A Painful Interrogation

That afternoon, Jorgen knocked on the door of Canspa's house. Through the half-open door, a haggard woman's face appeared.

"Are you Miss Canspa Mofili?"

"...Yes."

"I work for Military Intelligence Section Seven. I have some questions for you about the architect Oliver Sandler." Jorgen was trying hard to search for the right words.

Canspa was silent for a long time. "You should ask his wife and son."

"Don't waste your time and mine. I know your relationship with him. Believe me, it's much more convenient for me to ask questions than to send me away."

"...Please come in." Canspa opened the door.

The furnishings in the room were simple but clean. Jorgen sat down at the dining table in the center of the room. Canspa didn't serve him tea, but sat nervously across from him, her fingers intertwined.

Canspa was not an attractive woman, far less so than Oliver's wife, who had long, golden, wavy hair. Moreover, because she worked part-time in several public facility cafeterias, the long hours of smoke and fire made her look older than her actual age.

"So," Canspa said, "what do you want to ask? Please be quick, I have work to do later."

"Oliver and you met two years ago, right?"

Canspa looked surprised, then nodded: "Yes."

"It is said that you started dating a month after you met."

"I... I didn't know why he pursued me at the time." Canspa seemed a little uncomfortable, but didn't avoid the topic. "He was an architect, and I was just a widow in charge of cooking for the masses, and I was even three years older than him. It was really hard... to refuse."

"How did you meet him?"

"At that time, I was cooking for the Stonemason's Guild, and during lunch breaks, I would distribute the food. He was very noticeable because the architects had a special high-class cafeteria, but he came to me every day to get his fixed lunch and ate with the workers. I was curious, so I plucked up the courage to ask him what was going on... He answered me. That's it."

"He worked for the Stonemason's Guild?" Jorgen had checked Oliver's official personal resume, but it didn't mention this at all.

"He was the deputy chief engineer of the guild at the time. When the rebellion happened, I was very worried that he would be involved... After all, so many people were killed. It was terrible."

"Yes, the rebellion led by VanCleef... It was a disaster." Jorgen paused. "What do you think was the reason he was able to stay out of the rebellion?"

"Sir, you're not making fun of me, are you? You're from Military Intelligence Section Seven..."

"Whatever you know, tell me. And you won't get into any trouble because of your words."

Canspa rubbed her thumbnail nervously: "Oliver told a count in Storm City about VanCleef's plan. Of course, he only reported the part he knew... Before the rebellion, the count hid him away."

"Did the count promise him any rewards?"

"He... He didn't tell me explicitly, but I think it was probably the qualification of a royal architect. Because before the incident, he told me about the various benefits of becoming a royal architect, and said that once he got the qualification, he could be with me openly."

Jorgen frowned. "Divorce his wife and marry you officially? Can I understand it that way?"

"...Yes. I was scared when he said that. You know, his wife is a lady from a prominent family."

It was precisely because of his wife's prominent status that Oliver needed the identity of a royal architect, not to mention divorce, but at least to save face. It made sense, Jorgen thought.

However, being a traitor is always dangerous - no matter which side you betray. Oliver must have understood this.

Canspa suddenly became excited. "Afterwards, Oliver said many times that he felt guilty... He had been living on begging and picking up trash until he was seven years old, and he had the opportunity to study and become an architect after entering the orphanage at the age of eight. He always felt that those who earned meager wages were his brothers, so he didn't use the high-class cafeteria and ate with them. But..."

"In other words, Oliver was willing to betray his brothers, whom he had identified with for many years, just to be with you."

Canspa looked embarrassed and said nothing.

In the end, Oliver did not get the qualification of a royal architect. This was something that could not be erased from the official records, so Jorgen knew it very well. It was not surprising, because the rewards for being a traitor could never be guaranteed.

"Thank you very much for your cooperation. I have one last question," Jorgen said, "Do you love him?"

Canspa looked up, pale. She looked at Jorgen with an incredulous expression.

"I think I asked very clearly. Do you love Oliver Sandler?"

"Why do you ask like that?" From this faint voice, it would be credible to say that she had just cried a lot.

"There is no doubt that Oliver loves you deeply. He is willing to give up his wife and betray his brothers for you. Regardless of whether this decision is right or not, it is a good idea for you to marry a royal architect. But in the end, the result is not as perfect as imagined, and there must be some disappointment in your heart, right?"

"What are you implying...?" Canspa's tone rose a little.

"In fact, on the night Oliver was killed, someone saw him coming out of your house..."

Before Jorgen could finish his sentence, Canspa slammed a tea saucer onto his arm. She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the table, and screamed uncontrollably:

"Oliver is dead, sir, he's dead! I've tried my best to forget this fact, but you're forcing me to remember it... And you know everything, but you still ask me if I love him! What kind of cold-heartedness allows you to say such things? My God, you even suspect that I killed him... You're a demon! A demon!"

Canspa's legs gave way, and she knelt on the ground, crying uncontrollably, not caring whether Jorgen was still in her room or not.

Jorgen walked out the door. Such incidents were all too common for him. He didn't believe that Canspa had enough motive to kill Oliver, but this was part of his job, and he had no choice but to do it. He had seen too many pain-filled eyes like Canspa's.