The Legendary Method Actor

The Word-Weary healer suddenly offered his opinion on the current situation.

Healer: ”Look at his eyes, Ray. Look at the pupils. He isn’t resisting with willpower. He is resisting chemically. Think about what he did the moment we walked into this room.”

The medication.

Ray thought and immediately dropped both the Grizzled Commander’s ‘Command Aura’ and the Primal Naturalist’s ‘Apex Predator Aura’ skills. Still holding Quad-Concurrent Partial Immersion, he swapped them for the Serene Cultivator and activated its ‘Aetheric Perception’ and the World-Weary Healer’s ‘Diagnosis (Immediate)’ skills’.

Ray’s vision instantly shifted. The physical world washed out into a map of glowing Aetheric pathways. Looking at Bastian, Ray could see the alchemist’s internal mana network. It was sluggish, suppressed, and heavily coated in a thick, chemical dampener.

Healer: ”There it is. An alchemical numbing agent. It is a heavy-duty beta-blocker that completely suppresses the autonomic nervous system. No panic, no fear, no physical tells. It has effectively countered the Lie Detection skill of the Conman and the pressure from the Grizzled Commander and Primal Naturalist.”

Conman: ”Well, I’ll be damned. A chemical poker face. No wonder I couldn’t get a read on him. The man didn’t just hide his tells, he completely turned them off.”

Commander: ”He erected a fortress inside his own veins. Psychological warfare and pressure tactics are utterly useless if the enemy is biologically incapable of feeling intimidation.”

Primal Naturalist: ”Crikey! It’s like roaring at a bloody stone! The bloke has masked his fear-scent entirely. He’s playing dead on a chemical level!”

Ray gritted his teeth.

Can we tell if he took it specifically to beat an interrogation?

Healer: ”Not from here. It is entirely possible this is a legitimate prescription to manage chronic nerve pain from those chemical burns on his hands. If you want absolute certainty, you need to make a prolonged physical contact and force a concentrated pulse of Aether directly into his nervous system for a deeper diagnosis.”

How long are we talking about?

Ray asked with a frustrated tone.

Healer: ”The longer the better, so we can get accurate data on the status of his body.”

Ray’s muscles tensed, ready to cross the table and grab the alchemist’s wrist.

But the Gritty Detective immediately shut it down.

Detective: ”Do not touch him. Stop and think about it. You are operating in a temporary, highly scrutinized jurisdiction. If you physically assault a noble to forcefully extract medical data without permission, whatever you get from that action will be treated as a ’Fruit of the Poisonous Tree.’”

Scholar: ”He’s right. Any confession or evidence you gain from an illegal method is completely useless. Headmaster Andrade and Master Alvon will not accept it could throw the entire case out on a technicality and Rina will be the one suffering in the end.”

Ray slowly relaxed his hands, letting out a measured breath. His archetype based interrogation toolkit had just been completely neutralized by a single pill. If he was going to break Bastian Sterling and find Warren’s true killer, he couldn’t rely on his archetypes at the moment.

He was going to have to do it the hard way. He was going to have to outsmart him.

Ray deactivated the Serene Cultivator’s ‘Aetheric Perception’ skill and the World-Weary Healer’s ‘Diagnosis (Intermediate)’ skills, plunging his vision back into the mundane physical realm of the parlor. He kept the Gritty Detective and activated its ‘Forensic Acuity’ skill, letting the cold, calculating logic of an investigator take the wheel.

”A tragic story, senior Bastian, but it contains a massive, glaring contradiction.”

Ray said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Bastian blinked slowly, his expression placid.

”I assure you, my Lord, I am telling the truth.”

”Are you? Because you just told me that Warren Ramada bought up the entire supply of Moonpetal, and that he refused to give you any. But less than ten minutes ago, you told senior Dylan that you finally found the ’right ingredient’ and had already completed one successful test.”

Ray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Ray held the alchemist’s gaze, dropping the hammer.

”If Warren hoarded it all... where did you get the Moonpetal for your first test, Bastian?”

Under normal circumstances, being caught in a blatant lie by someone investigating a murder would cause a suspect’s heart to hammer against their ribs. They would sweat. They would stutter.

Bastian did none of those things. The alchemical beta-blocker coursing through his veins anchored his heart rate to a slow, steady rhythm. He simply took another sip of his water, placing the crystal glass softly onto the table.

”I misspoke earlier or rather, I exaggerated for the sake of my peers. I managed to acquire a single, solitary Moonpetal from a desperate black-market peddler weeks ago. It was just enough to conduct one preliminary test. But to finalize my thesis, I needed a substantial amount for variance testing. That is the supply Mr. Ramada beat me in purchasing.”

Bastian replied, his voice perfectly even.

It was a perfectly calculated deflection. It explained what he said to his peers earlier without admitting to a single ounce of guilt.

Detective: ”He isn’t going to crack under pressure. The chemicals won’t let him. Stop probing and hit him directly. Box him into the timeline.”

The Gritty Detective said as he stomped his feet and stood.

”Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, You didn’t just argue with Warren Ramada. You killed him.”

Ray said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Bastian didn’t move nor blinked.

”You have been here in the academy for seven years now and this is your third attempt to graduate. From what I know, if you still do not pass after the third attempt you won’t get another chance to do so and will be expelled.”

Ray continued, laying out the narrative with lethal precision.

”Your family’s honor is hanging by a thread. You finally figured out the synthesis for your thesis, but the only man holding the ingredient you needed refused to sell it to you. So, you eliminated an old man to clear the obstacle in your path.”

For a long, agonizing moment, silence stretched across the opulent parlor.

Then, the mask completely dropped.

The pathetic, slumped posture of the exhausted, overworked student vanished. Bastian sat up straight, his spine rigid. The chronic fatigue in his eyes was eclipsed by a cold, calculating emptiness. Stripped of all human empathy and fear by his ‘medication,’ the true sociopathy of the man finally bled through.

”A fascinating theory, Lord Croft. Truly. You have woven a very compelling narrative.”

Bastian said. His raspy voice was gone, replaced by a smooth, chillingly arrogant cadence. He leaned back in the leather chair, steepling his chemically burned fingers together.

”But a narrative is just that. You require proof. Did your little investigation uncover anything? A witness? A murder weapon? Something that could link me to the murder? Oh, right, you have me and Mr. Ramada arguing, but what of it? He was alive when I left his office.”

Bastian continued, looking Ray dead in the eye.

A faint, ghostly smirk ghosted across Bastian’s pale lips.

”Without evidence connecting me to the murder, your theory is just a fairy tale.”

The deadlock was absolute. Bastian was untouchable, and he knew it. He was openly daring Ray to prove it.

Conman: ”Another stonewall. He gave us absolutely nothing, and his body isn’t betraying a single micro-expression. It is infuriating.”

Detective: ”He is entirely too confident. He thinks he has completely scrubbed the timeline clean.”

Ray stared at the chemically numbed suspect for a long moment. He didn’t shout. He didn’t threaten him. Doing so would be a waste of breath on a man who could not feel fear.

Instead, Ray slowly stood up, brushing a piece of invisible lint from his coat.

”You are right, Senior Bastian. I don’t have proof, not yet. But I will find it, and when I do, I am sure it will point directly at you.”

Ray said, his voice a perfect mirror of Bastian’s chilling calm.

Ray turned his back on the alchemist and walked to the doors. But as his hand wrapped around the heavy brass handle, Bastian’s smooth voice drifted across the room.

”You had better find that proof quickly, Lord Croft. It would be a terrible shame if your little attendant was put to death for Mr. Ramada’s murder while you were busy chasing fairy tales.”

Ray froze.

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. A surge of pure, blinding rage ignited in Ray’s chest. His knuckles turned white against the brass handle. Ray began to turn around, the raw, terrifying physical power of his cultivated physique coiling in his muscles. He was a fraction of a second away from crossing the room and shattering the alchemist’s jaw.

But the Gritty Detective slammed the brakes on his mind.

Detective: ”Hold! Ray, stop and think! We had asked Master Alvon and the Headmaster kept Rina status as a prime suspect completely contained! It isn’t public knowledge! How does he know she is the prime suspect?”

Conman: ”He just slipped. The arrogance finally cracked the armor. He knows because he was either there, or his accomplice told him.”

Ray stopped his turn halfway. He stood there, his chest heaving as he violently wrestled his anger back down. He closed his eyes, taking one long, shuddering breath to regain his composure. He refused to give Bastian the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.

Ray turned his head just enough to look at Bastian over his shoulder. The fake politeness was gone. His eyes were cold, golden, and lethal.

”You’re right, senior Bastian. Enjoy the gala. It will be your last.”

Ray said softly.

Ray pushed the doors open, stepping back out into the corridor where Svane, Rina, and Gino stood waiting. The hunt for the accomplice had just become a matter of life and death.