Chapter 229: The Price of Answers

The Imperial Intelligence Bureau finally located one of Matthias Reinhold’s former research assistants.

His name was Otto Krüger, a forty-three-year-old scholar who had abandoned private magical research nearly a decade earlier.

Investigators found him teaching at a provincial technical school, where he had been living under his own name without attracting attention.

Krüger initially refused to discuss his former employer. However, when Inspector Laurent presented the evidence recovered from Saint Aurelia, his attitude changed.

He recognized several names associated with the Cult of the Second Dawn, including Albrecht Voss.

More importantly, he recognized the organization that had funded their research.

“Falkenrath’s foundation wasn’t interested in our discoveries,” Krüger explained during questioning. “They wanted our failures.”

Laurent requested clarification.

According to Krüger, Reinhold had spent years investigating unusual magical phenomena associated with psychological trauma. His research included documented cases of Distortion, although he never developed a reliable method of predicting or controlling it.

The financial sponsors had originally encouraged him to investigate those possibilities.

However, their priorities gradually changed.

“They started asking us to preserve everything,” Krüger continued. “Every unsuccessful experiment, every rejected hypothesis, every observation that didn’t support our conclusions.”

“Why?”

“I asked the same question. Reinhold told me our sponsors were interested in identifying the circumstances under which ordinary magical theory stopped being reliable.”

Laurent considered the implications.

The financiers might have been building an extensive collection of records concerning unusual magical phenomena, including experiments that produced no extraordinary results.

That would explain why someone had been willing to purchase the final examination records from Saint Aurelia even when the children failed to exhibit the transformations the cult expected.

However, the investigators still didn’t know what the sponsors intended to accomplish with that information.

Krüger provided another useful lead.

Reinhold had maintained a private correspondence with several researchers who believed they had encountered an unexplained influence during cases of severe magical instability.

Some patients reported hearing voices.

Others described an overwhelming sense that someone understood their suffering and encouraged them to embrace desires they had previously suppressed.

The accounts varied, and Krüger emphasized that no reliable evidence established whether those experiences shared a common cause.

Nevertheless, Reinhold had been fascinated by them.

Laurent immediately recognized the potential relevance of the testimony.

He requested copies of the surviving research and arranged to have them examined by qualified specialists.

One of those specialists was Doctor Henri Valmont.

Unfortunately, the physician was currently treating a patient whose symptoms bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the phenomena described in Krüger’s testimony.

Professor Antoine Chastellain.

Valmont received the Bureau’s request that afternoon.

He reviewed the relevant documents before contacting Laurent to discuss the matter. Although he agreed to provide a general assessment, he refused to disclose confidential information concerning his patients.

The inspector accepted the restriction.

The Bureau had no reason to involve an unrelated patient in a criminal investigation simply because his condition resembled the research under examination.

However, Valmont took the information seriously.

Reinhold’s records contained descriptions of voices that appeared during the early stages of Distortion, often speaking in ways that reflected the affected individual’s deepest regrets and desires.

Some accounts described the voices as comforting.

Others suggested that their influence became increasingly difficult to resist.

The physician had encountered similar reports in established medical literature, but Reinhold’s correspondence contained an unsettling detail.

Several patients claimed the voice had encouraged them to stop resisting their changing magic.

That was remarkably close to Antoine’s account.

Valmont decided to discuss the matter with his patient during their scheduled consultation.

Antoine listened carefully as the physician explained that other individuals had reported comparable experiences.

“Then I’m not the only one hearing her?”

“You’re certainly not the only patient who has reported a voice during magical instability. Whether those experiences share a common cause remains unclear.”

“Did any of them recover?”

“Yes. There are documented cases of patients whose symptoms subsided without progressing to Distortion.”

Antoine found that encouraging.

However, the physician also explained that several historical cases had ended badly.

The outcome depended on circumstances researchers still struggled to understand.

Valmont therefore recommended continuing treatment and avoiding further engagement with the mysterious voice.

Antoine agreed.

Unfortunately, the latest information had awakened his scholarly curiosity.

For years, he had investigated magical phenomena that other researchers dismissed as impractical or poorly understood. Now he had encountered a subject that directly concerned his own condition.

He wanted to examine the historical cases.

Valmont understood the request but declined to provide the restricted documents.

“Professor, you’re currently recovering from severe emotional trauma. I don’t believe immersing yourself in accounts of people experiencing similar conditions would help your treatment.”

“Then how am I supposed to understand what’s happening to me?”

“By working with the people treating you. You’re welcome to ask questions, but conducting independent research into your symptoms is something I’d advise postponing.”

Antoine accepted the decision.

He didn’t appreciate it, but the physician’s reasoning was sound.

Nevertheless, the unanswered questions continued troubling him.

Later that afternoon, Ilya arrived for his usual visit.

He found the professor reading an ordinary historical text, although several sheets of paper beside him contained handwritten observations.

“How’s the treatment going?”

“Apparently, I’m being forbidden from studying my own condition.”

Ilya examined the notes.

“That sounds suspiciously like something you’ve done to your students.”

“I’ve never forbidden anyone from learning.”

“You once confiscated my research materials because I hadn’t slept.”

“And I was correct.”

“An unfortunate precedent.”

Antoine laughed before explaining Valmont’s decision.

Ilya understood both sides.

The professor had every reason to want answers, but his condition was closely connected to the emotions he was struggling to manage. Spending every waking hour reading accounts of Distortion might only encourage him to interpret his own experiences through increasingly frightening possibilities.

Nevertheless, the physician’s restrictions couldn’t continue indefinitely.

“I think you should ask Valmont what you can safely study,” Ilya suggested. “He’s treating you, so he should be able to explain what information would actually help.”

Antoine considered the proposal.

That was a reasonable compromise.

He could remain informed about his condition without turning his recovery into another research project.

“I’ll discuss it with him.”

“Good. I’d hate to see you expelled from the clinic for unauthorized scholarship.”

The professor smiled.

However, their conversation soon turned toward the Imperial investigation.

Ilya had received an update concerning Reinhold’s former assistant, although the Bureau hadn’t released the full testimony.

The most important discovery was that the cult’s financial supporters appeared interested in collecting records of failed experiments.

That suggested their objectives differed from those of the researchers who had occupied Saint Aurelia.

Antoine immediately recognized the significance.

“If they were collecting failures, they might have been comparing the results of several research groups.”

“That’s possible,” Ilya answered. “But the Bureau still doesn’t know what they were looking for.”

“Then they’ll need to identify whoever received those records.”

“Laurent’s already working on it.”

The professor understood.

However, he couldn’t help thinking about the children who had died.

Lucile had become part of an experiment whose results were apparently valuable to people she had never met.

The thought filled him with anger.

He had accepted that the cult’s members were responsible for her death, but the possibility that others had financed the operation while remaining safely beyond its consequences was difficult to endure.

“They used those children as research materials,” Antoine said quietly.

Ilya agreed.

The professor continued examining the report.

Then he asked whether the Bureau had made any progress identifying the central archive mentioned in the recovered correspondence.

Not yet.

However, several provincial investigators were tracing transactions associated with the missing foundation, and Laurent believed they would eventually uncover another lead.

Antoine accepted the answer.

He understood that criminal investigations required time.

Nevertheless, waiting had become increasingly difficult.

After Ilya departed, the professor attempted to return to his reading.

He managed several pages before the familiar woman’s voice returned.

“You’re angry.”

Antoine closed his book.

The room remained quiet, and his magic showed no visible signs of instability.

However, the woman’s presence was unmistakable.

“You’ve been so patient with everyone,” she continued. “The investigators, the doctors, your students. They all tell you to rest while the people responsible for your daughter’s death remain free.”

Antoine remembered Valmont’s instructions.

He resisted answering.

The woman continued speaking.

“Of course, they’re doing their best. But every day that passes gives those people another opportunity to escape.”

The professor felt his anger returning.

He had spent years believing that knowledge and careful judgment could solve difficult problems. Yet the Saint Aurelia massacre had demonstrated how powerless those principles could become when confronted with deliberate cruelty.

He wanted the people responsible to answer for what they had done.

The woman seemed to understand.

“You’ve always been such a kind man, Antoine. Even now, you’re trying to do everything properly.”

Her voice softened.

“But what has being patient given you?”

The question struck him.

He remembered the hostage negotiations, the endless waiting, and the moment the Imperial Guard finally entered the school.

He had trusted that everyone was doing what they could.

He had believed there was still time.

Then Lucile died.

Antoine forced himself to remain calm.

The voice hadn’t told him to harm anyone, but it was encouraging him to dwell on thoughts that threatened his control.

He understood the danger.

Nevertheless, the woman continued.

“Wouldn’t it feel wonderful to stop carrying all that anger?”

Antoine recognized the temptation.

He wanted relief from the grief that accompanied every waking moment. He wanted to stop remembering Lucile’s final words and the promise he had failed to keep.

However, he couldn’t simply abandon those memories.

They were part of his daughter.

The woman seemed to anticipate his thoughts.

“You wouldn’t have to forget her. You could keep everything that mattered.”

Antoine felt a faint disturbance in his mana.

The pages on his desk began trembling.

He concentrated on suppressing the manifestation.

The woman’s voice grew quieter.

“There’s no need to struggle so hard. You deserve a little peace.”

The professor continued resisting until the disturbance subsided.

Eventually, the presence disappeared.

Antoine remained seated for several minutes before recording the incident in his medical notebook.

He described the woman’s words, his emotional reactions, and the brief instability that accompanied them.

Then he contacted Valmont.

The physician reviewed the account and arranged another examination.

Fortunately, Antoine’s magic returned to its ordinary state once he calmed himself.

However, Valmont was becoming increasingly concerned about the frequency of the encounters.

He recommended extending the observation period and introducing additional counseling sessions.

Antoine agreed.

Nevertheless, after the physician departed, the professor remained troubled by what the woman had said.

She had spoken about his anger with an understanding that few people seemed capable of expressing.

She hadn’t demanded anything from him.

Yet every conversation left him more aware of the grief he was struggling to contain.

And the longer he listened, the more difficult it became to dismiss her words.

Meanwhile, Inspector Laurent received another report from the provincial investigators.

The abandoned foundation associated with Falkenrath had maintained a secondary account under an unrelated commercial name.

Several payments from that account had been transferred to a private estate registered to a deceased noble family.

The estate had supposedly been abandoned for years.

However, recent deliveries suggested that someone was still using the property.

Laurent immediately ordered a discreet investigation.

The address appeared in more than one of Reinhold’s recovered letters.

For the first time since the massacre, the Bureau had identified a location that might connect the missing researcher, the financial sponsors, and the records removed from Saint Aurelia.

The investigators began preparing an operation before the occupants could disappear.