Time/Date: Late Evening, TC1853.01.07
Location: Metropolitan Police Station - 4th Ring
Interview Room One was institutional functionality at its finest. Bare walls painted that peculiar shade of green government buildings seemed to breed. A single table bolted to the floor. Two chairs that had seen better decades. A recording device humming quietly in the corner. The only decoration was a portrait of the current Emperor—stern features seeming to watch over proceedings with imperial gravity.
Detective Inspector Morrison settled into his chair with careful movements. Someone who'd seen too many cases like this one. Raven took her seat with composed grace. Like she was attending a formal dinner party rather than a criminal interrogation. The contrast between her servant's clothing and her aristocratic bearing was so stark it made the air feel charged.
Morrison was a veteran investigator in his fifties. Graying temples and the kind of weathered face that spoke of decades spent uncovering uncomfortable truths. He'd been specifically assigned to this case by Commissioner Wu, with strict instructions to conduct the most thorough investigation of his career.
"Miss Brenner," Morrison began. Voice carrying the measured cadence of thousands of these interviews. "I want to begin by reminding you that this conversation is being recorded for accuracy. You have the right to legal representation, the right to remain silent, and the right to request that questioning cease at any time. Do you understand these rights?"
"I understand them perfectly," Raven replied. Voice steady despite her youth. "And I waive my right to counsel. I prefer to speak freely about what has transpired."
Morrison's weathered features arranged themselves into professional skepticism. In his experience, people who waived their right to counsel generally fell into two categories—the completely innocent or the completely guilty.
Something about this seventeen-year-old girl suggested she might represent a third category entirely.
"Very well. Let's start with the events of last evening. According to the preliminary report, you were present at the New Year's banquet at the Grand Imperial Hotel. Can you describe what happened there?"
Raven's lips curved in what might have been called a smile if it had contained any warmth. "Detective Inspector, I believe there may be some confusion about the sequence of events. You see, I've already provided a comprehensive statement to this department regarding the crimes committed against me."
The words struck Morrison like a physical blow. His hand moved instinctively toward the stack of files on his desk. Fingers dancing across reports until he found the one he sought. As he read, his expression grew increasingly grim.
"According to this report, you came to the station voluntarily to report an attempted poisoning." He said it slowly. Weathered features reflecting growing comprehension. "You provided evidence of illegal substances and named specific individuals as perpetrators."
"That's correct," Raven confirmed with calm precision. "I reported the use of Amber Kiss—a combination of aphrodisiacs and fertility enhancers—administered without my knowledge or consent by Amara Brenner and Selene Lin. I also provided the glass containing residue of these substances, complete with my fingerprints, as evidence of their crime."
Morrison set the file down with careful deliberation. Mind racing through the implications. If the girl sitting across from him was the victim rather than the perpetrator, then everything about this case had just become infinitely more complex.
"Miss Brenner," he said carefully, "help me understand the current situation. Lord Kael arrived here tonight, making allegations against you regarding the events at the hotel. He claims he woke up in a hotel room, believing you had compromised him. But according to your previous statement, you left the hotel and came directly here after detecting the trap. Is that correct?"
Raven's muddy brown eyes met his with steady gaze. Someone who had nothing to hide. "Detective Inspector, that's an interesting question. Lord Kael claims he was drugged, but I find that rather convenient, don't you? A member of the imperial family, trained in detecting poisons and suspicious substances, somehow fails to notice he's being drugged? Either his training is severely lacking, or he's lying to cover his own actions."
She tilted her head slightly. Voice taking on a note of quiet speculation. "Of course, there's always the possibility that he was a willing participant in the scheme from the beginning. After all, who would question the word of celestial blood against a mere servant?"
"And who do you believe orchestrated this scheme?"
"Amara Brenner and Selene Lin," Raven replied without hesitation. "Amara personally handed me the glass containing the Amber Kiss, claiming it was a special blessing for the New Year. The hotel room was prepared in advance with aphrodisiac incense and arrangements designed to create a compromising situation. The entire evening was planned with meticulous precision."
Morrison leaned back in his chair. Studying her with renewed interest. "I'm curious, Miss Brenner—how does a seventeen-year-old servant girl know about something like Amber Kiss? It's not exactly common knowledge. Most people wouldn't recognize it even if they'd heard the name. Care to explain?"
Raven's expression remained composed, but something old and weary flickered behind her muddy brown eyes. "Inspector Morrison, you don't grow up in a household like the Brenners without learning about the darker side of the Empire. When you're treated as less than human, when you're isolated and abused, you develop certain survival skills."
She paused. For the first time, genuine emotion crept into her carefully controlled voice. Not anger. A tired resignation that spoke of years—years—of humiliation.
"There's nothing more devastating to a young girl, Detective Inspector, than suddenly developing severe diarrhea at a family gathering. Or breaking out in pus-filled sores on your first day of school. Imagine being twelve years old, finally allowed to attend lessons, and watching your classmates recoil in horror as your face erupts in boils."
Morrison's weathered features tightened with understanding. Chemical sabotage designed to isolate and humiliate.
"After being caught in numerous schemes like that—incidents always dismissed as 'unfortunate accidents' or 'poor constitution'—I learned to protect myself," Raven continued. "You learn to be suspicious of everything given to you. You educate yourself. What compounds might be used. What symptoms to watch for. How to recognize when food or drink has been tampered with. The Brenner household has an extensive library, and no one pays attention to where a servant goes during their free hours. I've spent years studying alchemy, herbology, imperial law—anything that might help me understand what was being done to me and how to survive it."
"Self-preservation through education," Morrison said quietly.
"Exactly. When you're systematically targeted, you become very interested in learning everything you can about forbidden substances and their effects. Might save your life one day." Her voice hardened slightly. "In this case, it did."
Morrison made careful notes. Weathered features reflecting the grim reality she was describing. "And when Amara handed you that glass?"
"I didn't need to taste it to know something was wrong. The color, the viscosity, the way it caught the light—and Amara's expression when she gave it to me. That smile." Raven's voice hardened slightly. "I recognized what it likely was, though I couldn't be certain until your forensics confirmed it."
Morrison nodded slowly. Pieces fitting together in a way that actually made sense. A girl who'd been abused for nine years would absolutely educate herself about the tools of her abuse.
"So you performed drunkenness to make them believe their trap was working. Then what? Walk me through how you ended up at the hotel room."
Raven's posture shifted slightly. Morrison got the sense she'd been waiting for this question. Had prepared for it.
"About twenty minutes after I pretended to drink the Amber Kiss, a waitress approached me. Young woman, nervous. She slipped me a hotel key card and whispered that my mother had arranged a room for me to rest—Room 623 at the Grand Imperial Hotel."
"Did you recognize this waitress?"
"No. I'd never seen her before. But the timing was perfect—exactly when the Amber Kiss would have been taking full effect if I'd actually consumed it. They'd positioned her to guide their drugged victim exactly where they wanted her."
Morrison made careful notes. Another piece of the conspiracy puzzle.
"And you went to the room?"
"I knew I was being trapped, Detective Inspector. But I needed to see the full extent of their preparation, to understand what they'd planned. The room had been prepared—I could smell the incense, see the arrangements. Everything designed to compromise whoever entered. So I made a decision."
"Which was?"
"To escape using the window," Raven said simply. "I assessed the situation, realized that staying would mean falling into their trap completely, and chose the only exit that wouldn't lead me directly into whoever was waiting to 'discover' me in a compromising position. The exterior wall provided handholds—decorative stonework, window ledges. Difficult, but not impossible for someone desperate enough."
"You climbed down six stories."
"I've done more difficult things to survive the Brenner household," Raven replied with quiet intensity. "Climbing down a wall seemed preferable to the alternative they'd planned for me."
Morrison studied her for a long moment. "And you didn't know who they'd arranged to compromise you with? Who the man was supposed to be?"
Raven shook her head. "I had no idea, Detective Inspector. I knew they'd arranged for some man to be in that room—that was obvious from the preparation. But I didn't know if he would be an innocent victim they'd drugged as well, or a willing participant in their scheme. Either way, by escaping, I was removing myself as the target. If he was innocent and affected by whatever substances they'd used, he'd simply wake up alone and confused—unpleasant, but not ruined. If he was part of the conspiracy, well..." She met Morrison's eyes directly. "Then the police would find him in a room prepared for a crime that never happened. Either scenario seemed preferable to staying and letting them destroy me."
"You didn't consider warning anyone? Alerting hotel staff?"
"And tell them what, exactly?" Raven's voice carried quiet frustration. "That I, a seventeen-year-old servant, believed wealthy noble family members were plotting against me? That they should search a room rented under legitimate names for evidence of a crime that hadn't occurred yet? Who would have believed me, Detective Inspector? I had no proof at that moment—just suspicions and the knowledge that I was in terrible danger. My only option was to escape, preserve what evidence I could, and come here to report the crime after the fact."
Morrison nodded slowly. The logic making sense even if the situation was morally murky. "So you climbed down, came directly here, and filed your report."
"I secured the glass with the Amber Kiss residue first," Raven corrected. "Made sure the fingerprint evidence was preserved. Then I came here, knowing that once they discovered their trap had failed, they would try to turn the situation against me somehow. I needed my statement on record before they could craft their version of events."
"Which is exactly what happened," Morrison observed. "Lord Kael arrived hours later, claiming you'd drugged and compromised him."
"Yes. Though I still don't understand why he believes I was in that room, when clearly I wasn't." Raven's expression showed genuine puzzlement mixed with calculation. "Unless whoever was actually there bore some resemblance to me? Or unless Lord Kael is lying about what he remembers to protect himself from the legal consequences of his actions?"
"But clearly someone else was with Lord Kael," Raven finished quietly. "Someone who was positioned to ensure that when Lord Kael awakened, he would believe I had been present. The question you should be asking, Detective Inspector, is who had access to prepare that room in advance, and who benefits from Lord Kael believing I was the one who compromised him."
The room fell silent except for the quiet hum of the recording device. Both occupants lost in the labyrinthine complexities of deception and truth that seemed to define this case.
***
Meanwhile, in Interview Room Two
Officer Chen was a compact woman in her thirties. The kind of methodical approach that made her invaluable for interviewing victims and witnesses who required gentle handling. Her voice carried maternal warmth that invited confidence, though her eyes held sharp intelligence. Someone who missed very few details.
Amara sat across from her with composed grace. Someone accustomed to being the center of attention. Amber eyes bright with unshed tears that caught harsh fluorescent lighting like precious gems. Golden hair fell in carefully arranged waves that suggested artful dishevelment rather than genuine distress.
"Miss Brenner," Officer Chen began with practiced gentleness, "I understand this has been a traumatic experience for you. Please take your time and tell me what happened last evening."
Amara dabbed at her eyes with her silk handkerchief. The gesture was calculated to convey brave vulnerability. "It's been so terrible, Officer Chen. I still can't believe Mara would do something so horrible to someone we both care about."
"When you say 'someone you both care about,' you're referring to Lord Kael?"
"Yes," Amara whispered. Voice trembling with what appeared to be genuine emotion. "Kael and I have been... close for some time. Nothing improper, you understand—we're both very conscious of maintaining proper decorum until any formal arrangements can be made. But there's been an understanding between our families."
Officer Chen made careful notes. Expression maintaining professional neutrality despite the political implications. "And you believe your sister deliberately interfered with this understanding?"
"Stepsister," Amara corrected with a flash of something harder beneath her wounded facade. "Mara isn't actually blood-related to our family. She was... taken in by my father out of charity when he married her mother."
The subtle emphasis on Mara's outsider status wasn't lost on Officer Chen. She'd seen enough family dynamics to recognize territorial marking when she heard it.
"Can you describe the events leading up to the incident at the hotel?"
Amara's narrative flowed like silk. Each detail carefully chosen to paint a picture of a jealous stepsister consumed by envy and desperation. She described Mara's obvious infatuation with Lord Kael. Her growing boldness in recent weeks. The way she'd positioned herself at the banquet to gain access to him.
"It's not just this incident, Officer Chen," Amara continued. Voice taking on a note of reluctant confession. "There have been... other problems. My stepsister has been stealing from me for months. My artwork, my jewelry designs—pieces I've been preparing for the Centennial Art Festival. I've tried to be understanding, knowing how difficult her situation must be, but when I discovered she'd taken some of my most precious creations..."
She dabbed at her eyes again. Gesture conveying wounded generosity rather than accusation. "I suppose that's what made this so shocking. I thought her jealousy was limited to material things. I never imagined she would target someone I care about so deeply."
"You mentioned you saw her preparing something at the refreshment table?"
"Yes," Amara said. Voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A special drink that she claimed was a traditional blessing. When she gave it to Kael, I thought it was just another of her attempts to gain his attention. I never imagined she would actually drug him and then..." Her voice broke convincingly. "When I discovered what happened in that hotel room, I was devastated."
She dissolved into tears that seemed entirely genuine. Shoulders shaking with the force of her emotion. Officer Chen offered tissues and soothing words. Maternal instincts engaged despite professional skepticism.
Yet beneath that practiced sympathy, Chen's mind was cataloging inconsistencies. The girl's tears were perfect—too perfect. The narrative too polished. Each detail positioned just so to create a specific impression.
And there was something about the way Amara kept glancing at the door. Like she was calculating when the interview would end. Made Chen's instincts prickle with suspicion.
"Miss Brenner, these are very serious allegations. Do you have any evidence to support your account of events?"
"The hotel staff can confirm that she arranged for the room in advance," Amara replied through her tears. "She had access to the family accounts through her position as Mother's assistant. And there were witnesses who saw her speaking with Kael privately before he became... affected by whatever she gave him."
Each detail was carefully crafted to reinforce the narrative of premeditation and malicious intent. Painting Mara as a calculating predator who'd used her position within the family to orchestrate an elaborate seduction scheme.
What Amara didn't know was that her every word was being compared against the evidence already provided by the supposed victim. Evidence that painted a very different picture of who had been hunting whom.
But even as Chen took her statement with professional thoroughness, Amara felt something cold settling in her chest. The questions were specific. Too specific. They weren't simply documenting her version of events—they were testing it. Probing for inconsistencies. Looking for the cracks that would reveal the lie beneath.
Host, came the System's urgent whisper in the back of her mind. Mental voice tight with barely concealed fear. Something is wrong. Pull back. Be vague. This woman suspects—
Amara forced her breathing to remain steady. Maintained her tearful composure.
No.
She'd prepared for this. Every detail was perfect. Every piece of evidence pointed exactly where she needed it to point.
The System had to be wrong.
It had to be.
***
Meanwhile, Interview Room Three
Lieutenant Veyne sat across from Selene Lin with a patient expression. Someone who'd interviewed hundreds of witnesses and knew exactly when someone was performing rather than testifying. Selene had arranged herself with careful precision. A woman who understood that appearance was everything. Emerald silk perfectly draped. Dark hair immaculately styled despite the late hour. Hands folded in her lap with aristocratic composure.
"Mrs. Brenner," Veyne began. Voice carrying professional neutrality. "I understand you were present at the New Year's banquet last evening. Can you describe your observations of the events?"
"Of course, Lieutenant." Selene's voice held measured tones. Someone accustomed to authority. "Though I must say, I find it rather distressing that we've been brought here as though we were criminals rather than the victims of a deeply disturbed young woman's schemes."
"No one has been accused of anything yet, Mrs. Brenner. We're simply gathering information."
"Information." Selene's lips curved slightly. "Well, the information you need is quite simple, Lieutenant. My daughter Mara has been showing increasingly erratic behavior over the past several weeks. Jealousy toward her sister Amara, inappropriate interest in Lord Kael, and a growing boldness that suggested she might do something... rash. My daughter Amara has been devastated by all of this—she's the one who alerted us to Mara's schemes."
Veyne's pen paused over her notes. "Your daughter, Mrs. Brenner? Just to clarify—Amara Brenner is your stepdaughter, correct?"
Selene's composure flickered for just a heartbeat before she recovered with aristocratic grace. "Oh yes, you're quite right, Lieutenant. Technically, Amara is my husband's daughter from his first marriage to Eveline Marcellus. But I married Edmund when Amara was only nine years old, and I've raised her through all her formative years. I consider her my biological daughter in every way that matters. She treats me with the respect and devotion a real daughter shows her mother—unlike Mara's rebellious and ungrateful nature."
The comparison was delivered with practiced maternal sorrow. Painting a clear picture of the favored child versus the problem child. Each word carefully chosen to establish which daughter deserved sympathy and which deserved suspicion.
Veyne made a careful notation. Expression neutral, but eyes noting the clear preference Selene showed for one daughter over the other. "I see. And you mentioned an inappropriate interest in Lord Kael. Can you be more specific?"
"The usual signs of infatuation," Selene replied smoothly. "Finding excuses to be near him. Attempting to engage his attention at social functions, that sort of thing. Nothing overtly scandalous, but the pattern was concerning to those of us who know her well."
"And you had no knowledge of any plans your daughter, Amara, might have had regarding Lord Kael?"
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Selene's composure flickered—just for a heartbeat—before reasserting itself with aristocratic firmness.
"My daughter Amara," she said with careful emphasis, "has conducted herself with perfect propriety in all matters relating to Lord Kael. Any suggestion otherwise is simply another of Mara's attempts to deflect blame for her own actions."
But Lieutenant Veyne had read the preliminary evidence reports.
And something about this elegant woman's story wasn't adding up.
She let the silence stretch. Watched Selene's fingers find that piece of silk sleeve again—rubbing, rubbing. A nervous tell the woman probably didn't even realize she was displaying.
"Mrs. Brenner," Veyne said quietly, "can you tell me about the glass that was used to serve drinks at the banquet? Specifically, the one that Mara Brenner claims contained Amber Kiss?"
Selene's face went carefully blank. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant. There were many glasses at the banquet. I couldn't possibly remember—"
"The crystal flute," Veyne specified. Consulting her notes with deliberate precision. "The one currently in our evidence room. The one with three distinct sets of fingerprints on it."
The color drained from Selene's face so quickly that it was almost comical.
Almost.