Chapter 68: Keep Your Question
"As you command, Detective."
Ravian answered with that same smile of his, then moved to stand beside the rest of the staff—but Robert raised a hand before he could step away.
"Not there. Sit at that table."
Robert pointed to one of the tables near the corpse, and strangely enough, it was the table closest to the spot from which the man had lunged at Ravian earlier.
Ravian raised an eyebrow slightly before walking over and sitting down quietly.
’Looks like I’ve really caught his interest.’
It wasn’t entirely surprising. Robert was the powerful presence Ravian had sensed entering the tavern a short while ago, but after seeing him up close, Ravian realized the man’s strength wasn’t the only thing that warranted caution.
His energy was unusually disciplined—compressed within his body to the point that pinpointing his rank was difficult even for Ravian’s current senses.
And above all else, his eyes were far too calm.
They weren’t the eyes of a man merely looking at what was in front of him—they were the eyes of someone trying to work out what you were thinking while you looked back at him.
’Annoying.’
Robert took his eyes off Ravian and turned back to the manager.
"Do you know him?" Robert asked, gesturing toward Ravian.
"No, sir."
"Then do you have any idea when he arrived?"
"Not at all, Detective," the manager replied.
Robert studied the manager for a few seconds, and Ravian noticed it.
"How many people are still inside?"
"Almost no one, sir. The last match is already over, and whoever’s left will come out within—"
"I didn’t ask you when they would come out."
The manager stopped talking at once.
Robert took the pipe from his mouth and exhaled a small cloud of smoke before looking at the five members of the City Guard.
"Seal every exit. Let no one leave, and gather everyone inside."
"At your command, sir."
Four of the guards moved toward the entrance to the betting floor, while the fifth remained near the tavern’s main door.
What little color remained drained from the manager’s face.
"Mr. Robert, there’s no need for all this. It’s only a small entertainment venue, and—"
"An entertainment venue?" Robert repeated, then looked toward the entrance through which the guards had disappeared. "Is watching two Rassasians tear each other apart until one of them dies the kind of entertainment you offer here?"
The manager opened his mouth, but no words came out.
At that very moment, Sophia appeared at the entrance to the betting floor, her hand still pressed over her heart from the host’s earlier shout.
She stopped the instant she saw the detectives and the City Guard.
Then her eyes slid toward the manager.
She froze in place.
"You." Robert pointed at her with his pipe. "Come here."
Sophia looked at Ravian, who was seated at the table, then at the manager—who looked as though he wanted to strangle her with his eyes—before stepping forward hesitantly.
"Wh-what do you want, sir?"
"How many people are inside?"
"Maybe... thirty? No, a little fewer now that the match is over."
Robert raised an eyebrow and looked at the manager.
"The place was almost empty, wasn’t it?"
The manager lowered his head further without answering.
Robert turned his gaze back to Sophia.
"What’s your name?"
"Sophia, sir."
"Do you work here?"
"Yes."
"And is this man one of the staff?" Robert asked, pointing toward Ravian.
Sophia shook her head quickly.
"No, Mr. Rayan is a customer. He only arrived at the tavern tonight."
Robert’s eyes shifted toward Ravian for a moment before returning to Sophia.
"Were you with him inside?"
"Yes, sir."
"Since when?"
Sophia hesitated, trying to work it out.
"Since around the start of the match."
"And did he leave the table at any point?"
"No. He stayed seated with me until he stood up and came back out here a little while ago."
Robert remained silent for a few seconds, while Ravian glanced at Sophia with a faint smile.
’Good girl.’
But Sophia wasn’t finished yet.
"Although he did act a little strangely," Sophia said, her eyes moving from the detective to Ravian.
Ravian’s smile vanished.
Robert looked at her with greater interest.
"Strangely how?"
"He said he never bets on anyone, then said he does bet sometimes, and after that, he pointed at the sky and said he only ever bets on himself."
Everyone stared at Ravian.
Ravian remained silent for a few moments before knitting his brows and looking at Sophia.
"Was telling them that really necessary?"
"You’re the one who said it in front of me."
"I was trying to look cool."
"You looked insane."
The corner of the younger detective’s mouth twitched, as though he had nearly laughed before pulling himself together, while Robert returned his pipe to his mouth.
"You can go stand with the rest of the staff now."
Sophia nodded quickly, then headed toward them, deliberately standing as far away from the manager as she possibly could.
Robert pulled out the chair opposite Ravian and sat down.
He set his pipe on the table, then laced his fingers together in front of him.
"So, Mr. Rayan, you only arrived at this tavern tonight?"
At the question, Ravian’s gaze shifted from Sophia back to Robert.
"That’s right."
"At what time?"
"I don’t know the exact time, but the man lying over there was still alive when I arrived."
Robert looked toward the corpse.
"Did you speak to him?"
"No."
"Did he speak to you?"
Ravian hesitated for the briefest fraction of a second.
"He said a few words that weren’t worth remembering."
"They’re worth telling me."
Ravian smiled.
"He was drunk and speaking rudely. If you want his exact words, I’m afraid I didn’t care enough to memorize them."
Robert continued looking at him.
"Did you touch him?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I usually remember the people I touch."
Robert remained silent for a few moments, never taking his eyes off Ravian, before leaning back in his chair.
"That’s strange, because one of the staff said you put your hand on his shoulder before he collapsed."
The staff exchanged confused glances, while Ravian’s smile rose slightly.
"And who said that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course. I’d like to know who possesses such a vivid imagination."
"Perhaps you did it and forgot."
"You just said I put my hand on his shoulder—not that I might have." Ravian maintained his smile as he continued, "Either you have a witness, in which case you can bring them here to confront me, or you’re trying to find out whether I’ll change my answer."
Robert’s expression didn’t change, but the younger detective looked at Ravian with obvious interest.
Silence settled over the place once again, and nothing could be heard except muffled noises and intermittent shouting coming from the betting floor as the guards rounded up everyone inside.
Robert tapped his finger against the table.
Once.
Then twice.
"You’re remarkably calm for someone sitting only a few steps away from a corpse."
"Would you like me to scream?"
"I’d like you to behave naturally."
"Perhaps this is my natural behavior."
"There’s a dead man beside you and a detective who suspects you, yet you’re still smiling."
Ravian frowned, looked toward the corpse, then returned his gaze to Robert.
"You hadn’t said you suspected me—until just now."
"And you never asked why I was keeping you here."
"Because I assumed you would tell me when the time came."
The corner of Robert’s mouth rose slightly.
For the first time, Ravian felt that the man’s smile wasn’t merely a tool for his interrogation—it carried something close to enjoyment.
"Fine, I’ll tell you now." Robert gestured toward the corpse. "This man was alive when he entered the tavern. Then he suddenly collapsed and died without a wound, bleeding, or any clear trace of magic or poison. And you were one of the last people near him."
"That gives you good reason to keep me here, but it doesn’t make me his killer."
Robert abruptly stopped tapping the table.
"But I never said he was killed. Where did you get that piece of information?" Robert asked, and for the first time, the smile on his face became frightening.
Silence fell.
Robert stared directly into Ravian’s eyes, waiting for an answer.
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