LABYRINTH 22.

  Dust particles floated in the air like suspended motes, their slow dance illuminated by the faint light streaming through grimy windows.

  Ace sat at one end of the cold, sterile table, his posture unnervingly still, eyes fixed on the group before him. Anyone seeing this would believe that the man must have been doing this his entire life.

  Ives sat beside him, perched on a high stool at the counter, her legs swinging back and forth. Despite her child's appearance, a peculiar glint in her gaze belied her age.

  Ives looked up at the others, her voice small yet firm as she addressed them.

  “You must have received your roles and relevant information when you entered this Labyrinth,” she said. “So, please, share what you know.”

  Ace didn’t say anything. He remained quiet, but his mind was chirring away. Unlike the others, he had entered the Labyrinth without memories of the body he had supposedly inhabited. No further description was attached to his [ROLE], no background, no clues—just the task to find the murderer.

  But the fact that Ace was effectively blind to his own existence gave him a peculiar advantage. He had no personal stake in the Labyrinth’s drama, only a cold interest in solving the puzzle.

  The first player to step forward was Jaymes, Tinope Res’s son. Jaymes slumped into the battered chair, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He gave the small interrogation room a once-over before focusing on the white-haired man, whose silence was more unnerving than any barrage of questions.

  Jaymes then paused, realizing he had unknowingly taken a seat in the interrogation chair, positioning himself as the suspect.

  Lounged on her stool, Ives swung her legs slightly, giving Jaymes an expectant look.

  “So,” she prompted, “you said you’re Tinope Res’s son, right?”

  Jaymes’s body tensed, but he quickly cleared his throat, attempting to regain composure.

  “It’s not like I chose it.” He let out a slow breath. “I got this [ROLE] the moment I landed in the Labyrinth. The system told me I was Jaymes—the son. Yet unlike him, I didn’t give a damn about the company or anything to do with work. My life was… different.”

  From what they knew, Tinope Res had been a business prodigy, but his son was not interested in that life. He preferred the lavish lifestyle that came with wealth, indulging in drink and excess.

  “We had different visions, and that was bound to lead to quarrels here and there.”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What kind of arguments?”

  “Just the typical things you'd expect from an old man who can't get with the times. Stuck in his ways, boring as hell, trying to dictate every aspect of my life.” Jaymes’s voice carried a dismissive tone. “Not sure of the specifics, though. The system didn’t go that in-depth with the [ROLE] descriptions. All I know is I didn’t get along with him. He was never happy with the life I chose.”

  Ace watched the man carefully, not moving a muscle. Jaymes had claimed he wasn't close to Tinope, but that didn’t rule him out.

  “But I swear, it’s not like I hated him enough to… you know…” Jaymes added immediately, blinking. “To murder him.”

  Ace didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, leaving the man squirming in his seat.

  “Hey, I disliked him, sure. But that doesn’t mean I’d kill him,” Jaymes said again. “Believe me or don’t, man. I’m just telling you how it is.”

  “What were you doing last night?” Ives interjected, her tone much softer but still probing. “Tammy told us the crime happened between midnight and sunrise. Can you account for your whereabouts?”

  Jaymes let out a sigh. “I was out drinking until dawn. Barely made it back for the event.” He eyed Tammy, who had been standing by, and gave a slight nod. “This guy can vouch for me. He came for me at 7 AM and told me to get back here. Go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

  Ace’s eyes flicked over to Tammy, who gave a small nod in confirmation. His gaze lingered on Jaymes’s crumpled party attire, noting the wrinkled shirt and untidy hair.

  The man’s words seemed plausible enough, but was the late-night escapade enough to serve as an alibi?

  ***

  The interrogation continued.

  Masen entered with an air of calm, offering Ives and Ace a polite nod. He took a seat, folding his hands on the table in a practiced manner. Unlike Jaymes, he seemed comfortable with the situation—even curious.

  Ives managed a sweet smile. “You said you’re Tinope Res’s close friend and secretary. Also a co-founder of this ‘RESOLVE’ business, right?”

  Masen inclined his head. “That’s the memory I got from the Labyrinth role. We established RESOLVE together, but Tinope took the public spotlight. I handled day-to-day logistics, staying behind the scenes.”

  His voice carried the smoothness of someone used to conversation.

  “He always wanted the glory, and I didn’t mind. Or… at least, that’s what my partial memories tell me.”

  Ace leaned forward slightly. “Did you resent that arrangement?”

  Masen paused, letting the question settle. “Resent him? No. Not that I recall. It’s convenient having someone else in the limelight, so you can focus on the real work. Tinope had his secrets, I’m sure, but I…” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I was comfortable. We respected each other’s space. Or that’s how it felt, anyway.”

  “And your alibi?” Ace pressed. “Where were you during the night?”

  Masen smiled.

  “I was handling preparations for the event. Tinope left me in charge of the logistics—food, chairs, transportation.” He waved a hand as if it were nothing. “I didn’t see Tinope that night. He’d been quiet about the event’s theme, said it was something big. That’s all I know. If he confided in me, it’s not in these memories.”

  He gave a small, almost apologetic smile.

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  Ace’s eyebrows furrowed. “You were okay with that?”

  Masen gave him a bemused look. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m in charge of what’s on the surface. The details were Tinope’s business. Less work for me, more work for him. That’s the way it’s always been.”

  His tone was casual, even dismissive. Unlike the easily agitated Jaymes, Masen was much more tamed and seasoned in his responses.

  Ace didn’t push it further, though, just observing his reaction. The idea of Tinope handling all the important decisions on his own, especially as co-founder, seemed odd.

  Ives glanced at Ace, then Masen. She could sense the tension in the air, but Masen didn’t break his collected fa?ade.

  “So… you never thought he might be hiding something more?” She asked. “Something that’d lead to murder?”

  Masen exhaled. “If he was up to anything, I don’t recall. Maybe we argued. Maybe we didn’t. I only have partial recollections. But if you’re asking if I killed him…” He shook his head. “I’m not the type to kill a partner, no matter how big the secrets.

  “We were building something together. I wouldn’t sabotage that.”

  ***

  The last to enter was Carrie.

  The woman slipped into the room, her footsteps light against the old parquet floor.

  As she sat down on the leather couch, her gaze flicked over the white-haired man, and her lips curved into a sultry smile.

  “Finally, I can speak to you, Mister Detective,” she said with a small laugh. “Has anybody ever told you that you have quite the looks?”

  Ace’s expression didn’t even flicker. He kept his focus on the documents in front of him, leaning forward in the stiff wooden chair.

  “What’s your history with Tinope Res?”

  “We used to be classmates back in the school days.” Carrie leaned forward, shrugging lightly. “The system told me so, yes. It also told me that… well, we… had a thing, you could say. We were close in high school, then life led us in different directions. We recently reconnected at a cocktail party, and…”

  She shrugged elegantly, her posture betraying no discomfort.

  “He invited me to this event as a potential business partner. Thought I could be a valuable collaborator for his new project.”

  Ace flipped through a page in his notes and then, without looking up, asked, “So your interactions with Tinope Res only started recently?”

  Carrie gave a flippant little hum. “Mhm. We met again at that party and realized we still had a bit in common. Or so I thought.” Her eyes flicked to Ives, then back to Ace. “It’s not my fault he needed me. The [ROLE]’s memories indicate he wanted to use my business ties and influence.”

  Ives, remaining on her stool, let her legs swing as she took all this in. She said nothing, only tilting her head in interest. Then, with a slight nod, she hopped down from the stool and exited the room.

  “And your impression of Tinope?” Ace asked, posing no reaction to the seven-year-old’s absence. “Different from your recollection back then?”

  Carrie paused, her pouty lips forming a silent ‘o’ for a moment.

  “Different, hmm…” She traced a finger over the couch’s edge. “No, if I’m honest, he wasn’t really different at all. Stern, high-achieving, stubborn to the core, maybe more cunning than I remember. Not exactly the warmest man in the room.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, as though recalling something unpleasant. “Competent, sure, but both looks and personality were lacking.”

  She leaned forward a bit, dropping her voice.

  “Especially the looks.”

  Carrie inched toward Ace, maybe testing whether he’d respond to her flirtation. But the latter only rose from his chair. The sudden movement made her recoil, disappointment flashing across her face before she reclined back into the couch cushions, arms crossed in a slight pout.

  Ace reached for a new pen, seemingly oblivious to her series of movements.

  “You’re saying Tinope was a man of habit—meaning he didn’t change since your academy days. Yet you’re here as a business partner, someone he supposedly brought in at the last minute,” he said, flipping through his notebook. “Don’t you find that… contradictory?”

  Carrie’s eyes flickered, but her smile didn’t falter. “It was just business, detective.”

  Ace raised a brow. “Business that was important enough for Tinope to consider you on par with his son and his closest confidant?”

  He peered straight at the woman, as if genuinely trying to verify her words. “Is that normal?”

  Carrie shrugged again. “You do what you must for success. That’s not a crime. If you’re implying I was driven to kill him…”

  She let out a short laugh.

  “Look, cutie, I'd benefit more from him being alive than dead. If he’s gone, so is the partnership, right?”

  She cast another sidelong look at the white-haired man, disappointed he hadn’t reacted at all to her attempts.

  Ace continued writing in his notebook. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the door open, revealing Ives and Tammy returning. The seven-year-old gave him a small wave, padding as she came over and leaning in to speak to Ace.

  “I got some info,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I thought Tammy acted a bit unusual during Masen’s interview, so I pulled him aside to ask. But we can discuss after we finish with her.”

  As she said so, Ives tipped her head toward Carrie, who was now quietly studying them with a faint edge of irritation.

  Ace regarded Carrie for a moment more, reading every flick of her gaze, every shift of her posture. The conversation thus far had told him that the woman was probably hiding something about her renewed connection with Tinope.

  But Ace was never one to spoon-feed accusations. He merely nodded, signaling that he was finished with her for now. Carrie stood and brushed an imaginary crease from her dress, sending a coy glance in Ace’s direction, one that the white-haired man obviously ignored.

  With the office now holding only the two of them, the tension lifted somewhat. Ace and Ives stepped aside, forming a quiet corner of the large waiting room.

  Ives took a breath. “So… everyone’s disclaiming responsibility, obviously. But there’s so many holes in their stories.”

  Ace nodded wordlessly. He’d already noted a dozen inconsistencies: Jaymes’s suspicious out-all-night story, Masen’s readiness to do Tinope’s bidding while claiming co-founder status, and Carrie’s incomplete recollections about her romantic past and meeting Tinope only “recently.”

  Each wore the role like a half-fitting costume, revealing more about themselves than they realized.

  “And your conversation with Tammy?” Ace asked.

  “Apparently, there are discrepancies in the company’s financial records. Missing transactions under Masen’s name—things that shouldn’t be there,” Ives said. “He also mentioned overhearing arguments between Masen and Tinope in the past. And apparently, it sounded quite personal.”

  If Masen had been hiding financial dealings from Tinope, it could be a motive for murder.

  At first, the white-haired man listened intently, mentally piecing these insights together, trying to see if Carrie’s background added new angles. As she finished, Ace gave her a slight tilt of the head.

  “Now, let’s talk about you,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m the only one with no background, so I’d like to hear what you recall of Tinope.”

  He paused, deliberately choosing how he phrased his next words.

  “You’re not just my assistant, right?”

  Ives sighed, glancing at the floor for a moment.

  “Correct. I’m supposed to be the chairman’s adopted granddaughter… or so the system told me,” she admitted. “Tinope’s wife died, Jaymes was too caught in his own issues, and Tinope felt lonely. So, he decided to adopt me from an orphanage. Maybe wanted someone to fill the silence.”

  She gave a mild shrug, but Ace sensed an underlying tension in her words.

  “I’m sure he was kind in some ways—I get a few memories of him being gentle, letting me read or study… but that’s about it. For the rest, it’s blank.”

  “Then again, now that we’re hearing all these potential motives and secrets, I’m not sure who he really was.” Ives folded her arms, pondering. “Maybe Tinope Res only displayed what he wanted me to see.”

  For a moment, neither spoke. The hum of the overhead lights filled the silence, the dust motes still drifting.

  Ace gave a brief nod.

  “I will figure it out,” he said.

  “We will,” Ives corrected him.

  Ace stared at the seven-year-old, then closed his book in silent acknowledgement.

  “The puzzle is here. Just need to piece it together from these half-baked memories.” His voice was detached, but not unkind.

  A moment of stillness passed between them as if the ghost of Tinope lingered in the dust-laden air. The Labyrinth demanded a killer, but from these fractured recollections, the truth was murkier. They would have to unravel each clue before the Labyrinth’s [MAIN QUEST] could be completed.

  Ace glanced at his [PROFILE] interface.

  Less than two hours until the end of the countdown.