absurd deduction game.

In the room, Sarah's consciousness transmission abruptly stopped for a moment, as if the memory itself carried a huge trauma, making it difficult for her to continue.

When her "voice" rang in Yu Xing's mind again, it was accompanied by an uncontrollable tremor and a deep-seated fear:
“I…I finally kicked that door open that day…” Her narration was somewhat incoherent. “No, that’s not right…maybe it was Fernal…she allowed me to go in…”

She paused for an even longer time, as if gathering the courage to say the next sentence, but that courage was as fragile as a sandcastle.

Finally, she asked in an almost dreamlike tone, filled with intense uncertainty and horror:
Do you know... what I saw?

Yu Xingneng could clearly sense the intense fluctuations emanating from Sarah's mental state. It was not just fear, but also a huge shock and bewilderment from the overturning of her cognition.

He leaned slightly forward, placed his hand on Sarah's shoulder, and pressed down gently, conveying a sense of solid presence.

“Don’t be afraid,” his voice was calm and strong, tinged with a smile. “I don’t know, you have to tell me. You’re safe now, only I am with you… Tell me, what did you see?”

Sarah's consciousness seemed to gather slightly under his reassurance, but the dazedness and fear did not dissipate; instead, they reached their peak when she mentioned what she had seen.

Her voice became ethereal, as if describing an incomprehensible nightmare: "I saw Professor Anthony's head turn into a black pupa, and Furnel riding on him."

“She… I don’t know if that was really Frey…” Sarah’s every word was filled with struggle and confusion. “She is a… inescapable… nest.”

……

In the small living room.

A pot of steaming black tea was gently placed on a mahogany tea table covered with an exquisite embroidered tablecloth by a slender, well-maintained hand with nails painted in a dark green, making a soft sound.

The teapot is made of delicate white porcelain, with intricate golden vines and butterfly patterns painted on its body, shimmering with a warm luster under the light.

After placing the two cups, the owner of the hands picked up the teapot and tilted the spout. The amber-colored, crystal-clear tea soup, like melting honey, slowly poured into the matching white porcelain teacup with a gold rim. The surface of the water rippled slightly, clearly reflecting Madame Funer's beautiful face.

She poured two glasses, gently pushing one towards Carlos with her fingertips, while she picked up the other and gracefully brought it to her lips. She took a small sip, then looked up at Carlos, a polite smile playing on her lips: "Try it, Mr. Carlos."

Carlos readily picked up his teacup, took a sip, and felt the scalding tea slide across his tongue, bringing a complex and unfamiliar aroma.

His emerald green eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were savoring the aroma, then he gave a perfectly timed smile: “Indeed very unique, madam. I have never tasted a similar flavor in black tea before… indescribable.”

Fennell's smile deepened, carrying an intimate air akin to sharing a secret, as she elegantly continued, "The first bite has a rich aroma, almost like fine oil. But after a moment in the mouth, it quickly melts into a crisp, slightly bitter taste, followed by a long, lingering sweetness. Right?"

She gently swirled the tea in her cup, her gaze seemingly unfocused. "When I first tasted it, I also found the flavor quite peculiar, even a little strange. But after trying it a few more times, you can't help but fall in love with this layered, unique taste."

Carlos shrugged and didn't continue the conversation. In short, seeing Fernal's subtle behavior of dismissing all the servants and staying only to talk to him, he basically no longer needed to judge Fernal's identity.

Regardless of who Anthony and Sarah are, Fernal is an Iron Wolf—oh, a member of the Iron Cult, or perhaps a follower of a god.

He put down his teacup, casually steer the conversation back on track, his tone as objective as a detective analyzing a case: "What do you plan to do about this, Madam? I imagine you will divorce Professor Anthony and expose this affair to the public, utterly ruining his reputation, won't you?"

Fernail tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and gently asked, "Oh? Why are you so sure I'll go public, Mr. Carlos? As Anthony just mentioned, once the scandal gets out, it will also damage my reputation. Besides, losing a husband who teaches at a university means, to some extent, that I've lost a layer of 'respectable' protection. It might not be so convenient for me to deal with things solely as a businesswoman in certain situations."

Carlos met her gaze, his smile unchanged, his tone carrying a calm analysis: "Because from my interactions with you over the past two weeks, Madam, you are someone who cannot tolerate any injustice."

"Besides, with your abilities and skills," he paused meaningfully, "I believe that even without some kind of hidden 'identity' to back you up, it would be impossible for you to suffer a real setback in your area of ​​expertise."

Fernail gazed at Carlos, and after a moment, she suddenly let out a low, pleasant chuckle. A hint of appreciation flashed in her deep eyes, followed by an indescribable interest.

“Mr. Carlos, you are truly… a very charming man.” Her voice was soft, and the implications in her words were subtle and elusive, like the rising steam on the surface of tea, swirling and uncertain.

Carlos remained unfazed, seemingly oblivious to the underlying meaning, and continued to press, "So, what about Miss Sarah? How do you intend to resolve this?"

As they chatted, Fernail seemed to relax. She leaned forward, propped her chin on one arm, and let her smooth sleeve fall down, revealing a section of her fair forearm. Her chest pressed against the edge of the table, creating a distorted curve.

She smiled and said, “Sarah will disappear from school—I mean, expelled, of course. Once this is made public, she will naturally be too ashamed to stay. She is an outsider, and as long as she knows what’s good for her and obediently gets out of Yolikif and never appears in my sight again, I’m too lazy to make things difficult for an insignificant mistress.”

"So merciful?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his tone unreadable, neither questioning nor expressing admiration.

Fernail sighed softly, a condescending pity in her voice: "In a professor's affair with a student, from the perspective of status and power, the professor undoubtedly holds absolute dominance. And the student, whether actively seducing, passively accepting, or even coerced, once she becomes a mistress, has already lost most of her rights of choice. I don't have any particular feelings for her personally, after all..."

She raised her eyes, her gaze deep and unfathomable: "We are not from the same world. Only Anthony, as the mastermind and the traitor, is unforgivable. I will make sure he... is utterly disgraced."

A brief silence fell over the small living room, broken only by the occasional crackling of firewood from the fireplace.

The aroma of tea and expensive spices intertwined with an invisible pressure.

Suddenly, Furnel put down her teacup, the porcelain hitting the wooden table with a crisp "tap".

She raised her eyes, looking directly at Carlos, her smile still elegant: "Speaking of Sarah, I'm reminded of something, Mr. Carlos."

Her voice remained soft, yet carried an unavoidable, sudden sense of oppression: "Your companion, Mr. Yu Xing, whom I also greatly admire... is in Sarah's room right now, isn't he?"

"Can you tell me what they're doing?" The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Carlos paused almost imperceptibly in the teacup, causing the tea in the cup to ripple slightly.

But the smile on his face hardly changed; only a hint of understanding flashed in his emerald green eyes. He put down his teacup, his movements natural and fluid.

“Yes, madam.” He admitted it readily, with a hint of smugness in his voice. “After all, we are investigators, and it’s an occupational hazard that we always want to understand every detail and every angle of things. I hope you don’t mind.”

“How could that be?” Fernail’s smile deepened as she picked up her teacup again, her tone regaining its usual composure, even carrying a strange, unsettling certainty: “I completely understand and appreciate the investigators’ rigorous work ethic.”

She took a sip of tea, her gaze seemingly drifting towards the guest rooms on the second floor, and said slowly and meaningfully, "I believe that once Mr. Yu Xing has finished his 'investigation'... he will understand more deeply the heartache and helplessness I feel at this moment due to my husband's betrayal."

Just then, a blinding white bolt of lightning suddenly tore through the night sky outside the window, illuminating the room with an eerie brightness, followed by a rumble of thunder.

The torrential rain added a touch of "villainous" drama to the sense of danger beneath Furnel's elegance.

Fernail slowly stood up and walked lightly to the tall French window.

Outside the window, the night was deep and the shadows of trees swayed, while the warm indoor light cast her figure clearly onto the cold glass.

She raised her hand, gently pressing her palm against the smooth glass surface, her fingertips unconsciously tracing a path, leaving behind faint traces of moisture.

The reflection of Furnel in the glass was beautiful; her figure was slender and her face exquisite, flawless even in the dim light.

A hint of almost obsessive admiration flashed in Fernal's eyes. Then, her gaze shifted slightly, and through the reflection in the glass, she precisely caught sight of Carlos, who was still sitting comfortably on the sofa.

Their gazes met silently on the illusory surface of the glass.

Fernail murmured softly to Carlos's image in the glass, as if talking to herself: "...Time is running out."

The seemingly random whispers sounded particularly clear amidst the lingering thunder. Carlos looked up, his emerald eyes sparkling like cat's eyes in the lamplight. He followed up on her words and asked, "What do you mean, 'not much time left,' madam?"

Upon hearing this, Fernal smiled, turned around, and leaned against the cold windowpane. She answered with a soft yet clear voice:

"Yorkriff town... a storm is brewing. The days like these, sitting peacefully in a warm room, enjoying a good cup of tea, and chatting with an interesting gentleman... are numbered."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Carlos, and continued, "As for what you just said, that I would expose Anthony's scandal because I can't tolerate any wrongdoing... Heh, while that is indeed my personality, this time, it's not because of that."

Fernail's tone carried a hint of languor and weariness: "I just feel that Yolikev is too dangerous right now. Who knows who will die tomorrow... or the next moment? Since the future is so uncertain, why bother to consider the long-term benefits and drawbacks of reputation and status?"

She shrugged: "I just wanted to vent my anger."

Carlos blinked and clapped casually: "I prefer you to be this honest now than before. It makes you even more charming, Madam."

“Is that so?” Fernail listened, leaning against the window, slightly raising her swan-like, flawless neck, and beckoned to Carlos with a finger. Her elegance carried an undeniable air of authority, her voice even softer, yet as delicate as a feather grazing the listener's heartstrings.

“Well, leaving a charming lady standing alone... that’s hardly gentlemanly, Mr. Carlos.”

Her eyes held a hook, a mixture of invitation and probing, exuding an irresistible yet chilling aura on this stormy night.

Upon hearing this, Carlos raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, a hint of amusement flashing in his emerald green eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation or awkwardness, he slowly stood up and walked calmly toward Fernal by the window, his shoes making a barely audible sound on the thick carpet.

He walked to her side and stood beside her until their figures were clearly reflected in the glass window. Then he turned to the side, gently leaned against the cold glass, and lowered his head slightly.

Looking into those deep eyes so close to his own, Carlos smiled his usual face, a smile tinged with a hint of flippancy and inquiry, and asked in a low voice, feigning ignorance, "Madam... what does this mean?"

Fennell smiled, raised her hand, and gently stroked Carlos's chest. Her fingertips seemed to carry an electric current as they slowly slid down the contours of his chest, answering the question with the longing in her eyes.

Sensing the danger emanating from him, Carlos kindly reminded her, "Madam, you haven't officially divorced Professor Anthony yet. Is this alright?"

Fennell let out a lazy hum, as if she had heard something insignificant. She tilted her head back, bringing the two of them even closer, their breaths almost mingling.

"What's the difference between my current situation with Anthony and me, and that's practically a divorce? You know that better than anyone."

“Carlos, a failed marriage has hurt me. While I was working so hard to build everything, my husband was enjoying himself with his mistress behind my back... It’s not fair.”

Her eyes became hazy, as if veiled by a layer of mist. She wrapped her arms around Carlos's neck, stood on tiptoe slightly, and brought her lips close to his, murmuring warmly, "I also want happiness, just for one night. I don't need new relationships, and you can leave whenever work is over. There are no constraints between us. Now... I just hope for a true gentleman who can soothe my pain."

In the dim light, a tiny insect limb seemed to flash by between her parted lips and teeth.

But Carlos certainly saw it. (End of Chapter)