At night, Arnold sat alone in his study, a single oil lamp burning beside him. Its flame flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the towering bookshelves and the high walls.

  He held a quill loosely, poised over a fresh sheet of paper, deep in thought as usual.

  This particular sheet of paper was what Arnold—or rather, Izzy’s main body, the painting—had copied from Benjamin’s cryptic diary.

  Inside Arnold’s mind, Izzy sat within the theatre, settled into one of the plush velvet seats.

  She was currently trying to decipher the strange symbols on the note.

  “As expected, it’s the Alan language.”

  The fourth line was clearly written in the Alan language. As for the other four, she didn’t know; they were beyond her current understanding.

  Izzy controlled Arnold to gather dozens of books from the bookshelves, ranging from grammars to histories, and began to dissect the language, using this morning's rudimentary information and Isa’s superb memory skills.

  ‘Most of the words I learned this morning are just basic vocabulary.’

  Basic words and basic sentence structures. At most, what she could do was just translate this on a surface level.

  Izzy felt like her learning rate was too fast.

  Was this Isa’s influence?

  ‘Let’s see.’

  Arnold moved from page to page of the old books, his eyes scanning for any resemblance to the characters on the note. He then began to compare them to her original language from her other world, searching for patterns.

  …

  After a long period of painstaking decipherment, Izzy sighed.

  ‘I give up.’

  Izzy looked down at the translated version of the note.

  “[###]… moon… [###]… 2 remain… [###]….”

  “...”’

  ‘What was even this?’

  Izzy tossed the piece of decipher paper aside.

  Literally, this was just useless, scattered information. She needed much more time to truly study it.

  Izzy glanced aside at the symbols she had written as a small test for herself.

  “Isidora, Izzy, Isa.”

  Izzy could now write her own name in Alan’s language.

  It wasn't a big deal, but it was a small victory. This morning, she had studied how to write her own name… or Arnold’s name. She had used her Field Vision to sneak around the schoolroom, finding out all the children’s names on their chalkboards.

  This also made her once again realize, this Field Vision was too overpowering! She could basically cheat on any test, and no one could ever suspect it!

  ‘Right, about today's event.’

  Izzy dismissed the note. She leaned back in her chair, one hand supporting her chin, eyes narrowed as she replayed the day’s events.

  The wide stage before her was dim, curtains half drawn, preparing for the memories show.

  “Regarding Erin.”

  This afternoon, Erin had discovered Arriet, and by extension, their main body.

  Right now, Isa was entertaining her. Izzy could feel it through their shared awareness.

  Those two had better chemistry than she expected.

  Izzy’s focus shifted. She looked down at the table in front of Arnold.

  On the table was a picture, a small photograph the Inspectors had provided.

  The girl depicted had white, bubbling hair that curled around her shoulders. Her eyes were a clear, bright blue, almost crystalline.

  The artist had captured her with an impassive expression, almost looking like she was frowning.

  “Lady Amelia.”

  Izzy scanned her memory inside the theatre. As expected, she did not find anything related to the girl.

  ‘I thought they meant Arriet.’

  At first, Izzy had assumed the Inspectors were pursuing a human trafficking case involving children, and that Arriet might somehow be tied to it.

  But she was wrong. They were not looking for trafficked children, but for a kidnapped girl.

  Lady Amelia, a missing Marchioness’s child.

  They were different cases, unfortunately.

  Izzy remembered Benjamin mentioning it some time ago, about how human trafficking cases had been increasing recently.

  ‘So that old man is not the only one…’

  Was that old man’s method considered kidnapping?

  She remembered that Erin had been hired to become that old man’s maid. It was a case of human trafficking, not kidnapping in the legal sense.

  Erin wasn't taken by force, but was hired. Her parents had accepted payment.

  Maybe the same was likely true for the other children whose remains they had found in the cells. Those children were scammed into servitude by a human trafficker, and their departure was ultimately approved by their parents.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Lured by promises. Sold by guardians who believed they had no better option. Delivered neatly into someone else’s hands.

  It was a transaction of human life. If the parents agreed, even under pressure, then legally, it was not kidnapping.

  Consent, bought and twisted, signed away by desperation.

  ‘What a way to circumvent the law.’

  Selling a child into service was not the same as abducting a noble's daughter.

  Izzy shook her head, a sense of disgust curling in her chest.

  This case was not something she could solve. At least, not alone.

  However, the fact that the Inspectors were here meant that the kidnapper was related to this village, or to Benjamin, somehow.

  “As for the Inspectors.”

  Izzy replayed the scene of her conversation with the Inspectors this afternoon upon its grand stage. The velvet curtains parted, the stage lit up, and the figures of Gregory and his companions appeared again.

  ‘No one could hide anything from them.’

  Based on her exchange with Davis, and what she had observed firsthand, Izzy had already deduced the nature of their abilities.

  Inspector. Often, those who held such a title would possess abilities related to inspection and investigation.

  And guess what? Who knew more about investigating than Izzy? She let out a chuckle.

  ‘Firstly, they must possess some kind of lie or truth detection.’

  In her previous world, such abilities were not rare. They were used so frequently that criminals eventually adapted, learning how to twist the truths.

  She had intentionally given them a fake name. Anon.

  It was a very unusual name in this era for sure, a clear red flag to anyone paying attention.

  Although Gregory did not react overtly, the fact he did not question it meant he had likely identified it as a fabrication already. His silence was confirmation enough.

  ‘Second, they have an ability similar to my Field Vision.’

  That explained how she had been noticed so easily, even though Arnold following them should not have been particularly obvious.

  ‘And that command authority too.’

  With a single sentence, Gregory had forced Davis to the ground. With another, he had sealed Arnold’s mouth.

  Izzy had prepared for a mental assault when talking to him; however, unlike Davis, she had only felt mild discomfort before Arnold’s body complied.

  ‘Did he go easy on me?’

  How did he know if Arnold was not a Stagefarer and decide to go easy on him? That was the question. Another ability? She couldn’t guess. There were too many variables.

  ‘Fourth, their physical prowess is likely on par with Glen.’

  Based on how the other two had suddenly appeared after the blonde woman’s signal, she could somewhat guess their strength.

  Their speed was impressive, though not as extreme as Glen’s, but the aura they emanated was more dangerous.

  ‘They might be more dangerous than Glen’s entire crew.’

  Izzy shook her head. She had made many mistakes during that conversation. Well, the fact that she had approached them in the first place was a mistake already.

  To be honest, Izzy almost had a heart attack when they suddenly questioned her about the kidnapping case.

  Luckily, the question itself had been manageable.

  As a strange existence controlling a vessel from afar, Izzy had no certainty whether their lie detection targeted the vessel or her own. If it worked, did it read Arnold, the body speaking the words, or Izzy, the consciousness behind him?

  That was why she had to answer vaguely yet truthfully.

  “Are you aware of the kidnapping case?”

  She and “Arnold” were indeed aware of the kidnapping case. They were also victims of it.

  Izzy was ultimately a victim, since Benjamin wanted to use the ritualized children to control her.

  Arnold was a victim, because that entire chain of events had led to his death at her hands.

  “I’m also a victim.”

  It was all true.

  She had to follow up with that answer herself, to ensure no more follow-up questions that related to the case and could potentially reveal her true nature.

  As for the final question—

  “Are you a human?”

  …it was a tricky question. But also a lucky one.

  Izzy herself was not human. That much was undeniable.

  But Arnold was.

  The question was directed at “you,” meaning Arnold, not the presence controlling him. By answering from that perspective, she only needed to reinforce what Gregory already believed.

  She removed the “I am” from her answer, to ensure “I” did not point at herself, the one controlling Arnold.

  His “you” was pointed at Arnold. And Arnold was ultimately “a living human,” albeit just an empty shell, controlled by another mind.

  Was he a human? Izzy didn’t know. But apparently, it worked.

  “This is what they always said: truth can always be manipulated.”

  There was no absolute truth in the world. Truth only existed when people ultimately believed in it.

  Izzy returned to her mindscape, descending toward the black monument that stood at the very center of the plaza.

  The tower loomed over everything else, its surface smooth and lightless, swallowing color and reflection alike. Upon it, thin white lines still glowed, the questions she had carved earlier remaining unanswered.

  [“Who are you?”

  “Are you the one creating this place?”

  “What happened to us in the past few days?”]

  “As expected, there was no answer.”

  Despite the lack of response, Izzy felt less lost than before. After today’s events, she might have some inclination of what was going on.

  Future prediction?

  No. Not quite.

  If her intuition was correct, then…

  Izzy moved her finger, and immediately, a white line of light appeared at her fingertip.

  [“Are you me? From the past? From the future?”]

  ‘Hmm.’

  Izzy tilted her head, staring at the question. Even to her, it sounded strange.

  She continued.

  [“There is something wrong with the village.

  You can’t leave this place.

  Asking the inspector for help might be a good idea.”]

  A realization struck her, like a spark catching dry tinder.

  ‘This might actually work?’

  This… might be a good idea? Instead of forcing herself to remember everything in the real world, using Arnold to take physical notes, why not just use this monument?

  She had never thought of it that way. Although this mindscape might be eerie, for now, she should use this advantage as much as possible.

  [“Madam’s maid is dangerous. Beware of her.”]

  She noted the recent events on the black monument, turning it into her personal ledger.

  [“The matter of the priest, and the coin that must be reclaimed.”]

  Izzy stopped for a moment. She hesitated, before she steeled her mind and wrote the next line with grim finality.

  [“Do not trust Mary.”]

  Mary, that girl… her sudden change was unexpected, Izzy could not ignore that.

  She continued writing. Notes about Davis’s explanation of Stagefarers. Her deductions about the Inspectors’ abilities. The kidnapping case and Lady Amelia’s picture.

  When she finished, the monument had become a record. This way, she didn’t need Arnold to note down anything in the real world any longer.

  Satisfied, Izzy left the plaza.

  –

  Moonday, four days left before the full moon Rite starts.

  There is a new patron! I owed him a chapter, gonna release next week! Sorry, need to re-check and re-edit them first!