Chapter 22

At those words, a heavy silence settled over the room.

“You’ve… identified the truth?” Archbishop Mintz confirmed, his voice laced with trepidation.

“Yes. But before that, one final confirmation. You replaced the chapel doors a week ago, correct? Did you perform a sweep of the hall and its vicinity at that time?”

“We did,” Yasha nodded firmly. “To ensure our guests’ comfort and to verify that no dangerous objects had been brought in, we performed a thorough check at that time.”

“And the security?”

“Naturally, we began guarding the area from that moment on,” Ice answered.

It was news to me that they had been guarding the place for a whole week, but thinking about it, it made sense. There was no point in replacing the doors and checking the site if someone could just sneak in afterward to tamper with the lock or plant something strange.

“And before that?”

“Before that?” After repeating the question in bewilderment, Ice replied, “Naturally, this location holds high historical value. We have always maintained a certain level of security, but given the nature of the place, no one usually visits. To be honest, prior to a week ago, it was limited to a once-daily patrol.”

“Meaning, it would have been possible to sneak in back then.”

“Yes. However, even if someone had tampered with something then, it should have been uncovered during the check a week ago.” Ice looked toward Yasha for agreement, and Yasha nodded silently.

“Well, I wonder about that. There are limits to any check, after all.” Geralt twirled his cane. “That is quite enough. Confirmation complete. Now, let us bring this incident to a close.”

With that declaration, the answer spilled from his lips.

“The culprit is an outsider. Most likely, an assassin from another nation. By murdering Princess Victie and driving a wedge between the Church and the Royal Family, they aimed to trigger the decline of Shark.”

As he spoke those words with an air of total confidence, I felt the tension in the room go slack. Everyone seemed relieved by the conclusion that it was an outsider.

And yet, something felt wrong. I felt a deep sense of discomfort at the relief that followed the “outsider” verdict.

“First, the culprit snuck in here more than a week ago. Then, they dug a hole right next to the ceremonial hall.”

“A hole?” I asked back instinctively, stunned by the suddenness of the idea.

“Yes, a hole. They dug a deep hole and climbed inside. Then, they used magic to fill the hole from the inside. Don’t you see? If they did that, they wouldn’t have been found even during the check a week ago.”

“It is true that while we performed a check, we didn’t tear down walls or dig up the ground,” Mintz admitted regretfully.

“But if they did that, they wouldn’t be able to breathe or eat,” Jin pointed out the obvious flaw.

“Of course, as a professional assassin, they would have come prepared. They likely had methods to suppress their breathing and training to move for a while without food. On top of that, they would have brought a leather bag of air, water, and portable rations into the hole. Along with explosives and a clock.”

“A clock?” Arle frowned at the unexpected word.

“Yes. Not so much to tell the time, but to keep track of the date. Information regarding the award ceremony was kept highly confidential, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Considering the possibility of a leak, the finer details weren’t even decided until Archbishop Mintz and I consulted just before the event,” Ice said, and Mintz nodded.

“Not much information reached me, either,” Merlin agreed.

“However, a spy could have easily learned the date of the event. The clock was for counting down to that opening day.”

Clocks in this world were wind-up mechanisms, and small ones weren’t particularly accurate. Furthermore, if left in a cramped hole, their performance wouldn’t be reliable. However, if the goal was merely to track the passing days, a small device would suffice even in those conditions.

“After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the day to come. Once it arrived, they would know roughly what was happening on the surface from the vibrations in the ground. They must have been trained for that, too. There, the culprit timed it perfectly, burst from the hole, and hurled the explosives.”

“Bam,” Geralt said, making the sound effect himself.

“At the same time, they used magic to fill the hole they had occupied so that no trace remained. Then, like a spider, they scaled the outer wall of the hall and infiltrated through the hole created by the blast. They then swiftly snatched Princess Victie while pickpocketing the keys from Sir Jin and Lady Raika.”

“From me too?” Surprised, Raika pulled a key from her pocket.

“Precisely. The one you hold now is a fake planted by the culprit. Now, please listen to the rest. The culprit enhanced their body with magic, headed for the chapel at a terrifying speed, and infiltrated it using the two keys. Then, to inflict as much damage on this nation as possible, they murdered Princess Victie—the symbol of Shark—in a particularly humiliating fashion.”

As the story reached that point, King Uraenus began to groan. Ignoring him—even letting a smile play on his lips—Geralt continued.

“All that was left was to escape. Perhaps a new magic to hide one’s form has been developed in another country. The culprit fled from the chapel and from this place where the knights were gathered. With the explosion and the discovery of the disappearance, the guards would have been in chaos. Escape would not have been impossible.”

Merlin showed no reaction to the phrase “new magic to hide one’s form.” I was stunned by his silence.

“When you opened the chapel door, you assumed it wouldn’t open because you only had one key. You figured even if the culprit had one, it was only one. Therefore, while you couldn’t open it, neither could the culprit. Thinking that way, falling into confusion and paranoia—that was precisely the culprit’s goal. This is the truth of the incident.”

Even after Geralt finished speaking with a satisfied air, no one spoke for a while. A strange, truly bizarre silence dominated the room.

“And what do you think we should do?” Ice finally asked.

“Well, the culprit is an outsider and has already fled, so setting up a perimeter now would be useless. Furthermore, making this public could lead to war. I believe the best course of action is to swear everyone to secrecy, bury Princess Victie’s remains in private, and hide the fact of her death for a time.”

“I see. You’re right,” Ice said, as if convincing herself.

No one complained. No one said a word.

What was going on? I was confused. I didn’t understand. Because what Geralt just said wasn’t a deduction at all.

First, there was no evidence. Furthermore, he was baselessly attributing special abilities to the culprit—or rather, abilities that were convenient for his deduction. And he was relying far too heavily on magic as a convenience. A “new magic” to disappear? If you can explain anything by just inventing magic that didn’t exist before, then anything goes.

And yet, despite all that, no one said a word. Even Merlin, who knew the inconveniences of magic better than anyone, remained silent.

What… what was happening?

“Van.” A whisper. Before I knew it, Leo was standing beside me. “Are you prepared?”

“Huh?” It made no sense.

“Let me rephrase. Are you okay with this resolution?”

“No.” Without thinking, the answer was out before I knew it.

That’s right. This kind of resolution couldn’t be right. If a mystery novel I bought ended like this, I’d throw the book at the wall.

“Good. Then steel yourself.” With that, Leo bared his teeth in a grin I hadn’t seen in a while. “Geralt!” Leo shouted. “Van says he’s dissatisfied with your deduction.”

Everyone turned to look at me. In an instant, my head felt hot and my throat went dry.

Is that how you’re going to play it? I shot a resentful look at Leo, but he just stared off into space, remaining silent.

“It’s okay,” a small voice of encouragement came. It was Kirio.

Suddenly, I felt the tension leave my body. That’s right. It’s okay. I wasn’t going to say anything wrong.

Surprisingly, Geralt wasn’t fazed by Leo’s words at all. He maintained his smile. “Van, so you’re dissatisfied with my deduction. That’s perfectly fine. By all means, tell me.”

“Well, it’s not so much dissatisfaction as it is… a question.” Suddenly, my voice grew small of its own accord. I knew it. I was shrinking under the pressure.

“A question?”

“Um, first… where did Princess Victie’s head go?” I decided to start with a relatively mild point of attack.

“The head? They probably took it with them when they fled. The culprit is an assassin, after all. They might need to show it to their client as proof that the mission was a success.”

“But the client wouldn’t be able to identify Princess Victie just by looking at her face.”

If this supposed client was from another nation, they wouldn’t have known her true appearance in the first place.

“Hmm, a valid point.”

Geralt tilted his head with a smile, looking as if he were enjoying the banter.

“In that case, perhaps they used magic to make it vanish.”

At that, I couldn’t contain myself anymore; the words burst out of me like a shout.

“Ever since you started, your ‘deductions’ have relied far too much on magic and the special abilities of assassins!”

I didn’t even understand why I was so worked up. No—truthfully, deep down, I did. I was disappointed in the reasoning of the great detective I had admired, and it made me indignant. It felt as if the genre I loved—mystery—was being defiled.

“Professor, say something! Tell him there’s no such thing as magic that hides your form, and that magic isn’t some all-powerful miracle!”

At my plea, Merlin only let out a pained groan.

“Ugh…”

It wasn’t just Merlin. Ice, Uraenus, Mintz, Arle, Yasha, Jin, Raika, and even Kirio—everyone reacted to my words with expressions of visible distress.

Only Leo and Geralt stared back at me with total composure.

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” Geralt countered with a gentleness that was almost unsettling. “But can you truly declare with absolute certainty that such magic doesn’t exist? Or that there isn’t a human out there with such special abilities? Can you really be that definitive?”

“No, I can’t say it’s impossible. There are no absolutes in this world.”

The memory of my debate with Leo flashed through my mind.

Yes, that was a truth that applied to mysteries—and to everything else in this world.

But at the same time, I had an answer for that.

It was the very essence of what I had written in my thesis.

“But when we deduce, we must first reason within the bounds of common sense and established evidence. If we allow for groundless, extraordinary techniques, abilities, beings, or phenomena from the very start, the deduction itself falls apart. The number of possibilities to consider would increase to infinity.”

Exactly. If you’re allowed to use unproven, supernatural occurrences to explain things, then deduction loses its meaning. To be extreme, there’s no fundamental difference between Geralt’s reasoning and simply saying a god caused the incident. Both affirm the existence of something outside the realm of common sense without any basis. You could come up with an infinite number of ‘deductions’ like that.

“A deduction based on evidence within the realm of common sense—that’s where we must begin. And if the reasoning absolutely won’t hold together, only then do we gradually expand our scope. That is the true path.”

Before I knew it, I was on my feet, reciting the contents of my thesis. I spoke with a desperate, burning intensity. Perhaps it was because, to me, this wasn’t just talk—it was my philosophy on mysteries.

Everyone watched me in stunned silence as they listened to my speech.

“Marvelous. I was moved by the contents of that book, but hearing it live from the author’s own mouth is something else entirely.”

Geralt’s smile returned as he regained his composure.

“But, as marvelous as it is, it’s all academic theory. Can you actually solve this case using that methodology—through investigation and deduction?”

For the first time, a challenging glint flickered in Geralt’s eyes.

“Of course he can.”

For some reason, it wasn’t me but Leo who answered.

Naturally, I had no such confidence.

“Excellent. It’s true that my deduction lacks evidence. If Van can present a more brilliant reasoning and solve the case, nothing would bring me greater joy. However, given the gravity of the situation, we can’t afford to take much time.”

Geralt glanced toward Ice.

“It is now 7:00 PM. We must reach a conclusion by 9:00 PM. From then until tomorrow morning, we need to put every possible countermeasure into motion.”

Ice nodded heavily.

So, I had a two-hour grace period.

You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s impossible.

“That’s more than enough time for someone like Van,” Leo added, once again speaking for me without permission.

“You—!”

Before I could complain, Geralt urged me forward. “Well then, we’d better start the investigation as soon as possible.”

“Wait a minute!”

It was Bob who shouted, his face flushed bright red.

“This kid might be the culprit! It’s too dangerous to let him wander around on his own!”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt replied instantly and coolly. “I’ll go with him. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

At those words, Bob fell silent, looking incredibly frustrated.

“Now then, where shall we look first?”

Faced with Geralt’s immediate question, I struggled to think.

“L-let’s go to the site of the explosion.”

The truth was, I just wasn’t mentally prepared to go back to that chapel—the one drenched in blood and containing a headless corpse.

And so, Geralt and I left the Grand Hall together.

In the entrance hall, knights were scurrying about frantically, exchanging reports.

“Um…”

Just as I was about to apologize for my impertinent remarks, Geralt beat me to it.

“My apologies,” he said. I blinked in surprise.

“Eh? For… for what?”

“I am called ‘Silent Geralt.’ Do you know why?”

Geralt answered my question with one of his own as we headed toward the stairs.

“N-no.”

“Because I resolve incidents quietly. In a way that satisfies the majority of those involved. That’s why I’m considered so useful. It’s why I’ve risen so far at my age and why I’m called one of the Six Detectives of Pangea.”

“You mean…” I caught my breath.

“Yes. It means I provide the resolution that is most convenient for everyone,” Geralt said without a hint of hesitation.

“In this case, given the circumstances, everyone wanted a quick resolution—and preferably an answer that placed the blame on an outsider. That way, they can pin it on some ‘other’ and the Crown and Church can cooperate to draw up countermeasures immediately. After all, the victim is Princess Victie. If they don’t handle this right, the nation itself might fracture.”

He didn’t use the word “perish,” but “fracture.” He likely assumed the nation wouldn’t actually cease to exist.

“So, I gave them that answer. Even if it’s politically correct, emotionally… well. I’m sure her parents, the King and Queen, and her two caretakers accepted it while simultaneously being unable to truly acknowledge it.”

I recalled the atmosphere in the room when I heard Geralt’s deduction. Was everyone struggling with whether or not they should just go along with that resolution?

“So, pardon me, but I decided to make use of your little outburst. Whether you succeed or fail, it should at least give their feelings some room to settle. It seems Lord Baal acted after reading the entire situation to that extent, though… My, what a terrifying man.”

Geralt shook his head. I couldn’t help but ask:

“Is… is that really okay? Even though you’re a detective?”

Geralt looked at me with a blank expression.

“Isn’t that what a detective is? At least, that’s what I believe. A detective is someone who convinces the majority of people and brings an incident to a close. What else is there?”

Hearing that, I found myself unable to argue. Because, in a way, he might be right.

Even the great detectives in mystery novels are, in the end, beings who provide a deduction that satisfies the people involved—and more importantly, the readers—to bring the story to an end.

But… is that really enough?

“Don’t you… don’t you want to know the truth?”

At my desperate words, Geralt stopped in his tracks just before the stairs.

“The words you said—that there are no absolutes in this world—you were right about that.”

For the first time, the gentleness vanished from Geralt’s face. In its place, a chilling, cold light settled in his eyes.

“That’s exactly it. In this world, there is no such thing as an absolutely correct fact, nor a singular, unique truth. Such things don’t exist. No matter how much evidence there is, no matter how much sense it makes, every deduction and every resolution…”

Geralt began to move again.

“…is just a story. A pipe dream, an illusion—a fantasy.”

Tapping his cane, Geralt ascended to the second floor.

I stood frozen at the base of the stairs for a long time, as if under a spell.