Chapter 72

Chapter 72

“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Jack Dillon.”

Iris rose gracefully from her seat and offered a small, refined curtsy. Even as another woman, Rose couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was—every movement elegant, every gesture perfect.

“It’s an honor to see you again.”

James inclined his head with polite composure and lifted her hand lightly, brushing his lips over the back in a formal greeting. The sight of the two of them, poised and courteous, could have been lifted straight from a painting—an illustration of proper etiquette.

‘She’s perfect…’

How on earth had Miss Iris Brown, a young woman raised in a quiet corner of Ashville, managed to acquire such refined manners? Rose, suddenly self-conscious, straightened her posture and kept her hands primly folded.

“First, here’s the copy of the victims’ association registry you’ve been waiting for.”

Iris placed a neatly wrapped bundle of papers on the table.

“I thought it would take longer to persuade the members, but once they heard the Golden Crow Society was reopening the investigation, they agreed right away.”

When Rose untied the string, she found a carefully written copy of the registry inside.

“There are more victims than I expected,” James murmured.

“It was one of the biggest cases to ever shake the Mythos community,” Iris replied, nodding.

Rose mimicked the gesture, though she had no memory of such an event.

“As you requested, I marked the names of those who, like me, have brown hair and violet eyes.”

Indeed, several names were circled with tiny, hand-drawn stars.

“Oh, Miss Hampton! You mentioned there was an important question you couldn’t ask through letters or telegrams?”

“Ah, yes, that…”

Rose hesitated. It was just a few simple questions related to James’s past—but for some reason, the words refused to leave her lips. Still, she couldn’t remain silent forever.

After a deep breath, she finally spoke.

“Actually, I’d like to ask about your memories from the time you were kidnapped. I wanted to ask your permission first—would that be all right?”

She half-expected Iris to refuse. After all, she’d been abducted as a child and had her magic bound since then. But Iris, despite her gentle appearance, was not a fragile soul.

“Of course. If it helps catch the criminals and cure my magic restraint, I’ll tell you anything.”

Rose met Iris’s eyes—eyes as violet and resolute as her own—and nodded slowly.

“If that’s your will, Miss Iris… thank you.”

James, who had been quietly listening until now, finally joined in.

“Then, may I ask you to describe the events in detail?”

“I’ve already explained everything so many times during the Bureau’s investigation…”

James leaned forward slightly, his tone calm yet compelling.

“Yes, I’m aware. However, we’ve recently discovered new information, and we’d like to confirm a few things.”

A lie—but it sounded so natural that even Rose, who knew the truth, briefly wondered if she had missed something.

“It’s only a routine check. Please speak comfortably.”

Rose bit back a sigh. Does he practice this level of audacity somewhere? Maybe this is why he’s such a successful businessman.

“Then… Mr. Dillon, where should I begin?”

James smiled gently.

“How about describing the place where you were held first?”

He slid a blank sheet of paper and a pen across the table. Iris hesitated for a moment, then took the pen as though bracing herself and began to draw the room.

“There were bars on the window… and two wooden beds.”

“The walls—were they a mix of brick and granite?”

“Yes! And the ceiling was arched like this, made of red bricks.”

Her memories came haltingly, uncertainly, but every time James asked a question, her eyes widened in recognition and she nodded with conviction.

From that point on, Rose couldn’t get a single word in.

“Yes, it was very damp, just as you said, Mr. Dillon… I can still remember the sound of water dripping.”

A shiver ran through Iris’s body as she recalled it.

They were describing the same place. Both she and James spoke of an underground room—dark, humid, echoing like a cave.

It was real.

James had indeed been a victim of the Mythos serial abductions.

Rose’s heart plummeted.

There were five potential girls on the list. Sooner or later—perhaps within the year—James would find her.

And maybe… maybe that girl was sitting right here, across from them.

Emotion surged through Rose’s chest, twisting painfully.

‘How selfish can I be?’

The truth was out: James’s mysterious kidnapping as a child was no coincidence. He had been taken by the Priests of Ouroboros.

She should have felt relief—this was progress, a step closer to solving the case. Yet the feeling that rose within her wasn’t relief at all.

Their conversation deepened, leaving Rose completely sidelined—until something struck her like lightning.

‘Wait… this is strange.’

The setting they described—it wasn’t just familiar. She knew it.

Her pulse began to race.

‘The red-haired Grace’s ring…!’

The place they spoke of was identical to the underground chamber she had seen through the ring’s memory—and in her dreams.

Rose clenched her trembling hands in her lap.

Why had Grace shown her that place? Why had she urged her to go to Egard?

Now it made sense.

The Mythos serial abductions had been orchestrated by the Priests of Ouroboros. James had been one of their victims; it was no wonder they knew so much about him.

Could it be that even this meeting had been arranged by them?

Rose glanced uneasily at Iris.

No—it couldn’t be. Iris couldn’t even use magic, her mana still sealed. There was no way she was one of their agents.

But still… if she wasn’t, then what did Ouroboros want with them?

“Then, Miss Iris,” James said quietly, “may I ask one more thing?”

“Of course. I’ll answer whatever I can.”

“Were you, by any chance, held with a boy—about twelve years old, blond hair, blue eyes?”

Thump.

Rose’s heart lurched.

In the moment between James’s question and Iris’s answer, her emotions churned wildly—fear, dread, and something she couldn’t name.

“A blond boy with blue eyes? No… I was held with a girl about my age.”

Ah…

Rose nearly exhaled in visible relief.

Iris Brown was not the girl James had been searching for.

But why did that realization make her heart feel so light?

There were far bigger revelations at hand—like the fact that the Mythos serial abductions and James’s kidnapping were both the work of the Priests of Ouroboros!

“Oh! Though I can’t recall her eye color,” Iris added after a pause, “I do remember seeing a blond boy, maybe ten to twelve years old, through the bars. He used to carry a tray full of food. I saw him every day.”

Rose froze.

A boy in a white robe, carrying a tray—she had seen him, too. In her dreams.

There was an old saying: A Mythos’s dream is never meaningless.

Even so, she had never experienced a coincidence this precise. She almost didn’t dare to believe it.

“I don’t remember much else,” Iris continued, “but I do remember his name. The bad men used to call him that.”