Chapter 21 — A Crime With No Victim

The summons came in the usual way: inked on a card too clean for the Bureau, with handwriting too deliberate for anyone below the Master Detective ranks.

Perry didn't comment on the seal—Alveth's personal crest, faintly embossed in silver like it had expected to be ignored. It wasn't a request. It was a command hidden behind protocol. And the time it listed was "Now."

Summoned again?

So he went.

The designated room wasn't a formal hall, just a stone-walled observation suite two floors above the main archives—rarely used, and deliberately soundproofed.

When Perry stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind him.

Alveth stood facing the window, arms behind his back. His presence was unchanged—calm, exact, too self-contained to be read. If he'd aged at all since Perry last saw him, the stone in his posture hadn't noticed.

He didn't speak at first. Just turned, slowly, then nodded at the seat opposite him.

Perry didn't sit.

Alveth watched him for a few seconds longer, then sighed and sat down himself.

"Still not much for manners, are you?"

"I'm punctual," Perry said.

"Too punctual, some would say."

The silence hung like dust in a sealed case.

Alveth leaned back. "Tell me, Perry. What does the Bureau usually do when someone solves three unsolvable cases in their first month?"

Perry tilted his head slightly. "File for promotion."

"Mm. But you weren't hired."

"No."

"You were a case filer."

"Yes."

"Then why," Alveth said, voice quiet but sharp, "are you being treated like one of us?"

Perry didn't answer.

Alveth smiled faintly. "No application. No academy record. No field training. No regional transfer papers. Not even a trace of magical registration before three weeks ago."

"You've been busy," Perry said.

"I'm a detective. I investigate things that don't add up." Alveth's eyes narrowed. "You don't add up."

Perry met his gaze without blinking. "What's your theory?"

Alveth chuckled. "That's the problem. I don't like theories without evidence. But I do have something close to motive."

He pulled a small folded paper from his coat. Set it down between them.

"You filed a case titled 'Why was I reincarnated?'"

Perry's expression didn't change.

Alveth let the words settle, then tapped the paper. "Filed with the system. Not submitted through clerical channels. That file never passed a single Bureau desk. But here you are, receiving assignments as if you're part of the chain."

The implication was surgical.

"You're not on the roster. You're not ranked. And yet you're acting under Bureau authority with full legal protections. No challenge, no resistance. People step aside for you."

Perry said nothing.

"So I asked myself," Alveth said, leaning forward slightly, "who would do that? Who could do that?"

He let the pause linger.

"No one in this building. Not even me. So either you're some long-buried experiment, or…" His tone dropped. "...you're not one of ours."

A moment of stillness.

Perry folded his hands behind his back. "And if I'm not?"

"Then you're a problem."

Another pause.

Alveth didn't press. He stood, walked to the sideboard, and poured himself a glass of water with slow, deliberate control. He didn't offer Perry any.

"You walk into sealed scenes without clearance, speak to noble heirs like they owe you deference, and leave with results no one else can replicate."

He turned, glass in hand. "You're either a genius. Or a spy."

"Is there a law against either?"

"No," Alveth said softly. "Which is why you're still standing here."

He took a sip. "But that doesn't mean we can't make your life difficult."

Another beat of silence.

"You gave me the Vale case," Perry said, evenly. "And the Denvrin one. Why?"

Alveth's expression shifted—barely. "You're sharp. I wanted to see how sharp. Call it a test."

"So what's the result?"

Alveth's gaze sharpened. "You passed. Which is what worries me."

He walked back toward the window, stopped at the edge of the shattered wall—still unrepaired from their last conversation.

"I've seen Rankless before. I've seen orphans, fakes, forgers, even arcane constructs pretending to be men. But I've never seen someone this empty—on paper—and this precise in execution."

He turned sharply.

"You know things you shouldn't."

Perry didn't deny it.

Alveth took a step forward. "So I'm giving you a choice. Step down from the Denvrin case. Close it. No further inquiry. No trailing heirs. No tomb records. No body hunt. Just end it."

"Why?"

"You don't get to ask that."

"I do," Perry said quietly, "if you're asking me to play dead."

Alveth's voice dropped. "I'm asking you to understand where you stand."

Then, without warning, he picked up the empty chair beside him—and threw it.

It cracked through the air in a clean arc and smashed against the wall just inches beside Perry's head.

Perry didn't move.

Not a blink. Not a twitch.

Just dust in his coat from the impact.

Alveth watched him closely.

No reaction.

No fear.

"…Interesting," Alveth muttered. "Most would have flinched."

Perry let the dust fall from his shoulder. "Most haven't died before."

Another silence.

Alveth raised an eyebrow. "You're not afraid of death?"

"I've met it. Wasn't impressed."

Alveth studied him. "That bravado will crack one day."

"Then you'll know I was lying."

A tense pause.

Then Alveth chuckled. "I can't decide if you're insane or impossible."

"Neither," Perry said. "Just immune."

Alveth narrowed his eyes, searching for a lie.

And found none.

He turned away.

"I leave tonight," Alveth said. "Consider this your last warning. I won't be here to soften the walls next time."

Perry nodded once.

"Noted."

As Alveth moved toward the door, he paused.

"Oh, and Perry?"

"Yes?"

"Drop the act. You're good, but not that good. I know when someone's watching me as closely as I'm watching them."

He left.

Perry stood alone in the ruined office, the smashed chair in pieces, the wall fractured from impact.

He dusted off his coat, stepped around the shards, and looked up at the cracked seal on the wall—Alveth's temporary branch mark.

A flicker of thought passed through him.

You wouldn't have done all this unless you were part of it.

Then he smiled faintly.

Which means you know I know. And you don't care.

The real power wasn't violence.

It was the confidence of someone who didn't need to explain himself to anyone.

Which meant Alveth wasn't trying to stop Perry.

He was trying to see how far Perry would go—before someone else did.