Chapter 119: One of Those Days

He couldn’t believe it.

Especially not after realizing that twenty-five years was only the average patience of the other races. That wasn’t even the limit.

Because in truth, the elves had once secluded themselves for more than one hundred fifty years.

One. Hundred. Fifty.

Screw dignity—Riley, the fragile human aide, collapsed onto the floor as the weight of that number pummeled him into despair.

The immediate thought in his mind, after missing his family, wasn’t lofty or noble. It wasn’t about history or legacy or duty.

It was: I could’ve just robbed a bank instead.

Because honestly, considering the “punishment” of this investigation—where he was really just assisting—he could’ve at least struck it rich if he’d chosen a life of crime.

At least prison came with guaranteed meals and visiting hours. His family could’ve dropped by with care packages. But here? Even if his family wanted to visit, they wouldn’t get within miles of the territory.

And worse—so much worse—he was stuck here with all the elves. And his boss.

Riley tried to breathe. To meditate. To center himself.

But his stomach gave a dangerous twist as he listened to the ongoing discussion.

Kael had taken over. His molten gaze fixed on the elves as he questioned them one by one. Prince Rowan gestured, and guards were ushered forward, in particular, those who had been on duty the day the Moonveil Codex was “taken.”

The testimonies began.

One guard spoke first, bowing his head. “Everything suddenly went black, my lord. One moment we were at our posts, the next… nothing.”

Another guard added, “When we came to, the Codex was gone.”

Rowan’s tone was grave as he filled in the rest. “We inspected the sanctum. Every other artifact was accounted for. Only the Codex had disappeared.”

“And the wards?” Kael’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade.

“Intact,” Rowan replied tightly. “No trace of broken runes. No evidence of foreign mana either.”

Kael’s gaze sharpened. “Then what of your internal investigation?”

The question landed like a hammer. Riley, from his corner, noticed the subtle shift. Rowan’s entourage stiffened, their perfect composure cracking for just a heartbeat.

Even Rowan’s expression darkened, a flicker of irritation betraying how much he disliked the insinuation. Still, he replied evenly, “Those on duty have elected to remain within the palace. They are under observation, should further testimony be required. As you know, elves are a communal people, and an incident of this magnitude affects all of us. Thus, they have taken it upon themselves to remain in place, still and accountable.”

Riley pinched the bridge of his nose. That’s it? That’s their investigation? Everyone blacked out, the book’s gone, and now they’re just sitting around waiting for inspiration to strike? Or for Kael to do it for them?!

No wonder they locked themselves in for decades. With this kind of logic, twenty-five years was probably the minimum sentence for “Oops, we misplaced history.”

The conversation continued, Kael’s deep voice steady as he pressed for more details. But Riley wasn’t hearing much of it anymore.

Because something had shifted in him.

The elves noticed it too. Maybe it was the fire in his eyes. Maybe it was the way his aura seemed to pulse stronger with each breath. But the fragile twig looked suddenly more like a doll possessed. His head tilted slowly, lips curling into a smile that was far too sharp.

And then he asked, voice far too pleasant, “Would it be possible for me to take part in the investigation?”

Surprise rippled across the chamber.

Rowan’s brows arched. Kael didn’t move. The guards exchanged uneasy glances. After all, it was a human asking.

Riley, however, had already whipped out a pen and a small tickler from his pocket. He tapped the pen against the page and looked around expectantly.

“I’d like to start by asking if we’re allowed to bring in regular objects from outside. Well, in a sense we are because our clothes are intact, but are there any limitations?” he asked briskly, noting down the question like a bureaucrat on a mission.

Because really, he wasn’t a criminal investigator. He was an aide. But against a boss who barely asked anything at all, Riley realized it was his duty to open his mouth.

Otherwise, twenty-five years wasn’t just a threat.

It was already waving hello.

But Riley could see the hesitation. The elves weren’t sure if they could—or should—answer. Their silence stretched long enough that Riley started staring hard, but then Prince Rowan gave a small nod.

One elf finally spoke. “Items may be brought in, yes. But if traces of mana are detected, they cannot be used in the traditional way. A magical staff, for example, would be reduced to nothing more than a stick.”

Riley nodded slowly, already turning it over in his mind. So technically, the usual things like sleeping powders, poisons, and… He cut himself off immediately. Out loud, that would be the fastest way to get branded a terrorist.

So instead, he went with something supposedly safer. “Then, about taking things out from the sanctum? Are there ways to actually remove artifacts?”

As usual, he figured he would’ve hated asking this.

The air thickened like soup, heavy with killing intent. Riley didn’t even need heightened senses to feel it. The elves’ gazes sharpened like drawn blades, and for a moment, he was fairly certain someone was considering whether it’d be better to silence him permanently.

Not a single elf answered.

Even Rowan stiffened, though he quickly masked it. The tension was sharp enough to crack the floor tiles.

The prince gave an awkward laugh, hands spreading slightly. “Forgive them. Your question touches on matters that are… highly classified. Naturally, such information cannot be divulged.”

Riley smiled politely. “I see.”

He nodded, cordial, professional, every inch the respectful aide.

But inside? Oh, inside, he was seething. What kind of investigation dodges the most basic questions? What use is your sacred secret when someone’s already stolen from you?

Honestly, it made him want to march back with a satchel of sleeping powder just to show them how flimsy their so-called defenses really were.

His eyes slid toward Kael.

Kael, of course, noticed. The dragon tilted his head lazily, golden eyes glinting. He knew exactly why Riley was looking at him. Finally, Kael thought, the twig learned who to rely on instead of that white noodle who calls himself a prince. Pretentious prick, that one.

And then Kael opened his mouth.

“So tell me,” he said evenly, “the ways to remove artifacts from the sanctum.”

“!!!”

Every elf in the chamber froze. Because this time, it wasn’t Riley. It was the dragon lord himself.

They might not have wanted to say it, but it was rather obvious that they thought rather lowly of the human who couldn’t even walk the entire stairway.

But that was Riley.

Kael leaned back slightly, tone smooth and unbothered. “As the dragon lord—or as the head of the Ministry of Balance and Enforcement, whose assistance you sought—I believe that is sufficient authority to demand a thorough list.”

Ah. Sure enough, there were days when Riley could tolerate this bastard.

Seems like today was one of them.

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