The grand ballroom of House Starr had been entirely stripped of its festive warmth. The orchestra was gone, the feather-plumed guests had been dismissed, and the suffocating panic of the general lockdown had dissipated.
What remained in the center of the sprawling, empty dance floor was a single, tense circle of chairs.
Ray stood perfectly still in front of one of the chairs, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. The ambient light of the crystal chandeliers caught the sharp, golden flecks in his eyes as he slowly surveyed his audience.
To his left sat the imposing figures of authority and defense: Headmaster Andrade, Master Alvon Brekka, Sergeant Thomas, Svane, and his newly cleared attendant, Rina.
To his right sat the grieving nobility: Lady Jane Starr, her expression hollow with exhaustion, flanked by her children Dylan, Francesca, and Krystle.
And directly in front of him sat the remaining suspects. They looked utterly exhausted, defensive, and deeply confused. Aris Asad, the fiery Head Chef; Gino, the passed-over senior staffer; Nick, the trembling gardener; and Bastian Sterling, sitting with an air of practiced, aristocratic calm.
"Before we start just in case anyone is wondering, why a 1st-Circle Novice is addressing you all instead of the Academy's Security Department. It is because the Headmaster Andrade had granted me temporary jurisdiction to conduct this investigation and uncover the truth."
Ray said, offering a brief, respectful nod toward Master Alvon.
Ray let that heavy statement settle over the room, ensuring everyone understood that he spoke with the full weight of the Academy behind him.
"I am sure those of you employed by this estate, as well as senior Sterling, are wondering why you have been held back while the rest of the guests were permitted to leave."
Ray began, his voice ringing with a polite, razor-sharp clarity that commanded absolute attention.
He paced slowly around the inside of the circle.
"You are here because every person in this ring falls into one of three categories: you are the victim's grieving family, you are the investigating authority, or you are the culprit or an accomplice to the brutal murder of Head Butler Warren Ramada."
A collective, rigid tension seized the suspects. Aris gripped the armrests of her chair, while Gino stared firmly at the floor. Bastian merely raised a single, elegant eyebrow.
"Allow me to outline the events of this crime. Earlier tonight, my attendant, Rina, discovered Mr. Ramada bleeding out on the floor of the wine cellar. Because she was the one who found him, the Academy's Security Department understandably designated her as the prime suspect."
Ray continued, his tone shifting into a cold, clinical cadence. Master Alvon crossed his arms, his plate mail clinking softly in the quiet room, but he did not interrupt.
"Upon taking over this investigation, I examined the body of Mr. Ramada and he was not simply bludgeoned. He was meticulously poisoned with a rapid-acting neuro-suppressant. Once his motor functions failed, the killer stepped in, shattered his skull with a blunt object, and then surgically severed his tongue at the root."
Ray said and sighed.
Francesca Starr let out a quiet gasp, burying her face in her hands.
"The mutilation was not an act of passion. It was a calculated countermeasure. The killer even knew how the investigators work as the killer even casted the 3rd-Circle spell: Speak with Dead onMr. Ramada’s corpse, by casting the spell, the killer triggered the ten-day magical cooldown, neutralizing the investigators fastest investigative tool. And even if the spell had worked... a corpse without a tongue cannot answer questions."
Ray explained, looking directly at Master Alvon.
“Hmmph.”
Master Alvon grunted in response.
Ray stopped pacing.
"This was a highly professional, meticulously planned execution. My attendant possesses neither the anatomical skill for the mutilation nor the high-level magical capacity to sabotage an investigation. She has been officially cleared of all suspicion. We are now hunting the true killer."
Ray turned his golden gaze to the suspects.
"Which brings us to you all. Let us start with you, senior Sterling."
Bastian merely raised a single, elegant eyebrow.
"According to Travis one of junior staffer of the estate that brought you to Mr. Ramada’s office, you had a rather intense argument with Mr. Ramada earlier."
Ray stated, his tone conversational but probing.
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"You claimed the argument was regarding a rare botanical specimen, called the Moonpetal Flower, which you desperately require for your graduation thesis. A thesis you must pass, or face expulsion. Is that correct?"
Ray said as he looked at Bastian.
"It is. I was only asking him for a few stems of it, I even offered to buy them at twice the market price but Mr. Ramada was being uncooperative. It was a disagreement. Hardly a motive for murder."
Bastian replied smoothly, his voice a perfect aristocratic drawl.
"Indeed. Having an argument is not a crime."
Ray conceded easily, pivoting away from Bastian entirely.
"Speaking of arguments, Madame Aris, you are a master with a blade. I watched you surgically excise a roasted boar's tongue with terrifying precision. Furthermore, you had a documented, explosive argument with the victim today regarding the menu. An argument that ended with you stating:
“'I will cook your stupid food, but before the night ends, I will kill you for making me do this.'"
Dylan Starr flinched, looking at the chef he had personally recommended with wide, horrified eyes.
Aris swallowed hard, her fiery demeanor completely extinguished.
"It... it was a figure of speech, Lord Croft. A terrible, stupid false promise. I swear it."
"A false promise."
Ray echoed smoothly. He pivoted toward the senior staffer.
"Speaking of false promises, Gino. You dedicated your life to this estate under the promise that you would inherit Mr. Ramada’s position when he retired. A promise he coldly broke just days ago, telling you he was canceling his retirement to complete one last task. You were deeply betrayed. A classic motive of passion."
Gino looked up, his eyes red-rimmed.
"I was angry, yes. But I deeply respected Mr. Ramada. I would never raise a hand against him."
Ray didn't linger. He moved to the trembling man at the end of the line.
"And speaking of disappointment... We have Nick the gardener."
Nick flinched violently as Ray said his name.