A Glance into Darkness

Jorgen took three days to find the time to bring a doctor to see Elaine. Dalia didn't reproach him for the delayed visit; she knew he was doing his best to make time.

From Dalia, Jorgen learned that Elaine was a restless little girl. She constantly offered to help with household chores and had, in three days, become something of an assistant to the maid. "I didn't want to keep a young housemaid," Dalia told Jorgen. "But I couldn't just have her sitting idle." Under Dalia's initial reluctance but eventual permission, Elaine donned clean work dresses and moved around the hallways, often spending her free moments staring at a wooden carving in the living room, speaking very little.

Now, a doctor was conducting an examination in Elaine's room, and Jorgen and Dalia stood in the hallway, watching and conversing softly.

"She finds these things quite fascinating," Dalia said. "After she finishes cleaning something, like a vase, she seems to enjoy gazing at it for a while, like an artist admiring a just-completed work."

"She's probably taken a liking to the things in your house. Taking care of them probably makes her happy," Jorgen remarked.

"I'm not sure," Dalia replied, shaking her head. "I feel like she's saying, 'Look at me, I'm capable.' Maybe she wants Elaine's father... I mean, her dad to see. Any progress on Elaine's father's side?"

"He's also tied up with work. No significant developments yet."

"Oh..."

"But I've been monitoring the situation, and there haven't been any reports of missing children in the past three days. It seems like this Uncle Panzi isn't eager to reveal himself."

"But there must be such a person. Elaine certainly wouldn't lie to us."

"I don't think she's lying either. Has she revealed anything more to you?"

"No, nothing more. She really doesn't talk much. But there's one thing..."

Dalia paused for over ten seconds without continuing.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps her mother has already passed away."

"How did she say it to you?"

"She didn't. As soon as I asked about Elaine's mother, she didn't say another word. So, it's just a hunch... Of course, I hope it's not the case."

"I understand. I think, for now, we shouldn't tell Elaine about this."

"Of course not!"

They fell silent for a moment, watching the doctor flip Elaine's palm and apply a medication starting from her fingers.

"Dalia, I have to go," Jorgen said.

"Aren't you waiting for the doctor's diagnosis?"

"I'm afraid I can't. I was supposed to stay at the headquarters all day today, actually."

"Alright."

"This doctor is a friend of mine, and he won't ask you for a diagnosis fee. Of course, don't mention that he came here. If there's any need for follow-up treatment or anything, he'll explain it to you."

Dalia nodded.

Despite some hesitation, they bid each other farewell with a kiss. Afterwards, Dalia looked at Jorgen and said, "We should talk about this when there's time."

"We should," Jorgen replied, caressing her face. He saw her smile with relief, and then he left. "Deciding to talk about it" was only a small commitment, but it was the best they could do for now.

When Jorgen returned to Section Seven headquarters, he found one of his younger subordinates waiting for him, looking somewhat anxious. As soon as he saw Jorgen at the door, he approached.

"What's happened?" Jorgen asked.

"Young Master Mardias has occupied Interrogation Room Fourteen, and I thought you should know."

"Who is he interrogating?" Jorgen frowned. Mardias didn't have specific responsibilities for any particular case, so he didn't have the authority to use the interrogation room without proper clearance. Jorgen quickened his pace down the hallway leading to the interrogation rooms, and his subordinate followed, saying:

"I found a boy carrying a stack of anti-Section Seven pamphlets at the entrance, and I thought to question him briefly. It wasn't a significant matter; after all, the boy might not even know what he was posting. But the young master suddenly arrived and took him away... I couldn't stop him. He also took the key to the interrogation room without permission."

"Did he have Lord Shawl's approval?"

"He had nothing."

They stood in a corridor lined with rows of interrogation rooms. Each room was soundproof, making it nearly impossible to hear anything from the outside unless you opened the small iron window on the door. The cleaning staff regularly maintained the used rooms, keeping them unnaturally clean, unlike the bloodied interrogation chambers of the Scarlet Crusaders.

"Lord Jorgen," his subordinate said, "I... I shouldn't come in with you."

"You go back and do your tasks."

"Please, do not let Young Master Mardias know I brought you here."

Jorgen didn't answer, and he didn't care if his subordinate had left or not. He headed straight for Room Fourteen. At the door, he pulled out a keyring that only high-ranking agents possessed. However, instead of immediately unlocking the door, he opened the small iron window on the door and peered inside. He saw Mardias strike a young boy just under his left eye socket with the hilt of a dagger. The boy collapsed to the ground, clutching his face and trembling. Jorgen unlocked the door and stormed into the room.

"What are you doing?" he said.

Mardias turned around, standing between Jorgen and the young boy. "Interrogating a prisoner, isn't it obvious?"

Jorgen glanced at the stack of pamphlets on the table, the same style he had seen in the Dwarven district.

"He was posting these at the Section Seven entrance."

"You can't hit a child like this for such a matter," Jorgen said, "it could lead to sudden death. Step aside now."

"My grandfather didn't employ you to shout and yell at me."

"He employed me to teach you how to do things, and right now, you're way out of line. Move."

Mardias stared at Jorgen. A bizarre mix of anger, disdain, and unease swirled in his eyes in very strange proportions, and for some reason, he was restraining these negative emotions. However, despite Mardias's restraint, Jorgen still found himself intensely repelled by the fact: Mardias had the same color of eyes as Dalia.

Finally, the heir stepped aside. Jorgen walked past him and crouched in front of the young boy. He gently pried the boy's hands away from his face. The boy's left eye, below the black bruise, couldn't open, and his right eye was tearing continuously. Nevertheless, it was in better condition than Jorgen had expected; he thought Mardias had already shattered the boy's eye socket.

"Please, please let me go home," the boy said.

"What's your name?" Jorgen asked.

The boy didn't answer. He merely repeated, in a very faint voice, "Please," and then covered his face again, curling into a ball.

"You can't just let him go like this," Mardias said. "He was posting these flyers at the Section Seven entrance. At the very least, we must find out who was behind him, not to mention that defaming Section Seven is a significant crime."

"Mardias, Lord Scholomance specifically instructed me to keep an eye on your judgment. It appears I won't be able to report an optimistic outcome."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you genuinely believe that a child, knowing the content of these pamphlets, would dare engage in such a suicidal prank?"

"That's just because he's foolish."

Jorgen pulled out a pamphlet and placed it in front of the boy, prying open his hand. The boy cried out in pain.

"Read it," Jorgen said, "or I'll take out your other eye."

"No, please, don't hurt me."

"Then read."

The boy forced open his right eye, staring at the pamphlet in Jorgen's hand. Half a minute passed, during which he had to blink away tears repeatedly to focus on the pamphlet, but he didn't read a single word.

Jorgen stood up and slapped the pamphlet on the table. As his palm hit the table with a loud thud, he noticed Mardias blinking.

"He can't read," Jorgen said, "Do you understand now? To distribute these flyers covertly and without leaving a trace, the best method is to use illiterate children. They're more than willing to do it for a few coppers."

Mardias didn't reply. He simply took a deep breath, his gaze shifting uneasily between the young boy, the floor, and the pamphlet. The hand that had held the dagger seemed unsure of where to go, continually rubbing the side of his trousers with his knuckles. In this moment, Jorgen saw a suppressed sense of defeat and frustration on Mardias's face, an expression truly fitting a fourteen-year-old.

"I need you to do one thing," Jorgen said, "Get the medical kit and attend to his injuries."

Mardias suddenly raised his head. "Impossible," he replied. Although his tone was firm, it lacked severity.

"Otherwise, I'll report this foolishness to Lord Scholomance."

"No, you don't have the right..."

Mardias's growing sense of despondency was evident in his tone. While Jorgen knew that Mardias would likely eventually yield, he also considered that Mardias might view this experience as humiliating. Moreover, he could develop a desire for revenge against the young boy, so he decided not to press further.

"I'll take you to treat your injuries," Jorgen said to the boy.

The boy stood up and slowly pulled a mirror out of his pocket. However, the mirror had shattered during the earlier ordeal. "I can't," he muttered, then started crying again.

"Alright, don't rush to see your own face. It's not very pleasant with all that swelling," Jorgen said. He held the boy's hand and put it back in his pocket. He felt like this child not only couldn't read but also might not be very bright, but he didn't want to delve into that further.

"Let's go," Jorgen said. He led the boy out of the room, ignoring Mardias behind him.

The boy was unwilling to reveal his name, so after basic treatment at the infirmary, Jorgen let him go on his own. After completing these tasks, Jorgen sat down in a chair in the infirmary, tilted his head back slightly, and closed his eyes involuntarily. His mind was suddenly filled with an image of Dalia he had seen hours ago, her eyes shining with an inspiring and comforting radiance whenever she looked at Elaine or him.

Dalia, let me tell you about Mardias...