Chapter 228: A Voice That Understands

Doctor Henri Valmont had treated enough cases of magical instability to recognize when a patient was approaching dangerous territory.

Professor Antoine Chastellain’s symptoms had progressed over several days. What began with floating objects and spontaneous magical discharges had developed into sounds, images, and eventually an unfamiliar woman’s voice that appeared capable of holding a conversation.

The professor remained rational and cooperative throughout his examinations. He understood the risks and had already taken precautions to prevent his condition from endangering others.

Unfortunately, that didn’t guarantee his condition would improve.

“I’d like you to remain under observation for several days,” Valmont explained after reviewing the latest examination results. “We have facilities designed to accommodate patients experiencing magical instability. You’ll have access to treatment, and our staff can respond immediately if another disturbance occurs.”

Antoine considered the proposal before agreeing.

He disliked the thought of leaving his residence, particularly when Lucile’s belongings remained there, but he understood why the physician had recommended it.

Ilya, who had accompanied him to the appointment, supported the decision.

The professor had already experienced several uncontrolled manifestations, and the strange voice presented another concern. Until they understood what was happening, remaining somewhere equipped to handle magical emergencies was sensible.

Valmont also recommended that Antoine avoid engaging with the voice if it returned.

“Some patients report hearing voices that seem to understand their emotions unusually well,” the physician explained. “Those experiences can become increasingly difficult to resist, especially when they offer comfort during periods of distress.”

Antoine understood.

The woman had already spoken about Lucile with an intimacy that made him uncomfortable. She knew which memories troubled him and seemed to understand the regrets he had never shared with anyone.

However, he hadn’t mentioned something to Valmont.

A small part of him had wanted her to continue speaking.

The observation ward was located in a quiet section of the clinic, away from the rooms used for ordinary medical treatment. Its windows overlooked a garden, and the accommodations were comfortable enough that Antoine had little reason to complain.

There was, however, one serious problem.

Doctor Valmont had prohibited experimental research until his condition improved.

By the second afternoon, Antoine had finished three books and reviewed several academic papers his colleagues had sent him.

When Valmont discovered that the professor was still working, he instructed the staff to stop delivering additional research materials.

Antoine considered the decision excessive.

He had entered the clinic to receive treatment, yet the physician appeared determined to deprive him of his profession.

Fortunately, Ilya arrived that evening carrying several books.

The professor welcomed him enthusiastically.

“Excellent. I was beginning to suspect Doctor Valmont intended to cure me through boredom.”

“An innovative approach. We should submit it to the Imperial Academy.”

“I doubt the medical community would appreciate that.”

“Then we’ll recommend it for the senior researchers. Most of them already look miserable.”

Antoine laughed and accepted the books.

Ilya then updated him on SkyRune’s activities.

The workshop’s new initiative had begun organizing its findings from the Saint Aurelia investigation, while the senior researchers continued handling their ordinary projects. Several proposals were awaiting approval, although none required Antoine’s immediate attention.

Inspector Laurent had also continued pursuing the leads involving Edmund Falkenrath and Matthias Reinhold.

According to the latest report, Imperial investigators had identified additional financial intermediaries and placed several suspected properties under surveillance. No major arrests had been announced, but the investigation was progressing.

Antoine listened carefully.

He was particularly interested in Reinhold, whose research concerned unusual magical phenomena associated with extreme emotional experiences.

However, Ilya reminded him that the Bureau had already assigned investigators to the matter.

There was little Antoine could accomplish while confined to a medical observation ward.

“I suppose you’re right,” the professor admitted.

“Besides, if you recover properly, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to criticize everyone else’s findings.”

“A compelling reason to cooperate with treatment.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Their conversation continued for a while before Ilya asked whether the mysterious voice had returned.

Antoine admitted that it had.

She had spoken briefly the previous evening, asking whether he felt lonely in the clinic.

“Did you answer?”

“No. I remembered the physician’s instructions.”

“Good. What happened afterward?”

“She eventually stopped speaking.”

Ilya considered the response.

The woman’s behavior remained unusual. She had encouraged Antoine to indulge his unstable magic during their earlier encounters, yet now she seemed content to speak about ordinary concerns.

That didn’t make her harmless.

If anything, the gentle approach made her more difficult to dismiss.

“Professor, I’d be careful about assuming she means well.”

“I know. What troubles me is how familiar she sounds.”

“Familiar?”

“Not her voice. The way she speaks. It’s as though she understands things I’ve never told anyone.”

Ilya understood why that would unsettle him.

Antoine had recently lost his daughter, and the voice appeared to know exactly which memories and regrets would affect him.

Whatever caused the phenomenon, allowing it to influence his decisions would be dangerous.

“Then I’d trust Doctor Valmont’s advice over hers,” Ilya said. “At least the doctor has a medical license.”

Antoine smiled.

“Your confidence in professional qualifications is reassuring.”

“I try to be reasonable about mysterious women who appear inside people’s heads.”

The professor laughed before thanking him for the visit.

Ilya departed shortly afterward, leaving Antoine with several books and instructions to contact him if anything unusual happened.

For the remainder of the evening, the observation ward remained quiet.

Antoine spent some time reading before setting the book aside.

He had been thinking about Lucile again.

Her eleventh birthday had passed only a few months earlier, and he remembered how excited she had been when he gave her a set of miniature tools designed for delicate mechanical work.

She had immediately declared that she would become a greater inventor than her father.

Antoine had challenged her to prove it.

She responded by promising to create something he couldn’t possibly understand.

The memory brought a faint smile to his face.

Then the woman spoke.

“She sounds like a wonderful little girl.”

Antoine immediately recognized her voice.

He checked the room out of habit, although he already knew nobody was there.

The woman continued with the same gentle warmth he remembered from their previous conversations.

“You must have been very proud of her.”

Antoine remembered Valmont’s warning and remained silent.

“Of course you were. She was curious, clever, and determined to impress you. Children can be so precious when they discover something they love.”

The professor closed his eyes.

He could almost see Lucile sitting at their workshop table, explaining another invention with the seriousness of a senior scholar.

“You miss those days, don’t you?”

Antoine continued resisting the urge to respond.

However, the woman didn’t seem offended by his silence.

Instead, she began speaking about the time he had spent away from Lucile.

“You worked so hard for her. You wanted to give her a comfortable life, a proper education, and every opportunity to pursue her dreams.”

Her voice softened.

“But there were days when you were too busy to listen, weren’t there?”

Antoine felt his chest tighten.

He remembered the evenings when Lucile had asked him to examine her drawings, only for him to promise that they would discuss them after he finished working.

He had always believed there would be time later.

The woman seemed to understand.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen. You were doing your best.”

The words were comforting.

Antoine had spent days blaming himself for failing to protect his daughter. He knew that the responsibility belonged to the people who had murdered her, yet knowing that hadn’t stopped him from wondering what he could have done differently.

Now someone was telling him that his failures were understandable.

For a moment, he wanted to believe her.

Then he remembered why Valmont had warned him against listening.

The voice was offering reassurance that seemed designed to weaken his resistance. Whether it originated from his own mind or something beyond his understanding, he couldn’t afford to let it influence his judgment.

Antoine concentrated on steadying his emotions.

Gradually, the presence weakened.

However, before disappearing, the woman spoke again.

“You don’t have to forgive yourself tonight. I’ll still be here whenever you need someone to listen.”

The room became quiet.

Antoine remained seated for a while before recording the incident in the notebook Valmont had provided.

He described the conversation, including the woman’s questions and his own emotional reactions.

The following morning, he submitted the account to the physician.

Valmont read it carefully.

“Did you feel compelled to answer her?”

“Yes.”

“And did the voice encourage you to disregard your treatment?”

“She didn’t mention the treatment. She spoke about Lucile.”

The physician considered the information.

He explained that the woman’s increasing emotional influence was concerning, particularly because Antoine appeared to find her presence comforting despite recognizing the danger.

However, the professor had successfully resisted engaging with her.

That was encouraging.

Valmont decided to continue observation and recommended that Antoine speak with a counselor experienced in bereavement.

The professor agreed.

He had never been especially comfortable discussing private matters with strangers, but he understood that his grief was affecting his magic.

Later that afternoon, Ilya visited again.

Antoine described the previous evening’s conversation and the physician’s recommendations.

Ilya listened before offering his opinion.

“If she keeps agreeing with everything you want to hear, I’d be suspicious.”

“That’s rather cynical.”

“Maybe. But people who agree with everything I say usually want something.”

“An unfortunate consequence of your charming personality.”

“I prefer to think of it as experience.”

Antoine laughed.

The exchange helped improve his mood, although the woman’s words continued troubling him after Ilya departed.

She hadn’t demanded anything.

She hadn’t threatened him or attempted to frighten him.

She had simply spoken about Lucile with a tenderness that reminded him of the years before the tragedy.

That made her difficult to dismiss.

Later that evening, Antoine received a letter from SkyRune.

The researchers had completed the preliminary proposal for their new initiative and requested his opinion before submitting it to the Imperial authorities.

He reviewed the document and offered several suggestions.

The objectives were practical, the safeguards appeared reasonable, and the workshop seemed capable of continuing without his constant supervision.

That was reassuring.

After finishing the letter, Antoine settled down to read.

The room remained quiet until the familiar voice returned.

“You’re working so hard to protect everyone.”

Antoine closed his book.

The woman sounded pleased.

“Even after everything you’ve suffered, you’re still trying to make the world safer for other people. That’s very kind of you.”

He remembered Valmont’s instructions and resisted the urge to respond.

However, she continued.

“Tell me, Antoine. When was the last time you allowed yourself to want something simply because it would make you happy?”

The question troubled him.

He thought of Lucile, her unfinished inventions, and the afternoons they had spent together.

He wanted those days back.

More than anything, he wanted another opportunity to hear his daughter laugh.

“Then why must you keep denying yourself?” the woman asked.

Antoine concentrated on suppressing the disturbance.

The voice gradually faded.

However, before disappearing, she left him with another question.

“If your magic can bring those memories to life, why should anyone else decide whether you’re allowed to see them?”

The professor remained awake after the room fell silent.

He understood the dangers of encouraging uncontrolled magic. He had agreed to treatment and intended to follow the physician’s advice.

Nevertheless, the woman’s question continued troubling him.

His magic had already reproduced Lucile’s laughter and image with remarkable clarity.

If those manifestations could be controlled, he wondered whether they might have some value beyond the danger they represented.

The thought was tempting enough that Antoine opened his notebook and began writing down the possibilities.

He stopped after several lines.

Then he crossed them out, closed the notebook, and placed it beside the bed.

The desire to continue remained, but he had promised Valmont that he would cooperate with treatment.

For tonight, he intended to keep that promise.

Even if the woman returned.