I Woke Up as the Villainess's Friend. I Don’t Want to Be the Next Dark Queen

Duskmere, the Crown investigator, had possessed considerable patience in his youth. In fact, combined with his keen observation skills and impartiality, it was one of the qualities that had allowed him to achieve his current position. However, now that he was approaching his forties, he felt his patience running thin more quickly than before.

Case in point: right now.

As if dealing with Prince Vincent hadn't been taxing enough, his assistant professor—who served as his secretary—was now telling him that the dark magic student he'd arrested and interrogated regarding the possible assassination attempts on the prince and princess wanted to see him.

"Did he say why?"

Though he doubted it was to confess his crime. Besides, however much it pained him to admit he'd been wrong, the young student seemed innocent.

"He says he asked to see the bodies of the three assassins and was told you're the one guarding them."

True enough, they were in a magically sealed chamber where he was running all sorts of tests to see if he could discover anything. So far, aside from their origin in the neighboring kingdom of Daertyle, he'd had little success.

"Another one? I already spent a good while talking with the prince to assure him I'm doing everything possible. All for nothing, since he wouldn't stop insisting until he'd seen the bodies and realized he didn't recognize them at all. Had never encountered them before. Tell him to leave."

A few minutes later, his secretary knocked on his door again.

"Sir, excuse me. He insists that if you want to know who ordered the assassination attempt on those two students, you should let him speak with them."

Annoyed, Duskmere flung the door wide open, motioned for his secretary to step aside, and confronted the student waiting behind her. The investigator frowned; Ronan looked back at him expressionlessly.

"Ronan, go away. You won't get anything useful."

"I want to raise the corpses."

Duskmere had to draw on his patience, something that was proving especially taxing this afternoon.

Raise the corpses... If that were even possible, he would have already traveled with the bodies to the capital so the necromancer residing there could do him the favor.

"And what are you going to do once you raise them?"

"Ask them questions," he replied as if Duskmere were an idiot.

"I'm not in the mood for nonsense. Get lost if you don't want me to arrest you again."

"Do you not care to know who attempted to kill Mary and my lady?"

There he was again, calling the brilliant student he was obsessed with by that title. Poor girl. No wonder she had light magic if she had the infinite patience to put up with him every day.

"Of course I care and want to know. But they're not going to answer you."

"If the corpse is fresh, it is highly probable that the soul still lingers nearby. I can return it to the body. Once I animate the remains, they are compelled to answer me. This may occur through mental images, or, should they know how to write, we may provide them a quill and inkwell. We have done it before."

What?

Duskmere was no longer annoyed, he was buzzing with anticipation. Was that true? And what did he mean they'd done it before? With whom?

"If you're lying to me, I don't need to speak with the rector: I can sanction you myself," he warned.

His emotions were not to be toyed with.

"I would not gain anything by lying."

Could this young necromancer really bind a soul to a body? As far as he knew, that was unheard of, even in ancient times. If it were true, his investigation would become very simple, and his superiors would congratulate him. They might even finally promote him to chief investigator in the capital—the position he'd been aspiring to for half his life.

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There was only one chief investigator per city, and the one in the capital held the highest rank of all. The current one was already quite old, so they'd been considering his successor for a couple of years. Duskmere was among the candidates.

Yes, he'd let them pin the medal on him and simultaneously recommend this boy to join his team.

It wasn't a hasty decision, he'd already been interrogating him. He'd seen that Ronan was cold and calculating, loyal to the kingdom, and if he truly had this power, no investigator could surpass him.

"How would you feel about working for me?" he asked suddenly.

"That is not possible."

"I haven't even told you the conditions or salary yet. It would be after you graduate."

"It is still not possible. I am not interested. Now, shall we go get the corpses?"

Duskmere stared at him. How could he not be interested? His parents were only barons—a Crown investigator position would be an honor for both them and their son. Only nobles with the finest qualities could qualify for the position.

There had to be something more here... He hoped it didn't have to do with his obsession with Bianca L'Crom.

Well, first he'd see with his own eyes that the boy wasn't lying, and then he'd have about three years to convince him of his profession's virtues. No doubt, enlisting his parents to advise him would be a good first step.

"Alright, follow me," he indicated.

He didn't have to repeat himself. Ronan approached him—closer than he liked—and moved ahead as soon as he opened the door to the room where the bodies lay.

Before Duskmere could tell him to be careful, the necromancer was already reciting his litany, completely ignoring the foul smell of the chamber. Before the investigator's astonished eyes, he raised all three with a single animate zombies spell. What level was his spell? How many dead had he defiled to achieve this?

Then came the moment of truth. The young man approached one of them and spoke.

"Who tried to assassinate my lady by slashing her throat?"

Immediately, two of the zombies raised their bluish, swollen fingers to point at the third, who pointed at himself. At the same time, they tried to speak, producing syllables in low, harsh tones that dragged and were hard to distinguish: "hiiiiim," "meeeeee."

Duskmere thought it was marvelous. The student wasn't lying. He'd truly raised them with their souls.

"Do you know how to write?" Ronan asked the assassin.

"Yesssss," the zombie affirmed.

"Then you'd better not use your voice."

Duskmere thanked Ronan for the courtesy, since from what he had explained, he could interrogate them mentally. The alternative—forcing the zombie to speak, when even a single syllable was nearly unintelligible—was something he preferred to avoid.

He stepped out briefly to ask his secretary for a quill, inkwell, and parchment. When she returned with the supplies, he handed them to Ronan, who passed them to the undead.

"Tell me, who ordered you to assassinate those two young women, and why?"

Duskmere remained silent, his eyes fixed intently on the zombie. The scratching of the quill on parchment filled the silence. When the zombie finished, it handed the parchment to Ronan. Duskmere immediately extended his hand.

I was only ordered to assassinate Bianca L'Crom. The other one was simply there. My boss ordered it: Black Bellom, from the assassins' guild. I don't know the reason.

"And who commissioned your boss?" the necromancer asked after retrieving the parchment and returning it to the zombie.

I don't know.

"Can any of you provide more information?"

The other two undead shook their heads, but the one who had been writing raised his hand.

"Go ahead, write."

When they called me to the back room of the guild's tavern, where my boss gave me the assignment, a hooded figure was leaving. He seemed to limp on his left foot. He was tall and appeared thin.

"Do you think he could be the one who paid for the job?"

Yes.

"Why?"

I hadn't seen him around there before, and our boss usually hands out assignments right after accepting them.

"Do you think you could recognize him if you saw him again?"

Probably.

"Duskmere, can I take him?"

"Absolutely not, you're a student. One who's showing great talent as an investigator, I'll give you that. Tell him to accompany four guards I'm going to assign and have him alert them if he spots the man."

"Can I go?"

"Would you sign on as my apprentice?"

"No."

"Then no. When you sign, you can go."

"Understood."

Duskmere was surprised—he hadn't expected the young man to give up on accompanying them so quickly. However, right before him, he saw all three zombies pull out a tooth each and hand them to Ronan.

So he'd be able to find out if they located the man...

"Do you need a tooth to summon them?"

"No, but it is cheaper to raise them, and they are stronger."

"As I said, young man. The offer stands: whenever you want, you have a place here."

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary."

"Could we request your services even if you're not my apprentice? Your achievements would bring reputation to your lady."

He added that last part hoping that mentioning the object of his obsession might sway him.

"Sure." He shrugged. "As long as you don't need me during exams or when I'm otherwise occupied, no problem."

Duskmere thanked him and told him he could leave. Ronan dismissed the two zombies who hadn't seen the hooded figure and left the informant zombie behind.

The investigator watched him go. That young student was strange, but his potential as an investigator was unprecedented. Perhaps, if his dark magic professor mentored him, he could try to convince Ronan to accept the position once he graduated.

With that idea in mind, along with arranging for four guards, Duskmere went to find the dark magic professor. Surely there was something he could offer to secure his cooperation.

Of course, he'd have to be careful. Everyone knew that with dark magic users, one could never afford to let their guard down.