Chapter 15: A Clumsy Performance

Inside the carriage, the four awakened exchanged looks.

The horses trotted steadily.

Soon they would meet the drunken officer at the rural station, endure two hours of alcohol fumes, and finally reach the Moranden family’s castle.

“We need to skip the breakfast scene in the reception hall.”

One of the Spanish awakened, García, spoke first.

He looked about the same age as Song Zan, with black hair and eyes, youthful features that had yet to fully harden.

“If we simply arrive a few hours late, could we avoid the banquet altogether?”

“…Worth a try.”

Song Zan sighed, rubbing his aching jaw.

“But are you sure the castle’s owner won’t scold us for being rude and throw us out directly?”

Silence fell.

“I know what to do.”

Domingo, the oldest and most experienced among them, clapped his hands.

He stopped the carriage and stepped out.

Minutes later, he returned with two large bottles of wine.

The golden brooch that had once pinned his chest was gone.

“You’re not thinking of getting him drunk, are you?” Song Zan stared.

“What good does that do?”

“My ability is ‘Medicine Box.’”

Domingo poured powder into the wine bottles.

“I can take out all sorts of things, including emetics and sedatives.”

He distributed antidotes in advance.

“We’ll try it.

Worst case, we restart.”

Song Zan: “……”

As if this were a video game.

His contamination had not even stopped yet.

Another reset or two and he would be fertilizing imaginary grass.

Still, they had no better idea.

They placed the wine prominently inside the carriage.

Soon, the officer boarded.

After greeting them, his nose twitched.

“I smell wine.”

“You have a sharp nose,” Domingo said warmly.

“We may stay at the castle for days.

Without wine, I cannot think properly.

So I brought some, just in case.”

The officer’s eyes glued to the bottles.

“Though perhaps I worried unnecessarily.

It’s the Moranden estate.

Surely they lack nothing.

Why not finish these here and play a few rounds of cards?”

“Exactly,” García chimed in.

Song Zan watched in stunned silence as the two coaxed the officer into drinking nearly both doctored bottles.

The awakened barely touched a sip.

Two hours later, the carriage rolled through the green hedges and stopped before the castle gates.

The plump officer stumbled out, one hand gripping a bottle, shoes scraping the gravel with a dragging sound.

The butler greeted them, visibly speechless.

“Officer, are you well?”

“Excellent!” the officer declared, hiccupping loudly.

“Lead us to the master.”

Once more, they entered the resplendent reception hall.

Crystal chandeliers glittered above stained-glass windows.

The castle lord sat upon the raised dais, looking bored, as if long expecting them.

“Honored to meet you, Mr. Moranden,” the officer slurred.

“We are here to investigate the suicide of Sophie Ireland.”

“Thank you for coming.”

Though the lord’s expression suggested otherwise.

“Please, have breakfast.

Afterward, we shall discuss the investigation.”

The awakened froze.

Straight to breakfast?

No verbal sparring first?

They took their seats uneasily.

Domingo subtly made a gesture.

Clang.

The officer’s fork fell.

His face twisted.

“Urgh—”

Too late.

Wine and bile splattered onto his plate.

A sour stench filled the hall.

All four awakened recoiled naturally and set down their utensils.

“Officer, are you alright?” Domingo asked with perfect concern.

Song Zan thought bitterly: you drugged him yourself.

The officer collapsed, clutching his stomach.

“My belly—!”

Domingo glanced toward the half-eaten steak on the table.

“What meat is this?”

“Fresh boar,” the butler replied coolly.

The officer’s eyes rolled back.

“He’s poisoned!” García declared dramatically after a cursory check.

“Someone attempted to poison him!

To silence him—and us!

Sophie Ireland must not have killed herself!

The murderer is in this castle!”

His outrage rang convincingly.

Song Zan watched in admiration.

The acting was extraordinary.

Suddenly he remembered—he was the trained actor.

Graduated from film academy.

He threw himself beside the officer, shaking him passionately.

“Officer!

Where is the physician!

If you fall, we will avenge you!”

His performance was flawless.

Emotion, rhythm, physical intensity.

Oscar-worthy.

The officer twitched faintly.

“Detective, control yourself,” the butler sighed.

“You may shake him unconscious.”

As if on cue, the officer’s head lolled, eyes closed, unconscious in Song Zan’s arms.

Silence.

Zhao Lin finally intervened, lifting Song Zan by the collar and giving him a warning glare.

Servants carried the officer away.

From his elevated seat, Si Qingxuan nearly lost composure watching the spectacle.

[Their method is clever, but the acting—especially the last one—terrible.]

“Too many old melodramas,” Si Qingxuan replied calmly.

“Most young actors are like this.”

Once the officer was removed, focus returned to him.

“Mr. Moranden,” Domingo bowed.

“Though the officer has fallen ill, allow us to continue the investigation.”

“Interesting.”

Si Qingxuan smiled faintly.

“Physician, examine the food.

Can you determine if any dish is poisoned?”

The physician inspected each plate with silver utensils.

No toxins were detected.

But he frowned at the officer’s steak.

“This cut smells wrong.

Beneath the spices, it has severely spoiled.”

The butler stiffened.

The cook roared in disbelief, then froze upon inspection.

“It… is spoiled.”

He swept the table clean in agitation and stormed into the corridor.

“He must be checking the kitchen,” the butler said smoothly.

“If you are weary, you may rest in your guest rooms.”

All awakened glanced toward Si Qingxuan.

They sensed it—without his permission, nothing would proceed.

The young lord rested his chin lazily on one hand, like a lounging leopard.

“Very well.

You may remain.

The investigation is yours.”

Relief swept through them.

But his next words tightened their nerves again.

“Your performance today was delightful.”

He smiled wickedly.

“I trust each day will bring new surprises.”

“This castle will no longer be so dull.”