"God, this... it is not my fault, truly. I. I do not understand why it is like this.
Someone is plotting to harm both of us."
Almy panicked, trying to defend himself while unintentionally swearing. Then he gradually fell silent. Instead of looking at the fire he caused, he stared fixedly at his feet, not looking at Ron even once.
By this time, he realized that the ink bottle on the table had toppled over him, staining his coat sleeve black.
"..."
Contrary to Almy's terror, Ron calmly pulled a cigarette from his pocket and used the flame itself to light it.
Ron took a drag, then while exhaling smoke, he walked to the door and closed it, then locked it. This made Almy tremble slightly.
Almy was no different from a child caught in a mistake by a parent, waiting to be beaten.
But Ron did not beat Almy. Who would beat their own guest?
That is not refined.
Instead, he moved toward a section of shelving that was still intact and untouched by fire, taking from there a bottle of wine produced exactly 50 years ago.
Then he also took two white towels from the shelf. He gave one to Almy and told him to wipe himself. He used the other to wipe the table.
"An object created to detonate when held at both ends?
It must be because you were too fearful in this place, knowing you would not dare turn on magic to check for fear of being noticed, so they intentionally placed a magic infused item in your breast pocket.
And when I first met you, I immediately recognized the difference in attitude, so I understood this."
Recognizing Almy's bewildered gaze, Ron added more.
"Keep wiping. I do not want to be published on the front page for dirtying a guest's clothes."
Almy only dared to nod. He thought.
'Who would dare put you on the front page?'
He seemed to feel an underlying meaning, but in the current situation, thinking too much would only distort his intentions.
Almy finished wiping the ink. Although there was a clear stain, because the ink was not yet dry, many ink marks had been removed.
"I am sorry for... your room. I should not have..."
"Ah, no need to worry about that. Anyway, I intended to discard this room. it originally belonged to the previous Lord of the Dark Night. It was passed down to me, but there was too much work so I haven't destroyed it yet."
Ron set out two wine glasses then poured wine into those two cups.
Then he pushed the wine glass toward Almy and took a sip of wine.
"Shall we start the interview?"
Almy glanced at the fire right next to him. It was scorching hot. Because the door was locked, the air was trapped inside, making the feeling even more stifling. This was a closed room; someone as stupid as Almy understood what would come.
But then Almy still pulled out a notebook and a fountain pen. He tested the pen with his fingertip then sat in the chair.
He glanced at the wine glass. In the end, he still took a sip. If one does not have enough courage, then add a little alcohol.
As a journalist, sometimes he still had to go to bars, and a big case he found was also in a bar, so he had a very well trained alcohol tolerance.
Unfortunately, it was not for this place.
"Now, let us start the interview, sir. We will ask about..."
When looking at the available questions in the notebook, Almy suddenly paused.
The reason was because the words that were originally orderly and neat suddenly turned into swirling patterns.
It coiled into a point, gathering like a storm of words, then suddenly swept him away.
Almy raised his head, but then the yellow red light of the fire suddenly turned into ripples surrounding him.
It was as if whispering to him: kill me... take me... stab the person in front of you!
And then, through that bizarre layer of waves, he saw Ron, who was spitting something onto the ground.
A pouch that looked like a condom, except it was designed for the palate, but roughly both were to block water from overflowing.
Almy now realized: he had fallen into a trap!
...
Ron looked at the person before him who had collapsed then looked toward the fire. He expressionlessly took the wine bottle and threw it toward a distant bookshelf where the fire was engulfing.
After the sound of the bottle breaking, the entire secret room, or just the room itself, suddenly shook completely.
Creaking sounds, snapping sounds, and engine operation sounds occurred in succession.
This was never an ordinary room. This was a room placed in an elevator that could move flexibly up and down.
Then Ron looked toward the clock. He counted every second, every minute, every tick as if he were someone who feared the extravagance of youth.
At exactly 3 minutes 14 seconds, Almy opened his eyes. 30 seconds after that, he could move his arm.
Then barely a minute later, he had completely woken up.
He looked toward Ron, his eyes suppressed with anger, containing a mix of fear yet strangely brave.
But no words were uttered. It was just a sense of resignation.
"The thing you just drank was wine laced with drugs, or a compound to create drugs, a strong type for long term addicts. Of course, it was in raw, unrefined form.
In other words, you have been early considered a criminal. So if anything happens, I will request a comprehensive search of you from the police. Do not worry about the legality, because anyway you will be arrested.
Also do not worry if you think the press bureau will save you, because they will have an excuse to throw you in jail.
Now how many choices do you have left?
Therefore, our conversation now begins."