---
The dungeon beneath the palace was nothing like the torture chambers of old stories. It was clean, well-lit, and designed for holding prisoners humanely while they awaited trial. Celestia had reformed it personally, disgusted by the conditions she'd found when taking the throne.
The four captured assassins sat in separate cells, waiting.
Yuki stood in the observation room, watching them through one-way glass enchanted to allow viewing without being seen. She'd been studying them for three hours now, taking notes, analyzing their behavior patterns.
"See anything useful?" Ren asked, joining her with two cups of tea.
"They're professionals," Yuki said, accepting the tea gratefully. "Not panicking, not trying to escape. They're waiting for either rescue or execution. They expect one or the other."
"What they're getting is interrogation."
"Which they're also prepared for. Look at them—calm, centered, probably trained in resistance techniques." She pointed to the one called Subject A, the rooftop sniper. "That one hasn't moved in forty minutes. Perfect meditation posture. Either very disciplined or magically sedated."
"Gareth's interrogators haven't gotten anything from any of them. Just names—probably fake—and refusal to answer questions."
"Because traditional interrogation won't work on professionals." Yuki turned to face Ren. "I have an idea. But it's morally questionable."
"Most of your ideas are morally questionable. That's never stopped you before."
"This one is different. It involves... violating someone's mind."
Ren's expression became serious. "Explain."
"My reality coding can rewrite physical reality—change colors, alter materials, create structures. But reality includes consciousness. Thoughts are just electrochemical patterns in the brain. Patterns I can theoretically read and modify."
"You want to code their memories? Force them to reveal information?"
"Not force. Extract. I can map their memories, read them like data, find what we need without them even knowing I'm doing it."
"That's..." Ren struggled for the right word. "That's mental rape, Yuki. You're talking about invading someone's private thoughts without consent."
"I know. That's why it's morally questionable." She looked at him steadily. "But these people tried to kill us. They're working for someone who will keep trying until they succeed. And traditional methods aren't working. This is efficient, reliable, and most importantly—it works."
"At the cost of violating basic human rights."
"They forfeited those rights when they became assassins."
"Did they? Or are we justifying evil acts by calling them necessary?"
They stared at each other, the philosophical divide clear. Yuki, ever logical, saw a problem requiring a solution. Ren, who'd spent his life being controlled, saw a violation of autonomy that couldn't be justified.
"Let me ask the others," Ren said finally. "This isn't a decision we make alone."
---
Twenty minutes later, all five heroes and Celestia gathered in a secure conference room.
Yuki explained her proposal: use reality coding to map the assassins' memories, extracting information about who hired them, how they were organized, and what the larger conspiracy looked like.
"Absolutely not," Daichi said immediately. "That's thought police territory. We can't start reading people's minds just because it's convenient."
"It's not convenient—it's necessary," Yuki countered. "We need this information."
"There are other ways to get information."
"Which have all failed. We've had three interrogators work on them for hours. We've gotten nothing."
"So we wait longer. We're patient. We don't become monsters just because we're frustrated."
"We're not becoming monsters—we're using available tools to protect ourselves and the city."
"By violating people's consciousness? How is that different from what Aldric did with the harvest?"
"It's completely different! I'm not trapping souls in eternal torment—I'm reading memories!"
"Without permission! Without consent! It's still violation!"
"Enough," Ren said, his command voice automatically carrying authority even when he didn't mean it to. Everyone fell silent. "Sorry. Didn't mean to use power. But we need to discuss this rationally, not emotionally."
"This is inherently emotional," Himari said quietly. "We're talking about someone's mind. Their thoughts. Their privacy. That's deeply personal."
"But Yuki's right that we need the information," Kaito added. "If there's a larger conspiracy, we're in danger. The whole city might be in danger."
"Does that justify any means to stop it?" Himari asked.
"I don't know. I honestly don't know."
Celestia had been quiet, listening. Now she spoke: "As queen, I could order it. Take the moral weight on myself, leave you clear of the decision."
"That's not how this works," Ren said. "We're a team. We decide together. And we all carry the weight of our choices."
"Even if that means failing to protect people because we were too moral to use effective methods?"
"Yes. Because the moment we compromise our principles for expediency, we become what we fought against."
"That's idealistic," Yuki said. "Not realistic."
"Maybe. But I'd rather be idealistic and struggle than pragmatic and lose myself."
They argued for another hour, going in circles. Daichi and Ren firmly opposed, seeing it as a violation of basic rights. Yuki pragmatically in favor, seeing it as a necessary tool. Himari and Kaito uncertain, seeing merit in both arguments.
Finally, Celestia proposed a compromise: "What if we asked them? Offered a choice—submit to memory reading in exchange for leniency. Those who refuse can wait for traditional justice."
"They'll refuse," Yuki said. "They're trained to resist."
"Then we've tried the ethical option and it failed. But at least we tried."
It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. They agreed to propose the offer.
---
Ren and Celestia approached the first prisoner—the rooftop sniper, designated Subject A. A woman in her thirties with the weathered look of someone who'd lived hard.
"We have a proposition," Celestia said. "Cooperate with our investigation, allow us to verify your answers through magical means, and you'll receive reduced sentencing. Refuse, and you face execution for attempted assassination of royalty."
The woman smiled slightly. "I've heard better offers. What magical means?"
"Memory reading. A hero with the ability to see your thoughts and extract information about who hired you."
"So mind rape. You're offering me a choice between violation and execution. Some choice."
"It's the choice you have," Ren said. "Take it or leave it."
"I'll leave it, thanks. I'd rather die with my thoughts my own than live knowing someone rifled through my brain like a filing cabinet."
"You understand you'll be executed?"
"I understand I was caught. That's the risk. But I signed up for the possibility of death, not the certainty of violation. Kill me if you must. I won't help you."
They tried the other three prisoners. All refused, all for similar reasons. They'd accepted death as part of their profession, but they drew the line at mental invasion.
"Told you," Yuki said when informed of the results. "Professionals. They have lines they won't cross."
"So do we," Ren said firmly. "We're not reading their memories without consent."
"Then we have four prisoners who won't talk, a conspiracy that's still active, and no way forward."
"There's always a way forward. We just have to find it."
"Idealism isn't a strategy, Ren."
"Neither is becoming the villain to fight villains."
They were at an impasse.
---
Three days passed. The four assassins remained silent. The investigation stalled. Tension mounted as everyone waited for the next attack.
Then Kaito had an idea.
"What if we don't read their memories?" he said during an emergency meeting. "What if we use empathy instead?"
"Explain," Yuki said.
"Empathy isn't mind reading. It's feeling emotions. I can't see their thoughts, but I can feel their reactions. If we ask them questions, even if they don't answer, I'll feel what emotions those questions trigger. Truth feels different from lies. Knowledge feels different from ignorance."
"That's... actually not terrible," Yuki admitted. "Less invasive than memory extraction. More ethical."
"And less reliable," Daichi pointed out. "Emotions are subjective. You might misread them."
"But it's better than nothing. And it doesn't violate their minds—just reads their emotional state, which they're broadcasting anyway through body language."
"I'm uncomfortable with it," Himari said. "But less uncomfortable than memory reading. At least this doesn't force anything—it just observes."
They debated further, but the consensus shifted. Empathic interrogation was ethically gray rather than black. Not ideal, but acceptable given the stakes.
They brought the first prisoner—Subject A, the sniper—into an interrogation room. Just Kaito, Ren as observer, and the prisoner.
"We're going to ask you questions," Kaito explained. "You don't have to answer. But I will be reading your emotional reactions. Is that acceptable?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You can refuse. We'll return you to your cell. But this is your opportunity to help us without violating your own principles."
The woman considered. "You're not forcing anything on me? Just reading what I feel?"
"Correct."
"Fine. Ask your questions. I won't answer, but you can feel whatever you want."
Kaito extended his empathy, connecting to her emotional state. Calm. Resigned. Curious. No hostility, surprisingly.
"Who hired you?" Ren asked.
Silence. But Kaito felt the emotional response: knowledge, carefully controlled. She knew the answer. And underneath—loyalty, fear of betrayal, complex emotions suggesting personal connection to her employer.
"You know who hired you," Kaito said. "And you care about them. This isn't just a job—there's personal loyalty involved."
The woman's eyes widened slightly. "That's... that's unsettling. But yes. I know and I'm loyal. That's all you're getting."
"The employer is someone you respect," Kaito continued, reading deeper. "Someone you believe in. You think they're doing the right thing, even if the methods are questionable."
"Everyone thinks they're doing the right thing."
"Are they nobility? Someone in the court?"
A spike of surprise. "How did you—" She stopped herself.
"They are nobility. Someone who lost power when Celestia took the throne." Kaito felt through the complex emotions. "Someone who worked closely with King Aldric. Someone who believes the old ways were better."
"I'm not confirming anything."
"You don't have to. Your emotions confirm it." He pushed deeper, trying to identify specific details. "Someone older. Experienced. Strategic. They're not acting out of personal vendetta—they genuinely believe they're saving the kingdom from making a mistake."
The woman said nothing, but her emotional signature was screaming confirmation.
They continued for another hour, Kaito asking questions and reading emotional responses. He couldn't get names—she was too well-trained to think of specific individuals—but he got patterns, motivations, organizational structure.
By the end, he'd constructed a profile:
The conspiracy was led by a high-ranking noble, possibly multiple nobles working together. They believed Celestia's reforms were weakening the kingdom. They saw the alliance with demons as betrayal. They thought returning to the old ways—harsh but "effective"—was necessary for survival. They were organized, well-funded, and committed to long-term resistance rather than quick victory.
"So we're not dealing with random assassinations," Ren summarized after. "We're dealing with a counterrevolution. A shadow government trying to restore the old order."
"Essentially yes," Kaito confirmed. "And they're patient. The assassination attempts were just tests—probing our defenses, gathering intelligence, preparing for something larger."
"What larger?"
"I don't know. But the assassin felt... anticipatory. Like the real plan is still coming."
They repeated the empathic interrogation with the other three prisoners. Each confirmed the same general picture, adding details that helped narrow the suspect list.
By the end, they had five primary suspects:
**Duke Thornwood** - controlled military contracts, lost influence under Celestia
**Count Greyson** - Aldric's former spymaster, disappeared after the coup
**Baroness Ashford** - Blackwood's widow, publicly bitter about his death
**Duke Silverdale** - older noble, vocal critic of demon alliance
**Countess Windmere** - finance minister under Aldric, demoted by Celestia
"Five suspects," Yuki said, studying the list. "We need to narrow further. Investigate their movements, their associates, their resources."
"That takes time," Celestia said. "Time they might use to attack again."
"Or," Daichi suggested, "we force their hand. Make them act before they're ready."
"How?"
"Same strategy as before. But bigger. More public. More threat to their goals. Make them desperate enough to reveal themselves."
It was risky. But they were out of safe options.
---
One week later, Celestia announced a landmark treaty: full political integration with demon territories. Not just alliance, but merger—demon representatives in the council, equal citizenship, shared governance.
It was revolutionary. It was controversial. And it was designed to provoke exactly the reaction they wanted.
The announcement caused chaos. Protests in the streets, both for and against. Emergency council sessions. Heated debates in every tavern and home.
And somewhere in that chaos, the conspirators would have to act.
They couldn't let the treaty proceed. It would cement everything they opposed. They'd make their move.
The heroes prepared.
Kaito extended his empathy across the city, monitoring for spikes of hostile intent. Yuki created detection grids, tracking magical activity. Daichi coordinated with guards, establishing rapid response teams. Himari prepared for mass casualties—if the conspirators were desperate enough, they might attack civilian targets.
Ren worked with Celestia, using the treaty negotiations as bait while simultaneously investigating the five suspects.
Three days after the announcement, Count Greyson—the former spymaster—disappeared completely. His household staff claimed he'd left on "personal business." His assets were being liquidated. His known associates had gone silent.
"He's running," Ren said. "Or preparing something. Either way, he's our lead."
They traced his movements through informants and financial records. He'd purchased supplies—lots of them. Food, weapons, magical components. Enough for a small army.
"He's building something," Yuki analyzed. "A base? A force? Some kind of operation that requires significant resources."
"Where?"
They tracked the supply purchases. Most were being delivered to a warehouse district near the city walls. A legitimate cover—officially it was storage for a merchant company. But the pattern was wrong. Too much coming in, nothing going out.
"That's where they're staging," Kaito said, his empathy picking up concentrated hostile intent from that direction. "I can feel them. Dozens of people, all focused, all preparing for violence."
"How many?" Celestia asked.
"Fifty? Maybe more. It's hard to count precisely, but it's a significant force."
"Fifty armed and trained fighters. That's not an assassination squad—that's an assault team." Ren looked at Celestia. "What's near those warehouses?"
She pulled up a city map. "East wall. Guard barracks. And..." her face paled. "The barrier control center. The hub that Yuki built to coordinate the new barrier network."
"They're going to attack the barriers," Yuki breathed. "Destroy the control center, bring down the defenses, and blame it on demon sabotage."
"Which would turn public opinion against the treaty," Ren continued. "Justify martial law. Give them excuse to overthrow Celestia and restore the old regime."
"It's actually a good plan," Yuki admitted grudgingly. "Evil, but strategically sound."
"When?" Celestia demanded. "When will they attack?"
"Soon," Kaito said, feeling the anticipatory tension in that distant cluster of hostile intent. "They're waiting for something. A signal. The right moment."
"The treaty signing," Celestia realized. "It's scheduled for three days from now. They'll attack during the ceremony, when everyone's attention is on the plaza."
"Then we have three days to stop them."
"No," Yuki said, a strange smile crossing her face. "We have three days to turn their plan against them."
Everyone turned to look at her.
"They think we don't know about the attack. They think they'll catch us by surprise. But what if..." she pulled out paper and started sketching. "What if we let them attack the barrier control center? Except it's a fake. We evacuate the real hub, build a decoy, and when they attack, we catch them all at once."
"You want to use the barrier system as bait?"
"Why not? We already used ourselves as bait and it worked. This is the same strategy, larger scale."
"What if they realize it's a trap?"
"Then they don't attack and we investigate the warehouses directly. Either way, we win. We either catch them in the act or we capture their staging ground."
It was risky. Complicated. Required perfect timing and coordination.
Naturally, they decided to do it.
---
Three days of frantic preparation followed.
Yuki built a false control center in the actual location, perfect down to the last detail. Except everything was fake—crystals that looked active but contained no power, equipment that appeared functional but did nothing. A perfect trap.
Meanwhile, she relocated the real barrier controls to a secure location, rerouting all connections without anyone outside the team knowing.
Daichi and Gareth positioned forces around the warehouse district, ready to close the trap once the conspirators committed to the attack.
Kaito mapped every hostile presence, tracking movements, predicting patterns.
Himari prepared the city's hospitals for potential casualties.
And Ren coordinated everything, the tactical mastermind ensuring every piece moved correctly.
On the day of the treaty signing, two events happened simultaneously:
In the plaza, Celestia and Malachar signed the historic treaty, surrounded by crowds and ceremony.
Near the east wall, Count Greyson's assault team attacked the "barrier control center."
It was swift and professional. They breached the building, overwhelmed the token guards (who'd been warned to retreat), and began destroying equipment.
Yuki, watching through magical scrying, saw Count Greyson himself enter the building, saw him smile with satisfaction as the fake crystals shattered.
"Now," she said.
Daichi's teams closed in from all sides. Guards poured into the warehouse district. Mages sealed escape routes. Within minutes, the entire assault force was surrounded.
Some fought. Some surrendered. Count Greyson, realizing the trap, tried to activate a magical escape—but Yuki had anticipated that too. Her coded countermeasures locked down all teleportation in the area.
Trapped.
By evening, the entire conspiracy was captured. Fifty-three fighters, including Count Greyson and two other nobles who'd joined the assault. Evidence of their planning, their funding, their goals—all secured.
"You walked into an obvious trap," Ren told Greyson during the initial interrogation. "Why?"
The old spymaster smiled bitterly. "Because you made us desperate. The treaty was too much, too fast. We had to act before it was signed. You forced our hand, exactly as you planned."
"You knew it was a trap?"
"I suspected. But what choice did we have? Stand by and watch everything we believed in destroyed? At least this way, we tried."
He looked at Ren steadily. "You won this round, young hero. But this isn't over. We're not the only ones who believe Celestia is leading the kingdom to ruin. Others will rise. Others will fight."
"Let them. We'll beat them too."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you'll become the very tyranny you overthrew. Aldric started as a hero too. Marcus—your Demon King—started with noble intentions. Power corrupts. You'll learn."
Ren had no answer to that.
The aftermath took weeks to process.
Fifty-three conspirators. Trials. Sentencing. Celestia was merciful—no executions, just imprisonment and loss of titles. She wanted to break the cycle of violence, not perpetuate it.
The treaty was ratified. Demon representatives took seats in the council. Integration continued.
And the five heroes were celebrated again—the team that saved the kingdom from a counterrevolution.
But Yuki didn't feel celebratory.
She sat alone in her laboratory, late at night, thinking about the empathic interrogation. About how close she'd come to actually violating the prisoners' minds. About how easily she'd justified it to herself.
"Couldn't sleep?" Kaito asked, appearing in the doorway.
"Thinking."
"About?"
"How easy it is to become the villain. I was ready to read their memories without consent. Convinced myself it was necessary, justified, the lesser evil."
"But you didn't."
"Only because you all stopped me. If I'd been alone, I would have done it. And I would have convinced myself it was right."
Kaito sat beside her. "That's the difference between you and someone like Aldric. He stopped listening to people who questioned him. You still listen. You still let yourself be talked out of bad ideas."
"This time. What about next time? What if next time the threat is bigger and I convince everyone it's necessary?"
"Then we'll argue again. And hopefully, someone will still be able to talk you down." He smiled. "That's what friends are for. Keeping each other human."
"Is that what we are? Human?"
"Human enough. With all our flaws and temptations and capacity for both good and evil. We're people, Yuki. Complicated, messy, morally gray people trying to do the right thing."
"Comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be comforting. Was meant to be true."
They sat in silence for a while, two teenagers who'd saved a kingdom multiple times but still doubted themselves constantly.
"The conspirators were right about one thing," Yuki said eventually. "Power does corrupt. We have so much power—individually and collectively. How do we make sure we don't become what we fought against?"
"By remembering this feeling. This doubt. This fear of becoming monsters." Kaito looked at her seriously. "The moment we stop questioning ourselves is the moment we become dangerous. So we keep questioning. Always."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is. But it's better than the alternative."
Yuki thought about Aldric, about Malachar, about every well-intentioned person who'd become a tyrant over time. About how easy it would be to follow that path.
"Okay," she said. "We keep questioning. We keep doubting. We keep each other honest."
"Deal."
They shook hands solemnly, making a pact that they both knew would be tested repeatedly in the years ahead.
Because power didn't just corrupt. It tempted. It whispered. It promised that just this once, just this one time, the ends could justify the means.
And staying good meant recognizing that whisper for what it was.
Every single time.
No matter how tired you got.