The maid rushed to Cally's room to tell her about the message. Cally rushed out of her room to the grafoton. Caleric had also rushed downstairs to where the grafoton was kept.
The grafoton repeated the entire message again.
"Aron Gnalet was murdered. Silv, Mira and Mari Gnalet were also murdered. Please arrive at the Gnalet mansion as soon as you are informed of the message."
Cally's eyes widened as she heard the machine speak words that she didn't want to believe were real.
Caleric just stood there. He didn't move for a minute. He couldn't move. He was wondering if it was all a dream. It wasn't. After confirming that he really was awake, he got serious and confused.
Aron was murdered?
Without wasting any more time, the siblings headed out. They got into a public arcavel which they happened to spot passing by. It was still dark, with a few minutes to dawn.
Caleric was unsure of what he should do or how he should act. His facade of the original Caleric was crumbling, little by little.
It wasn't as if he had developed strong feelings for the Gnalet family. It had only been a week since his transmigration, not nearly enough time to forge any deep emotional bond.
The reason for his loss of control over his emotions was that he was being overwhelmed by the original Caleric's feelings. Scenes of Caleric spending time with the Gnalet family kept surfacing in his mind.
Even though the original Caleric had never fully realized or understood how he felt about his family, he had deep emotional connections with them. Caleric was now being engulfed by those emotions, and it grew stronger as they neared the mansion.
Beside him, Cally was shivering slightly, her eyes blank as she stared out the window. There was nothing to see, only darkness. The ten-minute trip to the mansion felt like ten hours.
Caleric could feel the tension. The grief, sorrow, anguish, loss—he could sense them all, even differentiate between them. The numbness, the pain laced with a hint of anger. The trace of guilt. The bitterness that lingered. And above it all, the shock and the vast void of despair.
Even though he could sense all the different feelings, he could do nothing to comfort her, for he himself was slowly drifting into the same void. A void that felt endless, like a bottomless pit.
This is bad. These emotions are too much. I'll be mad if I don't do something soon.
Caleric tried his best to stay in control, to not lose focus. He looked straight ahead at the road, dimly illuminated by the headlights of the arcavel. Occasionally, he shifted his gaze from the road to the interior of the car. He wanted to divert his attention to keep his wild emotions in check.
After ten minutes that felt like an eternity, they arrived at the mansion. Caleric could feel his heart throbbing with great intensity, beating even faster than when he had met Saint Clover at his birthday banquet.
He somehow managed to control himself as the siblings made their way into the mansion, passing along the stone pavement through the garden. At the door, several police officers in their usual blue uniforms stood guard. After confirming their identities, the officers let them inside.
The hall was large enough to hold more than a hundred people, and it was filled with more police officers. All of the servants stood huddled in a corner. As they entered, the first thing they saw was Aron, Silv... and the two little twins... lying in the middle of the room.
All of them were dressed in white, their eyes closed. They weren't asleep—they were dead.
Caleric's emotions went into a frenzy at the sight. He almost couldn't control himself. A searing pain tore through his head and chest, so overwhelming that he couldn't move. Clutching his chest with one hand, he shook his head desperately.
Quick, I need to divert my attention. This is bad.
He searched for anything—anything that could help. Spotting a maid holding a bottle of water, he staggered toward her, barely keeping his balance. Seeing him struggle, the servants rushed to assist.
He grabbed the bottle and poured it over his face. The cold water wasn't enough to completely steady his emotions, but it gave him just enough control to hold on.
Meanwhile, Cally had walked toward the family—her family, the ones she had grown up with. She crouched beside them, tears welling in her eyes before slowly rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't hold them back. The prodigy, the rebel who always did whatever she wanted, now felt a trace of guilt. She hadn't been able to save the people dearest to her.
By the time Caleric managed to steady himself, a police officer approached him.
"How did this happen?" Caleric asked.
"I'm sorry for your loss. This likely occurred around midnight. All of them were poisoned. The perpetrator has probably fled the scene. We've already questioned the servants, and our search is underway. We will inform you if we discover anything.
"A priest will arrive by eight. The funeral can be conducted with the last rites at Willow Grove Cemetery. There are also some procedures we must follow according to protocol, so we ask for your cooperation."
Caleric silently nodded. He turned his gaze toward Cally, who was crouching beside Aron. He could only watch her from a distance. As her older brother, he should have been there to comfort her at a time like this, but he found himself in an even more pathetic state.
...
Willow Grove Cemetery
Caleric had somehow managed to regain his rationality and suppress the overwhelming effects of the former owner's emotions. Now he was back to his usual state, pretending to be the oblivious Caleric.
Even though Caleric was supposed to appear oblivious, he still had to show grief. Luckily, the one inhabiting the body at the moment was a psychology prodigy. He had no trouble simulating emotions and controlling their intensity.
Willow Grove was a vast stretch of open land used as a burial ground, dotted with countless graves. The Gnalet family's resting place had been prepared on a small hill, beneath the shade of a big tree.
The priest carried out the procedure of the last rites. Caleric had thought he would be required to do something, but according to common practice, it could only be performed by someone of the same blood. In the absence of a blood relative, the duty fell to the priest himself.
As the ceremony ended and Caleric and Cally were leaving, the group of servants who had come for the funeral walked up to them.
"Master Caleric, what are we to do now?" one of them asked.
Caleric remained silent for a moment.
"Aron has already found you new employers. You don't have to worry too much. Once the police confirm your innocence, you are all free to join them," Caleric said.
"But..." the servants hesitated.
Caleric reassured them that there was nothing for them to worry about. By then, Cally had also regained her usual composure. Although Caleric could sense the dead feeling she was radiating, on the surface she looked calm and collected.
While Cally took on the task of comforting the servants, Caleric was approached by someone claiming to be a government official.
"What will happen to Aron's inheritance?" Caleric asked.
"Aron had already written his will. The mansion is donated to charity, and his possessions have been given to the church."
"What?" Caleric was baffled.
Aron wrote his will not in the name of Mira and Mari, but in the name of the Church of Goddess Verdalia? Which means the Clover Cathedral... He's a government official, so he wouldn't lie, right? Still, isn't this a little stupid?
Caleric was left confused. It wasn't as if he was disappointed about not receiving a share of the inheritance—he had never expected any to begin with. He and his sister had already decided on that long ago. It was the very reason they had moved out.
"According to the law, a blood-related child inherits all possessions if a will is unwritten. When writing a will, the parent must include at least ten percent of their possessions for their children. However, you are not blood-related, so the law does not apply to you. But since Cally is not eighteen yet, perhaps we can work out a way to secure some of the inheritance in her name. She grew up with the Gnalet family, and under adoption rules, the family must provide sufficient care until the child turns eighteen."
Caleric nodded in agreement.
After that, the siblings left the burial grounds and headed home. They had to leave Virelia that day, but the unfortunate turn of events had left them confused and stumped. For now, they decided to return home and think about what to do later.
The entire way back, Caleric could only think of the murder. Who had killed Aron, and what motive could they possibly have? Why risk killing the entire family? How had the killer managed to escape undetected? And then there were the other troubling questions—Aron's will, and the flawless timing of the murder, which happened the very night before they were supposed to leave.
Caleric couldn't help but feel there was a missing piece to the puzzle. His pattern recognition skills told him he was close to uncovering the truth, but one final clue felt out of reach.
Then his thoughts shifted. He couldn't think clearly anymore because a primal urge consumed him—the urge to strike back at the one who struck first, the urge for revenge. He wanted to avenge the Gnalet family.