn't told even his closest security about his power, and, by the way, hadn't told James either when he asked him, my father likely wants to keep the power he has hidden from everyone. And it would make sense if he wanted to use his power to kill someone, like the president."
Or my mother, I thought as everyone at the table gasped audibly or internally for various reasons, like considering that my father could produce those bullets, or that I could whip out a lie like that, for those who already knew my father's power was the shadow.
Except for one person, who immediately had an answer ready.
"Damian couldn't have produced those bullets," she said without hesitation or any sign of being rattled.
"…Why are you so sure?"
"He didn't carry a gun with him."
If not for all those years of abuse, my poker face definitely would have cracked when she literally said words of gold.
Of course he wouldn't have. His shadow, which protected him, made it almost obsolete.
Exactly what James needed to consider, so I immediately sent some mental words his way after Cassandra said that.
'That doesn't sound right, Father leaving all his protection to everybody else, or am I wrong? What do you think?'
James's response came in a second.
'No, it doesn't. But I don't know why. Keep the conversation going.'
Good. Very good. And yes, keep it coming, Cassandra. Make James doubt our father even more!
"Okay. But whom did he get the bullets from, then? I assume you protected him whenever anybody visited."
"…I… don't know. Nobody who visited him gave him anything of the sort."
"You were present every time someone visited? And near my father all the time?"
"I was always present near him when someone visited, but I was not with Sir Damian all the time. So I don't know where your father got the gun from."
"And all the other servants? Do you know all their powers? Maybe someone you weren't aware of made the bullets?"
"I don't know all the servants' powers, but I'm sure nobody in the house produced those bullets."
"Why?"
"Because it isn't 9mm."
"Pardon?"
"Everyone in the house carries 9mm semi-automatics, together with hunting rifles for those who were proficient with them."
…I didn't understand the logic, so I asked.
"Does my father have a preference for 9mm pistol rounds, then, and made everyone carry the same?"
"Yes, that's exactly it."
"…But why?" I asked with a questioning look on my face.
Which made Cassandra also look slightly doubtful, since she didn't know either. So naturally, we both started looking at James, who was looking slightly exasperated at me.
"Father didn't lecture you when he first took you shooting as a kid?"
"…Well, now that you mention it, I think I've only shot 9mm pistols every time I was forced to go…, and hunting rifles…, but I don't recall any lecture…"
"Don't tell me you forgot or didn't listen because you never cared."
"Of course not. …Most likely he wanted me to discover the pattern myself. Let me guess: common rounds, large magazine capacity, conveniently concealable guns, enough force for a pistol, interchangeable if everyone carries the same caliber and guns. That about right?"
"…Relatively cheap too, especially considering all the practice," James said with a complicated brotherly sigh.
"…Anyway," I began, looking back at Cassandra, "assuming the different-caliber bullets came from outside, then the gun must have too. What type is it? Can we see?"
"…I think it's a 1911. …I'll show it."
She moved her right hand to her waist and took the gun out from under the table, making those less familiar with firearms tense up, James and me being the exceptions.
Although… the metallic frame and form did look familiar from the movies… but I once again looked questioningly at James, who caught my question.
"It's a 1911, yes. Presumably .45 ACP," he answered me while looking at Cassandra for confirmation.
"I don't know the exact caliber. Sir Damian only told me what the bullets did, how to take the safety off, and that it's fully loaded with eight rounds including the one already chambered."
Definitely not a gun coming from father, then, especially with that lower ammo capacity, I thought.
Was that just what was available from the sniper with whom he orchestrated the coup? …Or did he deliberately provide fewer than his standard number of bullets so I wouldn't have enough to use against all the servants if I decided to steal it and attack the household?
Not that I would have anyway. I have nothing against the servants. But if it's true, perhaps father's robotic heart does show some fear of me? I did threaten to burn down everything he cared about, after all…
Anyway, the gun. Perhaps there's some information I can still obtain from it, like they did in those mystery novels and crime movies.
I took my phone from my pocket and held it in front of me while I continued talking.
"Does the gun have a serial number?"
That raised Cassandra's eyebrows.
"I don't know. Where can I see that?"
"…The side of the slide, I think?"
Cassandra's eyes scanned the gun, then she turned it around, but she found nothing, which made her look at James again.
"Give it here. I'll look."
Cassandra handed the pistol over to James across the table, everyone's eyes following it.
And once James got his hands on it, he started scanning the right side of the frame.
His eyes sharpened immediately.
And his expression was really complicated.
"There isn't one where it's supposed to be. There's nothing there."
Everyone's expression at the table suddenly shifted, catching the implications.
Cassandra was fidgeting.
"That's illegal, right?" Willow asked.
"…Let me look some more," James said grimly while looking at Cassandra, who desperately tried not to show a reaction.
I eyed James and gestured with my phone.
"You can identify from the serial number whether the gun has a military origin. So if someone deliberately removed it…"
"Don't start speculating now," he said sharply before returning his eyes to the gun again.
He moved the weapon around to inspect every inch. Meanwhile, everyone's faces were slowly turning paler and paler.
Cassandra's most of all.
"…It might be worse," James suddenly said when he was done.
"…What? Worse?" I responded to him without being able to hide my slight disbelief at his unexpected comment.
"There are also other markings that can be used to identify whether it had a military origin, but the gun's spotless. Completely sanitized. There aren't even scratch marks or visible signs of tampering. It's like it was produced without ever being intended to be marked at all, or somebody's power has produced this effect."
…Damn it. There went my crime-movie plan of having some forensic analyst resurrect the serial number with acid.
"So… what are you saying?" I asked my brother.
"That this untraceable gun, together with the bullets, was most likely produced for illicit purposes. So, if they've been so thorough, I doubt we could recover any markings."
…Damn it. So the bullets aren't the entire story. How did my father get his hands on this legal atrocity? Didn't he care if he devastated poor Cassandra, who was starting to lose her servile mask more and more? Didn't he care about all the material he was providing me to get her over to my side? Material I was definitely going to use now.
"So, Cassandra, father didn't mention anything about a missing serial number?"
"No… Maybe… maybe… Sir Damian deliberately didn't mention it to avoid making me hesitate to use it?"
"…He could have acquired another legal, untampered-with 1911, or mentioned something to you about this gun so you could acquire a legal one on your own?"
"No. What does it even matter? We don't know where the gun came from. Or… wait, there was an attempted robbery on the estate just after midnight. Our security dealt with it. Maybe they were carrying this gun?"
"…Did someone manage to interrogate the robbers? Or did security mention anyone shooting those bullets?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Since father mentioned that the gun was fully loaded, and he got it from the robbers, who were neither interrogated nor witnessed shooting those bullets, how would my father know the effect of the bullets without ever test-firing it? Unless someone handed it to him and explained everything?" I asked Cassandra again.
And while she answered, she started to grab something from her pockets.
"…I don't know. Maybe there were multiple guns or magazines and he tested one?" she said as she took a lighter out with her right hand while still rummaging through one of her left pockets.
"If there were multiple of either, and the robbery was around midnight, why not give another servant on my father's protection team that extra gun after it was tested, or give you extra ammunition? He had the entire day to test it."
"Maybe Sir Damian saw the lack of identification and only tested it just before giving it to me because he suddenly realized that it was special enough to have been tampered with. And regarding a potential spare magazine, maybe it was shot empty during tests," she said, unfocused, as she retrieved a packet of chewing gum from her pockets, which she stared at blankly.
"…That's a lot of speculation. Maybe the simpler explanation is that he acquired something extremely illegal that he knew was linked to the assassination, so he hid it until absolutely necessary."
Cassandra's face finally cracked into slight frustration. She put her lighter down on the table, took a piece of gum from the packet, and started chewing on it before giving her response.
"With all due respect, Sir Jack, what you're theorizing also involves a lot of speculation, which can be easily debunked by the fact that I don't believe your father would be so careless as to let me carry evidence that would link him to the president's murder."
"…Unless he decided that you having that ammunition was worth the risk despite that."
"And how would that work?"
"Since James might be able to copy the gun and bullets with his power. Father did seem desperate to get James, especially, back to the estate. But now that he's staying here, he might have just sent the gun and bullets here to get the most use out of them. Can you try?" I asked James.
…My brother looked at me for a second, away from the lighter Cassandra had put on the table.
Did he catch my intention? Was he going to refuse?
"I don't feel like I can reproduce something supernatural like those bullets."
"It's worth a try, right? Especially if it's true that those serial numbers are masked with a power. If you duplicate it, it might also restore the original markings and we can see the make? We could then at least legally carry the gun, if nothing else?"
That got everyone staring at James differently.
"…Yes. That's true… I can try, but don't get your hopes up."
I gave him a nod while hiding my internal glee.
And while James was concentrating on the gun, I signaled to Willow, who had been paying the utmost attention to everything, with my eyes.
She noticed immediately and looked down at my hand, which was resting on the table in a gun sign pointing at James.
Then, I signaled with my eyes at the shadow cast by my hand, which her eyes followed.
Afterwards, I changed my hand sign from a gun to the number two with my index and middle fingers, and then she connected the dots, and I saw it click for her what I wanted James to realize too.
Lastly, I raised all my fingers from the table, and she gave a subtle nod in understanding that she would wait for my signal. Then I focused on James again.
Nobody was any the wiser about our exchange, which lasted approximately three seconds, since everyone was focused on James.
Although… I felt like Elise was constantly staring daggers at me from the side.
Did… did she notice?
But before I could look at her for confirmation, James managed to produce a second 1911 out of thin air and immediately started inspecting it.
"No serial numbers on this one either."
Then he slid the magazine out.
"And no bullets, like I thought. So the power doesn't get copied, which means that the gun was likely manufactured without markings this way…," James said while looking for my opinion.
I could signal Willow right now, but I could maybe take this even further, so I focused on Cassandra again, who was chewing away.
"If someone went to this much trouble, it's unlikely that this is the only gun they made with the markings removed. Were there any other strange guns that suddenly appeared in the household?"
Cassandra thought back, unfocused, then suddenly stiffened with wide eyes.
"AR-15s."
"…What about them?"
"This morning, when we had a security briefing, we suddenly had a few on hand. We were using hunting rifles we already had before, and the ARs were an improvement, so those comfortable with shooting them were given those as replacements."
"…After the robbery?"
"Yes. Maybe the robbers used them, and that's how Damian got them," Cassandra said in a convinced tone.
"…Did you see what the rifles looked like, whether they had serial numbers on them? Or what the robbers looked like?"
'Send me and James an image of those guns and robbers.'
Her expression twitched slightly, but she maintained her composure before responding mentally first.
'The image is from my memory, so it's subjective. It won't have any details, but take a look.'
A picture of a servant, Marlo, holding a rifle of a simple recognizable design filled my vision. It looked like the rifle we obtained from Philadelphia even, which James had already put away out of sight in his and Willow's bedroom that he picked out with William while we were busy cooking.
I inspected what I could while Cassandra kept talking.
"No. I was sleeping during the robbery, so I didn't witness it. I only heard about it afterwards and that it was quickly dealt with without issue. And I didn't get a good look at the ARs. I've never gone hunting, so I've only shot and trained with handguns like the rest of us servants, so that's the only thing I ever carried."
'That's enough. You're right, I didn't see anything noticeable, but thank you for showing me.'
The picture disappeared and I saw reality again, but more important than her picture, while James was now staring at it in his head, I thought that her story was the thing that brought me way more information.
Was the robbery faked or staged? Cassandra hadn't witnessed it personally and had only been told about it secondhand. As for the reason, maybe my father orchestrated the robbery to provide a cover story for how they acquired the guns? And he let the servants infer that themselves, so he wouldn't be questioned?
Although… I couldn't prove all that with the information I had right now, let alone convince Cassandra or James, who were very defensive of my father. The servants' work phones and numbers were replaced intermittently for security reasons, so every contact I remembered was probably useless by now, and I doubted Jane knew any more than Cassandra…
So, this all led to nothing for now. But I could always revisit the theory in the future, once those two were more open-minded.
I had potentially more incriminating evidence that could link my father to the president's murder, but first I had to rattle both Cassandra and my brother to make them more receptive to it.
So, it was time for Willow to act.
I focused on her, ready to give a signal.
But before I could, James interrupted.
"Did my father or somebody else mention why the ARs were better compared to the hunting rifles?" he asked Cassandra.
I stared at my brother, not understanding the implication.
"…Because they could fire automatically?" Cassandra said after considering it.
And her response completely stiffened my brother.
"Am I missing something?" I asked James.
'Her picture, it might be a different gun,' his words over my vision said, leaving me with even more questions.
"Who told you that they were ARs?" he asked Cassandra sharply.
"N-nobody told me. I-I thought they were, because I saw what they looked like on the news. Th-they're not?" Cassandra stuttered.
"A normal civilian AR-15 is semiautomatic. We got one from Philadelphia, even… But if those guns back at the house actually fire automatically, they're most likely illegal for private use. And if they're modern M4A1s or something similar, those aren't ordinary private-market rifles. So… where did a bunch of robbers get ten of them?"
…The table was dead quiet. And I was almost in disbelief that James could already question Father's story like this.
My heart raced at the prospect of James's progress.
And also because the revelation that my father had illegal machine guns provided even more evidence that the robbery was likely staged. Maybe, thanks to James, I had the leverage to sow even more doubt?
And that was good. With all the doubt, I could push further and free my brother and Cassandra, together with Willow.
So I talked again to the servant, moving my sacrilegious tongue.
"You mentioned that Renji didn't have to use his healing much as of now."
"…That's right," Cassandra said while not understanding where I was going.
"When did he heal people? After the robbery?"
"I don't know. I spoke with him briefly before I left, before I said goodbye to Ms Jane. He had mentioned the healing and his… other artful experiments offhandedly. He did seem a bit… distressed, though."
"The distressed part aside, assuming it hasn't got anything to do with healing people, in that case, at least we can assume that nobody got severely wounded during the robbery. And if they had the machine guns, potentially with those bullets, that doesn't really make sense. How many guns and robbers were there?"
"…About ten guns. I don't know how many robbers. I was briefed that it was a medium-sized group, but you still can't presume—"
"Regardless of where those machine guns came from, they're too suspicious. You never saw someone fire them?" I asked Cassandra.
"…No," she absentmindedly said whilst vigorously chewing.
"…Then, I think it's best to assume that those rifles might also have no serial numbers, and maybe even the ethereal bullets."
"No. You still can't say that for sure," Cassandra objected immediately.
…My eyes moved to James, who stared at the servant all the while with an introspective gaze.
And past my brother, at Willow, who caught my gaze.
I tapped my finger on the table, and she knew she could start.
"Excuse me, I was wondering…"
Everyone's eyes focused on Willow.
"What do the bullets even look like?" Willow asked my brother with an innocent face.
James gave Willow a questionable look.
"I mean, I suddenly thought, when you duplicated the gun and the magazine was empty, what if there are bullets and you just can't see them? I mean, going through walls and such does feel like they should be invisible. Did you see what the bullets in the original look like?" she asked Cassandra at the end.
Now James looked at Cassandra with a question mark, and she… looked away, embarrassed, while chewing.
She didn't, huh... And I hadn't considered that either…
But talk about a natural lead-in. Way to go, Willow.
Seeing Cassandra's response, James ejected the magazine of the original gun and peered inside curiously.
He raised an eyebrow at the sight.
"They're transparent."
"Oh! That's cool! Let me see," Willow intruded.
James then let her peer into the magazine, eliciting a 'wow' before James put the magazine back into the gun.
"They're kinda big," Willow said with wonder.
"Yeah…, also, since the bullets aren't invisible… which we definitely should have checked beforehand… we now know for sure that I didn't copy them," James said, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"That's a shame. It feels a bit macabre using those, but if your father sent them to us, more would have definitely helped if he intended you to copy them."
"…Yeah," James said, still distracted by all the doubt and revelations still going through his head.
And then, Willow suddenly feigned an expression of realization before saying something quite damning to both the Marwood religion and the lies my brother was keeping from her.
"But, how would your father even know you could copy bullets?"
James froze immediately, together with Cassandra.
The rest of the table was suddenly chilled too, together with me pretending to be, as we all sensed the change in atmosphere.
And I was hyper-focused and ready to react to the worst-case scenario, to stop either my brother, Cassandra, or both if I had misjudged and they suddenly turned violent and decided to escape with that sports car.