Chapter 89
At first, there was nothing unusual.
He only saw several words and letters circled by Nirma, words that had been spoken by Ashita and Tegar while explaining the connection between the two pieces of evidence, words he himself had heard only minutes earlier.
Those small circles floated among other strokes, like islands in an ocean of notes, marking the parts that the tablet's owner considered important.
Ioannis smiled faintly when he read those circles, the smile of a professor watching his student carefully mark a book.
However, when his eyes reached the bottom of the page, when he began to read the final lines written with smaller and denser strokes, that smile slowly froze.
There, in the lower right corner of the wax tablet, a sentence had been carved with deeper pressure, as if Nirma had deliberately pressed the stylus so the marks would not easily fade.
Ioannis read it once, twice, three times, making sure his eyes were not mistaken about the arrangement of letters engraved on the wax.
Fifth suspect candidate, Ioannis Taronites.
All the rebuttals he had delivered were presented in order, even very logical to the ears of ordinary listeners.
Yet his words were like a small razor, thin and sharp, placed among fruits, and his rebuttal was completely contradictory to the situation on the ground—in other words, utterly unconvincing.
Even so, there was no indication that the victim and Ioannis Taronites had experienced any series of disputes, let alone a physical altercation.
Ioannis Taronites stared at the closed wax tablet for a few moments longer, reflecting on every word he had just read, every stroke that placed him as the fifth suspect candidate in the investigation of Étienne d'Arques' murder.
But when he lifted his head, when he saw Nirma's back already turned as she began walking toward the actual exit door, something inside him moved.
Not merely a desire to clarify his position, but a need to hear directly from the woman's mouth whether he had truly fallen into a trap he himself had not realized.
"Wait."
That single word slipped from Ioannis Taronites' lips with a tone different from before.
No longer diplomatic, no longer smooth, but sharp and direct, like the small razor he himself had been accused of hiding among the fruits.
Nirma stopped.
Arya stopped.
Ashita and Tegar, who had almost reached the doorway, also froze in place.
None of the four turned around.
They simply stood with their backs facing Ioannis, waiting for the continuation of the words that would come from the old bureaucrat's mouth.
"You wrote me as the fifth suspect candidate."
Ioannis' voice now sounded strange even to his own ears, like the voice of another man admitting something he had long concealed.
"You wrote that my rebuttal contradicts the situation on the ground.
You wrote that I do not believe, that my words are like a thin razor hidden among fruits."
He paused for a moment, drawing a long breath, then continued in a tone almost like a whisper.
"I have only one question, Nirma. Will you immediately convict me based on the way I fabricated this rebuttal? Will you consider me guilty simply because you can see that everything I said earlier was nothing but an act?"
The air in the room changed.
There was a confession there, a confession no one had ever expected to come from the mouth of Ioannis Taronites.
By saying the way I fabricated this rebuttal, he directly admitted that the entire denial he had just delivered, all the arguments about dark red wax and white powder and motives that did not automatically mean action, were nothing but constructions—nothing but walls he had built to protect himself from accusations.
Nirma felt that tremor travel from the tips of her feet to the crown of her head.
Ioannis Taronites had just given the most valuable weapon he could possibly give.
A confession that he had lied.
Slowly, without haste, the four of them turned around.
The movement was synchronized, like a formation of dancers who had practiced thousands of times, even though none of them had given any signal to the others.
Nirma stood at the front, Arya slightly to her left, while Ashita and Tegar stood behind with enough distance to show that they were merely followers in this conversation.
Four pairs of eyes fixed directly on Ioannis Taronites, four focused gazes that said we heard every word you spoke, and we know exactly what it means.
Nirma did not answer immediately.
Her eyes shifted briefly toward Arya, her left eye gazing with an intensity that could only be understood by someone who had shared years of battlefields with her.
Arya caught that look, caught the silent command within it, and without waiting any longer he stepped forward half a step—just enough to show that he would speak on behalf of both of them.
"Honorable Mr. Ioannis."
Arya's voice sounded calm, calmer than what he truly felt in his heart.
"Allow me to answer your question honestly, just as you have spoken honestly to us a moment ago."
He paused briefly, allowing his words to settle, then continued with a slightly firmer tone.
"You do not need to worry at all about your position as a suspect candidate.
It is highly unlikely—indeed impossible—for us to convict you merely based on how you delivered your rebuttal.
In an investigation like this, a verdict is never delivered based on intuition or suspicion alone.
A verdict is delivered based on evidence, based on facts, based on a chain of events that cannot be broken by even the smallest doubt."
Arya looked directly into Ioannis Taronites' eyes.
His eyes, usually friendly, had now turned sharp and focused, like the eyes of an eagle targeting its prey from afar.
"You have given us many things today.
Not only rebuttals, not only denials, but also the confession that all of them were deliberately constructed by you.
And believe me, Mr. Ioannis, we recorded everything.
Every word, every tone, every change of expression.
Everything is inside our wax tablet, waiting to be arranged into a complete picture when the time comes.
But for today, for this moment, you do not need to fear any verdict.
Because a verdict, as you know, is something that can only be delivered when all the facts have spoken.
And those facts, Mr. Ioannis, have not finished speaking.
There are still many chapters in this investigation before we reach the words guilty or not guilty."
Arya had not finished speaking.
Just as the four of them began turning around for the second time, just as their shadows began stretching toward the door, Arya stopped his steps and glanced slightly back.
Just enough to show that he still had something to say.
Just enough to make Ioannis Taronites hold his breath in his chair.
"One more thing, Mr. Ioannis."
His voice sounded different now, lighter, almost like the advice of an old friend.
"It would be wise for you to make sure who you are speaking to before truly intending to deceive them. Because not everyone in this room comes with the same eyes, not everyone listens with the same ears. And you have just proven that you do not know who you should deceive and who you should have spoken to honestly from the beginning."
Those words hung in the air, sharp and clear, before finally falling into Ioannis Taronites' ears like a hammer striking an anvil.
The man did not answer.
He could not answer.
To be continued…