Chapter 19

We—the attendees of the award ceremony—were gathered in the Grand Hall once again.

However, this time, the hall had been transformed into a cage, a room designed to keep us trapped rather than to host us. In addition to the attendees, several knights who knew a certain amount of the truth were stationed inside. It was clear from their posture that they were on high alert, ready to draw their swords at a moment’s notice.

The knights who remained ignorant of the incident had been ordered by Ice to wait outside in the entrance hall. They were likely standing guard to ensure none of us left the Grand Hall.

This meant that, inside these walls, we were technically free to speak about the incident. Yet, no one opened their mouth. Everyone remained deathly pale and silent.

Ice and Leo were the only ones maintaining a relative semblance of composure, but even they seemed heavily impacted by the shock and made no move to speak.

Perhaps everyone was simply terrified. It felt as if speaking of that nightmare in the chapel would make it irrevocably real—not that it wasn’t real already.

King Uraenus was undoubtedly the most devastated. Archbishop Mintz looked like a living corpse, lost in a daze, but King Uraenus had remained slumped in his chair since we arrived, staring at the floor without moving a muscle. He looked as if he were dead himself.

6:00 PM.

Suddenly, the entrance hall grew noisy, and the doors to the Grand Hall swung open.

“Well now, I heard I was summoned personally by Queen Ice.”

In stark contrast to the atmosphere in the hall, which felt like thick mud at the bottom of the ocean, a man entered with a jaunty air and a brisk stride.

He looked to be in his early thirties, with bluish hair and deeply chiseled features, his medium build dressed in a sharp tailcoat. His necktie was a vivid, piercing red.

Twirling a metal cane with practiced dexterity, the man approached us.

“Quite the illustrious lineup. Good evening, everyone. To those I haven’t met: a pleasure. I am Geralt. Geralt Map.”

So, this man was “Silent Geralt.”

I was seeing the man I had only known by name—a figure of my admiration—for the very first time.

Geralt Map.

At his age, he already held the position of Assistant Deputy Director of the Shark Royal Detective Agency. He was the representative detective of Shark and one of the “Six Detectives of Pangea.”

With a track record of solving numerous major incidents, he was an undeniable master detective.

“So, what are the outlines of the case?” Geralt asked lightly, completely unfazed by the heavy air in the room.

“What I am about to explain is strictly confidential. I wish to borrow your wisdom regarding the resolution of this incident and how we should respond,” Ice said.

“Yes, of course.”

Geralt offered a smile, showing no sign of intimidation even under Ice’s terrifying, piercing glare.

Ice concisely explained the summary of events: the award ceremony, the explosion, Princess Victie’s disappearance, and the discovery of the body in the chapel.

Despite the horrific nature of the tale, Geralt listened while twirling his cane around and around with a smile.

“I see. I understand.”

Once the story was finished, Geralt tapped his cane once against the floor.

“Before we consider countermeasures, we first need to confirm a few things.”

“Confirm?” Raika asked back suspiciously.

I had already realized the possibility he was hinting at. As a mystery geek, it was the very first theory I had reached. However, suppressed by the atmosphere, I hadn’t been able to say a word.

“Whether that body actually belongs to Princess Victie. Since the head is missing, it could be someone else entirely.”

At those words, Uraenus snapped his head up. A spark of life returned to his eyes; he had clearly seen a glimmer of hope in the possibility that his daughter might still be alive.

But—

“I believe there is little doubt that it is Victie,” Ice said, her face twisted in an expression of agony she couldn’t hide. Merely saying the words seemed to cause her unbearable pain.

“I am of the same mind. As her caretaker, I am well-acquainted with Princess Victie’s stature and characteristics. I only saw the remains for a moment, but it appeared to be the Princess,” Archbishop Mintz agreed.

“I’m sure Queen Ice feels the same, but since I’m a woman, I often helped her change clothes and such. I’m even more confident than the Archbishop. That was Princess Victie,” Arle, the other caretaker, added.

Upon hearing this, Uraenus let his head fall forward once again.

“Well, even if that’s the case, I’ll need you to confirm it properly once more. Also, Miss Arle, I’d like you to handle the examination of the scene and the corpse. You’re a doctor, so you’re the perfect fit.”

At Geralt’s blunt use of the word “corpse,” Ice’s expression flared with clear localized revulsion.

In that sudden flash, I felt that Queen Ice did, in fact, harbor genuine parental affection for Princess Victie. Perhaps she cherished her as a daughter even while using her as a political tool.

“In that case, I’ll borrow a knight to act as a guard and observer~”

Arle stood up, speaking with a drawn-out lilt that seemed intended to soften the atmosphere.

“Wait a moment.”

Leo cut her off.

The eyes of everyone in the Grand Hall snapped toward Leo at the sudden intervention. Without flinching, he dropped a bombshell.

“Pardon my bluntness, but we have no confirmation that Arle herself isn’t involved in this incident.”

The air in the room froze.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

Raika started to protest, but Jin silenced her with a tone that was more dismissive than persuasive.

“It might be an outsider, but anyone who was in the hall at the time is sufficiently suspicious. You understand that much, don’t you?”

“Are you saying it’s dangerous to rely solely on an examination performed by Arle? I trust her, but is that insufficient for you?” Ice shot back at Leo, her voice icy.

“Yes, because there is always that one-in-a-million chance. I want her to investigate with at least one other person who possesses medical knowledge.”

“As expected of Leo Baal. How rational.”

For some reason, Geralt actually started clapping in the middle of this standoff.

“I’ve read that book of yours as well. It was marvelous. By the way, where is the ‘Van’ who co-authored it with you?”

“That’s him.”

Leo pointed at me. Geralt approached with a grin and went as far as to shake my hand.

“Well, well! It’s an absolute honor to meet you.”

“Geralt. Does this mean you agree? To having someone other than Arle investigate?”

At Merlin’s question, Geralt replied:

“It’s certainly safer that way. However, given the gravity of the situation, bringing in medical personnel from the outside now would be a poor move. Ideally, we’d want someone already in this room—someone who knows about the incident—to have a decent amount of medical knowledge. They don’t necessarily need to be an expert, just someone with enough knowledge to notice if Miss Arle tries to fabricate anything.”

By the time he finished his answer, the gazes of myself, Leo, Bob, Merlin, and Arle had all naturally converged on a single point.

“You’ve got to be kidding…”

Kirio, the target of everyone’s stares, whispered in a daze.