The atmosphere at the academy had settled into an uneasy calm. It had been a week since Julian's death, and while the academy appeared to have returned to normalcy, a tangible tension lingered.
Marion, in particular, was grappling with an overwhelming sense of guilt.
Julian's father had been exceptionally kind to him, mentoring him within the clan when he was younger. The thought of having taken Julian's life gnawed at him incessantly.
Marion could not fathom what had overtaken him or why he had felt compelled to kill Julian. He blamed himself for being drunk and not being able to think clearly.
If the clan finds out that he caused Julian's death, then his position as an heir would be threatened.
Marion and Sarah were seated on a weathered bench beneath the canopy of a starlit sky, the cool night breeze rustling the leaves around them. The serene ambiance offered a fleeting respite from the tumult that had recently plagued them.
The CCTV footage and all evidence pertaining to Julian's death had been obliterated, seemingly erasing any direct link to their involvement. Despite this, Marion and Sarah were not so naïve as to ignore the subtle undercurrents suggesting that there was more to the situation than met the eye.
Their recollections from the fateful night were shrouded in a hazy fog. They remembered a shadowy figure being present at the scene, but their inebriated state rendered the details elusive.
"I feel like resting," Sarah murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped them.
"Oh, let's head inside then. It's getting chilly out here," Marion suggested, his breath visible in the cool air.
"I'll head back first," Sarah said abruptly.
"Let me escort you," Marion offered, concern etched in his voice.
"No, no need. Thanks," Sarah replied, her tone strangely detached.
Marion's confusion deepened at Sarah's uncharacteristic behavior. Her aloofness was unsettling, so he decided to channel his frustration towards the clown who had been wandering in the field.
"Hey!" Marion called out, his voice piercing the quiet of the night.
Riley, who had been strolling with his face painted as a clown and his hair dyed black, his hands clasped behind his back, turned in response and gave a slight bow.
The academy had a storage facility where this items are stored, and there are several places where it can be bought in the academy, just that the servants had gotten a way to sneak into the storage facility to get items they needed and keep their money... of course Riley who had worked as a servant also knew this.
Marion face tightened, the gesture, which had once seemed respectful, now struck him as a mocking pretense. Marion's irritation flared, feeling as though the dark-haired clown was the court jester in a play where he was the unwitting fool.
"Come here!" Marion commanded, his tone clipped.
Riley approached with an almost exaggerated wariness. He clutched a bag tightly, his eyes darting nervously. As he neared Marion, he attempted to suppress a smirk that threatened to break free.
"Lord Marion, where's your fiancée?" Riley inquired, his voice dripping with feigned concern.
"She needed to rest," Marion replied, his tone laced with a sense of misplaced pride.
"Does she?" Riley asked with an unsettling edge to his voice.
Marion's face tightened into a grimace. "Of course, she needed to rest."
"Lord Marion, I admire you greatly. Teach me how to be as impressive as you!" Riley said, his eyes gleaming with a disconcerting enthusiasm. "You caused Julian's death just because he disrespected you. you are not afraid of the government. That's so… admirable."
"I didn't kill him. Humph. Don't misunderstand me. Had I been in full control, I would have given him a punishment far worse than death. But I was drunk, so I spared him a swift end," Marion boasted, his voice tinged with an air of false bravado.
"You executed him?" Riley asked, his tone one of feigned curiosity.
"No!" Marion shouted, his frustration evident as he clenched his fists.
"You got drunk and beat that boy to death, isn't that what you just admitted?" Riley pressed, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Marion.
Marion's eyes widened in shock, his face flushing with a mix of anger and fear. He tried to refute Riley's implication, but Riley cut him off smoothly.
"Many students saw you drinking, but they only saw it after Julian's death. It's rather peculiar, Lord Marion. My extensive research into this case reveals that no one observed you drinking prior to Julian's murder. Not a single person."
Marion's breathing became shallow. The night air seemed to grow colder, and the shadows around them deepened. He felt a growing sense of paranoia, as if the darkness itself were closing in on him.
"Lord Marion, this charade has lasted long enough. It's time the truth came to light," Riley continued, his expression growing colder as he locked eyes with Marion.
"Lord Marion, were you really drunk when you gave the order to kill Julian?" Riley asked, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness.
"What?" Marion's demeanor shifted to frantic confusion. His eyes darted around, searching for something to cling to. He began to retrace his memories of the night, recalling only that he had held a beer bottle, but he could not clearly remember being drunk.
Doubts began to creep into his mind, causing him to question the reliability of his own recollections. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, trying to steady himself.
Riley, having achieved the desired effect, pressed on with calculated precision. "You were quite sober when you issued the order. You were calm, deliberate, and fully aware of what you were doing… Am I correct?"
"No, what are you saying?" Marion stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. His eyes darted to the shadows cast by the moonlight, as if hoping they would help him.
"How frail the mind is when it wishes to forget. Perhaps you didn't forget; perhaps you were lying—lying to everyone around you, including the academy, or perhaps lying to yourself? Or was it because he was also interested in Sarah?
Were you absolutely certain Julian had disrespected you? Certain enough to kill him like a Nexus Creature? You are guilty of murder. Julian's blood stains your hands."
Marion's face turned ashen, his mind reeling from the weight of Riley's words. The cold grip of guilt tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
"But I have to ask, Lord Marion—how will you face Julian's father tomorrow when he comes to collect the remains of his son? Is the young master he once trained and served merely a coward and a murderer, concealing himself behind the façade of an empty bottle?"
Riley's hand slipped into his bag, producing a bottle of alcohol, the same brand Marion was known to favor. He held it up with a mocking flourish, the dim light casting eerie shadows on his face. He leaned forward slightly, his malevolent grin widening as his gray eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Who are you? How did you know all this? Who sent you?" Marion demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. The shadows seemed to close in around him, amplifying his sense of entrapment.
Riley remained silent, his smile growing into a devilish grin. Marion felt a chilling sense of dread wash over him.
The once-comforting darkness is now a suffocating shroud. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, each beat echoing the weight of his guilt.
"Well, Lord Marion," Riley said, his tone dripping with mockery, "how about a drink?"
"You!" Marion roared, his voice echoing through the chilly night air. Flames danced in his hand, a fireball crackling with menacing intensity as he prepared to incinerate the dark-haired boy standing before him.
His anger surged, his thoughts consumed by the desire to eliminate this threat. But as he raised his head to cast his fiery wrath, he found himself alone. The boy had vanished, leaving nothing but the cold, empty darkness.
Marion's breath came in ragged gasps, the fireball in his hand flickering before dissipating into nothingness. He scanned the area frantically, only to find the scene utterly unchanged.
The black-haired boy with a clown painted face was nowhere to be seen, and the once-ominous presence had melted into the void. The only thing that remained was the bottle of beer lying on the bench where he had been sitting.
Marion's confusion deepened; he wondered if the encounter had been a figment of his imagination or if the dark-haired boy had placed the bottle there as a taunting memento.
As Marion rose from the bench, a small object fell from his lap and clattered to the ground. He bent down, his movements slow and deliberate, and picked it up.
His fingers shook as he examined the object: a photograph. Marion's heart raced as he studied the image, his eyes widening in horror. The picture depicted him, Sarah, and the other three students, captured in a chilling moment as they disposed of Julian's body. The image was stark, the cruel reality of their actions frozen in time.
In a daze, Marion looked around and noticed another item on the ground—a thick envelope, slightly crumpled. He picked it up with a sense of dread and carefully tore it open. His hands trembled as he unfolded the letter inside.
The words were typed neatly, each letter stark and impersonal against the paper.
"Guess how Julian's dad will react if he sees this image tomorrow? What will happen if this image gets sent to the patriarch of the Broken Swords Clan? Remember, your position in the clan is precarious; you can be replaced at any time.
Why don't we make a deal? You help me, and I'll destroy any evidence related to Julian's death. A win-win situation."