During her time in confinement, Sophia slowly regained her sanity.
Of course, she had also become completely disheartened.
That brat of an opponent, without even batting an eye, effortlessly neutralized her magic: Chaos Eye.
A high-level spell capable of driving people into madness, panic, and then controlling their will.
Each use consumed an enormous amount of physical strength; an ordinary body couldn’t bear such pressure.
Even for her, with her spirit-touched constitution, using it once or twice a day was already the limit.
Thus, she simply couldn’t imagine how Raphael, that seemingly frail young man, after continuously using such a large-scale mental spell, could still defend against her attack the next day, and even use “Rejection” without expression.
Rejection—a sacred art that negates all magic, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, returning the damage inflicted on oneself back to the attacker.
She had only heard that the Pope and a few archbishops could use this sacred art; its mystery far surpassed all spells past and present.
A young man, a slender youth about her age, knowing such a sacred art.
His talent and background must be far greater than she had imagined.
However, she also had her pride.
As the youngest member of the organization, she was exceptionally talented and had countless achievements.
As the once-chosen helmsman of the prestigious Saint Grace family, she was of noble blood and bore boundless glory.
Death? Death was a cool summer night, offering carefree slumber.
As an apostle of Daknis, the God of Darkness, Sophia rejoiced at the prospect of death.
She still had a mission in this world, but if it meant bowing and scraping, begging for her life to survive, tainting her purity and devotion to death, then she would rather abandon the mission.
Because death itself was above all else…
“Know? What could you possibly know?”
Raphael’s words only made Sophia think he was speaking arrogantly.
Upon reflection, she had only said a few words for Lancer, then tried to attack Raphael, nothing more.
Even if Raphael knew she had used magic, what of it?
She hadn’t left behind any information that could be speculated upon; everything was like messy threads, densely tangled together.
As long as she insisted that she was “crazy” and that all this was caused by her erratic behavior due to losing her mind, then Raphael wouldn’t get any clues.
Let alone connecting the beginning and end of the incident.
Wells was dead, Lancer was dead, and Rena was probably dead by now too.
All Raphael had to do was kill her, and everything could be treated as if it never happened.
No matter how talented or well-connected he was, he couldn’t pry open the mouths of the dead.
Faced with Sophia’s challenge, Raphael paced the room and reached out to pat the thick dust on the bookshelf.
Dust flew up, spreading rapidly in the stifling air.
With each random pat and footstep, a wave-like pressure weighed down on Sophia’s heart with the force of a thousand pounds.
“Again…”
Such high-frequency magic use—this man was practically a demon.
“Sophia Grace,” Raphael spoke after a long silence, “I’ll give you a chance. Confess voluntarily.”
“We have an old saying: ‘A wise man submits to circumstances.’ Sophia, you don’t want to suffer physical torment, do you?”
“Heh… hahaha!” Sophia suddenly burst into laughter. “Warden, do as you please with killing or cutting. Confess? What crime have I committed?”
Hearing this, Raphael merely stopped in his tracks lightly.
It seemed this woman hadn’t prepared any backup plan.
From the moment he entered the room, Raphael had been ready to bolt at lightning speed.
Throughout, he maintained his distance, observing and probing Sophia.
Just now, he could be absolutely certain that Sophia was no longer a threat.
If she had any tricks left, she would have used them when Raphael was wandering around like an idiot.
Instead, her response to his threats was nothing more than a desperate provocation, which proved she was powerless in her current situation.
Since that was the case, it was time to reveal the truth.
“Not talking? Then let me speak for you.”
“Last night, it was you who opened the cells in death row.”
Sophia was stunned, somewhat incredulous.
But Raphael didn’t intend to explain why—he couldn’t exactly tell her, “I saw your loyalty drop to negative,” could he?
“And to clear yourself of suspicion, you chose to make Chief Guard Rena disappear, creating the illusion that she had fled out of guilt. Am I right?”
“Heh…” Sophia clenched her fingers, a bead of sweat sliding down her forehead. “Yes, that’s right, I did it. To be able to guess that, Warden, you’re truly remarkable.”
Her tone shifted abruptly as Sophia cursed angrily: “Who told that bitch Rena to steal from me? I wanted her dead, to die bearing the crime, scorned and reviled! That way, not only would she die, but her family would also be held accountable, imprisoned, hanged, beheaded… I wanted her entire family destroyed!”
Then, a shrill laugh burst from her fair throat, hoarse as if tearing through her vocal cords, a hint of bloodlust seeming to emanate from the sound waves.
“Your reaction is pretty quick. Stop pretending, Sophia.”
Raphael said coldly.
She had decisively given up arguing, and while acknowledging Raphael’s deduction, she directed the conclusion down the wrong path.
It was like in movies where the police ask a criminal’s whereabouts. If you’re trying to cover for the criminal, you wouldn’t say “I don’t know” or “I didn’t see anything,” because that would increase suspicion. Since the police had tracked you here, they were certain the criminal had passed this way.
Therefore, the best way to cover for the criminal was to point in a random different direction.
Admit the fact that “the prisoner passed through here” to lower the police’s guard, then throw out a false location—this was far more convincing than simply saying “I don’t know.”
Sophia was using the same tactic.
She didn’t argue against Raphael’s accusation because it was pointless.
What she needed to do was muddy the motives and clues, preventing Raphael from following that thread to find the truth.
“Twisting the climb, huh? That little brain of yours works pretty fast.”
“You say you released the prisoners just to frame Rena, and your motive was that she stole from you.”
“Think about it yourself: does that excuse sound convincing?”
“All I need to do is a little investigation, ask the other guards, and I’ll know if you’re telling the truth.”
“Since you’re not being honest, let me share my guess.”
Raphael said mockingly: “Your file shows you started working at the prison in July 1199 of the Holy Calendar, and Lancer was hired by the prison two months later, in September 1199.”
“Lancer and the mercenaries under him had no background or history, as if they never existed before. The warden who decided to hire them—the previous warden—completely disregarded imperial law and took in these people of unknown origin. And after carrying out that decision, he vanished without a trace, like a tool used and discarded.”
“The previous warden had worked at the prison for seven years. How could he just leave like that? And so unreasonably?”
“I suspect someone used him to recruit Lancer, then silenced him?”
Raphael smiled, precisely catching the odd expression on Sophia’s face.
“Looks like I guessed right.”
“Could this person with the power to manipulate a warden be some noble lady who knows magic?”
“So hard to guess~”