Chapter 14: An Unexpected Reunion

During the time Zhao Lin had disappeared, Si Qingxuan had imagined countless times what their reunion would look like.

Perhaps they would brush past each other in a crowd.

Perhaps their eyes would meet unexpectedly at someone’s wedding.

Perhaps he would notice Zhao Lin’s blurred silhouette in the background of a tourist photo.

If it had unfolded like a typical urban romance drama, Si Qingxuan could have walked up calmly, said “Long time no see,” and then delivered a resounding slap.

Ideally one strong enough to split his lip and draw blood.

He would have thrown every gift Zhao Lin had ever given him back into his face.

Knowing Zhao Lin’s temperament, even if he endured all that, he would remain silent.

He would not fight back.

But he would also never say he regretted it or wished to return.

Seated in the cold position of honor, Si Qingxuan looked down at Zhao Lin standing before him and let out a quiet sneer.

“Young master…?”

Butler Rudolf coughed softly at his side, signaling him not to ignore the officer’s words.

Si Qingxuan forced a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

The officers and detectives: “……”

The old butler: “……”

That was it?

Should he not at least exchange pleasantries, express support for the investigation, perhaps offer a word of sympathy for the deceased to clear suspicion?

“Mr. Moranden,” the officer said with a trace of helplessness.

“Do you consent to our investigation within your private castle?

Though the question is usually unnecessary, I must confirm your attitude.”

“I see.”

Si Qingxuan smiled.

“May I refuse?”

The consulting detectives: “……”

“What’s going on, boss?” the chestnut-haired young man whispered to Zhao Lin.

“Why is this NPC blocking the quest right at the start?

Is it bugged?”

Maintaining his smile, Si Qingxuan mocked the young man inwardly.

Foolish child.

You think this is a game dungeon that bends to your will?

“Young master, it was we who sent word to the police requesting an investigation,” Rudolf said, sounding exasperated.

“After the suicide, rumors spread wildly.

Some say the murderer hides within the castle.

Others say it is haunted.

Some even claim this land is cursed by the devil.

For the sake of our family’s reputation, we must invite authorities to dispel such rumors.”

“Dispel rumors?”

Si Qingxuan tilted his head innocently.

“Are they not true?”

The butler’s eye twitched.

He inhaled sharply, barely restraining his anger.

“You—”

“Relax, I am joking.”

Si Qingxuan turned back to the detectives, spreading his arms in a poised aristocratic gesture.

“Welcome to my castle.

You are free to investigate as you please.

For now, please join me for dinner—ah, breakfast.”

The detectives stared in disbelief.

His expression had changed faster than flipping a page.

“Boss—”

Unfamiliar with everything in the illusion, Song Zan instinctively stayed close to Zhao Lin.

He had been about to ask whether the food here was safe when he noticed Zhao Lin staring intently at the young master.

“Boss?

Boss!”

Zhao Lin snapped out of it.

“Hmm?”

“What were you looking at?

He’s inviting us to eat.

Is the food safe?”

“Not sure,” Zhao Lin replied quietly.

“Better not touch it.”

Song Zan nodded and discreetly informed their teammates from the Spanish Bureau.

From past experience, unless “eating breakfast” was essential to the plot, the castle inhabitants would not care whether they truly ate.

So they sat at the table, idly scraping their forks against plates and pretending to sip from empty cups.

“Detective in the brown hat—”

The young master’s voice was gentle, yet edged with mockery.

“Are you dissatisfied with our breakfast?

There is no need to pretend enjoyment.

Your behavior is rather impolite.”

At once, all eyes in the hall turned toward Song Zan.

The previously silent cook strode forward, glaring fiercely, his broad frame and thick beard making him resemble an enraged bear.

Song Zan nearly triggered his ability on instinct.

Before entering the illusion, he had asked whether killing every creature inside would dissolve it.

The answer had been no.

An illusion functioned under its own world rules.

Only by following them could one reach its core.

So he endured.

“Ah, apologies, apologies,” Song Zan said quickly, stuffing bread into his mouth.

To his surprise, it tasted real—soft, fragrant, calming his nerves.

He even took a sip of wine.

“Wow—very good!”

“Don’t eat!” a Spanish teammate shouted.

“Food in illusions may be toxic to us—”

“What?!”

Song Zan looked down.

Nothing grotesque appeared.

But his hand holding the bread had turned faintly gray, stained by something that would not wash off.

“You’ve been contaminated,” the Spaniard said sympathetically.

“Your aberration level will rise.

If it exceeds your limit, you’ll be trapped here forever.”

Song Zan’s eyes widened.

The next second, his talent—Freezing Point—activated automatically.

……

The awakened were expelled from the castle.

In a blink, they found themselves back at the starting point—a carriage leaving town.

It would take two hours to reach the castle again.

More importantly, they had to start over.

The explosion from Freezing Point had frozen the entire reception hall.

As warned before, killing everyone at the outset only triggered penalties.

This time, the punishment was a reset.

A merciful one, comparatively.

Song Zan tugged at his hair in frustration.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Something else must have gone wrong,” one teammate muttered.

“They shouldn’t have focused solely on our eating…”

If eating daily was mandatory to progress—

Then they were in even greater danger.