Possibly an interrogation

After finishing his breakfast, Isaac bid farewell to Sonetto who still has many things to do — mostly to continue the Timekeeper's duty while she was still asleep.

If she wasn't so loyal to the Foundation, Isaac might have to drag her with them in their plan, but alas, you can't shake a tower whose foundations have already been built.

Even if Sonetto is on Vertin's side, she was still ultimately working for the Foundation's interests.

Someone like her couldn't possibly join in a plan that would harm the Foundation in any shape or form.

After receiving a special ID that let him leave the building, he was soon authorized to go out. With this, he took his time to go to Laplace.

Officially speaking, this was his first time going there, but of course, due to his frequent infiltration, he was sure that some people had already recognized him.

That would have posed a problem normally, but the core of Isaac's arcanum was confusion — as such, unless those who recognized him did see him, it would really take them a minute of concentration to remember him. He hopes, at least.

Once he was inside Laplace, he briskly made his way to the room where he was being summoned at.

As he walked, he couldn't help but ponder a few things.

"I wonder what they're calling me for...?"

Frankly, he has some ideas for the reason.

One glaring speculation was that it was his turn for recruitment — perhaps Constantine wanted him to join Laplace or something. However, he really couldn't think of a reason why she would do this since he really never did anything that could point to him having the qualities of a researcher.

At best, all the things he did were suited for Zeno, an armed forces organization under the Foundation. Out of all the other organizations under the Foundation, he believed that Zeno was where he would be placed the likeliest due to Vertin's report of him during their battle.

"Hm, is this their way of lecturing me for their so-called sublimation?" His expression dulled as he tried to conjure up a wry smile. "Science and research... I had an interest in them in the past, but now..."

Honestly, with how bizarre the world is and how the chaotic laws of arcanum are at the present, he can't lie when he says that he's not interested in it anymore.

As he stopped by the door where he was summoned, a corner of his mouth lifted. "Well, whichever it is, it won't matter."

"Behavioral conditioning... Ha, let's see how I'll do?"

With that said, he grabbed the door handle and twisted it before going inside, confidence gleaming in his dark murky eyes.

As he entered, however, his face went blank when he saw what was inside — instantly draining him of all the expectations he had earlier.

"What the hell is this?"

There was nothing.

Nothing except a simple metallic desk, a simple intercom system, a simple chair, and a lonesome lightbulb present above proving light.

"Am I gonna be interrogated?" He grimaced at the thought. Had they caught onto the shenanigans he had been doing behind their backs? If so, he was ready to flee.

However, as if answering the question he spewed out instinctively, a filtered voice came from the intercom system.

"Sit down, Mr. Isaac. You have been called for a short analysis."

The voice had a filter on so the owner of the voice's gender cannot be determined.

"Analysis?" Isaac raised a brow at this word. Then, slowly walking over to the setup, he inquired further. "What analysis? And why did you choose me? I don't think I've contributed enough for Laplace to notice and seek my help in, well, anything."

"I'll let you know now that I'm no researcher — and the problem you're facing, whichever it is, might not get an answer from me, so I'll apologize in advance, sirs or madames."

It was better to confess his inability to cooperate now than to spiral down a hole he can't escape from later.

However, it seemed like the person on the other side of the intercom had other thoughts. "That won't be a problem. What we need for your analysis today is simple and does not require any major knowledge in any field."

"In other words, we merely need your feedback and opinion."

'That's it?' Isaac thought. Then, with reluctance, he sat down on the chair and crossed his arms on the table. "I see... Hold on, is this a survey for your research? Did you just call me here as a sample?"

The intercom stayed silent for a few moments before buzzing. "You can think of it that way."

"Aha... Keeping it ambiguous also makes this fun, I guess." His mouth twitched for a moment. "Alright then, I'm ready. What do you have for me?"

The intercom buzzed again before a filtered voice replied, calm and steady.

"A military encampment located near a civilian town has been compromised. Intelligence suggests that in less than twenty-four hours, an enemy faction will launch a large-scale attack to seize the region. The army stationed there is under-equipped, but evacuating the camp would result in losing a strategic foothold — a loss that could lengthen the war by years and cause greater overall casualties in the long run."

'What the...' Isaac raised an eyebrow, his arms still lazily folded on the desk. "War game scenarios? You sure know how to keep a guy awake in the morning."

What connections do war games even have to a scientific institute like Laplace? Now that made Isaac curious and a bit baffled.

The voice ignored him, continuing evenly. "There is only one supply route available. You may choose to either send reinforcements to hold the camp and defend both the town and the troops, or reallocate the supply route to a neighboring front that is poised to push forward — a front with higher chances of success, but abandoning the town and its people in the process."

A brief pause followed. Then it continues.

"What do you do, Mr. Isaac?"

Isaac blinked, the smirk slowly slipping from his face. He leaned forward slightly, fingers laced together. His body language shifted — casual posture replaced with sharp focus.

There was silence in the room for a moment.

Then, he spoke.

"First, I'd demand full reconnaissance of the terrain between both fronts." He said softly, brows furrowed. "If I'm going to let people die, I want to know exactly where their last stand is. The land might offer a natural choke point, a way to delay or even turn the enemy back with fewer troops. I'd explore whether a diversionary tactic could be done — anything that buys time without sacrificing the town outright."

He then began to count with his fingers. "Suppose the terrain does not favor defense and no diversion is available. The town will surely fall."

Isaac closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. When he opened them again, his tone was colder — resolute. "Then I'd allocate the supply route to the neighboring front."

A long silence hung in the air. The filtered voice didn't speak. But Isaac wasn't done.

"I would send a final message to the commander of the doomed camp. I'd tell them the truth and that we're buying time with their blood, and that history would forget them unless we made that sacrifice count."

"I'd leave it up to them — to evacuate what civilians they could, or to stand and hold the line with whoever chose to stay."

Another pause.

"I would hate myself for that decision, indeed." Isaac murmured, softer now. "But I'd make it. Because letting the war drag longer means more towns burn, not just that one."

He leaned back, his gaze distant. "I wouldn't sleep well after that. But I'd make sure no one who followed me would have to carry that kind of weight more than once."

After he stopped speaking, a moment of silence descended upon the room as if the other person beyond the intercom was ruminating on his answer.

A moment later, the intercom buzzed faintly.

"That will be all."

Isaac blinked, the weight of his words still heavy on his shoulders. Then, almost like someone flipping a switch, he straightened up and gave an awkward laugh.

"Aha... Well, that was one hell of a pop quiz, huh?"

No response.

He stood, brushing off imaginary dust from his coat. "Alright, mystery interviewer, this has been fun — existentially horrifying, but fun."

He turned to leave, waving behind him with casual flair.

"If you ever need someone to overthink things again, you know where to find me. Have a good day and farewell!"

The door clicked open behind him without another word, and Isaac walked out — back to his usual demeanor as if what he had displayed just moments ago was but a mirage.

---

After Isaac left, the room remained still… but only for a moment.

Without a sound, the wall he had been facing began to shimmer faintly — then dissolved like mist, vanishing entirely as though it had never existed.

Beyond it, in the adjoining hidden chamber, another identical setup was revealed — a metal table, a single hanging light, and a figure seated in silence.

They had been there the entire time.

Facing him. Watching him.

The voice from the intercom had never been disembodied — it had come from here, across an invisible veil.

The figure leaned forward slightly, their face obscured in the half-light as fingers brushed thoughtfully against their chin. Their gaze lingered on the now-empty chair Isaac had occupied moments ago.

The figure moved, and a part of them was touched by the light, reflecting a metallic sheen.

And then, almost inaudibly, they whispered.

"Found you..."