Inside the well-lit reception room, Iris awaited the officers. They had given her plenty of magazines, desserts, and drinks as if she were their guest of honour. The female officer escorting her was by her side, standing behind the sofa, watching her, hoping to fulfil her request. She nervously eyed Iris, aiming to figure out the thoughts behind those collected eyes.

  “Miss,” Iris said. “Others will misunderstand if you stare so intensely.”

  “I’m sorry!” The officer’s voice quivered. “I’m just a little curious. This is my first time handling a high-profile case.”

  She shouldn’t have confessed her feelings to the suspect, but the friendly air muddled her heart. She was no longer the rookie from a few months ago; no way she should mess up things now!

  Iris chuckled. The officer’s widened eyes and nervous fidgeting were adorable. Even though Iris never acted, the girl had already become so flustered, so defenceless. Had her mystical charm always been this powerful?

  “Miss, would you mind filling me in?” Iris looked down, hiding her eyes. “I would like to prepare myself, if possible.”

  “Please don’t feel nervous, Miss Iris. This is merely a preliminary interview conducted by our investigators. For someone as gentle as you, it’ll be a breeze.”

  “Have I become a suspect in a high-profile case?”

  “One of the suspects. Although I don’t want to admit it, this interview is a shot in the dark.”

  “Maybe a miracle will point you toward the truth.”

  “Let’s hope so. We wouldn’t want such a resourceful criminal to walk free.”

  Iris raised her head. Her wide smile pierced the officer’s heart. The words in her throat refused to leave her. Her assurance for her suspect fizzled out; she could only sit quietly while keeping her heart from pounding too loudly.

  The carriage arrived at a secluded mansion. A few maids and officers welcomed Iris into the mansion. Iris admired a few antique artefacts and paintings along the main hall before she got to rest in a small but comfortable guest room. They served her delicacies and prepared games and books for her, but what interested her the most were the maids assigned to her.

  From her casual flirting, she learned that other interviewees were also in the mansion and that its owner was a high-ranking royalist.

  It did not take long for the same officer to return to her side and escort her to a study. After serving the fresh tea, the maids excused themselves, leaving Iris with only three officers. Although others would have their lawyers with them, Iris declined the opportunity in exchange for a speedy interview; she had quite a schedule to catch up.

  While Iris answered the questions, a group of officers in the next room observed her through a magical screen. Xiaotan sat beside her father, listening intensely to Iris’s every word. She occasionally glanced at her father’s cool expression. That pair of indifferent eyes kept everything to themselves.

  Despite her conjecture surrounding Iris’s identity, she couldn’t help but wish Iris were innocent. She would like to confirm that vague offer herself, even if it meant confronting the inevitable. But her father had a different idea.

  For this interview, a bishop of the Church of Knowledge was dispatched. He carried with him a holy Artefact capable of detecting the fluctuation of the soul. The crystal ball, in which a single pure-white feather floated, would grow when an untruth was uttered.

  “Is she the one?” the bishop said. “There’s nothing extraordinary about her.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” Centurion tapped the table. “If she is related to the culprits, hiding from your senses would be nothing.”

  The bishop hmphed. His eyes glimmered golden. A faint mirage of a scale manifested behind him. Gentle rays of light flowed throughout the room before fading from view. Not even a hint of blemish was on Iris’s figure.

  “She’s too perfect indeed. But no mortal can escape the divine.”

  “We should use the feathers a lot more, then.”

  “An angel’s feather isn’t something we can easily acquire. Moreover, mundane deception isn’t in its scope.”

  Centurion coldly laughed. He returned to the magical screen. Despite the interrogator’s cold expression, Iris responded with a smile and a playful string of sentences. Although she rarely answered the question directly, she never shied away from implying her stance.

  “Final question, Lady Iris,” the interrogator said. “On that day, you stayed in the White Rabbit Café until dusk, working on your unfinished documents. Is there anyone who may serve as your witness?”

  “That day, the receptionist, Ariel, confided to me about her heart’s trouble. She also brought me snacks … and intimate counselling.”

  While reminiscing, Iris gazed upward. Passionate moments flashed along her cloudy eyes. Her cool smile melted into a satisfied one, one which directed itself at its onlookers. She covered her mouth and chuckled modestly.

  “Miss, you wouldn’t force me to share my private life, would you?”

  The interrogator sucked in cold air. “Aren’t you engaged? Why are you—”

  “I merely help her clarify her thoughts.” Iris touched her lips. “And my fiancée approves of this matter. I would do the same for her, too.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The interrogator recollected herself and let Iris out for a break. She and her two subordinates reported back to the supervisors.

  “She’s suspicious,” the interrogator said. “It’s extraordinarily challenging to read her emotions, as if she were a puppet on a string.”

  “Her origin is hard to trace as well,” Centurion said. “We have the general idea of who she is, but strangely it’s almost impossible to pinpoint the specific.”

  Too many coincidences stacked on top of her. Who knows what she was hiding to have that many veils layered around her identity?

  In the end, Centurion turned to the bishop and nodded. Iris was the prime suspect, and Xiaotan was getting too attracted to her. It was better to ascertain her nature than to leave her unchecked.

  A knock interrupted the meeting. A nervous officer brought a letter with an imperial stamp. It addressed the head of the operation, Centurion, concerning the interrogation of the Fifth Princess’s companion. Despite not naming the companion, the little hints scattered throughout made it obvious who she was.

  “So the rumour was true,” Centurion said. “She really has a connection with the imperial family.”

  “There are rumours about the Fifth Princess…”

  Centurion cleared his throat. His muffled cough rang sharply in the meeting room. No one spoke after.

  “Don’t say what you can’t back up.” He looked around the room, sweeping his gaze over all his subordinates. “Even if the Fifth Princess herself forgives you, her aids will not.”

  “No need to bring down the mood, Centurion,” the bishop said. “We'd better decide what to do from now on. After all, Her Highness has already spoken.”

  Only the mild static noises of the magical screen hummed against the silence of this meeting room. The bishop closed his eyes, waiting for the final decision. Every other official whispered among themselves, leaving Centurion thinking alone.

  “I will interview her myself.” Centurion stood up. “We will get an answer out of her.”

  Xiaotan sprang up. “Let me go in too. I promise not to disturb the operation.”

  Centurion stared at his daughter, who met his gaze unblinking. With eyes like that, no words could persuade her otherwise; it’s better to let her see the truth herself.

  “So long as you don’t let her recognise you.”

  Xiaotan nodded. She went with a maid to redress herself.

  When the break was over, Iris carefreely returned to the interrogation room. A few new faces entered after her. The flustered interrogator was there, although her two subordinates were not.

  Instead of taking the main she, the interrogator let her superior take charge. She stood beside Centurion, leaving the two remaining seats for another middle-aged official and the bishop of Knowledge.

  “Have my answers been unsatisfactory?” Iris said. “Or have you finally gathered enough?”

  The official frowned. He slapped the table and was about to stand up when Centurion raised his hand, stopping him. He hmphed but swallowed his anger. The bishop merely prayed in his heart.

  “Due to special circumstances, I’ll be interviewing you myself,” Centurion said. “The Fifth Princess has vouched for your innocence, so this won’t take long.”

  On the table, aside from a few glasses of water, was a crystal orb containing a floaty feather. Whenever invisible wind blew past it, the feather lightly wavered, its colour shimmering in golden faith. Iris quietly admired its features, observing the dynamics between the mortal and the immortal.

  Iris’s strand of Faith resonated with the feather’s motion. She blinked. Countless colourful strings connected everyone with the sky, but an exceptionally few threads of golden brilliance stood against the backdrop of a faded palette.

  The faintest gold connected the bishop with a vastness of which Iris couldn’t see the end. But the rest fused intricately with the singular feather.

  If she weren’t under interrogation, she would’ve already examined them closely.

  One last person entered the room. A girl hiding under a leather jacket went beside the interrogator. She lowered her head, letting her cap conceal her expression. Not even a hint of her skin showed through her long sleeves and gloves. She forced out a toneless apology.

  Iris accepted it with a nod. She stared at the cute girl, at the eyes hiding underneath, at the trembling heart hoping for an answer. She did not gaze into that pure soul for too long; only a few moments to tease her.

  “I did not know that so many people would like to interrogate me.”

  “That’ll be just me,” Centurion said. “Everyone else is here to listen.”

  “Have I become famous over a break?”

  “You have a way with words.”

  When Centurion gave his signal, the bishop prayed to his lord. The orb glimmered golden. The feather vibrated like an excited star facing the pale-white moon. Its golden threads trembled, whispering, singing an unknown hymn for the divine miracle.

  Iris met the infinite holiness without shying away. Through the invisible threads of fate she saw the silhouette of a warrior, clad in silvery armour, holding a spear whose blade was the holy fire. His large wings spanned her vision, covering the sky with a single wave, blocking the sun with their length.

  Despite being illusory, his gaze weighed upon her heart. His aura permeated her being. His existence judged her truthfulness. If she dared to play any trick, he would smite her down with his divine weapon.

  “Expending that precious of a treasure?” Iris said. “You might have overestimated my worth.”

  “We’re just being cautious,” Centurion said. “The mastermind behind this incident is resourceful.”

  “And I, a part of the scheme?”

  Indeed, it was too convenient. Among the suspects, Iris stood out like a diamond among coals. Her demeanour and circumstances made her a perfect culprit. Too perfect.

  “Miss Iris Goodwill, on the day of the incident, where were you?” Centurion said.

  The angelic warrior clenched his fists. His flaming spear trembled. Specks of light overflowed from his glowing wings, which curved around the interrogation room, around Centurion, around Iris.

  Iris answered with the brightest smile. Any hint of anxiety was overwhelmed by a singular tide of confidence. She stared into the angel’s eyes, opening the window through which he could see her essence.

  “I was in my chamber, with my dearest, working on my dreams, indulging in what I shan’t explain.” Iris stood up. “You may ask them, and they will gladly explain what I did to them.”

  “Did you know what was happening?”

  “I knew and cared for nothing except for my fallen angel.” Iris touched her lips, her eyes aimed at Xiaotan.

  The feather flashed a spark before dimming to greyscale. Its fine detail grew ashen as its composition dissolved into pale dusts, whirling within the orb as a disappointing storm.

  Iris did not wait for Centurion’s response or the bishop’s fury. She merely smiled at the stunned Xiaotan and left the room. A maid, adorned with an imperial insignia, escorted her to a carriage. She knocked on the door, revealing Zici, who was waiting inside.

  …

  Within the grand library of the Broken Empire, Iris’s heart palpitated. She touched her chest, sensing a hint of overwhelming power traversing through her soul. Before she could frown, A pair of dark-purple wings enveloped her. Pallorn held Iris’s cheeks and kissed her, licking the saltiness on her face. The palpitation lessened.

  “Who would dare to curse you, my Lady?” Pallorn said.

  Iris chuckled. “It was Main’s doing.”

  Pallorn was about to promise vengeance, but those words forced her to fake coughing. She looked away from her mischievous goddess. “Please don’t tease me.”

  “Interesting.” Iris turned eastwards. “Lying in front of the divine, confessing our dirty secrets. Isn’t her plan too reckless?”

  “Not as much as yours, My Lady.”

  “Then you haven’t known Main well enough.”

  Pallorn pouted. She retrieved her wings and sat by her goddess’s side. No one had spent as much time beside Iris as her, yet she still could not understand what her goddess was doing in this ancient library. Countless myths, countless encyclopedias, countless historical records, she had been through all that this empire could offer.

  What kind of forbidden knowledge troubled you, My Lady?

  Special thanks to my patrons: Linaith, and Ouroboros! You all are my motivation booster!

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