The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

The focus shifted to Aldric, whose stern gaze moved from one person to the next.

”Once the first toll sounds, no participant may speak to, touch, or exchange anything with another participant until the third toll ushers in nightfall. Anyone who violates that rule will be treated as a potential killer.”

Everyone nodded, and no one objected.

After three deaths, a ledger filled with ink seemed more reliable than a circle of frightened voices arguing among themselves over matters both great and small.

Mirai spoke next.

”We cannot allow the palace to stop functioning, everyone. Otherwise, the nightmare will punish us for neglecting our roles. We will carry out only what is necessary, and any additional task the palace assigns outside our usual routine will be announced here, so that nothing takes us by surprise if suspicion later falls on someone,” Mirai said, her eyes briefly sliding toward Ravian.

She seemed to be saying that she did not want another summons like the one he had issued to Sylvan earlier, which had prevented Sylvan from accompanying her and Aldric.

’Tsk, tsk. Not even a thank-you for saving you from being accused earlier?’ Ravian snorted but made no comment.

Mirai then turned toward Sylvan.

”Sylvan, you and Bran will go to the western storeroom. Bring back two blocks of black wax, one roll of thin paper, and the small lamp used to melt the wax. Set everything on this table when you return, please, then both of you step away from it.”

Sylvan raised his head.

”Two blocks of black wax, one roll of thin paper, and the small lamp?” he repeated.

”Yes.” Mirai nodded.

Aldric recorded the task, his pen scratching steadily across the page.

Ravian watched Sylvan’s back until he disappeared behind the columns with Bran.

The next few hours passed slowly.

The copper tubes were opened and inspected again, then their openings were covered with thin paper and cloth once more before the edges of the coverings were sealed with black wax. No one was allowed to work alone. They worked in pairs while Aldric recorded every order, every direct interaction, and every tool that passed from one hand to another.

Ravian did not know what purpose any of this served this early in the day, but he chose not to interfere, even as his mind raced against time to decipher their hidden plan from their movements throughout the palace.

The plan seemed coherent enough to afford them a measure of safety.

That was precisely what had made it useful to Ravian before. Now, however, it unsettled him slightly because he knew neither its exact mechanism nor how many people were involved in carrying it out.

...It would be a problem if more than just Aldric and Mirai were involved.

’Would it be better not to risk it tonight?’ The thought crossed Ravian’s mind.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, quietly weighing his options.

When he opened them again, he had made his decision.

...

Near midday, during one of the brief intervals when the pairs were switching assignments, Sylvan found Ravian standing in front of the Correspondence Office.

He hesitated, glancing once down the length of the corridor before approaching.

”Rayan,” Sylvan called.

Ravian turned toward him.

”What is it?”

”I want to ask you something.”

Ravian waited.

Sylvan’s fingers clenched once at his side before he spoke.

”Why did you summon me specifically yesterday? Bran could have carried the records. Even Kaiden could have done it.”

Ravian’s brows drew together as he looked at him.

”Bran was working in the stables, and Kaiden was in charge of the dining hall. You are responsible for the storeroom, and the records concerned the supplies taken from it,” Ravian said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The answer was direct, logical, and entirely true.

Even so, Sylvan continued staring at him.

”If you had only summoned me a little later, what happened today would not have...”

”You would have witnessed Mirai inspecting the tube,” Ravian finished for him.

Sylvan looked him directly in the eyes.

”...Yes,” he said.

”And what then?” Ravian asked.

Sylvan opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again. No answer came.

He had not expected Ravian to respond that way. He had expected Ravian to dismiss him, tell him it had been a coincidence—anything but this.

He had carried the question all the way there, only to discover that he had never once considered what came after it.

Ravian finished the rest for him.

”Had you witnessed the inspection and truthfully said that you saw no real communication between Mirai and Kaiden, Talia might simply have accused you of protecting Mirai,” Ravian said, his voice like the whisper of demons.

Sylvan’s expression tightened.

Ravian continued, ”And if you had mistaken the wax for a message and backed her accusation, your presence might have been the very thing that gave her the confidence to make it. Even so, the nightmare would still have ruled it false. Talia would have died either way, and you would have carried a burden far heavier than the one you came here carrying.”

Sylvan lowered his eyes.

”Perhaps your presence there would have changed the way she arrived at her decision, but it would not have changed the truth behind it,” Ravian continued. ”And even if her accusation and your testimony had both been correct, you would be dead now instead of standing here before me.”

Ravian placed a hand on his shoulder.

The contact was brief and direct... a communication made without a single witness.

”I protected you, Sylvan, even if only indirectly. So you should be grateful to me instead of asking me such pointless questions.”

Sylvan remained silent for a moment.

Then he nodded.

”...You are right.”

He walked away, and Ravian continued watching until the corridor swallowed his figure.

Sylvan had accepted the answer.

But he had needed it so desperately that it had driven him to violate the very system of witnessed and recorded communication they had established that morning.

A man at peace with himself does not go seeking absolution from another; he grants it to himself.

As evening approached, everyone returned to the hall.

Aldric personally reviewed the key log.

As the head servant, Mirai carried a large ring holding the service keys to the participants’ rooms, the offices, the storerooms, and the service corridors. The main ring held several smaller rings, and each key bore an engraved mark that distinguished it from the rest.

Aldric inspected the keys to the participants’ rooms one by one, comparing each key to the small sketch recorded beside the name of the participant whose room it opened before marking the corresponding entry in his ledger.

”All keys are accounted for,” he announced.

Mirai fastened the ring back at her waist while Ravian watched her—or rather, the keys at her waist.

’Found it... my opening for tonight.’