Celestia Athlwein did not interrogate people the way normal investigators did.
Normal investigators asked questions. They waited for answers. They watched for tells, for hesitation, for cracks in the voice or shifts in posture.
Celestia Athlwein stared at you like she already knew the answer and was only waiting to see how long you would keep lying to yourself.
Elias sat across from her in a different room now—larger, reinforced, lined with faint runic engravings etched into the walls.
The Hunter Association's temporary exorcist branch had taken jurisdiction within minutes of her arrival. The police officers had retreated quickly, faces pale, relief and fear mixed together as if they were glad someone else had taken responsibility for him.
The bride ghost hovered silently in the corner.
Celestia leaned back in her chair, boots propped casually on the edge of the metal table, fingers laced behind her head. Her uniform jacket was half-unbuttoned, fire-attribute talismans sewn discreetly into the lining. Even sitting down, her presence filled the room.
"So," she said lazily, crimson eyes flicking back to Elias. "Let me get this straight."
Elias nodded once.
"You went to Silvia Haley's house."
"Yes."
"You drank her tea."
"Yes."
"You sat there while multiple vengeful child spirits tore her apart."
"Yes."
"And you're telling me," Celestia continued, smile widening, "that you had nothing to do with it."
"That is correct."
She laughed.
Not mockingly. Not cruelly.
She laughed like someone who had just heard an especially funny joke.
"Oh, you're good," she said, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Really good."
Elias frowned slightly. Or rather, he thought he frowned. His face didn't move.
"I am not being sarcastic," he said quietly.
That only made her laugh harder.
Behind her, one of the junior exorcists shifted uncomfortably. "Vice Captain… his vitals show no spirit fluctuation. No contract marks either."
Celestia waved him off without looking. "Relax. Monsters like him don't leak that kind of thing."
Elias stiffened.
"I am not a monster."
Celestia leaned forward suddenly, her boots hitting the floor with a solid thud. She rested her elbows on the table, chin in her palms, eyes inches from his face.
"You're sitting calmly in front of me," she said softly, "after being accused of homicide, surrounded by ghosts, with a cursed aura leaking from your body so thick it's making my skin itch."
She tilted her head.
"And you're telling me you're weak."
Elias inhaled slowly.
"I am," he said. "I do not fight. I do not exorcise. I do not hunt monsters."
"You let them do it for you," Celestia countered brightly.
"I did not let them," Elias replied. "I simply did not stop them."
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then she burst out laughing again.
"You hear that?" she said to the room. "He simply did not stop them."
The bride ghost giggled quietly.
Celestia's laughter faded, replaced by something sharper.
"You know what your problem is, Elias Graves?" she said. "You don't lie well enough."
"I am not lying."
"Exactly."
She straightened and snapped her fingers. A small flame bloomed above her fingertip, swirling lazily, illuminating the room in warm gold and red. The bride ghost tensed instinctively.
"Jackal cult," Celestia said casually. "Grave robbers. Child sacrifices. Feeding demonic remnants through post-mortem flesh. Nasty bunch."
The bride ghost's smile vanished.
She looked at Elias.
"I told him," the ghost said softly. "He didn't listen."
Celestia's eyes flicked to Elias sharply.
"You knew," she said.
Elias sighed.
"I read about it," he said. "In… other sources."
Celestia's gaze sharpened further. "And you said nothing."
"I am not an investigator."
"You're sitting on a walking cursed sanctuary, Elias," she snapped. "Don't play innocent."
"I am not playing," he replied calmly. "I am scared."
That gave her pause.
For the first time, Celestia hesitated.
"Scared?" she repeated.
"Yes."
His voice didn't shake. His posture didn't change. His eyes remained steady and distant.
"I am afraid of making mistakes," Elias continued. "Of intervening where I should not. Of causing more harm."
Celestia searched his face.
All she saw was indifference.
She laughed again, but quieter this time.
"You say that with a straight face," she said. "You know how that sounds?"
"I do," Elias replied. "I apologize."
She leaned back, clicking her tongue.
"Still useless, huh?" she muttered. "Evan family really threw you away."
Elias didn't respond.
Celestia stood abruptly.
"Well," she said briskly, "whether you like it or not, you're involved now."
She turned toward the door and jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
"You're coming with me to the exorcist branch. You're a liability at best, a walking disaster at worst. Either way, I'm not letting you wander around alone."
Elias blinked.
"I did not agree."
She grinned over her shoulder.
"I wasn't asking."
As she walked out, she added lightly, "And don't worry. I'll figure out what kind of monster you are eventually."
Elias followed.
Inside, he could only think one thing.
This is exactly the kind of nonsense I was trying to avoid.
*****
The interrogation ended without ceremony.
No slammed doors. No dramatic threats. Just paper.
Celestia Athlwein slid a thin folder across the metal table toward Elias, the sound soft but final, like a verdict that hadn't decided whether it was mercy or misfortune yet.
The folder was stamped with the emblem of the Hunter Association, gold ink pressed into black leather, heavy enough that even touching it made Elias's fingers stiffen.
Temporary cooperation permit.Civilian escort authorization.Mandatory evaluation at the local Hunter Branch.
Elias looked at the words without reacting.
Inside, he was screaming.
This is bad. This is very bad. This is chapter two hundred nonsense happening in chapter eight.
Celestia watched him with open interest, elbow resting on the table, chin propped on her palm. Her crimson eyes flickered once, twice, as if she were waiting for something—panic, anger, denial. Anything human.
Elias gave her nothing.
His face remained frozen in that calm, indifferent mask the body insisted on wearing, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable to the point of being almost insulting.
"Tch," Celestia clicked her tongue. "You're really not going to react, huh?"
Elias carefully stood, nodded once, and accepted the folder.
"Thank you," he said softly.
The tone was polite. Flat. Controlled.
It sounded like sarcasm.
Celestia laughed.
The car ride to the Hunter Branch was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Hunter Association vehicle was reinforced, runic lines etched faintly along the doors, humming softly beneath Elias's feet like a sleeping beast. Celestia drove one-handed, elbow resting on the window, posture relaxed to the point of arrogance, her red hair tied loosely behind her neck.
Elias sat in the passenger seat.
He stared straight ahead.
Outside, the city passed by slowly—shops, sidewalks, people living ordinary lives, unaware that beneath them monsters fed on children and above them hunters argued about jurisdiction.
The ghosts were gone.
At some point between the interrogation room and the car, the bride ghost, the children, all of them… vanished. Not dispersed. Not exorcised. Just… absent. As if someone had closed a door Elias didn't know existed.
Good, he thought.
He didn't trust the relief.
His fingers curled slightly against his knee. He could still feel them somewhere, distant and muted, like radio static just outside hearing range.
This is exactly how it starts, he thought bleakly. Step one: paperwork. Step two: evaluation. Step three: exorcist room with white walls and silver restraints.
If they decided he wasn't Elias Graves—If they decided he was a possessing spirit—
Dissection was the polite word.
"So," Celestia said suddenly, breaking the silence like a blade through glass. "Since when?"
Elias blinked once.
"…Since when?" he echoed.
She glanced at him sideways, eyes sharp. "Seeing ghosts."
His heart dropped.
Inwardly, Elias began sprinting in circles.
No. No no no. Bad question. Dangerous question. Abort. Abort.
"I don't," he replied calmly.
Celestia snorted. "You pointed at one in an interrogation room full of normal humans."
Elias hesitated for exactly half a second.
"I was guessing," he said.
It came out smooth.
Too smooth.
Celestia laughed again, louder this time. "Guessing. Right."
She shook her head, amused, but her eyes stayed on him longer than necessary.
"You know," she continued casually, "Elias Evan can't see ghosts."
Elias stiffened internally.
The Evan name always did that.
"Elias Evan," Celestia went on, unaware—or pretending to be unaware—of the landmine she was stepping on. ".Spiritual sensitivity rating? Absolute zero. The guy couldn't sense a curse even if it bit him."
She paused.
"But Elias Graves can? Just by changing the family name?"
Her tone was light.
The pressure was not.
Elias swallowed.
He could feel it then—that subtle, suffocating weight pressing down on the air around him. Not spirit. Not killing intent. Something colder and chilling. His own presence, leaking through cracks he didn't know how to seal.
Celestia's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"…Interesting," she murmured.
Elias forced himself to speak.
"I don't have spiritual affinity," he said quietly. "I never trained. I don't fight. I don't hunt."
Everything he said was true.
None of it sounded convincing.
With this face, this voice, this unnatural calm—it sounded like mockery.
Celestia glanced at him again, brows lifting. "You really expect me to believe that?"
Elias nodded once.
"Yes."
She stared.
Then she laughed again, this time softer, more thoughtful.
"Wow," she said. "You're either the worst liar I've ever met… or you're hiding something very impressive."
Neither answer was good.
Celestia leaned back, eyes forward again. "Relax. If you were possessed, you'd already be in chains."
That did not relax him.
"The thing is," she continued, tone shifting slightly, "ten years ago, you were just… nothing."
Elias's gaze flickered.
Celestia spoke slowly now, memory creeping into her voice.
"The last time I saw you was at a banquet. You didn't talk. Didn't smile. Didn't react. Ryan hated you back then. Said you looked down on everyone."
Elias remembered none of that.
The body did.
"I thought you were just a failed noble kid," Celestia said. "Another useless illegitimate bastrad clinging to a great family name."
Her eyes sharpened.
"But now?"
She glanced at him again.
"Your spiritual affinity reading isn't zero," she said. "It's not high either. It's… wrong. Like something is interfering."
Elias felt cold.
"And the pressure you give off," she added quietly, "it doesn't match your profile at all."
That was the only mercy.
Celestia shrugged suddenly, the moment passing as quickly as it came. "Whatever. That's the exorcists' headache."
The Hunter Branch appeared ahead—a fortified building reinforced with sigils and steel, banners fluttering in the morning wind.
Celestia parked.
"We'll see how 'normal' you really are," she said cheerfully as she stepped out.
Elias followed, folder clutched tightly in his hands.
Inside, his thoughts spiraled.
Jackal should appear in chapter two hundred.The cult should still be small.
This isn't my role. I'm an extra. A mediator. A guy who closes his eyes and survives.
But fate didn't care.
And neither, apparently, did Celestia Athlwein.
As the Hunter Branch doors opened before him, Elias Graves stepped inside with expressionless face, and unknowingly crossed the line he had spent his entire second life trying not to see.