The silver-haired man stepped into the chamber.

  His movements were smooth—silent—leaving behind not even the faintest echo, as if sound itself had chosen not to follow him. A long white robe trimmed in silver flowed around his frame, veiled in a thin mist that clung like frost.

  More precisely, the air around him was winter.

  “Good evening,” he said calmly.

  “Headmistress Helena has assigned me to take temporary charge of this investigation. Master Rachel is currently occupied with an urgent matter beyond the Academy.”

  As he spoke, Master Darian adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses.

  For the briefest instant, the corner of his eye flicked toward Rein—a sharp, precise assessment that nearly slipped past notice.

  “Now then,” Darian continued, lifting one hand lightly, “let’s all sit down and talk properly.”

  “There’s no need to make this any messier than it already is.”

  And then—

  The moisture in the air shifted state.

  In an instant, it crystallized.

  Dense frost condensed and assembled itself, forming two towering ice constructs—each over eight feet tall. They radiated power that was cold, absolute, and unquestionable.

  Living sculptures carved from winter.

  “You two,” Darian said simply.

  “Please prepare some seating.”

  The ice golems moved at once, retrieving chairs and a table from the rear of the chamber and arranging them neatly at the center of the hall.

  Rein stared.

  …Wait.

  Aren’t golems supposed to be weapons of war?

  Every tome he’d ever read described them as strategic-class constructs—decisive assets in conflicts between kingdoms. Walking fortresses. Armored engines meant to crush armies.

  Yet here—they felt less like formidable weapons of war and more like service staff.

  At Darian’s quiet prompting, everyone took their seats around the table.

  Everyone—

  Except Rein, who remained standing at the center of the hall.

  “Oh?” Darian asked mildly. “You’re not going to sit?”

  Rein shook his head once.

  As a suspect who had just smashed through the Council’s front gates, remaining on his feet was the safest option under basic security logic.

  At worst, if negotiations collapsed, I’d simply have to fight everyone in the room.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Rein said flatly.

  Whatever came next, he would never admit to something he hadn’t done. Not even under threat of death.

  Silence settled over the table.

  Isabella, Henry, and Sophia said nothing, their gazes shifting toward Darian.

  “Okay,” Darian said, adjusting his glasses.

  “I believe you.”

  “…Huh?”

  Rein froze.

  He had prepared arguments. Counterarguments. Entire chains of logic meant to dismantle false accusations.

  That single sentence erased them all.

  “But,” Darian continued calmly, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, “you will identify the true killer and present concrete evidence within one week.”

  “In your capacity as a Forensic Magic Investigator.”

  “This is a direct order from the Forensic Magic Division.”

  He raised one hand.

  A document materialized in midair.

  With a snap of his fingers, it drifted toward Rein, guided by invisible force.

  An official appointment.

  Rein stared at the title printed across the page.

  Lead Investigator — Murder of Student Council Members.

  At the bottom was a familiar signature.

  …So that aunty elf really is behind this, Rein muttered inwardly, his legs suddenly feeling as if they’d stepped into a swamp named responsibility.

  “Wait—” he began.

  Darian raised a hand, cutting him off.

  “If you refuse this assignment—or fail to resolve the case within one week—the Crown family will immediately use the incident as grounds to intervene in the Academy.”

  “At that point, the central Forensic Magic Division will investigate you as the primary suspect. No exceptions.”

  Rein’s expression didn’t change.

  Being threatened with a murder charge was nothing new.

  But Darian wasn’t finished.

  “And if you succeed,” he added casually, “the Student Council will waive all compensation claims for the damages caused earlier. Correct?”

  He turned to Isabella, Henry, and Sophia.

  All three nodded in unison.

  —as if this outcome had been decided long before Rein ever stepped into the room.

  “Otherwise,” Darian continued, his gaze shifting briefly toward Henry,

  “the standard damage assessment will be enforced.”

  “We’ve completed a preliminary estimate,” Henry said calmly, arms crossed.

  “One hundred and thirty-two thousand AC.”

  “—132,000 AC?!”

  Rein yelped, the number detonating in his mind the moment it reached the calculation center of his brain.

  “Hold on—this is insane! Are you telling me that even if my pay gets docked every month for the next three years, I still wouldn’t be able to replace that stupid chandelier?!”

  The once-proud young mage slumped into the chair the ice golems had prepared—utterly defeated, no invitation required.

  Faced with that number, even the death of Lance Crown momentarily lost its weight.

  Master Darian smiled faintly.

  Rein felt no mercy in it whatsoever.

  That smile wasn’t reassurance—

  it was the look of an executioner savoring the timing of the blade.

  “Is there… a third option?” Rein asked, clutching his head with both hands.

  He exhaled slowly, searching for a way out of a situation that felt like a time bomb strapped to his neck—weighted down with debt.

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  “There is,” Darian replied lightly.

  “And frankly, it’s much simpler than the first two.”

  “I would simply need to… keep you chilled for a while.”

  An image flashed through Rein’s mind—

  himself sealed in ice, suspended like a specimen.

  A chill ran down his spine. No magic required.

  “I don’t particularly want to do that,” Darian said, feigning regret.

  He removed his glasses, calmly wiping a thin layer of frost from the lenses before putting them back on.

  “But you are a Troposphere Master-tier mage. Placing you in a standard magic-sealed prison while awaiting another investigator…”

  He smiled politely.

  “They’d be terrified you’d simply break out.”

  “Freezing you is the most efficient security measure.”

  The temperature in the chamber dropped perceptibly.

  Rein’s breath fogged into thick white vapor.

  Liar.

  You absolutely want to freeze me—and you’re not even trying to hide it.

  Frost crept along the edges of the stone table.

  If Fran was a raging sea ready to devour everything—

  then this man was a bespectacled iceberg, hiding equal cruelty beneath still water.

  “If the investigators conclude that you’re guilty,” Darian continued, voice unhurried,

  “you will be transferred to the Arcadian Magic Court immediately.”

  “And once sentenced…”

  “The Crown family—whose influence blankets Arcadia—will not allow you peace. Prison would be no different from hell.”

  He paused, letting the implication settle.

  “Consider this,” he added softly.

  “You beat their younger son half to death, and you’re suspected of killing their eldest.”

  “As a father,” Darian said, smiling faintly,

  “what kind of gift do you think Duke Gemini would prepare for you?”

  The smile lingered—

  cold enough to seep into bone.

  “…Alright,” Rein said quietly.

  “I suppose I don’t really have a choice.”

  “You have one choice,” Darian replied, adjusting his glasses.

  “And at the moment, it’s the best one I can offer.”

  “And more importantly,” Isabella finally spoke, arms folded, emerald eyes unreadable,

  “only those of us standing here actually believe you didn’t do it.”

  “If it were any other council members,” she continued coolly,

  “you’d already be in chains.”

  “My role here is finished,” Darian said, rising.

  “The rest is up to you councilors—and Rein. One week. No more, no less.”

  As he passed Rein, he paused.

  Leaning in, Darian murmured—soft enough that only Rein could hear,

  “Be careful. Over the next week… there will be no shortage of people who would like to see you disappear.”

  “So,” Rein whispered back, understanding immediately,

  “I’m playing bait.”

  A faint smile tugged at Darian’s lips.

  “Master Rachel wasn’t wrong,” he said.

  “You really are irritatingly sharp.”

  With that, he turned and left the chamber, leaving behind only a lingering cold.

  …

  …

  Once Darian was gone, the three councilors stepped toward Rein.

  “The Student Council isn’t as united as outsiders believe,” Isabella said calmly.

  “I imagine you’ve already heard as much.”

  Rein nodded slightly.

  “Lance Crown was the spearhead of the Winter Faction,” Isabella continued.

  “Radical traditionalists. They believe only nobility should wield magic—those descended from Disciples are closest to the gods, and therefore destined to rule.”

  “They also believe,” Sophia added casually, hopping back onto the table and letting her legs dangle,

  “that commoners shouldn’t even be allowed to touch magic.”

  At that moment, Rein’s Mana Vision caught something… off.

  The long boots Sophia wore were flooded with violently circulating mana—high-density, finely stabilized.

  A unique-grade item.

  Rein recognized it instantly.

  They weren’t just enchanted for speed; the mana flow pattern suggested active drag reduction and directional acceleration control.

  No wonder the carrot-head had been moving at velocities that mocked conventional physics.

  The nobility really are drowning in resources…

  He suppressed a sigh at the disparity.

  “And you three?” Rein asked, shifting his gaze back to them.

  “We’re the Spring Faction,” Henry replied with an easy shrug. “Reformists, if you prefer the student term.”

  “We believe potential and growth matter more than bloodlines,” he continued. “Noble or commoner. Disciple lineage or not. Capability is the only thing that should decide who gets to be a mage.”

  “Unfortunately,” Isabella added, a trace of irritation slipping through her composed tone,

  “we’re the minority. Six councilors belong to Winter. Three are independents.”

  “And per council law,” Henry went on,

  “the proposer doesn’t get a vote. So no matter what reforms we introduce, we cap out at five.”

  “Then why are only the three of you here?” Rein asked.

  “Most of Winter is attending the coronation of Windfall’s new crown prince,” Isabella replied.

  “They’re busy expanding influence across the kingdoms. Only Lance Crown and Alexander Whitmore remained behind for… urgent reasons.”

  Rein nodded, calculations unfolding in silence.

  “And the others?”

  “The independents move with short-term interests,” Isabella said flatly.

  “As for Winter—”

  “They’ll be back in a few days.”

  “And when that happens?” Sophia laughed lightly.

  “You’re screwed.”

  Rein ignored her.

  “Hmph!”

  Sophia puffed her cheeks in annoyance and blew air through her bangs.

  “Then why do you trust that I didn’t do it?” he asked, meeting their eyes.

  “At first, we didn’t,” Isabella admitted.

  “But no intelligent murderer kills someone and then calmly waits at the scene.”

  “And more importantly,” Henry said, his expression tightening,

  “this wasn’t the first death tonight.”

  “An hour earlier, Amelia Howard—one of the independents—was found dead in her residence. Direct heir of the Howard family. Illusion Magic.”

  “When we examined her,” Isabella stepped closer, voice lowering,

  “the cause was consistent with hallucination magic. Killing a direct-line illusion mage with illusion spells is nearly impossible… even for you.”

  Her emerald eyes searched his face.

  “And coincidentally,” Sophia added, swinging her legs,

  “you were busy tearing through Guardian squads when Amelia died.”

  Rein understood immediately.

  The chaos he’d created outside had become a perfect alibi—purely by accident.

  So that’s it…

  They’re using me as bait for the real killer.

  God doesn’t just roll dice.

  God throws the entire handful straight at my head.

  Then—something clicked.

  Rein stiffened.

  A thought violated every principle of thermal transfer he knew.

  “…Wait,” he said slowly. “Don’t tell me Lance died to ice magic too.”

  He moved at once.

  Mana Vision flared, deep blue light sharpening his gaze as he approached Lance Crown’s body.

  Residual ice-aspected mana lingered clearly around the chest.

  According to Joanna’s info, Lance Crown—the Prince of Ice—was a third-year, Stratosphere Primary-tier mage.

  Killing such a mage with his own element was either a deliberate insult—

  —or proof of power so overwhelming it crossed into the terrifying.

  An assassin proficient in both illusion and ice…

  And superior to direct bloodline heirs?

  Rein frowned, beginning a closer inspection.

  “What are you looking at?” Sophia leaned in.

  “Checking something,” Rein replied quietly.

  He found the first truly critical anomaly.

  Lance’s uniform was faintly damp.

  Beneath the left side of the chest—under the rib line—there was a puncture wound, as if something large and sharp had been driven upward through the body.

  Using the tip of his black pen, Rein drew the fabric aside.

  The wound gaped nearly three inches wide.

  Frost crystals clung densely to its edges. There was no blood. None at all.

  The organs beneath had been flash-frozen—heat stripped away so violently that circulation never had a chance to react.

  “Who are you talking to?” Sophia frowned, glancing around the empty chamber.

  “This guy,” Rein replied flatly.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lance’s right hand—

  Clenched far too tightly.

  “…You can talk to the dead now?” Sophia tilted her head. “Or what—necromancy too?”

  “Of course not,” Rein waved her off.

  Using his other hand, taking advantage of the moment no one was watching, he pried open Lance Crown’s rigid fingers.

  A small folded note was hidden inside.

  Rein shifted his weight half a step, subtly angling his body to block their line of sight—and slid the paper into his coat pocket in one smooth, practiced motion.

  But then, his brow furrowed. He glanced down at Lance’s feets on the floor before snapping his head up—only to find Isabella leaning in, peering at the wound as well.

  “This looks like Ice Lance,” Isabella said tensely as she studied the wound.

  “Lance’s own finishing spell.”

  “So Lance was killed by Lance,” Rein murmured, brows knitting together.

  “That almost feels like mockery.”

  He straightened slowly.

  “I think… Lance was waiting for someone in this room before he died.”

  His gaze swept across the three Spring Faction councilors—measured, unreadable.

  “Oh?” Sophia smirked.

  “Wasn’t he waiting for you?”

  “No.” Rein shook his head once.

  “He didn’t even know I’d be here today. Even if he ordered my arrest.”

  “My arrival was an unexpected variable,” Rein continued quietly.

  “The killer may have intended to pin this on me later—but never imagined I’d walk in this early.”

  His deep blue eyes sharpened.

  “In fact—”

  “There’s already a murderer in this room.”

  For a split second, silence slammed down like a dropped curtain.

  Rein didn’t hesitate.

  His right index finger snapped forward.

  Three Pit Viper shots fired in rapid succession—

  All of them aimed straight at Isabella.

  These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.

  Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.

  Magic & Spell Techniques

  Ice Golems

  Strategic-class constructs typically associated with warfare. In this context, Darian uses them as servants, displaying not only immense magical power but also fine control. Their summoning via frost condensation from ambient moisture highlights advanced ice-aspect elemental manipulation.

  Ice Lance

  the spell confirmed to be Lance Crown’s signature finisher. Used here against him—either as mockery or overwhelming mastery.

  Organization & Factions

  Student Council – Political Factions

  – Winter Faction: Conservative nobles, advocating bloodline supremacy. Believe magic should be exclusive to nobility and Disciples’ descendants.

  – Spring Faction: Reformist minority, including Isabella, Henry, and Sophia. Support access to magic based on capability, not birthright.

  – Independents: Three neutral council members who vote by interest.

  Due to council voting rules, reform proposals typically fail unless independents side with Spring.

  Key Characters

  Lance Crown (Update)

  Head of the Winter Faction. Killed via his own spell, Ice Lance, which had been used against him. His body showed signs of flash-freezing with no blood loss, indicating an extremely rapid and powerful attack that bypassed standard circulation response.

  A hidden note was found clenched in his hand, secretly pocketed by Rein, suggesting prior suspicion or preparation.

  Amelia Howard

  Independent councilor and heir to the Howard family. Found dead earlier the same night, killed using illusion-type magic. As a trained illusion mage, this suggests her killer surpassed her proficiency—an extremely rare feat.