The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 160. Alastair’s Interrogation Ch 160. Alastair’s Interrogation

Aiwass targeted York for a reason.To escalate the situation, killing Vice President Boca would be the most effective frame-up. Many wanted York, the unscrupulous lawyer, dead, but only President Lloyd would target Boca.

However, Aiwass feared this could backfire, handing Lloyd control of Boca’s faction. If Lloyd was ruthless enough to claim the “outside plot” as his own, Aiwass would look foolish, merely clearing Lloyd’s path without achieving more.

After all, only Boca could rival Lloyd within the Lloyd Society, though he lacked the resolve for open conflict.

“Then I’ll make that choice for you,” Aiwass said, lips curling as he looked at his destination: York’s law firm in the metropolitan district.

His investigation revealed York wasn’t staying at Hermes Manor in White Queen’s District.

Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft, was sharp, and York feared slipping up. He chose the bustling commercial metropolitan district, a logical residence for a lawyer.

York lived in a rented apartment opposite his firm, allowing mutual surveillance.

Cunningly, he’d set up rituals to trigger alarms in the opposite building if someone infiltrated either for investigation, theft, or ambush.

His male servant lived in the firm, managing files and guarding assets. His personal maid stayed in the apartment, handling his meals and lodging, ensuring constant vigilance.

His wife and children lived in a White Queen’s District villa, managed by his butler.

A crafty rabbit with three burrows.

Since alarms sounded from the other building, intruders wouldn’t notice, and York, a demon host, handled thefts himself, distrusting the slow, ineffective Supervisory Bureau. Investigations risked exposing sensitive Lloyd Society or Noble Red Society items, which could lead to his death—not by hanging, but by Lady Grey-Green’s assassins.

Conversely, this setup was a lure to draw him out.

Aiwass and Lily tripped alarms deliberately, charging straight to the archive room.

Lily, holding a lantern, pretended to search the shelves. York’s translucent curtains let him see a vague young woman’s silhouette from his apartment’s second floor, obscuring her face.

Youth implied weakness, lowering his guard.

As expected, within ten minutes, York stormed over, furious.

He silently opened the archive room door, taking a deep breath.

Before he could see Lily’s face, a hand shot from the side, seizing his throat!

York’s heart leapt, terror gripping him.

The woman was bait to lure him out!

Fortunately, his attacker only lightly gripped his throat, not snapping it or choking him, suggesting questions.

“Friend, friend… let go, let’s talk,” York stammered, trembling. “What do you want? Information? Money? I can give it, just don’t get excited…”

He raised his hands, signaling no hostility.

But unseen, snake-like eyes opened on the backs of his hands—lizard eye demons, weak natural demons whose gaze caused paralysis. As a demon host, York shared this trait.

“Snare demon,” he commanded mentally, “lend me your power!”

The demon’s energy drained into him. His eyes glowed pink, mingling with purple—a bewitching gaze that could bend wills and corrupt with a glance.

If I were you, I’d give up resisting, the demon mocked.

“Easy catch, Mr. Fish,” a cold, sinister voice said.

This was the second time Aiwass had hooked him.

“—And these tricks won’t work on me,” Aiwass added.

Shadows spread from his feet, engulfing the room, swallowing all light. York plunged into pitch-black abyss, unable to see.

His “snare gaze” required eye contact, but he couldn’t even glimpse his foe’s eyes!

“…Shadow demon?” York’s voice quavered.

No demon scholar on Glass Island could contract a shadow demon—only a handful in Star Antimony could. A figure that powerful wouldn’t bother interrogating him personally; a ritual would rip out his soul.

This had to be a demon-possessed human—a wild one.

York, once possessed, knew their plight. Before becoming a demon host, he’d lose control, his body puppeted by the demon. The more he used its power, the deeper its hold. Stronger demons were harder to resist.

Overcoming the snare demon was a mix of will and luck. A shadow demon left little room for human will—York was likely speaking to the demon itself.

Despite his higher tier, York couldn’t match a shadow demon’s combat prowess.

“You’ve been shaking for a while, but this time it’s real,” the voice critiqued. “Poor acting, Mr. Lawyer.”

“What do you want? We’re both Transcendents—allies in Avalon!” York’s voice, infused with the demon’s persuasive power, grew compelling. “You didn’t kill me, so you need something!

“I’m high-ranking in the Lloyd Society and Noble Red. Want to join? Revenge? Money? I can help.

“We’re kindred spirits… I was once possessed too!”

He avoided calling them a shadow demon, fearing an angry human might snap his neck, or a demon might kill him for offering to suppress it.

His subtle voice nudged their subconscious, a faint manipulation to avoid detection. “We’re not enemies, right?”

“I do have questions,” the voice agreed from the shadows.

“Ask away, I’ll answer anything!” York beamed, already imagining introducing this powerful Transcendent to Noble Red, bolstering Boca’s faction.

Even if they couldn’t become a demon host, a third-tier with half a shadow demon’s strength would be a trump card.

York was pragmatic. Being ambushed was trivial compared to potential gains. A few slaps? He’d laugh it off.

But the question silenced him.

“Where does Vice President Boca live? His true identity? His family’s influence? His specialties?”

The voice asked calmly.

York’s pupils shrank, mouth agape.

“…Who are you?”

“Wrong answer.”

A cold voice replied.

A shadow needle, thin as a pinky, materialized behind him, piercing an eye on his hand.

Not a hand wound—it felt like his eye exploded.

Pain surged, and York tried to scream, but the hand on his throat tightened, stifling it.

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk—Boca lives at 113 Greentwine Avenue, White Queen’s District. He’s a fourth-tier law mage and demon scholar, contracted to an ice demon, specializing in law mage edict arts. He’s a mid-level court judge, a knight eligible for the Round Table Hall. No knightly lineage—his father was a dentist, his mother a wealthy merchant who kept his father as a lover…”

One jab, and York spilled everything.

He was pragmatic and read people well. This foe wasn’t one to fool.

If they had a grudge against Boca, let them go after him!

“Thanks for the intel,” the voice said amiably, releasing his throat.

York exhaled, plastering on a smile. “See? We’re alike, talking it out…”

“I believe you told the truth. I’m grateful for the key information…”

The sinister voice paused. “But my mentor’s orders stand. Sorry.

“Aiwass Moriarty isn’t fit for the Lloyd Society. That’s your death sentence.”

A shadow spear pierced York’s heart.

For a possessed human, it wasn’t fatal.

But York closed his eyes and stopped breathing instantly.

(Chapter End)