12 O’Clock Marionette

The man’s bravado crumbled in an instant.

"H-heh. That was a joke, you know that, right?"

"Your jokes aren’t funny."

"Ahaha, I’ll make sure to practice for next time."

"What makes you think there will be a next time?"

Cruello lightly dragged his dagger across the desk, playing along with the threatening atmosphere.

The man’s pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck his very soul.

"W-wait, why wouldn’t there be a next time? Come on, let’s not do this. I know a lot of things, okay? So, how about putting that knife away first—"

Finally, he was acting like a proper hostage.

He seemed to be of a higher rank, meaning he could be useful in various ways, but for now, I had more immediate concerns.

"Take me to where my comrade is."

The underground prison where the secret investigator was being held was located below the main compound.

Dylan—the cultist’s name—made loud noises as we walked, probably hoping other cult members would come to his aid. But Cruello’s magic twisted any signal for help into nothing more than self-indulgent noise.

It probably also helped that I had my dagger pressed against his back.

Finally realizing his position, Dylan shut his mouth and became noticeably more cooperative.

After descending the long flight of stairs, we reached the bottom, where a single person was chained to the wall.

His arms were spread wide by the iron shackles, and his body hung limp.

There were no signs of torture, but judging by his injuries, he had been hurt in a fight.

"At least he’s still breathing."

I gave Cruello a quick glance, and he wordlessly knocked Dylan unconscious, stuffing him into a corner.

We used the keys we had taken from the office to unlock the cell and stepped inside.

Just as I was about to check the investigator’s condition—

Something fell from his tattered clothes.@@novelbin@@

A pale-colored coin pouch.