The ballroom was in chaos. The possessed guests flailed in fury, attacking the nobility, the servants, and anyone who stood in their way. Their movements were erratic, their bodies jerking as if struggling against invisible chains. Guards and upper-class students from the elite academy tried to restrain them, binding them with spiritual threads or knocking them out with powerful blows.

  Amidst the commotion, Adam Kraski and Jian Xing stood facing each other, their eyes locked onto the smiling figure of the Guslar.

  Adam didn’t wait. He raised his weapon and pulled the trigger.

  The shot echoed through the hall.

  But the bullet never reached its target.

  A black wall of threads shot up from the ground, blocking the projectile.

  Adam gritted his teeth. This wasn’t an ordinary spiritual weapon.

  Black thread.

  It had to be a manifestation of the soul implanted in the Guslar.

  The Guslar chuckled softly, then raised his hand.

  "Since we’re playing with weapons… maybe I should show you something too?"

  From the darkness emerged an object. Metal. Heavy.

  A violet bell.

  For a moment, there was silence.

  And then the bell rang.

  A deep, bass-like sound spread through the hall.

  A wave of energy passed over everyone present.

  The possessed guests collapsed, writhing in pain.

  Even the unaffected humans—those who hadn’t been touched yet—fell to their knees, clutching their ears.

  Lucy dropped to the ground. Cornelius clenched his hands over his temples. Maya struggled to maintain balance, but pain was evident in her eyes.

  Adam felt his skull pounding, as if it were about to explode.

  Jian, however, remained unfazed.

  He glanced at Adam.

  "Got a plan?"

  Adam nodded, fighting through the growing pain.

  "I have to do this." He looked at Jian. "You summon your guide and help control the situation."

  Jian studied him for a moment, then nodded.

  "Alright. But you better know what you’re doing."

  The Guslar laughed again.

  "You really think you can handle this alone?"

  Adam smirked.

  "You think I don’t know who you are?"

  The Guslar’s smile faded.

  "Ha! Prove it if you do."

  That was enough to trigger the condition.

  Time stopped.

  The candle flames froze mid-air. Jian remained motionless, his hand extended in the act of summoning his spiritual guide.

  Only Adam and the Guslar could move.

  The Guslar stared at his hands in shock. He tried to summon the black threads, to move even a fraction of his power, but… nothing happened. The same with his second soul—the bell didn’t respond.

  He couldn’t use his soul.

  "What… the hell?!" he growled, his voice echoing hollowly against the frozen reality.

  He turned to Adam, who wore a faint smile.

  "The conditions have been met," the detective said, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "Now, only the one who knows the truth will survive."

  Suddenly, something emerged from Adam’s shadow.

  A German Shepherd.

  Its fur gleamed as it walked confidently through the frozen world. With each step, its form changed—it grew taller, more human. Its body took the shape of an elegantly dressed man, though its head remained canine.

  Black gloves shimmered faintly under the candlelight.

  An olive revolver appeared in its hand—Adam’s spiritual weapon.

  The dog bowed slightly.

  "Good evening, gentlemen. The trial begins."

  The Guslar shivered.

  "What kind of nonsense is this?!"

  The Shepherd raised the gun, aiming it at him without a shred of emotion.

  "This is the court of truth."

  The dog lifted his other hand and waved it lightly in the air as if opening an invisible book.

  "Here are the rules:

  – Adam may ask you questions.

  – After each question, he must attempt to guess your true identity.

  – If he guesses wrong three times, he takes a bullet to the limb.

  – If he guesses wrong a fourth time, the bullet goes to his head.

  – However, if he correctly identifies your real name… you die."

  The Guslar paled but quickly let out a sharp laugh.

  "This is some kind of joke, right?"

  He turned to Adam.

  "This whole game is run by your guide! This isn’t objective!"

  Adam shrugged.

  "If that were the case, why would I bother with this circus? I could just shoot you and be done with it."

  The Guslar opened his mouth but stayed silent.

  Adam noticed that split-second hesitation.

  The Guslar quickly analyzed the situation in his mind.

  They couldn’t use their souls.

  That meant he couldn’t summon his weapons.

  He couldn’t fight like an exorcist.

  But he could still fight like a man.

  All he had to do was take Adam down with his bare hands.

  He took a confident step toward the detective.

  He smiled.

  "I don’t need my soul to kill you."

  He took another step.

  And then a shot rang out.

  The Guslar screamed in pain and dropped to one knee, clutching his bleeding leg.

  The Shepherd calmly lowered the smoking revolver.

  "That’s your first mistake," his voice was steady. "You have two left."

  The Guslar hissed but didn’t rise.

  "Damn it…" he muttered under his breath.

  "Remember, you can lie when answering questions," the Shepherd added, glancing away from him. "But still… if you both reach the third answer before Adam guesses your identity, you’ll receive a special favor."

  The Guslar took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain.

  "A favor? What kind?"

  The Shepherd smiled.

  "You’ll decide when the time comes."

  The Guslar clenched his teeth.

  Adam watched him closely.

  He’s scared.

  But something was keeping him here.

  Maybe it wasn’t just revenge?

  The Guslar suddenly lifted his head.

  "How do you know when he’s telling the truth?" he snapped at the Shepherd.

  The dog tilted his head.

  "I have access to your minds." He tapped his temple with one finger. "Don’t worry, I don’t read everything."

  The Guslar spat to the side.

  "Fantastic."

  The Shepherd snapped his fingers.

  "Alright, let’s not drag this out."

  Adam suddenly raised a hand.

  "Wait."

  The Shepherd looked at him curiously.

  "I need a smoke."

  The dog chuckled softly.

  "Of course."

  Adam pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one out.

  He tossed the pack toward the Shepherd.

  The dog caught a cigarette effortlessly and slid it into his muzzle.

  Adam flicked open a lighter and lit his.

  He took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose.

  "I’ve got one for you too." He glanced at the Guslar, holding out the pack. "You don’t mind, do you?"

  The Guslar recoiled instantly, making a disgusted face.

  "No. I’ve never smoked and I never will."

  His reaction was immediate. Too quick.

  Adam smirked to himself.

  The Guslar didn’t just avoid smoking.

  He despised even the smell of cigarettes.

  An overreaction.

  The German Shepherd gave a subtle nod, then spun the revolver in his fingers with flawless precision.

  "Then let the game begin."

  Adam took another drag and slowly exhaled the smoke. He stared at the Guslar, though his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

  His reaction to the cigarette.

  The Guslar recoiled with disgust, as if Adam had tried to hand him poison.

  Too extreme. Non-smokers usually just decline. But he had some deeper aversion to it.

  Podlasie (Voivodeship in Poland).

  Adam knew the pattern—many poor families from that region raised their children with the belief that smoking and drinking were a waste of money. In places where every penny mattered, alcohol and tobacco were synonymous with irresponsibility.

  Maybe that’s where the Guslar came from.

  Adam decided to follow the lead.

  "I memorized all the names of those who were supposed to be at the ball tonight." His voice was calm, almost bored. "Not just the guests, but the staff and organizers as well. I know that the Guslar leading the ritual was supposed to be Christian Lesko. Is that your real name?"

  The Guslar smiled without the slightest hesitation.

  "Of course."

  Adam smirked inwardly.

  A lie.

  One hundred percent. The documents said he was from Krakow. That was bullshit.

  Too smooth. Too confident. People who tell the truth usually show small signs of nervousness—a moment of hesitation, a shift in tone, an involuntary blink.

  The Guslar had none of those reactions.

  That meant he had already prepared his answer.

  A lie learned by heart.

  But the fact that Adam knew it was false didn’t give him anything yet. Now, he had to figure out his true identity.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Why had he attacked the guests at the ball?

  Why had the ritual been interrupted and turned into a massacre?

  The answer was obvious.

  The ball was an event for the nobility and the wealthy.

  That meant the Guslar must have had a grudge against the nobility.

  If he really was from Podlaskie… everything started to make sense.

  Podlaskie was one of the poorest regions.

  The nobility and aristocracy had always treated it like dead weight.

  For years, its communities had been marginalized, pushed to the brink of existence, their tragedies swept under the rug.

  If the Guslar hated the nobility, it had to be for a personal reason.

  He was a victim.

  Adam had to narrow it down.

  Podlaskie had suffered many tragedies at the hands of the nobility.

  But the Guslar had said he had been waiting for fifteen years.

  That gave him a specific timeframe.

  Adam looked up, staring at the ornate ceiling of the ballroom.

  A tragedy from fifteen years ago…

  His brain started processing the information like a precise machine.

  Bialystok (A city in Poland).

  The case of the workers from the moonshine distillery.

  They had started to rebel. Low wages. Inhumane conditions.

  The nobility hadn’t let them leave.

  And then suddenly… they disappeared.

  The whole case had been buried, but Adam remembered one name.

  One had survived.

  He had been thirty at the time.

  Assuming the Guslar was around 40–50 years old…

  Everything lined up perfectly.

  Adam took a deeper breath and looked the Guslar straight in the eyes.

  It had to be him.

  “Krzysztof Guzik.” His voice was steady. “That’s your real name.”

  The Guslar tensed slightly.

  For a second, he seemed thrown off.

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Adam thought he had struck true…

  But then, the Guslar suddenly smiled.

  “No.”

  A gunshot.

  Pain exploded in Adam’s leg.

  He staggered, instinctively grabbing at the wound.

  “Wrong answer.” The Shepherd calmly reloaded his gun. “You have three chances left.”

  The Guslar started laughing.

  But… Adam noticed something.

  It wasn’t a laugh of triumph.

  It was a laugh of relief.

  So he was close.

  The Guslar hadn’t expected Adam to find the right trail so quickly.

  That stressed him out.

  Adam tilted his head back and exhaled smoke loudly.

  “Don’t be so happy, Chris.” He bared his teeth. “Because now I know where to look for you.”

  What had gone wrong?

  He had stuck to the theory that the Guslar was from Podlaskie.

  That had to be correct.

  He had also stuck to the timeframe—fifteen years ago.

  But there could be a trap there.

  The Guslar had said he had been waiting for revenge for fifteen years.

  But was he really counting from the day of the tragedy?

  Or maybe… he was counting from something else?

  Perhaps the tragedy had happened earlier, and fifteen years ago had been some other pivotal moment.

  Something that had changed him.

  Maybe for a few years, he hadn’t had his powers? Maybe he had only discovered his spiritual weapon later and sworn to take revenge?

  That could mean the case he was looking for was older than fifteen years.

  He had to narrow it down.

  He studied the Guslar.

  He had to estimate his exact age.

  A mask over his eyes. A robe covering his entire body. But his mouth was visible.

  Wrinkles in the corners.

  He didn’t look like he was in his thirties.

  But he was in good shape, which meant he wasn’t in his sixties either.

  He had to be somewhere between forty and fifty.

  He clenched his jaw and asked another question:

  “You’re around forty years old?”

  The Guslar smirked lazily.

  “Do I look that old?”

  Adam rolled his eyes.

  “I can always take off your mask and check.”

  The Guslar’s smile vanished instantly.

  His body tensed, barely perceptible.

  And that was enough.

  Adam already knew.

  He was lying.

  He wasn’t younger. He was older.

  That meant he had to look for a case where the victim had been around forty-five years old.

  But which one?

  He remembered the reports.

  Podlaskie (Voivodeship in Poland).

  The greed of the nobility.

  He had a lead.

  Fifteen years ago, someone had approached the criminal services for help.

  He claimed he had worked for the nobility.

  He hadn’t been just a regular worker.

  He had gathered information.

  The nobleman he had worked for had decided he was expendable.

  So he had tried to get rid of him.

  And he had gotten rid of everyone… except him. He had managed to escape.

  Adam knew the name of that man.

  He cleared his throat and looked the Guslar in the eyes.

  “Edmund Gawel.”

  The Shepherd raised his gun.

  The Guslar didn’t react.

  And then… he smiled.

  Adam didn’t even have time to blink.

  A gunshot.

  A hollow crack filled the frozen space.

  Pain exploded in his shoulder, spreading like burning fire.

  Adam stumbled, blood streaming down his arm.

  Another wrong answer.

  That meant he could only make one more mistake.

  Adam struggled for breath. Two bullets. One in his leg. One in his shoulder. He felt warm blood soaking through the fabric of his coat. Every movement hurt, but his mind was still working at full speed.

  I’m close.

  Very close.

  The Guslar looked at him triumphantly.

  “You’re running out of chances, detective.” There was mockery in his voice.

  Adam only smirked slightly, ignoring the throbbing pain.

  I can’t hesitate now.

  He took a deep breath, then threw out a question:

  “What did the nobility do to you to make you hate them so much?”

  The Guslar raised an eyebrow, but before he could answer, Adam added:

  “They’re good people who care about others, after all.”

  Silence fell.

  Somewhere in the distance, the echo of those words seemed to linger for a moment, as if the entire space of the domain was absorbing their meaning.

  And then…

  The Guslar clenched his hands.

  The mocking smile disappeared from his face. His teeth ground together, and his eyes flashed with pure hatred.

  It worked.

  “Good?!” he snarled, his voice filled with uncontrollable rage. “Those greedy pigs took my whole fami—”

  He stopped.

  He froze.

  His eyes widened in horror, as if he had realized something terrible.

  He had fallen into a trap.

  Adam held back his satisfaction, though in his mind, he already knew: Got you, you son of a bitch.

  He turned to the Shepherd and said calmly:

  “I want to use my special favor.”

  The dog raised an eyebrow but nodded.

  “What do you wish for, Adam?”

  The detective looked at the Guslar.

  “I want him to take off his mask.”

  The Guslar took a sudden step back.

  “I refuse!”

  Adam snorted.

  “You don’t get a say.”

  The Shepherd looked at the Guslar, then snapped his fingers.

  In an instant, the mask dissolved into thin air.

  It revealed a burned, scarred face.

  A burn scar stretched from his right eye to the back of his head. The skin was deformed as if someone had tried to heal it, but the fire had left its permanent mark.

  Adam held his breath.

  Now he knew.

  Now he had no doubts.

  He was about to say the name when…

  The Guslar raised his hand.

  "I also want to use my special favor."

  The Shepherd tilted his head.

  "Alright. What do you wish for?"

  The Guslar licked his lips, staring Adam straight in the eyes.

  "I want Adam to lose his memory."

  Silence fell.

  The Shepherd looked at him with slight surprise.

  "From what point?"

  "From birth."

  The dog shook his head.

  "That’s impossible. He would lose the ability to speak and all basic cognitive functions."

  The Guslar narrowed his eyes.

  "Then let him lose his memory from the moment we entered the domain."

  Adam tensed.

  Shit.

  "Agreed," said the Shepherd.

  He snapped his fingers.

  And suddenly…

  Everything evaporated from Adam’s mind.

  Adam blinked, his thoughts still foggy. What had just happened?

  He looked around. He knew this place, but he couldn’t remember how he got there. His gaze fell on the German Shepherd in a suit, who was looking at him with a neutral expression.

  "You already asked your question," the dog said, playing with the olive revolver he was spinning in his hand. "Now you must provide the true identity of the Guslar."

  Adam sucked in air through his teeth, feeling the throbbing pain in his leg and shoulder.

  Two bullets.

  That meant I’ve already gotten it wrong twice.

  He closed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts. His mind was empty, but his instincts told him he had to find the answer—and fast.

  He opened his eyes and looked at the Guslar.

  The man stood still, his face full of satisfaction, as if he could already see his victory. But Adam wasn’t looking into his eyes—he focused on the details.

  Think. What do you know?

  He remembered that the person meant to conduct the ritual was named Christian Lesko.

  But that was definitely a fake name.

  How was he so sure?

  I’ve already got two bullets in my body, so I must have asked about it before.

  The Guslar had said something about revenge he had waited for for fifteen years.

  He had attacked the guests at Dziady—the upper-class people.

  That meant his revenge was directed at the nobility.

  But what had they done to him?

  Adam examined the Guslar’s face more closely.

  No mask… but why?

  I must have used my special favor on that.

  He looked even closer. A burn scar.

  It stretched from his right eye to the back of his head.

  That wasn’t random.

  That wasn’t an ordinary wound.

  That was a memento of a tragedy.

  Adam took a deep breath.

  If he had a scar that matched a tragedy, that meant he had survived something that should have killed him.

  But what?

  The Guslar was starting to grow impatient.

  "Don’t keep me waiting, detective."

  The Shepherd looked at Adam.

  "Two minutes."

  Adam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, as he had already finished the one he was smoking.

  I need to focus.

  He pulled one out and placed it between his lips.

  His fingers slid over the pack, counting the cigarettes.

  Two are missing.

  I smoked one.

  The Shepherd has the other.

  So the Guslar refused.

  Adam froze.

  Why did he refuse?

  Some people don’t smoke. That’s normal, but I need to check something.

  Adam closed the pack and lit his cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply into his lungs.

  He took a drag and then slowly blew the smoke toward the Guslar.

  The Guslar immediately covered his nose and recoiled in disgust.

  "Don’t blow that filth at me! I hate that smell!"

  Adam stopped breathing.

  That was enough.

  Bingo!

  The German Shepherd in a suit looked at Adam and raised his gun.

  "Time’s up."

  The atmosphere grew tense. The Guslar remained motionless, but Adam saw how his hands clenched into fists, how his jaw muscles tightened. He was nervous.

  The detective slowly lifted his head and smiled.

  "John Spyrka."

  The Guslar turned pale.

  His eyes widened in horror, but he almost immediately tried to regain composure.

  He laughed nervously.

  "What nonsense. That’s not me," he said, though his voice trembled slightly. "You have no proof."

  The Shepherd raised the revolver and said without a trace of emotion,

  "The answer is correct."

  Silence.

  The Guslar stepped back, as if searching for an escape route, as if trying to find a way to turn the situation around. But there was no way out.

  The gun was aimed straight at his head.

  "How… How is this possible?!" he roared in fury, then his gaze locked onto Adam. "How the fuck did you do that?!"

  Adam sighed and shook his head.

  "It was simple."

  "You’re lying! You couldn’t have known! You must have cheated! You didn’t lose your memory!"

  "I did. But I left myself plenty of clues."

  Adam bent his leg, bracing himself on his thigh, still feeling the pain from the gunshots.

  "I started with the basics. You wanted revenge on the nobility. You had waited for it for fifteen years. That meant your story had to be tied to a tragedy that happened exactly within that time frame."

  The Guslar gritted his teeth but remained silent.

  "I also knew you were from Podlaskie. Your reaction to cigarettes confirmed that for me."

  The detective pointed at his face.

  "The scar. You hid it under a mask, but the moment I saw it, I knew it was the mark of something tragic."

  "Bullshit!" the Guslar spat, but his voice was already breaking.

  Adam ignored him and continued.

  "I went through all the tragedies from fifteen years ago in my mind. In a small town in Podlaskie, beyond the protective laser wall, there was a house deep in the forest. It belonged to laborers who worked for a nobleman."

  The Guslar’s breathing grew faster.

  "They were tasked with extracting hazardous materials from a nearby pit—remnants of a mutant. The day they finished their work and returned home, one of those materials exploded."

  "It was an accident."

  "It was murder!" the Guslar roared.

  Adam looked at him emotionlessly.

  "Your whole family burned alive. Only you survived."

  The Guslar was breathing rapidly, his body as tense as a drawn bowstring.

  "They left us to die!" he hissed. "We worked our asses off for those pigs, we risked our lives! And what did they do? They didn’t even come to help!"

  His eyes burned with fury.

  "They let us die because we were no longer useful to them!"

  Adam saw in his gaze the same madness he had seen in the mother from the House of Roses.

  "You think you can save those noble swine?!" the Guslar laughed. "Their fate was sealed the moment the spirits possessed them! Hahahaha!"

  The detective clenched his teeth.

  The Guslar lifted his head and looked at the Shepherd.

  "Glory to the Lord."

  The dog pulled the trigger.

  The Guslar’s head jerked back, and his body collapsed to the ground.

  Blood spilled across the floor.

  And then…

  Time moved forward again.

  Everything returned to normal speed.

  Screams, chaos, impact sounds.

  The Shepherd vanished into the shadows.

  Adam stumbled and fell to one knee.

  He was exhausted.

  But this wasn’t over yet.

  His eyes widened as his memories of just moments ago returned.

  The Possessed.

  He immediately lifted his head and shouted,

  "JIAN! SEPARATE THE POSSESSED FROM THE REST!"

  Jian, who was in the middle of summoning his spiritual guide, looked at him in surprise.

  Adam clenched his fists.

  "IF YOU DON’T DO SOMETHING, EVERYONE WILL DIE!"