Chapter 19 – The Devil’s Poison and the Princes’ Dark Reveal

By the time the sun came up, I was already strutting around like a discount Sherlock Holmes—if Sherlock had a secret weapons cache and a weakness for table fans.

Jane had worked through the night with the brand-new automatic tailor machine that had magically appeared in my house (thank you, mysterious system). She stitched together the most ridiculously cool agency uniforms you could imagine. Think: black coats with deep crimson linings, a silver emblem of a magnifying glass crossed with a sword on the chest, and just enough glittery thread to make us look like either serious detectives… or an overfunded boyband.

Lily and Urara wore theirs with an almost alarming level of pride. Jane kept fussing with the seams like an overprotective mother, while I admired my reflection in every shiny surface.

“This,” I declared, tightening my belt like I was about to duel someone, “is the look of a man who solves crimes before breakfast.”

Queen, Lucy and Kiara barged in just then. They weren’t even part of the official detective squad, but apparently “matching outfits” are some kind of cosmic law among women.

“Where’s mine?” Queen asked, hands on her hips like she already owned the place.

“You’re not in the agency,” I protested.

“Neither is my royal patience,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Uniform. Now.”

What followed was less negotiation and more royal decree. Within an hour, Jane had conjured up three more uniforms. Our “team” now looked like a travelling theatre troupe that had mugged a magician’s wardrobe.

The Duke’s carriage pulled up with the kind of silent majesty that only noble transport can achieve. Even the horses looked judgmental, as if they knew their oats were more expensive than my entire existence.

Our destination? The estate of the Harlok family—“big house” doesn’t begin to describe it. This was a mansion straight out of every over-the-top royal anime I’d ever watched back on Earth. White marble columns tall enough to make giraffes feel insecure, fountains that probably cost more than my entire house, and a grand staircase that looked like it was designed purely for dramatic entrances.

We barely stepped onto the cobblestone path before a small army of butlers and maids materialised like well-trained ninjas in starched uniforms. They bowed, ushered us inside, and immediately separated Queen and Lucy for some extra-royal pampering. I swear one maid looked at my shoes like they were a crime against fashion.

Inside, the air smelled like polished wood and expensive secrets. Chandeliers big enough to double as spaceships hung from ceilings so high you could probably fly a small dragon indoors.

I glanced at Urara, who whispered, “If I sneeze, do you think they’ll charge me?”

“Only if you sneeze on a vase,” I whispered back. “Those things are probably insured for more than my life.”

After a feast that could have fed a small village—silver platters, delicate pastries, and a soup so rich I almost asked it for a loan—we were finally joined by the family of the hour.

Enter: the Four Princes.

Imagine someone took the concept of “handsome nobleman,” copied it four times, and then turned the brightness to maximum. All four were tall, broad-shouldered, and blonde in that annoyingly perfect, sun-kissed way. Their smiles could probably melt glaciers.

I suddenly felt like an undercooked potato.

Behind them trotted a tiny princess, maybe ten years old, with the mischievous smile of someone who already knew everyone’s secrets. She waved at us like we were her personal entertainment for the day.

The eldest prince stepped forward. “I am Adam,” he said, voice smooth enough to butter bread. He turned to Queen with a faint smirk. “Have you come to cancel the engagement again?”

Queen crossed her legs and raised one royal eyebrow. “Not today, Adam.”

Not today? My brain short-circuited. Engagement? Again? How many times had she been… okay, focus, Erik. Not your circus. Not your—

Before I could recover, the other princes joined in like a barbershop quartet of aristocratic menace.

“If you’ve come to cancel the engagements,” said the second prince, “that would be… unfortunate.”

The third prince leaned forward. “Indeed. We are the main pillars of the royal court. Disturb us and—”

The fourth finished smoothly, “—your precious position could be… adjusted.”

I blinked. Did they just casually threaten a royal coup in the middle of afternoon tea?

Queen only smiled. “Relax, gentlemen. We’re not here for political drama.”

“Then why,” Adam asked, his golden brows furrowing, “have you arrived… together? And wearing those peculiar matching clothes?”

Lucy stepped forward with all the confidence of a girl who knows she can slice you in half before you blink. “Today,” she announced, “we represent the Detective Agency—ISEKAI TANTEI.”

The Japanese syllables rolled off her tongue like a stage announcement.

I nearly choked on my tea. “Did you just—”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “It means Detective in Another World.”

The princes turned their collective gaze on me. If stares could set people on fire, I’d be a pile of ashes.

One of the middle princes—later introduced as Alex—grinned, a flash of perfect white teeth. “So you’re the detective? Tell me, Detective, will you be finding our missing treasure… or are you simply collecting our future wives as evidence?”

The room went dead silent.

My jaw worked like a broken hinge. What exactly was the correct response to that? “No, I’m not collecting anyone’s future wife” sounded lame. “Yes, but only on weekends” sounded suicidal.

Thankfully, Lily swooped in like an angel of merciful distraction.

“What exactly happened with the treasure?” she asked, voice calm but sharp enough to slice tension.

Before any prince could answer, the littlest—Amin, apparently—leaned toward Lily with a grin that could power a small city. “My darling Lily,” he cooed, “don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything… in private.”

Lily’s face froze into the kind of polite horror normally reserved for stepping on something squishy in the dark. She shuffled back like he was contagious.

On the other side of the room, Kiara caught sight of her own fiancé—Alley, a blond with the kind of smile that screamed “trust fund villain.” He gave her a slow, knowing wave. Kiara stiffened, the color draining from her cheeks.

Something told me these engagements were less “romantic destiny” and more “political hostage situation.”

I cleared my throat loudly. “Maybe we should… hear the story first?”

Their father, a tall man whose beard deserved its own title of nobility, stepped forward. “Indeed,” he said, his voice echoing through the marble hall. “It concerns our family’s most precious heirloom.”

He gestured dramatically, as though introducing a legend. “A necklace. One hundred years old. Nine jade stones, each said to be carved from the tears of the forest spirits. It brings luck and power to our bloodline. And now—” his eyes darkened “—it is gone.”

Gasps rippled around the room. (Okay, maybe the gasp was mostly me. But still.)

The Duke continued. “This necklace is protected by a magic barrier. No outsider can even touch it. Only someone of our blood may pass the barrier. Therefore—” He turned, eyes narrowing at his four golden sons. “—the thief must be one of us.”

The room went colder than my ex’s last text message.

I raised a hand. “So… you’re saying someone in your own family stole it?”

His stare could have cracked stone. “Precisely.”

A little princess with wide, mischievous eyes piped up, “Daddy thinks it’s one of the boys.” She giggled. “I think so too.” She is here whole time silent with her witty smile.

The princes collectively bristled, their golden hair practically sparking indignation.

Adam snapped, “You accuse us without proof?”

“Then prove your innocence,” their father replied calmly.

I scratched the back of my neck. “Okay, well, this is awkward. But… can you show me where the necklace was kept?”

The Duke nodded once, then turned to lead the way.

And just when I thought the tension couldn’t get any thicker, something in the corner of my vision flashed.

PING!

A glowing text hovered in front of me:

FIND THE JADE NECKLACE
REWARD: SPECIAL BARRIER POWER

I nearly laughed out loud. Special Barrier Power? Oh yes, please. Something I could finally use more than once, unlike those one-time grenades.

“Ah, system,” I whispered under my breath, “you really know how to keep a detective entertained.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Urara whispered beside me, eyebrow raised.

“Practicing my mysterious monologue,” I replied smoothly. “Detectives need flair.”

She snorted but let it slide.

As we followed the Duke through the echoing halls of the mansion, I caught the princes staring at me—four sets of eyes sharp as freshly forged swords. The message in their gaze was clear:

Solve the case if you dare.

And maybe, just maybe, watch your back.

Because in a house full of royal secrets and jade curses, even a detective with an AK-47 hidden in his pocket might find himself out of his depth.

Father Harlok—grand duke, beard enthusiast, and owner of a mansion so big you could misplace a small nation inside—led us through a winding series of corridors that felt like they had been designed by someone who hated straight lines. Every hallway twisted like it was trying to tie itself into a knot. By the time we reached the chamber, I was half-convinced we’d circled the same potted plant three times.

When the last heavy door swung open, a breath of cool air brushed across my face. The chamber looked like a cross between a royal treasury and a mad scientist’s basement sale.

Shelves upon shelves climbed up the walls like ladders to a glittering heaven: crystal spheres glowing faintly blue, swords humming with runes that pulsed like tiny heartbeats, scrolls tied with ribbons that shimmered between colors as if they couldn’t make up their minds. Some things floated lazily in mid-air as if gravity had given up and gone for lunch. A teapot in the corner poured tea into itself in a perpetual loop.

I actually said, “Wow,” which is my default vocabulary when confronted with wealth that makes my wallet cry.

Queen strode in as though she owned the place, skirts swishing like she was about to declare war on the décor. Urara immediately bent down to poke at a floating candle, earning herself a hiss from the candle, which she answered with a hiss of her own. Lily wandered off to a shelf of enchanted jewelry, her eyes sparkling like a child in a candy shop. Lucy remained close to the Queen, arms folded and expression sharp enough to slice bread.

Jane, of course, wasn’t with us. She’d flatly refused to get caught up in “political engagement dramas,” her exact words delivered with the kind of unimpressed frown that could extinguish volcanoes. “I’m from a countryside village,” she’d said earlier, “not a royal soap opera.” Instead, she was back at our agency running her newly booming side-business and almost certainly making more money in an afternoon than I’d managed in my entire previous life.

Alicia, meanwhile, had returned to the city library, but she spent most of her hours at our detective agency. Someone had to watch for new clients while we went gallivanting across royal mansions. Her elder sister now managed the library nearly full time—a fact that seemed to leave Alicia both grateful and mildly guilty.

As for me? I was knee-deep in magical artifacts that all screamed pick me, I’m suspicious, and not a single clue in sight.

Mister Harlok, who somehow carried the air of a man permanently moments away from an ominous thunderclap, stopped before an elegant silver-edged locker embedded in the far wall. It looked perfectly ordinary, if “ordinary” means “worth more than my entire existence.” He gestured at the empty interior.

“This,” he said in a low rumble, “is where the heirloom was kept. Now—nothing.”

I leaned closer. “And only someone related by blood could open this?”

“Exactly.” He folded his arms, beard bristling. “No one outside the family can break the barrier. Which means…” He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the princes. “One of my sons. But without proof, my hands are tied. Detective, I require your help.”

A system chime rang in my head like a tiny doorbell from another universe.

FIND THE REAL LOCKER
REWARD: GOLDEN EYE FOR 10 MINUTES

My eyebrows shot up. “Golden Eye?” I whispered under my breath. “Yes, please.”

A warm tingle washed over me, and suddenly the world sharpened. Lines of light traced the contours of every object in the chamber. Runes that had been invisible a moment ago now glowed like neon graffiti.

And there—around the locker—something flickered. Not the locker itself but a thin outline behind it, like the ghost of a secret door.

I crouched, eyes narrowing. “Well, hello there.”

The illusion was perfect—almost. To normal eyes it looked like polished metal; to my Golden Eye it shimmered like cheap hologram foil. I reached out and pressed a finger against the spot where the shimmer was brightest. My finger met a wall of cold resistance. The fake surface quivered like a bubble and pushed me back.

I grinned. “Bingo.”

I turned to Father Harlok. “This locker is a fake. A perfect illusion.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Fake,” I repeated, tapping the false surface. “The real locker is hiding behind this one. A locker inside a locker. Magical Russian dolls.”

Urara whistled. “Who hides a locker inside another locker?”

“Someone with trust issues,” I said.

mister Harlok frowned. “If it is true, only my blood can open it.”

I stretched out my hand. “Then lend me yours. Figuratively. Well, literally—your hand.”

He hesitated only a moment before placing his large, calloused palm against mine. The moment his skin touched the illusory surface, a ripple of light swept across the wall. The fake locker melted like smoke, revealing a hidden compartment carved from black crystal. A soft, golden glow spilled into the room.

Inside lay the necklace.

Nine perfect jades, each stone the color of spring leaves kissed by moonlight, set in a band of silver so fine it looked spun from frost. The air around it vibrated faintly, as if the necklace itself was humming a secret song.

Even the Queen inhaled sharply. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

Father Harlok’s shoulders sagged with relief. “At last…”

And then the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The Duke’s sigh of relief froze on his lips.

“Then why,” came a smooth voice from behind us, “would someone create a fake locker?”

We all turned. Adam, the eldest prince, stood a few paces back, his smile stretched a little too wide.

“Because,” he continued, eyes gleaming unnaturally, “we wanted to capture you all… and kill you.”

The words fell into the silence like stones into a frozen lake.

Lucy’s hand went straight to the hilt of her sword. Urara stopped mid-step, her usually playful grin vanishing. Even Queen’s regal mask faltered for half a heartbeat.

The other three princes—Alex, Alley, and the youngest, Amin—moved slowly to the corners of the chamber, forming a loose square around us. Their faces twisted into something almost unrecognizable: eyes darkening, smiles bending too far, like masks melting under heat.

A thin stream of black smoke curled from Adam’s mouth.

Urara gagged. “What in the—”

The smoke thickened, coiling like lazy snakes around each prince. From their lips poured a dark, oily mist that smelled faintly of rotten flowers.

“Oh no,” Queen breathed. “They’ve eaten Devil’s Poison.”

I glanced at her. “That’s… not a herbal tea, I’m guessing?”

Her expression hardened. “My brother once created it—long ago. He dreamt of building his own evil army.”

Lucy’s jaw tightened. “If anyone inhales that smoke, they will fall under the poison’s curse and become slaves to the one who exhaled it.”

Amin—sweet little Amin who had earlier called Lily “my darling”—tilted his head back and laughed, the sound harsh and metallic.

Adam stepped forward, his eyes now glowing like dying embers. “These,” he said, sweeping a hand toward his brothers, “are my three slaves. And soon… you will all be the same.”

He raised his arm, and with a casual flick of his wrist the heavy chamber doors slammed shut. The echo reverberated like a gunshot. Iron bolts slid into place with a hiss.

“No one,” Adam said softly, “will leave this room alive.”

My stomach lurched. Every hair on my body stood on end.

Great. Another day, another death threat in a locked room filled with magical explosives.

I whispered, “Why does this always happen to me? Do I have a face that says ‘please threaten me with supernatural smoke’?”

Lucy shot me a quick glare. “Focus!” She has her small sword with her today.

The smoke thickened, swirling toward us like a living fog. I could almost feel it probing, testing, searching for a way into my lungs.

And then—ding!—a familiar, glorious chime sounded inside my head.

SIDE MISSION COMPLETED
FOUND LOCKER AND CULPRIT BOTH
SPECIAL REWARD: 20 TELEPORT POWERS

My heart skipped. “Teleport powers… twenty of them?”

A grin spread across my face so fast it almost hurt.

“Well,” I muttered, “looks like the table just turned.”