Interrogation Basics 101 [Chapter 2]

Over the next few days, Lear vaguely felt himself drifting in and out of sleep. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but it felt as though he was trapped in a fever dream. He couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, and even if he could, it hurt his head to think. He heard voices, some that were probably real, some that definitely couldn't be since they were from his original world. Sleeping in the unknown was uncomfortable, but since there likely wasn't ill intentions considering the time that had passed, he allowed himself to relax and recover.

When he finally felt more lively, he noticed that there were a few presences near him, but he didn't open his eyes to see what the commotion was about. He'd hear them talk, and without being able to process the words, he'd fall into a deep slumber again. This continued a few days longer, and he didn't curse internally only once at his poor health. He wanted to gather mana and hasten his recovery, but he was wary that that may rouse suspicion, more than he already would not knowing anything or anybody when explaining himself. Not having Leon's memories was proving very difficult. He didn't want to cause any uproar or stand out unnecessarily in this life.

Lear felt much better. He was able to make out the voices around him. There was maybe two or three people who would go back and forth, arguing childishly. The atmosphere still seemed light despite the arguments. He also realised that he hadn't once heard anyone taking even a step. He had only heard voices thus far. He wasn't sure if it was just that Leon's body was rubbish from constant misuse or people in this world just severely outclassed Leon, but he couldn't comprehend much that went on around him in his current state. In addition, there wasn't a trace of usable mana in his body. Lear decided not to open his eyes, and he organised his thoughts, as he had tried on the grasslands before he was rudely interrupted. Biding his time was better than hastily diving headfirst into trouble, especially as Leon had spoken of his family warmly. He didn't want to sour ties unnecessarily.

He was now absolutely certain he had ended up in Leon's body. Aside from that, he had deduced he was from a wealthy family. After all, they had stationed a doctor by him 24/7 for more than a few days. Considering they were somehow keeping him from starving or dying of dehydration without IV drips or fluids, he could tell some sort of skill or magic was being used. He concluded that such services were likely expensive... He hadn't caught any names or familial ties amidst the passing conversations, and the conversations had been trivial, holding little to no importance. There was no doubt he'd be scrutinised and barraged with questions, especially if that little girl had delivered the drug bottle. Speaking of the lass, she hadn't been in here the time he had been eavesdropping. Maybe she wasn't directly involved with him, however it had sounded that day. That would be a relief considering her fiery temperament and that brash behaviour of hers, but he did want to thank her once for responding quickly to his predicament.

As Lear contemplated, he felt the doctor lift his arm to check his pulse, and he said, "Leon's pulse has stabilised, sir. He should be awake in the coming hours." Lear's heart sunk to his stomach as he tried deciding how to handle the upcoming altercation. The doctor noticed the fluctuation and proudly announced, "He's showing signs of waking up, sir! Congratulations". Lear silently cursed as the people in the room closed in on the slab of wood he was laid out on.

Just then, he felt a sharp sting as he was slapped right across his face. In an attempt to naturalise his behaviour, he continued to hold a resting face. But that didn't go so well. He was slapped four times from side to side in quick succession with double the force of the first slap. He made a quick decision to open his eyes slowly before the third barrage ensued.

A mature woman stood above him, smiling enthusiastically at him. He was sure that the smile she was baring at him held no goodwill for him right now. It only caused his blood to run cold. Next to her, a girl, seemingly between 25 and 30 years old stood. She held a blank expression and she breathed slightly irregularly, but systematically. She held her hand beside his head. This was without a doubt the culprit behind the slaps, no matter how she now tried to disguise it as caressing his face. Finally, he looked towards the two men, who were obviously twins, likely in their fifties. As he sat upright, he looked towards the doctor who had retreated quickly to sit on the sofa in the far corner of the room. He had grey hair and he seemed refined, wearing a white lab coat and a mismatched black top hat with a single white feather mounted on its left.

A sharp pain flashed across his chest, forcing him to clutch hard at it. The doctor rushed over and stood still, focusing, with his palms facing Leon. "Skill: Greater Healing!" he loudly said. His hands glowed a deep green, and the light trailed towards Leon from his fingertips. The effect was immediately noticeable, warmth spread across his chest, and the pain subsided. Lear wondered why he had activated his skill like that. Not long ago, the man had definitely chanted before using magic didn't he?

The woman asked the doctor, "Is he OK to talk now? We have much to discuss." The doctor reassured the group it would be fine, that he would respond if anything went wrong. Sighing in exasperation, the woman said "Well, Well, Well. It's time to get down to business, Leon. You should know that well too. Get to explaining if you understand, boy." The moment of truth had come. Rather than faking amnesia, he decided to answer as honestly as possible, omitting names to ad-lib his way through. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, wondering if he was making the right decision.

Seeing this, the girl spoke. It was a voice he hadn't heard these past few days. "What's he even going to say. This good for nothing ***** probably got addicted after hanging with those ****** lowlifes and went at it as usual." The lady coldly interjected, "Let him speak, and watch your language, Priscilla. Go on Leon, we need an explanation today".

While the lady glared at him, the twins watched him almost expectantly. He felt like her attitude stemmed from knowing the cause already. He could tell avoiding this wouldn't get him anywhere and so, he began. "I decided to stop causing trouble for everyone by killing myself. Will you fault me for that too now?! Why did you even save me when I had accepted it. Doesn't it suit your reputation if waste is disposed of! I don't regret it one bit. I'll do it aga-". Before he could finish his sentence he was punched hard in the stomach by one of the twins. Hard was an understatement. It didn't just wind him, he found himself flying backwards into a wall. As he made contact with the wall, he definitely heard bones break. As unfazed as he actually was, he had a brilliant idea to end the questioning prematurely. After all, answering with no understanding would probably be back to bite him. He forced out tears as the doctor rushed forward to cast heal on him as swiftly as possible. The moment the skill took effect, he began to whine, "OOWWW, THAT HURT. THEN YOU ASK WHY I WANT TO DIE! ****!" and continued to cry as loudly as he could manage without dying from embarassment.

Upon seeing his pitiful expression, and the tears streaming down Leon's face, the other twin coldly spoke with a sour grimace on his face. "Put Leon into his room until further notice. Contact with him shall be forbidden to all but his personal maid. Any attempt at disobedience will be punished appropriately, be warned. All of you are dismissed, and take... that... away". He pointed at Leon regretfully.

As Lear was dragged away in his slumped position, he heard the doctor tell him to rest easy for a few days. He was then sternly admonished by Priscilla as they walked the corridor and practically thrown into his room, with the door locked behind him. Lear sighed in relief. "Haah, I had no idea how that would go for a minute there. These people are crazy abusive. Did Leon have a screw loose or was he so sheepish he wasn't worth getting violent with. Maybe he was a masochist... Well whatever, with this I can now make enquiries discreetly with the maid and figure things out."

Lear was lost in thought. He had just realised that Leon's family was still safe. Had his accident caused a disruption to the original schedule of their demise? As such, he was in a position where he could take the problem into his hands, though it would take a lot of effort. Currently, he didn't know where to start either.

"I should start by cleaning up my mana channels. It'll help no matter the situation if my senses are that much better" he mumbled. As he spoke, he heard the door lock click and the door swing open. A little girl, not even half his height walked in. She was precariously balancing a tray wider than her shoulders. On the tray was a single bowl of porridge. Her brown hair was oily and was practically inhabiting the food, also largely covering her eyes. It was obvious it had been done on purpose if it was to this extent. The maids he'd seen along the hallways, showed visible disgust towards him. It seemed their prejudice extended beyond just him, or maybe his personal maid was collateral. Her uniform was red, and it was covered in all manners of filth. Aside from that, a black, tar-like substance that ran across her exposed skin at her elbows and wrists, visibly restricting her joints' flexibility.

As he saw this, he jumped up to grab the tray from her and ask her what had happened. Instead though, she fell backwards, dropping the tray in surprise. The steaming gruel fell towards her, threatening to burn her. In an attempt to catch the bowl in the air, he thrust his hand outward. When he saw the girl flinch again, he became distracted and instead ended up punching the burning food and the bowl into the wall. His hand was scalded, but it was no big deal to Lear who had experienced worse. He enquired, "Are you ok?" The child panicked and attempted to run out, saying she would call for the doctor. Lear grabbed her hand to stop her and explained that there was no need. Since she was a child, it was easy to coax her into believing that.

After confirming his safety, she tried to leave the room quickly but quietly. Lear saw this and asked her to sit and talk to him for a bit. While she was hesitant and visibly trembling, she agreed and tried to put on a professional poker face. He couldn't help but laugh heartily at the sight and told the girl to sit down on the bed as he sat on the floor after apologising for his outburst. Lear asked directly, "Who is bullying you and dirtying your hair and clothes". The girl tried to remain silent but Lear asked over and over again, his voice growing more and more stern. The girl finally conceded after five minutes, explaining that other maids would chuck garbage at her as a competition between them and proceeded to mention ringleaders as she opened up unknowingly". Lear beckoned her over, indicating to her to lend her ear to him. As she did, Lear asked "Can you keep a secret?", to which she confidently said yes despite her oath to Leon's father to disclose happenings between Leon and her. She may have said yes, but Lear saw that her eyes screamed no. Regardless, Lear whispered, "If you sit down for half an hour quietly, I'll take that off for you. Ok darling?" tapping the hardened tar on her wrist. While she stayed seated obediently, the look of disbelief on her face couldn't be clearer.

Lear decided to let it go, seeing such horrible things done to a young child had him seething. She was an actual child, Lear thought, disgusted. Lear would call pretty much anyone under forty a child, but this girl couldn't have been over ten years old. As such, he felt real anger on her behalf. And for everyone here to completely disregard such suffering was appalling. From her reactions till now, it seemed Leon had also been abusive at times with the girl in his endeavor to fool everyone. Lear found that completely unacceptable, especially as she was already being mistreated elsewhere in this crazy household. He swore to himself that he would swiftly resolve this mess and discipline and discharge the aggressors, regardless of anyone's opinion. He already wanted to enquire who did it but she didn't seem willing to open up more right now. He would have to gain her trust before he probed further.

Once he guaranteed she had sat down to stay, he began to concentrate. He wasn't planning on accumulating mana, but he needed to clear out his body so it was easy to channel mana and sense it with ease. It would probably hurt less this time, considering he was slightly younger than the time of his awakening. He also had to inscribe a mark made of mana upon both his lungs to form dedicated mana libraries. He deepened his focus, and began to try and sense mana. He combed through the nearby space for mana but the density was appallingly low. He struggled to gather a good amount without it deteriorating. As such, it took fifteen minutes for him to really get started. He pulled the mana in through his oesophagus and visualised the shape of an arrowhead, adjusting the diameter to a size where it would lightly scrape the walls of his veins, arteries and capillaries as it passed through them. He forcefully pushed the arrowhead through his system several times over. It followed his body's circulation pattern, but it was slower than blood flow rate naturally is. Thus, he faced respiratory problems stemming from high blood pressure and the lessened oxygen delivery as he worked. He continued pushing the mana around and after ten minutes of crazily cleaning, he had cleansed all his blood vessels thoroughly, depositing the waste in his gallbladder. Since he wasn't planning to purge his cells individually just yet, he turned his attention to his lungs.

He then remodelled the mana into a microscopic tattoo artist's needle. After a final check on his circuits, he moved his attention to his lungs. He drew the mana needle into his left lung and began to carefully pierce one cell at a time, releasing mana into the individual cells. This process required monstrous imagination and concentration, and one would need to perfectly be able to locate each cell's centre definitively based on the distance from the cell wall. He did this, one cell at a time until he had made a low tier magic circle. He opted for a basic circle for the time being, that wouldn't collect mana by itself and didn't have extreme effects right away. It would only improve his affinity to mana over time and could temporarily act as a processing station. He drew a hexagon, with two concave kites traced inside. The spearheads were on top of one another but in opposite directions. After repeating this on the inner wall of his other lung, he proceeded to close off his bile duct's exit to the small intestine to force himself to throw up everything he had stored there. Since he hadn't eaten the past few days, the nausea crashed upon him like a tsunami and he threw up a mixture of blood, bile, impurities and dirty mana that had settled into him that would've impeded his growth later. He vomited for ten minutes flat, not allowing his concentration to slip, else he release all that filth back into his intestines again. The increased toxicity may very well have killed him. After that nauseating experience, he quickly unclogged his bile duct's other exit so his bodily functions would resume as normal and turned to the girl with a smile, asking for a glass of water. He watched the girl rush out quickly. He was surprised she stuck around for longer than he had asked based on their interaction and wondered if she was able to sense mana herself too. It may not be so surprising for a family this absurd. On Earth, mana was for a select number of talented individuals, even with the system's help, but here it seemed everyone dabbled in it. He would need to expand the scope of his worldview definitively to guarantee that however.

Once she had returned with the water, he accepted it gratefully and proceeded to gargle and spit the water onto the carpet, chucking the glass into the wall behind him absentmindedly. It was already soiled at this point and he couldn't care less anyway. He removed his own vomit-dressed blazer, down to his undergarments and tossed it onto the floor, calling the young girl over. Lear asked the girl if she was able to sense mana. The girl replied that her aptitude had been tested and evaluated at 17 out of 20 on some scale, but that she had yet to feel mana. With that settled, he thanked her for waiting and asked the girl to remove her uniform where the tar had been lathered, down to the most minor of afflictions and assess his options. He was furious when she removed practically everything until she was sitting bare with only an underwear on. After examining the tar and assessing the severity, he knew it was possible for him to almost perfectly remedy it since thankfully, none of the burns surpassed second degree. Upon inspection without mana, he saw she was painfully thin and her ribs threatened to protrude if nothing changed. She was cute, and if she was cherished properly, she would grow up well. Returning to the tar, he requested she trust him this once and not move until he said she could after seating her down cross legged in front of him. He put his left hand on the first of the tar, situated at her wrist and placed his right hand on his chest, carefully placing two fingers on each of the tattoos he had inscribed upon his lungs.

He pulled mana in through his mouth once more, and he allowed it to flow into his lungs. Processing the mana with the tattoo made it more amicable to his control and extended the period he had to mould the mana. He wanted to make sure it was as comfortable as possible for her. After crafting a surgical scalpel in each lung. For efficiency, he ejected them directly through his chest and into his fingers, causing him to wince. He could've done it differently had he absorbed the mana properly. But with the mana running loose, he was just controlling modelling clay with an extremely short half life and he didn't have enough time.

Once he drove the two scalpels through to his wrist as they were, he combined the two into one larger scalpel. By extending the handle, he would have a larger surface he could control. Finer control would result in smoother operation. He pushed the blade across his shoulders through to his other hand, causing it to tear through him like scissors would glide through paper. Lear then had the mana seep into her, but not in the form of a scalpel. He had it seep into her being formlessly, almost like natural mana, though atmospheric mana was more resistant. He gently guided it to the regions where the tar was located. As it arrived like a shoal of fish to its destination, he would project the mana just outside of her body and reshape it to the scalpel like memory foam imprinting, taking the tar off from the absolute top skin cells directly, cutting out the cells that were damaged by burns to give them room to regenerate by invigorating them with mana. By doing this, he made sure to keep the damage to an absolute minimum and her body could naturally regenerate some skin tissue over time. If not, he would take full responsibility and find a healer to perfectly clean this up, if he hadn't found some other way by then.

The girl must've felt tremendous pain similar to having her nails flayed one by one from the precise cutting cell by cell but she really hadn't moved much at all. He thought she may have passed out at first, but a single tear betrayed her, rolling down her cheek. He moved down through her body, removing the tar, which was strangely brimming with mana upon closer inspection. It seemed to be mana of the fire attribute and Lear could only think of three possibilities why the mana would be in there, and denser than all his surroundings. Number one, the fire mana had been collected over time and deposited within the tar due to the burning of flesh. Number two, the mana was added during application in order to cause more burning and irritation to the girl's skin. Number three, a fire spirit had taken interest in the girl's pain and inhabited or blessed her. As he worked, henoticed that it was spread along her ligaments and joints, which must've caused her agony and to tear her skin when moving about. They had even gone so far as to lather boiling tar across her adductor muscles too. Once he was done, he carefully ejected and dispelled the rest of the mana from her and removed his hand from her wrist. He ruffled her hair, and said "good job hanging in there kiddo" before falling flat on his face, blood oozing from where he had ran the scalpel through himself.

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