He stepped through the doors into an open area.

The room was furnished with round tables and chairs, and several people were seated at them. An atrium revealed the floors above. Each floor was lined with fancy doors, and the passages outside them were lined with glass railings. There were no vines, no peeling plaster.

It looked much better than he’d feared. But as he took in the offices, Rogue frowned.

Where are the other detectives?

No matter how busy things were, there should be someone else working there. But looking around, he didn’t see a single adult.

He had no idea what Velladonna was thinking. But there was no use standing there—he started walking and soon found a girl with glasses waiting for him in the center of the hall. She had fine features, but her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes made a sickly impression.

“Welcome to the Sixth Precinct, Detective Rogue. I am Rico Raina, on staff here. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

She bowed low, but Rogue was preoccupied by her form of address.

She’d called him detective…

…not chief.

“Rogue. Nice to meet you. I’ve got several questions…”

“Ask away.”

“Is this really the Sixth Precinct?” he asked, looking around.

Girls sat on the chairs, leaned against the walls with books or over the railings above—he counted twelve at a glance. All girls, and not one of them seemed like they worked for the Magic Crimes Bureau.

But Rico nodded. “This is the Sixth Precinct,” she confirmed.

“I was told I’d be chief here…so where are the other officers? Out in the field?”

“You are the only officer assigned to the Sixth Precinct. In that sense, you are technically the chief, Detective Rogue.”

Her stare was almost mechanical.

His head was spinning.

“……So who are they?”

“Prisoners.”

“Prisoners?”

He wondered why there were prisoners in a precinct. That alone prompted infinite questions, but he restrained himself. He focused on his most pressing concern.

“……I was told to take charge here and track down the Lifetaker. Not look after the incarcerated. Can investigations actually be done like this?”

He’d practically growled this line, but Rico didn’t bat an eye.

“Not to worry. These prisoners are rather unique. Let me introduce you. This way.”

She headed off toward the girls.

Rogue followed, scowling. This was too smooth, like a rehearsed procedure, and that fueled his suspicions.

Soon, they stopped in front of a girl occupying one of the round tables. He was there for introductions, but her eyes were closed. Based on her breathing, he guessed she was asleep. Rico paid this no mind.

“This is Miseria. Skilled in mental interference spells, she turns people into puppets. Code name: Puppeteer. She once went after the imperial family and turned all the imperial guard into her puppets.”

The girl in question had her legs crossed and her chin in her hand. She wasn’t moving. She was wearing a white jacket over a white skirt, and she had long white hair that flowed over the table and her legs.

She was visually striking, but she otherwise appeared to be a normal girl. There was nothing unusual about her.

Yet that stirring in his chest wasn’t going away. Rogue had felt like this before. She should have been a normal girl…but by the time he connected it to his past—it was too late.

Rico was still talking.

“Under a special jurisdiction, she’s been given a six-thousand-year deferred beheading. The Noble Council has declared her…” Rogue’s heart was racing. “…the Thirteenth Witch.”

That turned his fear into fact.

“……What?” he rasped.

Rico tilted her head.

“Did I say something wrong? This is all information covered in the officer training school curriculum.”

“……I know.”

“Then what is the problem? Miseria being a witch?”

“……Witches should be in the Andewurs. Why are they here?”

Rico raised a hand, pointing up through the atrium.

“The Andewurs? Rest assured, this is an Andewurs. Like the others, there are elaborate defensive and obfuscation spells applied. The latest in technological security ensures no intruders can get in.”

“……Yeah, that’s not the problem,” Rogue said, his voice rising. “Why are we letting witches roam free?!”

Was she working here without knowing how easily witches could blow them all away? Rogue included?

Long before magic spread to the masses, the empire had its share of witches. They were beings melded with their own spells, no longer aging—literal monsters. They appeared without warning and brought calamity upon the empire.

There were witches who’d vaporized entire towns; caused riots that left hundreds of thousands dead or injured; kidnapped thousands in a single night. Witches were very real.

And yet—

—the average citizen was not even aware of just how great a threat they posed. They had become an imaginary threat to make their children listen. ‘If you misbehave, a witch will come get you.’ In their minds, witches were ancient history.

As Rogue’s frown deepened…

“Did we wake you, Miseria?” Rico said.

He jumped and turned to find the white-clad girl’s eyes opening. Her long lashes fluttered a few times, then her pupils snapped into focus.

“Oh dear! Is it time? I dived too deep,” she murmured, turning to face them.

Unfathomable blue eyes.

For a moment, he felt as if they were swallowing him up. He felt helpless, like he was out at sea, praying for rescue.

Trying to shake himself free of her gaze’s grasp, he noted her smile—manufactured, like one on a doll’s lips. She had a pretty face. The choker at her throat went well with her skin tone. Her glittering white hair caught the light. In another day and age, she’d have inspired quite a following.

But Rogue found himself backing away.

“No need to be afraid. I am only human.”

A clear voice, and an adorable smile. She said it so lightly, it left him stunned—then shame and anger caught up with him.

“……Human? Witches are—”

“Now, now. Let’s get to know each other first. I’m Miseria, a prisoner of the empire. Your name is?”

He mulled that over for a moment.

“……Rogue. Rogue Macabesta.”

She flashed another smile.

“Rogue, hmm? What do you make of your assignment to the Sixth Precinct? Ready to—I don’t know—push Velladonna off a cliff?”

That one took him a beat, too.

“……Why does a witch know the chief’s name?”

Witches in the Andewurs were meant to live like the dead, shut off from all outside information. But this Miseria girl made it sound like she knew Velladonna personally.

“Hmm.” The white-clad girl frowned, glancing at Rico. “Rico, has this pitiable newbie been briefed on nothing?”

Briefed?

“Um,” Rogue said.

Her eyes on the other girl, Rico tilted her head.

“Is that so? I assumed Chief Velladonna had told him everything.”

The two girls seemed to know something he didn’t, and they reached an understanding.

“It seems there was a miscommunication,” Rico said, turning to face Rogue. “Detective Rogue, allow me to explain what the Sixth Precinct is. Investigations here are done with the help of witches—despite the gravity of their crimes. You will oversee the witches, ensuring they solve crimes falling under your jurisdiction.”

For a second, he forgot to breathe.

Solving crimes…with witches? That was insane.

Why would Velladonna not tell him something that vital—?

Rogue soon worked out why. They had an unsolved murder, and she had a boss breathing down her neck. The bureau was a meritocracy, and failure to deliver could end her career. In which case, she had to make full use of anyone up to the task. Especially if that was someone who refused to play her games.

If he hadn’t accepted the promotion, he would never have wound up there. He regretted his own ambition.

As the light faded from his eyes, Rico spoke again.

“I do hate to pile it on, but may I proceed?”

He made a face like he’d swallowed a bug, then nodded.

“……How much worse can it get?”

“We’ve received further orders from Chief Velladonna. I meant to relay these once the dust settled, but…”

“……Hit me.”

“‘Yoo-hoo, Rogue! How’s it been? This is your beloved Velladonna!’”

Rico’s voice had become syrupy and exaggerated.

“Wh-what are you…?”

“Chief Velladonna was very specific. I am to relay these orders while imitating her.”

“Uh-huh…fine, let’s go with that…”

Rico proceeded.

“‘You’re to wrangle these witches and take on the Lifetaker case. By the way—someone else was in charge of the Sixth Precinct, but he got on the witches’ bad side. We can’t exactly take them off the case, so I had to rack my little brain for a solution. Then I thought: Oh! Our ace in the hole, Rogue! He might manage to pull it off! So you’d better do just that, Rogue. If you can’t wrap this case up quick……………spend the rest of your life locked up in there, with witches making eyes at you. Oh! Time for a meeting! Buh-bye!’… That is all.”

Rico paused momentarily, then her tone returned to the formal one she’d used before.

“Detective Rogue, you are officially appointed chief of the Sixth Precinct.”

In his head, he was throwing every insult he could at Velladonna.

If she’d been there, he was pretty sure he could have punched her. This was just that unreasonable.

The white-clad girl smiled at him.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh yeah. Loads better,” he said, but his sarcasm didn’t rattle her grin.

“Another one of those,” muttered a witch somewhere up above. He felt like there was a hint of sympathy there. Perhaps he was not the first person sentenced to the Sixth Precinct like this. His gaze flicked around the room.

Picking up on that, the white-clad girl nodded.

“Well, most appointees were like you—unwilling. Though, you are the first to receive no prior briefing at all.”

“……” That only fanned the flames of his fury. “……You seem well-informed.”

“But of course. I’ve been the one on point lately.”

“On point?” he asked.

“Broadly speaking, your partner on the job. You’ve had those before, I’m sure. This precinct works on a volunteer basis, and at the moment, I’m the most inclined.”

With that, she rose from her chair. Her long hair fluttered behind her, and as that caught his eye, she put out her hand.

“We’ll be working together.”

“……Right.”

He took off his glove and shook her hand. She was so pale, it was hard to imagine she had blood in her veins, but her hand was surprisingly warm. A lower temperature than Rogue’s own, but still very much alive. Perhaps her claim of being “human” was not so far-fetched.

Rationally speaking, they’d never assign a witch here who couldn’t be controlled. He felt himself starting to relax a bit.

Then a witch from the crowd yelled, “When are you gonna kill him, Miseria?”

“Huh?” He yanked his hand away. Kill? “……What’s that mean?”

“I do beg your pardon. She just likes to scare people.”

“Baloney! You made the last guy kill himself!” the other witch yelled.

The white-clad girl smiled like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.