Chapter 586 – Interrogation Box.

“W-where am I? Hello, is anyone here?”

A man’s voice echoed faintly in a sterile stone-walled room. He sat on a plain steel chair bolted to the floor, his posture stiff from lingering pain. His breathing was uneven. Although his wounds had been treated, he still felt the effects of the spores that had left him paralyzed.

He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, though hardship and sun exposure might have aged him beyond his years. Thick calluses covered his palms, and scars ran across his fingers. These were the hands of someone accustomed to swinging a hammer and working with metal. His short beard was tangled, and the dark rings under his eyes hinted at long nights without sleep. Despite having well-defined muscles, he looked leaner than he should have. It was clear that food had become a rare commodity in his life.

The only source of light in the room came from a strange orb embedded in the ceiling above and produced a steady, non-flickering light. The man blinked slowly, his vision adjusting to the unnatural glow. Shadows stretched and warped along the featureless walls, twisting in rhythm with the spinning of the room, an aftereffect of the spores.

Without warning, the door to the room creaked open, and a lone figure stepped inside. It was a woman dressed in a maid uniform, but something was off. Large black cat ears rose from her head, and though her face was hidden behind a mask, it was clear she belonged to a feline beastman tribe. Her attire matched that of a traditional maid, yet her movements were silent, the kind only honed by years of deadly experience. Something the man could recognise thanks to having experience from watching adventurers.

“W-who are you?”

The woman gave no reply. She simply approached the table at the center of the room. Her boots made no sound on the cold floor, and her masked face offered no hint of emotion or intent. In her hand, she held a small box covered in glowing runes. She placed it on the table in front of him. Without warning, the runes pulsed with a strange energy.

The man’s eyes widened. He had no idea where he was or whether he was in danger. The last thing he remembered was being dragged off by some kind of plant creature before everything went black. Now he was here, wherever here was. It felt like a dream, and for a moment, he wondered if he was dead. But this didn’t feel like any afterlife he had heard of. He could still feel the lingering effects of the spores, and that was all too real.

“Please, place your hand on the device.”

The woman finally spoke. Her voice was strange and mechanical, lacking any trace of humanity. She pointed at the object on the table and said nothing else.

“What is that?”

He asked. His voice trembled, and his eye twitched as he stared at the pulsating runes.

“What do you want from me?”

Instinctively, he tried to push his chair back, but it didn’t move. Only then did he realize that his left hand was locked to the chair, and both his ankles were restrained. Only his right hand remained free, clearly left that way so he could touch the box.

“No. I’m not touching that thing.”

The woman didn’t respond. She stepped forward and reached for him. He tried to move away, but his restraints held him tight. Her small hand gripped his wrist, and the pressure felt like a vice was holding him.

“Wait! Stop!”

He shouted, struggling in vain, but her grip didn’t loosen. Despite her size, the strength in her hand overwhelmed his larger muscles. Soon, she forced his palm down onto the box. The moment contact was made, the runes flared with light. A surge of energy shot through his arm and into his head. He gasped as his eyes rolled back and a wave of unnatural comfort washed over him.

“Good. Now, please tell me your name and your profession.”

She let go and stepped back. His mind felt strange, detached yet calm. He didn’t try to pull his hand away. He no longer felt afraid. Now, answering her seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“M… my name is Ermes. I’m a blacksmith.”

“Good. That matches the identification scan. The device is working.”

The woman nodded, then tilted her head toward the light above them.

“Make sure you record all of this.”

The light flickered once, as if in response. Unbeknownst to the man, in a separate room far from the interrogation cell, two other women sat watching a large screen. They wore the same maid uniforms, their eyes fixed on the live feed streaming from the room. A golemic eye, hidden behind the ceiling light, captured every moment.

“Do you think we should tell her about the gray hair? It’s hard to miss from this angle…”

One of the women shifted in her seat, fidgeting with her hands. The other rolled her eyes and pinched the soft skin of her arm.

“Take this seriously. If the Head Maid catches us slacking, we’ll get reprimanded. Worse, our salary might be cut.”

“Ow!”

The pinched maid yelped and rubbed her arm, shooting a quick glare at her partner. Her gaze drifted back to the screen, where the masked woman continued to question the man. Then, after a moment, she spoke again.

“So, who do you prefer? The Lord or maybe the High Commander? I bet there’s a real hunk under all that armor.”

“OW! Hey, stop that!”

Another quick pinch made her flinch again.

“Only if you stop daydreaming and focus.”

A small tear appeared in the maid’s eye, but this time she didn’t argue. She let out a quiet sigh, reached for her notepad, and joined the other woman in silently recording the information their superiors demanded.

They had been instructed to complete this task as quickly as possible and then move the man to a room with better furnishings. He was apparently not an enemy, but they were ordered to keep him confined without revealing their true identity or the fact that they were in Albrook. None of them knew where he had come from, and they understood it was wiser not to ask their superiors.

Soon, the room filled with the sound of clicking and clacking as both maids began typing on devices that resembled modern keyboards. These were larger than their other world counterparts and constructed almost entirely from metal. Thick cords connected them to small screens where a rudimentary word processor allowed them to record every detail.

“Why are the letters arranged in this strange order and not alphabetically…”

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“Don’t ask questions. Just keep working.”

“Fine…”