CHAPTER 5: ENHANCED INTERROGATION
At first, it was intensely uncomfortable. An uncomfortable interrogation, to say the least! Not because they could hurt me—my Galactic Union safeguards would prevent that—but because I was still completely naked. These strange synthetic people didn't even give me a scrap of cloth. And I couldn't help wondering if real people, in such circumstances, would've at least offered some clothing. Were these beings—created long ago to endlessly replay some old game—truly without genuine feelings? Maybe they were just soulless imitations, as some claim.
First, two guards stepped into my cell carrying a massive torture chair. The queen and an executioner, towering a full two meters tall, stayed outside. They left the cell door open so they could step in if needed. After the guards left, the executioner entered. While the queen waited in the corridor with a cold, businesslike demeanor, holding some kind of book, the executioner lifted me as if I weighed nothing, set me down in the torture chair, and locked my wrists and ankles into its restraints. I didn't resist—doubtful I could have, anyway. The Union's protective system would stop them from truly harming me, but it also wouldn't let me harm them. If I tried to punch them, my blows would probably be blocked by some invisible field. Anyway, I didn't want to check it. The same should apply to their attacks.
These silent preparations helped me overcome my embarrassment about being naked. They were going through the motions as expected. After all, some strange, naked guy holding a ridiculous hat suddenly appears in a kingdom on the brink of destruction—that's certainly cause for a thorough interrogation. But damn it! They could've at least asked me a few questions nicely before dragging out the torture gear!
Meanwhile, the executioner lit a brazier and prepared his tools. I couldn't resist glancing at the queen. Up until now, I'd avoided looking directly at her, ashamed of my nudity and overwhelmed by her extraordinary beauty. But as I looked more closely, I sensed something different. She was like a slab of ice when it came to showing emotion—an authentic ice queen. Yet behind those eyes lurked worry, maybe even fear. She must've been asking herself: Who on earth is this person? That was all that mattered to her. My initial impression of her as a mindless, programmed creature began to waver. In Kunisada's light-novel, Queen Aramia was a flat and one-dimensional character. But here, she carried with her a thousand memories—intrigues and power struggles, childhood adventures, a first love, and tragic losses. Even if all these memories were fabricated 'last Thursday,' for her they were completely real.
Under my steady gaze, she began to fidget. My lack of fear, given what she intended to do, clearly disturbed her.
The moment the executioner finished setting up, she finally spoke—the first words since arriving in the dungeon, "Listen carefully, wretch. I will not repeat myself, and it's not my custom to repeat orders twice. Who are you? And what is this?"
With those words, she opened the book in her hand. Until then, I'd assumed it was some local scripture or prayer book, but the instant I saw the pages, I knew better. It was Kunisada's light-novel about Aramia! An old, rare English paperback edition. So that's what had been hidden in that hat!
I bit my lip, unsure what to say. They'd caught me red-handed. No lie would be convincing enough, and the truth would be even less believable. Could I tell it anyway?
I hesitated, and the queen took my silence as refusal. She nodded to the executioner.
He grunted with delight, grabbed a red-hot object from the brazier with tongs, pried open my hand, and placed it on my palm. I exhaled sharply, bracing for agony my mind insisted must come. The stench of burning flesh, my own screams—where were they? The queen also flinched, expecting the horrifying spectacle. After all the 'memories' of torture she possessed, this was her first real attempt. But the pain never came. Not even a hint.
The Galactic citizen protections worked perfectly. An awkward silence followed. The queen cast a questioning look at the executioner. He shrugged, then grabbed the glowing object with his bare hand and shrieked in pain, tossing it away into a corner. His vast torture expertise was as fake as everything else from 'last Thursday.'
"Idiot!" the queen hissed at him. Then, turning to a guard, she said, "Summon Tibeus! He's protected by a magic barrier. We need to strip it away!"
…
They spent a whole hour trying to remove my 'protection.' There was no magical protection to remove, so they failed naturally. Mage Tibeus — who also appeared in the light-novel — was an important older gentleman, dressed in a long dark-blue robe and a wizard's hat. By the end, he was dripping with sweat, his dignity gone. Meanwhile, I, realizing they couldn't hurt me, watched their efforts with a mocking grin.
"Maybe if we pry his mouth open and put the hot iron inside?" the executioner suggested still holding his wounded hand.
I obligingly opened my mouth, as if at the dentist's. They didn't consider it taunting. The executioner desperately tried to shove the glowing metal inside, but it refused to enter.
My smugness only irritated the queen further. Frustrated, she tried to harm me herself.
"Give me your sword!" she ordered a guard. Receiving what looked like a Roman gladius, she swung it at my head.
The blade struck something invisible and bounced off.
"Remove this damn spell!" she demanded.
"Your Majesty, I—"
"Leave! All of you! Worthless creatures!"
I watched silently as everyone—even the guards outside—hurriedly left the dungeon. I noticed they hadn't closed the corridor door completely, clearly stopping just beyond it. The queen, furious, shouted again, "I said leave!"
A moment later, the clang of the closing door confirmed that her subjects had finally obeyed fully.
After that, the queen approached me. She leaned over the chair. It was extremely uncomfortable. I had already calmed down, understanding that they were absolutely incapable of harming me. Even if they would mobilize the entire kingdom for it. But this created the opposite problem. After all, I was still a naked fifteen-year-old teenager. And she was a stunningly beautiful grown woman. And fifteen-year-old teenagers usually can't suppress their physical reactions. To my relief, she was wearing clothes, but when she leaned over, the outline of her marble-white breasts became visible through her cleavage, and I was on the verge of involuntarily revealing it. She had a tantalizing scent of violets, some perfumes, and oils that had soaked into her skin. I involuntarily shuddered when her face was literally ten centimeters from mine. As if she was about to kiss me. I began to pray to the Universe that she wouldn't lower her gaze. Down there. As my father once said that a beautiful woman can be more effective than torture. I got it now. I simply couldn't take it anymore. I even started thinking about asking the system to suppress my reaction, under the false pretext that it could cause me stress and psychological trauma, henceforth it could be dangerous for a teenage citizen of the Galactic Union.
"Will you at last give me clothes? Or will I stay naked forever?"
I spoke for the first time, and she recoiled. But she didn't lose her composure. She was a queen after all.
"If you answer my questions!"
I sighed. "Fine. Ask away. I'll answer you one question for each piece of clothing. Deal?"
Her face brightened; for the first time in this whole circus with torture, she was getting somewhere. She went to the corridor door and shouted to her subjects behind it:
"Bring clothes! A full set for a royal page!"
Literally, five minutes later, she returned with an armful of clothes. For some reason, a dagger and a saber, adorned with precious stones and silver, were added to the clothes. Apparently, she understood that the more items of clothing she used, the more questions she would have. So I decided to 'cool her down' a bit by switching to a more formal address:
"Remember, Your Majesty, I cannot answer all your questions."
"An oath of silence? A curse?"
Unknowingly, she gave me a way to justify myself, and I nodded, confirming that I was under some sort of curse that forbade me from answering specific types of questions. Of course, this was a complete lie. Although in a way...
Meanwhile, the queen, a bit nervously, unlocked the shackles that held me in the chair. I didn't stand up; otherwise, I would have had to stand in the pose of a football player being fouled. She took an item from the pile that could be considered underwear and, holding it between her fingers, asked the first question:
Who are you?
"I am Tim Taller, a human."
She hesitated but still gave me the underwear, realizing that she was at fault. The question "Who are you?" can be answered in many ways: from naming your profession to describing your genealogy.
"Where are you from?"
"I am from Earth."
"What's that?"
"A planet 30,000 light-years from the center of the Milky Way Galaxy."
She was a very naive and unprofessional interrogator. I could tell her about my entire life, but it wouldn't give her any understandable or explanatory information. Deciding to take pity on her, I added a detail she didn't ask for: "Another World."
This, she understood. She jerked up, covering her mouth with her hand in surprise, feeling shaky but firm ground, and continued the interrogation:
"Are you a messenger from the world of the old gods? Who sent you? The goddess Aya? Kaya?"
"That's three questions, your majesty."
This instantly cooled her down. Three items would significantly reduce the pile. She decided to ask another question, finally remembering the book.
"What... I shook my head, interrupting her. I would already be in underwear and a shirt. She understood my gesture and rephrased the question. Quite successfully:
"Why does this book depict our world?"
"Because this book was written where your world was created."
"In the world of the old gods?"
"You can call it that too."
I was already half-dressed. She desperately looked at the diminishing pile. She was the queen of a dying world, well aware of the impending catastrophe, and believed she had no right to make a mistake in saving it. I could physically feel her hesitations and the stress weighing on her. Apparently, she had to step over many things, including torturing people. For the sake of salvation. And she convinced herself that she was capable of anything for it.
"Who sent you?"
"An alien."
"Who..."
I smirked, and she cut off the question midway, biting her lip. After a brief thought, she proposed:
"I still have five questions. I want to think about them before I ask. I'll give you all the clothes if you promise to answer them later."
I nodded. "A wise decision."
…
In the throne room, our conversation resumed. The queen sat upon her throne, with Tibius, the court mage, to her left.
"Return my hat and my book to me."
The queen exchanged glances with Tibius.
"If you answer—"
"No! Those are my belongings."
She still tried to force me into doing what she wanted. She was a very stubborn queen.
"But I need that book!" she nearly begged.
"It's not a magical item, Your Majesty. It's just a book—a novel in a language you don't understand without my help, you won't be able to read it. I need it to save your world from disaster."
They had no choice but to comply. The world I was in spoke Japanese—just as one would expect from the world crafted by the Japanese writer, Hideo Kunisada. The novel I had from Okta was in English translation. The queen could see the illustrations; Japanese light novels are usually richly illustrated. But without understanding the text, she could only guess what the characters were saying and how the plot was developing. I could imagine the painful curiosity tormenting her: a mysterious book that describes the coming month's future up until total catastrophe, with pictures that might hint at many things, but without the text, only a fraction of the knowledge could be gleaned.
"Why should I trust you?" she tried one last time to test me.
"You don't need to trust me. Just don't interfere. You don't have much time."
"Oh gods, save us! Tibius!" She gave in, and extended the book she still held in her hand. Tibius passed it to me.
Finally, I got my hands on it! I immediately sat down on the floor. The red carpet leading up to the throne was pristine clean, created just last Thursday. I opened the book, and before beginning, I asked the queen, who was watching my every move with a probing gaze:
"When is the tournament for the princess's hand?" I asked her while simultaneously turning the book's pages.
"In two days," she answered.
I flipped through the book, searching for the exact time frame we were currently in. At last, I found it. We were in Chapter Five. At the moment when… Wait! A dark premonition settled over me.
I asked her again, "The princess is taking a bath right now, isn't she? With a maid?"
The queen looked at me, puzzled.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer the question! It's important!" I almost ordered her.
"Tibius!"
Tibius went to the door of the hall and summoned a maid—apparently the head of the palace's maids.
At once, a demi-human maid entered. As expected in this world, she was stunningly beautiful. Damn illustrations of Kunisada, who was quite an artist, by the way. Despite the urgent situation, I couldn't help staring at her for a moment, admiring her perfect face features.
"Marta, is Rosalinda taking a bath now?" the queen asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I assigned Annette to attend to her today."
I flipped through the chapter, saw the maid's name, and grasped my head in frustration. While the queen was occupied with that foolish interrogation matter, I had missed my chance to spare this world from the dilemma of the 'swapped' princess, which in many ways set off the whole chain of events that followed. Score: 0–1. They'd scored a goal on me. I failed at sight and didn't even have time to explain what was happening before another maid burst into the hall, reporting strange noises coming from the princess's chamber…