“Hmm, what Ability have you awakened?”
“Eh?
Sister An Ning, why aren’t you surprised at all?”
Looking at An Ning’s calm expression across the metal table, Cyrene tilted her head.
A perfectly crafted look of utter confusion settled over her delicate features.
The sterile air of the interrogation room hung silent for two seconds.
An Ning had been trying her hardest to maintain the stern, unyielding facade of a seasoned officer.
But seeing Cyrene’s innocent, bewildered expression—looking as though literal question marks were popping out of her pink hair—shattered her resolve.
Her tense lips parted, letting out a short, airy chuckle.
The heavy fatigue clinging to An Ning’s brow, a byproduct of overusing her own powers, seemed to wash away with that brief laugh.
She waved a hand dismissively, shifting her posture in the stiff chair to regain a shred of professional authority.
“Actually, there’s nothing to be surprised about.
I already guessed you possessed an Ability.
Coupled with the way you were probing me about supernatural powers earlier…
once you connect the dots, the answer is obvious.”
“Hmm…”
Cyrene scratched her cheek, feigning an awkward embarrassment.
She wrapped a loose strand of her pink hair around her index finger, twirling it slowly.
“So my intentions were that obvious…” she muttered softly.
She peeked up through her lashes, letting her gaze dart around the room nervously before attempting to describe her power.
“Um…
my Ability feels a bit strange.
It seems I can make an imprint of a fragment of another creature’s Remembrance.
And then…
sort of like watching a movie, I can observe and experience it?”
The chill from the air conditioning vent seemed to freeze the entire room.
“Make an imprint of another creature’s Remembrance…
and browse it?” An Ning repeated slowly.
Her tone carried a heavy layer of disbelief, as if her brain was struggling to process the sheer weight of the concept.
A second later, the reality clicked.
An Ning’s pupils contracted to pinpricks.
Her spine snapped straight, abandoning the backrest of her chair.
Bang!
She slammed her palm against the metal table, the deafening impact echoing off the soundproofed walls.
She shot to her feet.
The metal legs of her chair screeched violently against the floor tiles.
Her eyes were wide, locked onto Cyrene with a terrifying intensity, and her voice cracked with raw, unfiltered excitement.
“You mean you can read other people’s Remembrance at will?!”
Cyrene flinched, shrinking back into her seat as if the sudden outburst had physically struck her.
She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, playing the part of a terrified little rabbit to perfection, and shook her head frantically.
“No, no, no!
Not at will!
Absolutely not!”
She rushed to explain, acutely aware that if she let them think she was an all-powerful mind-reader, she would be slapped in cuffs, classified as a high-risk anomaly, and dragged off to a secret lab for dissection.
“There are strict limitations!
The target has to be completely non-resistant.
Or unconscious.
If they are awake and fighting back, I have absolutely no way to do it!”
“Must be non-resistant…
or unconscious…” An Ning murmured.
The shock in her eyes did not fade; instead, it ignited into a blazing, unmatched euphoria.
“That doesn’t count as a problem at all!”
An Ning could no longer contain herself.
She spun on her heel and marched toward the exit, her boots clicking sharply against the linoleum.
Just as her fingers wrapped around the cold brass doorknob, she snapped her head back over her shoulder.
“Cyrene, don’t you dare move!
Just wait right here.
I’m getting the captain immediately!”
She yanked the door open, bolted into the hallway, and slammed it shut behind her.
The heavy lock clicked into place, as if she were terrified the priceless treasure sitting at the interrogation table might sprout wings and fly away.
“This…”
Cyrene sat frozen, her hand suspended mid-air in a dramatic, aborted gesture to stop the officer.
The room plunged back into a sterile silence, accompanied only by the low, mechanical hum of the overhead air conditioning vent.
‘Is it really that outrageous?’
Cyrene blinked.
The panicked, trembling facade melted from her face in an instant, replaced by a cool, calculating thoughtfulness.
She knew perfectly well that the ability to read Remembrance was a god-tier asset for intelligence gathering.
But she hadn’t even specified the range or depth of her reading yet.
Why were they acting like they had just struck gold?
Her entire master plan depended on using this fabricated Ability to secure a comfortable, low-risk desk job.
Being an interrogation assistant meant she would never have to risk her life fighting Abominations on the bloody front lines.
Instead, she could sit in a safe, climate-controlled room, casually interact with captured criminals, and siphon all the classified intelligence she needed for her Flamechasers operations.
‘I just wanted to slack off and secretly steal some intel…’ Cyrene rested her chin in her palm, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Besides, even if she could read a target’s Remembrance, it was a one-on-one process.
She could handle a few cases a day at most.
Was it really worth the Bureau losing their collective minds over?
Before she could further refine her grand strategy for professional slacking, the heavy doorknob turned.
The door swung inward.
An Ning marched back inside, but this time, she was trailing behind the young, stern-faced police captain who had conducted the initial interrogation.
The moment he crossed the threshold, his sharp, predatory gaze locked onto Cyrene.
“Miss Cyrene.”
He closed the distance to the table in three long strides, planted both hands flat against the metal surface, and leaned in.
The physical proximity radiated a suffocating, authoritative pressure.
“Officer An Ning informs me your Ability allows you to read the Remembrance of others, provided the subject is non-resistant or unconscious.
Is this accurate?”
“Um…
to be precise, it’s more like copying a version of their Remembrance.
Turning it into something like a videotape, and then watching it…”
Cyrene shrank her neck, her voice dropping to a soft, sweet murmur.
She played the role of an ordinary civilian overwhelmed by the captain’s intense aura flawlessly.
“Copying a version of Remembrance?”
The captain paused, his dark brows knitting together as he processed the technical distinction.
“Does this copying process inflict any damage on the subject?
Brain trauma, for instance, or memory degradation?”
“I don’t know.” Cyrene shook her head.
Her diamond-shaped pupils widened, radiating an aura of pure, unadulterated innocence.
“I’ve only ever used it on myself, and maybe a few stray cats and dogs I feed on the street.
I haven’t tried it on a person.
But the kittens and puppies were perfectly lively after they woke up, so…
it shouldn’t have any negative effects, right?”
“The risk remains unknown, then…”
The captain pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket and jotted down a few rapid lines.
He paused, the tip of his pen hovering over the paper, and looked back up.
“What is your daily limit?
How many copies can you extract, and what is the mental toll on your body?”
“About…
one or two, I guess?” Cyrene held up two slender fingers, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and slowly curled one down.
“Because after copying just one, my head gets really dizzy.
I feel incredibly sleepy.
If I force myself to do a second one, I feel…
so exhausted I just want to pass out.
I definitely don’t have the energy for a third.”
Right on cue, she let out a soft, delicate yawn, squeezing two tiny physiological tears from the corners of her eyes to vividly demonstrate the side effects.
“A mental energy-consuming Ability, accompanied by severe fatigue.” The captain nodded, his pen scratching rhythmically against the paper.
“Understood.”
He snapped the notebook shut and fell into a heavy, contemplative silence.
The atmosphere in the cramped room thickened.
Cyrene bit her lower lip, casting a helpless, pleading glance toward An Ning, who was standing by the wall.
That look silently screamed: Sister An Ning, did I say something wrong?
Catching the pitiful gaze, An Ning shifted her weight uncomfortably.
She deliberately averted her eyes, staring fixedly at the fluorescent light tube on the ceiling as if the dead bugs trapped in the plastic cover were the most fascinating things in the world.
She wanted to comfort the girl, but protocol dictated absolute seriousness during an official evaluation.
She couldn’t intervene.
Seeing her lifeline cut off, Cyrene sighed internally.
She maintained her perfectly behaved posture, hands folded in her lap, waiting for the captain’s verdict.
The silence finally broke.
The captain raised his head, the aggressive sharpness in his eyes softening into a neutral, bureaucratic calm.
He pulled open the desk drawer, retrieved a pre-printed document, and slid it across the metal table toward Cyrene.
“Miss Cyrene, I apologize that you had to endure today’s events.
However, given the highly classified nature of your Ability and the supernatural phenomena you witnessed at the chemical plant, we require you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
He tapped the signature line at the bottom of the thick parchment, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
“Regarding everything you saw today, as well as the specific mechanics of your Ability—you are strictly forbidden from discussing this with the general public.
We cannot risk causing unnecessary social panic.”
“Oh.
Okay.”
Cyrene took the document with both hands and skimmed the text.
It was standard bureaucratic jargon, boiling down to three core rules: shut up, keep it secret, and follow orders.
After confirming there were no hidden clauses trying to draft her into indentured servitude, she picked up the black pen resting on the table and popped the cap.
Swish, swish, swish.
She signed her name with decisive, elegant strokes.
Pressing her thumb onto the red inkpad provided, she stamped a bright crimson fingerprint directly over her signature.
She slid the agreement back across the table.
The captain picked it up, his eyes sweeping over the signature and the fingerprint to ensure everything was in order.
Satisfied, he tucked the document into a blue folder.
The soft snap of the folder closing seemed to signal the end of the interrogation.
His rigid shoulders finally relaxed.
“Alright, Miss Cyrene.
Thank you for your cooperation.”
He stood up.
While his voice lacked any real warmth, the heavy, interrogative hostility was entirely gone.
“You are free to leave.
However, once we conclude our evaluation of your Ability and finalize the investigation into the chemical plant incident, we will likely contact you again.
Please keep your phone on and accessible.”
With a curt nod toward An Ning, he turned and strode out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Inside the small, sterile room, only Cyrene and An Ning remained, staring at each other in the quiet aftermath.
[Elysian’s Note:
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