Chapter 108: Neverending Threads

  The palace library was a cathedral of knowledge, its towering shelves lined with books that smelled of leather, dust, and time. Raito stood perched precariously on a rolling ladder, his fingers scanning the spines of ancient medical texts on the highest shelf.

  "What are we looking for exactly, Sir Raito?" Malik called out from the floor, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, quiet space. He was surrounded by piles of scrolls, looking a little overwhelmed.

  "Records," Raito replied without looking down. He pulled a thick tome, blew off the dust, and flipped it open. "Anything related to a plague, or illness, or diseases that has swept through Volnear specifically."

  "Why do we need that information, Mr. Detective?" Samira asked playfully, peering over Raito's shoulder from the next ladder over.

  Raito slammed the book shut and looked down at them, his eyes sharp. "Because I believe one of our suspects—one that we crossed out—is lying."

  "Lying? Illness?" Malik blinked, his scholarly mind piecing the clues together. "Dr. Kadiem?" He looked shocked. "But he is still in the infirmary! Even the healer told us that he won't leave for another week. How could he be the one you are suspecting again?"

  "Yeah, why him?" Samira added, hopping down from her ladder. "He is injured both physically and mentally. Remember when we questioned him? Look how happy he is being close with Dr. Nezhat. I honestly don't think it is him."

  Raito paused. He remembered the scene from yesterday—the shared look between the two doctors, the gentle touch, the air of shared trauma bonding. It had been a serene sight in the middle of a stressful investigation, a moment of human connection.

  But that image shattered in Raito's mind.

  "I believe that whole love..." Raito said, his voice hardening as he gripped the ladder. "It's just fake."

  He looked down at them, his expression grim. "We must prove it now. Please help me."

  Samira and Malik looked at each other, still unsure. To brand the old scholar as a liar, especially after seeing him so vulnerable, felt wrong.

  Clap.

  Yukari stepped forward from the shadows of the stacks, clapping her hands once to get their attention.

  "Now, now," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Please just help him for a second. We are just doing simple research, not actually accusing the scholar yet."

  She leaned against a bookshelf, crossing her arms. "Besides, if there is no proof—no record that shows the scholar lied—that idiot," she gestured with her thumb to Raito, "will probably back off. You two are not just proving he is guilty. You are also proving he is innocent." She winked at Samira.

  "She's right!" Samira said, her face brightening. She grabbed Malik by the hand. "Let's go!"

  "We should try our hardest to not ruin that newfound love!" Samira giggled, dragging her fiancé toward the history section.

  "Ye... yes!" Malik responded, stumbling after her.

  Yukari watched them go, a small smile touching her lips. "Those two are still too innocent," she murmured.

  She turned back to the ladder, her expression softening as she looked up at her husband. "Please take it easy on them," she said.

  But Raito wasn't looking back at her. He was staring at the spine of a book titled Epidemics of the Northern Territories, his knuckles white as he gripped the wood.

  "I won't forgive that guy," Raito muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous. "Using love as a fake alibi... mocking it..."

  His eyes burned with a cold intensity. "I will make sure he gets what he deserves."

  "Raito?" Yukari asked, her voice tinged with concern. She took a step toward the ladder, but hesitated, too unsure to call him out on the darkness she heard in his voice.

  She steeled herself, gripping the handle of her crutch tight.

  "Raito!" she called out, louder this time.

  Raito flinched, his head snapping up as if waking from a trance. The cold intensity vanished from his eyes, replaced by his usual bewildered expression.

  "Yes, what?" Raito asked, looking down at her.

  "Are you alright?" she asked, searching his face. "You were muttering stuff."

  "Did I?" Raito seemed genuinely puzzled, blinking rapidly. He laughed, a short, breathless sound, and scratched the back of his neck. "Must have been too absorbed in my acting! Getting into the mindset of a detective is hard work!"

  Yukari stared at him.

  "That does not feel like acting," she whispered under her breath, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.

  "Hmm?" Raito leaned down slightly, cupping a hand to his ear. "Did you say something?"

  "No! Nothing!" Yukari forced an awkward laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Continue! I'll just go that way!"

  She pointed vaguely towards the opposite side of the library, away from where Samira and Malik had gone.

  "Okay!" Raito said cheerfully, turning back to the shelf.

  Yukari leaned on her crutch and began to hobble away, her smile fading the moment her back was turned. She moved past the rows of history and geography, her eyes scanning the titles with a new, secret purpose. She wasn't looking for records of plagues or Volnear's history.

  She stopped in a quiet, dusty corner of the library, the section labeled Esoteric Arts and Afflictions.

  She began to pull books from the shelves, her hands trembling slightly. Curses of the Mind. Elemental Corruption. The Shadow Within.

  She flipped through the pages, her silver eyes scanning the text frantically. She wasn't investigating the case anymore. She was investigating her husband. She needed to know what was happening to him, what that black flame was doing to his mind, before it was too late.

  A few hours later, the group reconvened around a large oak table in the center of the library. Stacks of leather-bound books and scrolls were piled high in the middle, a testament to their efforts.

  "So, ladies and gentlemen," Raito started, clasping his hands together and leaning over the table. "What did you find?"

  "I... don't really have anything," Yukari said quickly, closing the book she had been pretending to read. She had hoped to stumble upon any random text that could explain Raito's condition, but none of the books—fiction or non-fiction—had given her an answer. "Just... no clues on Volnear's plague."

  "Okay..." Raito frowned slightly, finding it odd that the usually thorough Yukari had come up empty-handed. But he turned his attention to the others. "How about you two?"

  "Well, we found this one," Samira said, pulling a heavy history book from the stack. She opened it to a marked page. "Here."

  She pointed to a paragraph. "There was a plague around 1000 years ago. But..."

  "But the person who managed to find the cure is this person," Malik finished, pointing to an illustration on the opposite page. It showed a blonde man with piercing blue eyes, dressed in ancient robes. "Dr. Benjamin."

  Malik pushed his glasses up his nose, his expression troubled. "We unfortunately can't find anything on the plague that Dr. Kadiem said he helped cure twenty years ago."

  "Just as I thought," Raito said, a grim satisfaction settling over his features. "There are some disconnects in the timeline."

  He held up a finger. "First, Dr. Kadiem is a Human. So he absolutely will not be working in the most recent reported plague, which was around 1000 years ago. He doesn't have the lifespan."

  He held up a second finger. "Next, in all the books I've read, the people who discovered cures or pioneered modern medicine were recorded. None of them are Dr. Kadiem. If he did help cure a massive plague not long ago, his name and picture should be there."

  He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Then, me and Yukari came from Ruhong, which is located not that far away from Volnear. If there was indeed a plague that threatened that land recently, we should have also learned about it."

  He looked at his wife. "Especially since Yukari is a Half-Sacred and a former high-ranking official. She should know of this event when Dr. Kadiem was an active participant. Isn't that right?"

  "Oh... yeah," Yukari snapped back to attention, blinking. "Yes. I would have heard of a plague in Volnear. It would affect trade routes."

  "Then... did he really lie?" Malik asked, his voice small. "Why?"

  "That is what we don't know," Raito said, tapping the table. "We still don't have the full story. Nor do we have solid evidence that he is our main culprit. We just know that his words don't line up with real-world events."

  He stared at the ceiling, thinking. "We need something else."

  "We need to confront him," Samira said, standing up. Her hands were clenched into fists. "He is still in the infirmary, right? Then it would be correct to confront him properly!"

  "That is dangerous, Princess," Raito warned, shaking his head. "He might catch on to us suspecting him. It can lead him to run away. Or worse... drop his act altogether and endanger everyone at that infirmary. Including Dr. Nezhat."

  He looked at her seriously. "We need to proceed with caution."

  "Then what should we do?" Samira asked, clearly conflicted, sitting back down.

  Raito's eyes narrowed. A plan began to form behind his gaze.

  "We need to lay a bait," he said softly. "And a trap. Somehow."

  "A trap, huh?" Yukari pondered, tapping her chin with her finger.

  Then, a sudden thought struck her. She looked up, her eyes wide. "Then what about the green-haired girl?"

  The question hung in the quiet library.

  "We have absolutely nothing on her," Yukari continued, frustration creeping into her voice. "We have Dr. Kadiem as a potential lead, but that girl is a ghost."

  "So weird that Mr. Tseh had a picture of that girl," Malik murmured, flipping through his notebook again, though he knew the pages were empty on this subject. "But Kah-Kamun's archives have no information on her. No birth records, no familial connections, nothing. It's like she doesn't exist."

  Raito stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. He adjusted his deerstalker hat, his expression hardening.

  "We need to go back to that apartment," he declared. "There has to be something we missed. A thread that can connect everything around this case."

  The other three looked at him, then at each other. They nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. The answers weren't in books anymore.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  "To the crime scene," Raito said.

  They stood up, gathering their things, and made their way out of the library, heading back into the city to face the ghost of Mr. Tseh's past.

  Not long after, the group arrived back at the remnants of Mr. Tseh's apartment complex. The guards had cleared out, but the heavy atmosphere of death still lingered.

  "Wait," Raito said, stopping his hand from reaching for Mr. Tseh's apartment door on the third floor.

  He turned instead to the door immediately next to it—Mr. Tseh's neighbor.

  He knocked. "Hello?"

  Creak.

  The door groaned open on rusted hinges, revealing the same rowdy, scruffy-bearded man who had yelled at them the day before. He looked worse for wear; his eyes were bloodshot, and his beard was matted with crumbs. A stale scent of cheap ale and unwashed clothes wafted out from the dark apartment behind him.

  "What?" the man grumbled, blinking in the sunlight. "Oh, it's you guys again. And the Princess." He straightened up a bit, though his annoyance was palpable, smoothing his stained undershirt over his potbelly. "How may I help you?"

  "Are you close to Mr. Tseh, Mr...?" Raito asked politely, trying not to inhale too deeply.

  "Khabib. My name is Khabib," the man said, scratching his stomach with a loud rasping sound. "And no, I am not close to that museum security guard. Didn't the palace guard ask the same thing yesterday?"

  "Just want to make sure," Raito said. He pulled the small, framed picture copy from Tseh's apartment out of his pocket. "Then perhaps you know who this is?"

  He showed Khabib the picture of the young Mr. Tseh and the green-haired girl.

  Khabib squinted at it, leaning in close, his breath sour. "No idea," he said, shaking his head. "Honestly, it's faster if you just go straight to the landlady, Ms. Nefer. She is also a Sacred like the museum guard, and has been the landlady for a long time. She ought to know more. You know, Sacred to Sacred."

  He started to close the door.

  "Wai—" Raito started.

  SLAM.

  The door closed in his face with a finality that rattled the frame.

  "Ms. Nefer, the landlady," Samira repeated, looking thoughtful.

  "I believe the main office of this building is on the ground floor," Malik added, gesturing towards the stairwell.

  "Then let's pay her a visit," Raito said.

  They walked down the hall to the office door. Raito pushed it open.

  The office was small and stiflingly hot, the air thick with the smell of mothballs and peppermint tea. It was cluttered with stacks of yellowing ledgers that threatened to topple over at any moment. Behind a large wooden desk sat an elderly Hippo Sacred woman, her skin a soft gray, small valve-like ears twitching atop her head. She was knitting, her needles clicking rhythmically like the ticking of a clock.

  She looked up, squinting through thick spectacles. "Yes, how may I help you? Are you here to inquire about renting a room?" Her voice was raspy, like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

  "Are you Ms. Nefer?" Raito asked, stepping forward into the dusty room.

  "Yes?" She leaned forward, pointing one of her small ears toward him. "And you are, young boy?"

  "Ms. Nefer," Samira said, stepping up beside Raito. "I am Samira Said. Please, you need to help us."

  The old woman blinked, adjusting her glasses. "Oh my, Princess! What brings you here today?" She chuckled, a wheezing sound that rattled in her chest. "Sorry I don't recognize you. My eyesight is not as good as it used to be. Also my hearing."

  "We just need your memories, Ms. Nefer," Samira said gently, leaning closer. "Do you know another Sacred, by the name of Mr. Tseh? He works as a museum guard."

  "What?" Ms. Nefer shouted, cupping her ear.

  "MR. TSEH!" Malik said, raising his voice to compete with the buzzing of a fly against the windowpane.

  "Oh! Little Tseh!" Her face lit up with recognition, deep wrinkles creasing around her eyes. "Of course I knew him! He has been my tenant since he was just a brat." She laughed, a hearty "Hoho!"

  "I wonder how he is now," she mused, picking up her knitting again. "Haven't seen him in days."

  "Uh... did she not hear?" Raito whispered to Yukari.

  "Shuush," Yukari hissed back. "No need to make the old lady have a heart attack. Let her talk."

  "What about little Tseh do you need to hear?" Ms. Nefer asked, the needles clicking away.

  "Actually, we need information on this," Raito said, placing the framed photo on the desk in front of her. "Who is this girl, Ms. Nefer? Any idea?"

  The old landlady stopped knitting. She picked up the picture with trembling hands, bringing it close to her thick lenses. She frowned, tilting the frame back and forth in the dusty light.

  "Hmm," she murmured. "Why is Tseh so old in this picture?"

  She tapped the glass over the green-haired girl's face with a gray fingernail.

  "And why... why does this girl look so much like Kaden?"

  "Kaden?" Samira asked, exchanging confused looks with the others. "Who is that, Ms. Nefer?"

  "Kaden is Tseh's son," the old woman said, reminiscing with a wistful smile, her eyes losing focus. "A green-haired boy with lots of energy. Always running through the halls. The hair color came from his mother, you see. Tseh's wife. I wonder where that lovely girl went."

  "Can you tell us more about this Kaden, Ms. Nefer?" Malik asked, flipping his handbook open, pen poised.

  "What?" Ms. Nefer asked, cupping her ear again.

  "WE NEED MORE INFORMATION ON KADEN!" Malik practically shouted, wincing at his own volume as it bounced off the walls.

  "Oh, Kaden! Sure, sure," she nodded happily. "Well, for starters, like I said, he is Tseh's son. A half-Sacred, born from a Human mother. He inherited that lovely green hair. The last thing I heard about him is that..." She paused, tapping her chin with a knitting needle. "Hmmm. Oh, right! Tseh told me that Kaden is leaving to learn about medicine somewhere. But I don't remember where."

  She shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, that's all I know. You should ask Tseh himself!" She began to push herself up from her chair, her joints creaking audibly. "Do you need me to bring you there?"

  "No no no! No need, ma'am!" Samira said quickly, gently pressing the old woman back down into her seat. Her smile was bright but strained. "I'm sure Tseh is just sleeping right now. We wouldn't want to wake him."

  "We know where he lives, we'll just take it from here," Malik added hastily, snapping his book shut.

  "What?" the old lady asked again.

  "I SAID GOOD DAY, MA'AM!" Malik shouted, bowing.

  They turned and shuffled out of the office as fast as politeness allowed, escaping the suffocating heat of the room.

  "Nice to see you too, kids!" Ms. Nefer shouted after them.

  The group exhaled in unison once the door clicked shut, the heavy, dusty air of the hallway feeling almost fresh compared to the stifling tension of the office.

  "The poor old lady," Samira whispered, her face falling.

  "You should really find a way to break the news to her without actually breaking her heart," Yukari said softly, putting a comforting hand on Samira's shoulder.

  "I don't know how," Samira sighed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "I'll just ask Mom. She's better at this."

  The group finally moved back up the stairs to the third floor. They stood before Mr. Tseh's apartment door, the yellow police tape still fluttering across the frame like a barrier to the world of the living.

  Raito pushed the door open.

  Immediately, the smell hit them. Not the rot from before—that had been cleared out along with the body. Now, the air was thick with the stinging, chemical scent of disinfectant alcohol, sharp enough to water their eyes. It overlaid the emptiness of the room, making it feel hollow and abandoned.

  "Spread out," Raito gestured, covering his nose with his sleeve to block out the sterile stench. "Let's find that missing piece."

  The group moved through the small apartment with silent, practiced precision. They checked every corner, overturned chairs, and lifted the worn rug, sending small puffs of dust into the stagnant air. The silence was heavy, broken only by the scrape of furniture and the soft rustle of their clothes.

  "Now," Raito murmured to himself, standing dead center in the room. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, scanning the peeling wallpaper, the simple wooden furniture, the empty space where a life had been. "If I am someone with a secret... where would I hide my stuff?"

  His gaze drifted across the room and landed on the bedframe.

  There.

  It was faint, barely a scratch in the varnish, but to his searching eyes, it was a beacon. A vertical line etched into the floorboards just behind the headboard, as if the heavy wood had been dragged repeatedly over the same spot, wearing a groove into the grain over years of use.

  "???"

  It caught his attention like a hook. Raito walked over, gripped the heavy bedframe, and with a grunt of effort, shoved it aside. The wood scraped loudly against the floor, echoing in the quiet room.

  He stared at the wall behind it.

  Nothing. Just plain, slightly discolored wood paneling, identical to the rest of the room.

  "That mark must be from when the guards swept the place," Malik commented, peering over Raito's shoulder, adjusting his glasses. "They were thorough."

  "Right, my bad," Raito admitted, feeling a flush of foolishness. He turned to walk away, but a nagging thought stopped him.

  He spun back to Malik. "Hey, Wang-Son. That Mr. Khabib guy's room is next to here, right?"

  "No," Malik said, consulting his mental map of the building's layout. "I'm sure the neighbor's room is behind the kitchen wall. This wall," he pointed to the one behind the bed, "should be an exterior wall. Or a maintenance shaft."

  Raito frowned. He raised his fist and knocked firmly on the wall near the ceiling.

  Thud.

  The sound was dull, dense. Solid wood backed by stone.

  He crouched down near the floor, right where the vertical line met the wall panel. He knocked again.

  Tok.

  The sound was different. Higher. Lighter. A resonance that spoke of empty space.

  Hollow.

  "Hey guys!" Raito shouted, waving his hand frantically. "Check this out!"

  One by one, the group gathered around. They took turns knocking on the panel, their faces lighting up as they heard the distinct difference in tone.

  Thud. Tok. Thud. Tok.

  "It's hollow," Samira whispered, her eyes wide.

  "Yukari, can you?" Raito asked, stepping back to give her room.

  "My pleasure," Yukari said, a grim smile touching her lips.

  She raised her hand. The moisture in the air condensed rapidly, swirling into a solid form. A heavy, jagged hammer of ice materialized in her grip, cold vapor drifting from its surface. She swung it with both hands, channeling days of frustration, fear, and anger into the blow.

  "Hah!"

  CRASH.

  She slammed the hammer right next to the line. The wood splintered and caved in with a satisfying crunch, sending a cloud of dry, old dust billowing into the room.

  "Ah, that felt good," she exhaled, rolling her shoulders as the ice hammer dissolved into mist.

  As the dust settled, a dark cavity was revealed in the wall. Resting inside, wedged tight into the secret compartment like a dark heart, was a large, lumpy burlap sack.

  Raito reached in. He grunted with effort as he hauled it out—it was surprisingly heavy, the contents shifting with a dull clunk. He dragged it onto the floor, the rough fabric scraping against the wood.

  "What is this?" Malik wondered, adjusting his glasses to peer at the dirty sack. "Why would a museum guard like Mr. Tseh have something heavy hidden in his wall?"

  Raito knelt before the sack, his hand hovering over the knot tied at the top. The coarse fabric felt gritty under his fingers.

  "Only one way to find out," he said.

  With a sharp tug, the coarse twine gave way. The mouth of the sack slumped open, exhaling a puff of stale, dry air. As the burlap fell away, a dull, heavy glimmer caught the sliver of light filtering into the closet.

  "Woah..." Samira breathed, her eyes widening as the treasure was revealed.

  Inside the sack were coins. Hundreds of them. Golden Cal coins, spilling out onto the dusty floor with a rich, metallic chime—a cascading waterfall of wealth that seemed impossibly bright in the dingy room. It was a fortune, more money than a humble museum guard would see in ten lifetimes, let alone hide in a wall.

  "This is Cal..." Yukari commented, her voice hushed with disbelief.

  "This much Cal would make someone live in a mansion," Malik said, his eyes wide behind his lenses as he calculated the value. "Only people like royalty, celebrities... and Uncle Bob would ever see this amount of riches."

  Raito didn't blink at the fortune. He plunged his hand straight into the cold, hard pile, the coins clinking and shifting against his skin like metallic scales. He dug deep, his fingers searching not for treasure, but for the reason behind it.

  "Bingo," he whispered.

  His fingers brushed against something softer, yielding. He pulled his hand out, clutching a thick stack of envelopes bound together with fraying twine. The paper was brittle and yellowed with age, smelling faintly of dried lavender and old memories. They were worn at the edges, clearly cherished and read a thousand times.

  He scanned the top envelope. The handwriting was neat, but youthful.

  From: Kaden.

  "This is from Mr. Tseh's son," Samira said, leaning over Raito's shoulder, her voice soft.

  "We have to open it," Raito said, his fingers already working at the knot in the twine.

  "Isn't this... you know, intruding on someone's privacy?" Malik asked, shifting uncomfortably. "These are personal letters."

  "We have to solve this case, Malik," Raito said, looking up at him with intense, pleading eyes. "We need every lead possible. Please."

  Malik hesitated, then sighed, nodding. "Fine. For Mr. Tseh."

  Raito carefully untied the twine with gentle reverence. He unfolded the first letter, the dry paper crackling loudly in the tense silence of the room. The ink was faded to a pale sepia, some words washed away by time and humidity, but enough remained to piece together a voice from the past.

  "Hello Father," Raito read aloud, his voice low. "I have arrived in Volnear. Everyone is so brilliant here. The city shines like a star. I hope you and Miri can see it someday."

  Raito paused, looking up at the group, the implication hanging in the air.

  "Miri," Yukari commented, a spark of realization in her eyes. "This must be the green-haired girl's name."

  "Volnear," Malik said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he connected the dots. "This person studied medicine in Volnear. This Kaden... he must be our culprit." He looked at the others, his face pale. "But what connection does he have with Dr. Kadiem?"

  "Let's keep reading," Yukari suggested, pointing to the stack of letters.

  The group huddled closer, going through the letters one by one. The early ones were full of hope and excitement. Kaden wrote of the wonders of Volnear, the brilliance of his peers, and the kindness of his mentors. He spoke of his studies with a passion that leaped off the page, constantly expressing his wish for his father, Tseh, and his daughter, Miri, to join him in the region of innovation.

  But as they delved deeper into the stack, the tone shifted.

  Why do you reject my offers, Father? one letter read, the ink pressed harder into the paper. I am successful now. I have enough money to buy you a mansion. You don't need to guard that dusty museum anymore. Please, come to Volnear.

  Then, the confusion turned to desperation.

  Where is Miri? Why do you ignore my questions about her? Why are your replies so late? Tell me about her condition! Is she eating? Is she growing? Father, answer me!

  Raito picked up the last envelope. It was different from the rest—crumpled, stained as if with tears or perhaps something darker. He opened it.

  The handwriting was jagged, furious, the letters digging deep into the parchment.

  Why did you accept that money?

  Raito read the words, a chill running down his spine.

  How could you do that to your own granddaughter? Was mother not enough? Was my wife not enough?

  You will face retribution soon. I will not forgive you. This is my last letter. From now on, I want nothing to do with you.

  Silence descended on the room, heavier than the dust. That was the end of the stack.

  "This case is even bigger than we initially though, Kaden, it seems like he was a grieving father, but what really happened" Raito said, placing the letter gently on top of the pile of gold coins.

  "Still,,,,," Malik asked again, rubbing his temples. "Who is this Kaden? And what does he have to do with Dr. Kadiem? These letters not only don’t give us the answers, but also give another layers of mysteries to this mystery/ I am confused."

  Raito stood up, dusting off his knees. His expression was set, his jaw tight.

  "I think it's time for us to pay Dr. Kadiem a visit," he declared. "And it's finally time to prove something."

  He looked at his friends, his eyes burning with resolve. "If my deduction is true... everything will be revealed to us soon enough."

  "We should rendezvous with Lady Lihua and Sir Tanvir first," Yukari said, her hand instinctively going to her crutch. "Just in case things go south."

  "Agreed," Raito responded, nodding.