Chapter 46 — A Magnificent Performance
I opened my eyes.
The pain was back.
The ceiling lamp flickered, casting the room in a dim glow. Outside the window, the sun had begun to set—the sky was painted in deep orange and violet hues, melting into the horizon. Inside, shadows stretched across the walls, drawing eerie shapes on the plaster.
How long had I been asleep, anyway?
"Yes, you slept a little longer," said the detective standing before me.
I jolted in surprise. My heart began to pound violently, and my hands trembled involuntarily.
"Ohho! Hello, sir. You scared me," I said, trying to steady my breathing. I rubbed my eyes, putting on the appearance of just having woken up.
The detective stood by the door. His cloak looked like a black shadow in the dim light. His hands were in his pockets, and his gaze—sharp and probing—was fixed on me. The small scar on his face glinted in the half-darkness.
"Well, have you remembered anything?"
I paused for a few seconds, thinking. My eyes drifted to the ceiling, then to the window—toward the setting sun.
"Yes... actually, something came back to me," I said slowly.
The detective's eyes narrowed. He took a step forward.
"Well...?"
I took a deep breath. I placed my hands on the blanket and began my story:
"I was sitting on the roof, watching the sunset... and then someone came up behind me. I got scared and turned around..."
I widened my eyes, trying to convey fear.
"And before I could see clearly—it was a massive creature charging at me! Then Lady Izabella appeared out of nowhere and threw herself in front of the attack to protect me. The impact was so strong... blood came from her mouth and splattered onto me."
"Stop."
I fell silent.
"W-why?" I asked, putting a mix of surprise and fear into my voice.
The detective narrowed his eyes.
"Your story is too perfect."
"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brows.
"Well... I'm sensing something strange."
"I'm just telling you what I saw. If something's wrong, tell me."
The detective stared at me. His gaze felt like it was dissecting my very soul. Then he pulled his hand from his pocket and made a small gesture in the air with his fingers.
"Hmmm... the sand particles left on your hands match the particles from an explosion."
My heart stopped for a moment.
Damn it... he figured that out too? What kind of hellish ability does this bastard have?
I widened my eyes, putting on an innocent look:
"What sand are you talking about, sir? I didn't have any sand on me."
A cold smile curled at the corner of the detective's lips. Slowly, he pulled a small pouch from his pocket—a tiny cloth bag tied with string. He opened it and showed me what was inside: shimmering, fine sand particles, glittering like silver dust.
"Like this."
The air in the room suddenly grew heavy. I froze.
"Do you remember now?"
"From... whom... did you get it?"
I pressed my lips together. Tears came to my eyes—not real tears this time, born of fear and anxiety. But I decided to use them.
"From no one..." I said, my voice trembling. "I can't remember everything... I'm still young. But as far as I recall, I found it in an old warehouse."
Tears rolled down my cheeks—one drop, then another. I tried my best to make it look real.
"Where is the warehouse?"
"It was so long ago... a few months back, I got lost. I wandered into a warehouse and spent the night there. That's when... that's when..."
"When what?"
"That's when I found it! Ehehhhhhhheeeee!"
I started crying. I covered my face with my hands, shaking my shoulders, sobbing loudly. My tears seeped between my fingers and dripped onto the pillow.
The detective stood silent for a few seconds. Then he let out a heavy breath.
Alright... cry, Kael. What would an eight-year-old do in such a situation? Of course, he'd cry.
Hehehehe.
"Uhhhhh... I'll come back later. Goodbye. I have instructions to give. I've decided—I don't think it's your fault."
"No, I am guilty!" I shouted, still crying. "I heard... Lady Izabella died... I... I'm responsible! Ehhheeeeehehhehh!"
"That's enough, boy. Don't torment yourself."
He paused for a moment. He raised his hand, signaling me to stop.
"I'm leaving. We'll talk again later."
"Alright... sir."
He walked slowly toward the door. His worn leather boots scraped against the floor, making a faint sound. He opened the door and stepped outside.
Just before the door closed—he stared at me.
This boy is hiding something.
His gaze was ice-cold for a moment.
Then his eyes dropped to my clothes—the spot where the bloodstains were still visible. One second.
Two seconds.
Then the door closed.
He continued on his way.
I listened to the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.
The room sank into silence.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then suddenly—
"Ahahahahah!"
I burst out laughing.
"He's gone! Brilliant! Brilliant, fantastic! Ahahahaha!"
I kept laughing. The tears in my eyes were real now—but not from sorrow. From joy. I raised my hands in the air, celebrating my victory.
Then suddenly—
Applause.
Clap... clap... clap...
I froze.
My heart stopped. My hands hung frozen in the air.
"Magnificent performance, Kael."
The voice came from beside me.
I snapped my head around.
Dzao was already standing at my bedside.
His white hair shimmered in the dim light, and his eyes—like two burning coals—were fixed on me. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips. His arms were crossed over his chest, his entire posture radiating calm confidence.
"Truly, you are someone to be feared."
"Uhhh... you scared me!"
I steadied my breathing and clutched my chest. My heart was still racing.
"Hehehe... truly magnificent."
"How long have you been here?"
Dzao chuckled.
"Long enough."
I stared at him in confusion for a moment. There was no hint of humor on his face—just a cold, measuring gaze.
"So... you saw everything?"
"Everything."
"Then why didn't you help me?"
He shrugged. His cloak lifted slightly with the motion, then fell back.
"You didn't ask."
"I'm eight years old! Is it really necessary for me to ask for help?"
Dzao smiled. There was no warmth in that smile—only a deep, knowing wisdom.
"No, Kael. You don't think like an eight-year-old."
I fell silent for a few seconds. The air in the room shifted the moment those words left his mouth.
"Well... what do you mean?"
Dzao stared at me. His gaze felt like it was reading every thought inside me.
"It's strange for an eight-year-old to suddenly become so joyful after the detective leaves. Crying... then suddenly laughter."
My heart skipped a beat.
Yes... just as expected from Dzao. Always nerve-wracking.
"I was just scared," I said, trying to put as much confidence as I could into my voice.
His smile widened.
"You weren't scared."
He took a step closer.
"You were happy that you managed to fool him. It was brilliant."
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