Chapter 3
Dragged away by the police without any explanation, Arlen found herself at the capital’s Central Police Agency. The unfamiliar building, her first time inside, was as chaotic as the train station had been. The officers, on edge from the shooting, moved with grim-faced urgency. The air was thick with the sound of scoundrels arguing with the police and reporters sniffing around for a story.
Amid the hostile atmosphere, Arlen shrank into herself, her shoulders tense. If the noise at the station had been a strain on her ears, the disorderly, marketplace-like clamor here was enough to make her head throb.
“I have told you countless times. My lady has nothing to do with what happened,” Betty insisted, accosting every officer who passed.
“It is merely a formality. We are requesting your cooperation,” came the same rote reply every time.
“How is this cooperation? And why did you single out my lady?”
Of the hundreds of people at the station, Arlen was the only one they had brought in for questioning.
THWACK!
The officer sitting opposite Arlen slammed a stack of files onto the desk and tossed a small notepad on top.
“Do you have any other identification besides this?” he demanded.
“Is there a problem with my card?” Arlen asked, her trembling hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“This is hopelessly outdated. We cannot verify its authenticity. Did you not hear the order a year ago to have new ones issued?”
“Th-that is because she just returned from Nortonburg,” Betty interjected, as Arlen was unaware of the capital’s affairs.
The officer’s gaze remained skeptical.
“Born in Edel, yet you have not visited once in ten years? A public decree was issued. It is not plausible that you alone were unaware.”
Clearly unconvinced of her identity, the officer continued his tirade. In recent years, cases of commoners impersonating nobles had become rampant. To protect innocent aristocrats, the royal family had vowed severe punishment, but the problem persisted, a mockery of their waning authority. A year ago, the crown had mandated new identification cards, but Arlen, sequestered in her boarding school in northern Nortonburg, had missed the deadline.
“As I said, there were… complicated circumstances.”
“Right. The favorite excuse of every criminal,” the officer sneered, cutting her off.
Arlen could only manage a weak, bewildered smile.
“You are being incredibly rude.”
Rude, rude, rude. Langston was growing tired of it. He wore a star on his chest, yet this woman’s clear eyes made him feel like filth, as if she were looking at a common thug. There was a limit to his patience. It was humiliating enough to be questioning some slip of a girl instead of tangling with the infamous revolutionaries. He leaned forward, planting his arms insolently on the desk.
“Look here, miss. Unless you’re blind, you can see your vicinity. Do you really think anyone here is going to treat you with respect?”
The officer, so polite when he had brought her in, had become frosty and aggressive the moment they were on his turf.
“Let us cut to the chase. If you feel so wronged, then bring someone who can vouch for you.”
“I already told you, she is from the Sermont family,” Betty repeated.
“Sermont? Never heard of them. There are so many nobles in name only these days.”
His eyes raked over Arlen from head to toe, a brazen, insulting appraisal. After taking in her simple attire, he smirked.
“We do not recognize upstart nobles here, just so you know.”
Upstart noble. The derogatory term, used to belittle aristocrats of commoner descent, struck Arlen like a slap. She had never imagined hearing it within the walls of a police station, an institution supposedly dedicated to the law. It was not a statement that nobles were subject to the same rules, but a clear sign that he had already dismissed her as insignificant.
She trembled with humiliation.
“You are truly impossible. If you continue to be so unjust, then I have no intention of cooperating.”
“What? Unjust?” Langston crossed his arms, a self-satisfied look on his face. “A witness—the lady standing right next to the officer retrieving the bullet from the pillar—testified. She said the shot came from your direction!”
“You are accusing me of firing the gun?” Arlen’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Finally reading the room, are we?” Langston added smugly. “You were brought here as a suspect.”
“That is absurd! Do you have any idea who my lady is? She is to be the Crown Prince’s—”
“Betty!” Arlen cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. It was a card she was desperate not to play, certain they would not believe her anyway.
“Hah… You think this is some ladies’ tea party?” Langston snapped, his patience gone. He gestured to an officer by the door. “Get this maid out of here.”
Instantly, two officers seized Betty’s arms.
“Miss!”
“What are you doing? This is outrageous!” Arlen cried out, startled by Betty’s frightened shout, but the officers ignored her.
Biting her lower lip, Arlen met Betty’s panicked eyes.
“Betty, go and get my mother.”
“…The Madam?” Betty hesitated, her reluctance plain.
“She is the only one who can confirm my identity. Go and explain the situation.”
Regina would be busy with funeral preparations, but with no friends or family in the capital, she was Arlen’s only hope.
“Will you be all right alone?” Betty asked, glaring daggers at the insolent officer.
Arlen managed a faint smile.
After a moment, Betty nodded, her expression hardening with resolve.
“I will be back as quickly as I can. Please, just wait a little longer.”
As Betty hurried away, Arlen squared her shoulders. The officer, smugly triumphant at having removed the meddlesome maid, leaned back with a sneer.
“Now then. We can finally begin a proper interrogation.”
* * *
The officer’s true intentions in dismissing the maid soon became clear. Once Arlen was alone, his arrogant demeanor, which had been limited to condescending questions, escalated into outright coercion.
“I already know everything, so just confess. You met with the radicals and fired the gun at the station to create a diversion, did you not?”
He was impossible to reason with. The interrogation dragged on for hours, and Arlen was utterly alone. She had not even been informed of her right to a lawyer. Tears of helpless frustration pricked at her eyes. For some reason, Betty had not returned.
“I… I truly know nothing about it. You have already confirmed I do not have a weapon.”
“Hah… Are you failing to grasp the situation because I am being polite? I told you, there is a witness who saw you fire the gun.”
Bang. Bang. Langston slammed his fists on the desk, the sound a violent threat. With a witness, he had no intention of letting her go without a verified identity. His overbearing presence made her heart pound with a sickening rhythm. She fought back the wave of emotion rising in her throat, but the atmosphere only grew more menacing.
“I know everything, so stop lying and admit you fired the gun.”
“Then let me meet this witness. Before that, have you even properly verified their identity?”
Langston cursed under his breath. She looked fragile enough to shatter at a touch, but her words were infuriatingly logical. A cruel impulse took root in him—a desire to see this defiant woman finally break. Her unwavering posture and direct gaze, so out of place for someone in her position, spurred him to deliver his final, crushing blow.
“Perhaps you are unaware that being identified as a revolutionary carries an immediate sentence of death by hanging.”
“…Hanging?” The corner of Arlen’s eye twitched.
“A trial is a waste on traitors. We strip them naked, line them up in the public square, and hang them one by one. It is quite a sight, watching them twitch and drool as they choke to death. But the real spectacle is when the good citizens of Edel spit on their naked bodies.”
“I… truly… I did not…”
He pressed on, giving her no room to speak, his words growing more graphic and vile.
“One word from me, and by tomorrow, every citizen in Edel will have seen you naked. You will die with that pretty face and that fine form of yours covered in filth.”
The corner of Langston’s mouth twisted into a grotesque smirk. A chill slithered down Arlen’s spine as his greasy, predatory gaze roamed her body.
“Are you still going to deny it?”
Suppressing a surge of bile, Arlen parted her trembling lips.
“It is… the truth… I know nothing.”
Her continued denial, even after such threats, contorted Langston’s face with rage. He shot to his feet, sending the rickety iron chair crashing to the floor. Arlen flinched at the noise, her shoulders hunching. Just as Langston was about to leer at her pale, terrified face, a low, resonant baritone cut through the tense air from behind them.
“It seems the Edel Police Agency still employs men who so loudly advertise their own incompetence.”
