POV Roman Richard
The man had a hard time coming to his senses. Everything was swimming before his eyes, black and purple spots covered his eyes. He had a terrible headache and nausea. He wanted to roll over because his right side was very stiff, but he couldn't. Through the darkness, Roman could see a plain stone floor in front of him, and a few seconds later he realized that his arms were tied tightly behind his back, as were his legs. What had happened? Why was he here?
The man frowned, trying to remember what had happened, and the memories began to surface, hard, very hard, they literally had to be pulled out of the greedy mire of oblivion. Minute by minute, with serious effort, Roman was able to begin to remember what had happened to his group.
It had been late at night, practically night. He had lingered, as he had the previous evenings, at the local investigative unit, checking to see if there were any leads or casual mentions of Operation Affectionate Sunshine left on the books. After work, accompanied by a security team, he had dinner at a nice restaurant and went to the hotel. All in all, the most ordinary working day... until the moment they found themselves on the stairs between floors.
Roman didn't even have time to notice, as if he was held by an invisible pressure that paralyzed his body with fear and froze his insides. As if in slow motion, he watched the death of his guards: he felt someone move behind him, and at the same moment the air shuddered in the opposite direction, and then a wave of distortion surrounded them all, and a few seconds later four bodies lay on the cheap carpet. Another barely perceptible movement and a jolt to the head, darkness came.
Yes, obviously the experts had worked, but who? Even though the man was confused, he was a professional, so he was already thinking, calculating the possibilities of possible questions he would be asked. He had no doubt that this was the case, otherwise he would not have been left alive. Roman had time to think about many things when he heard the subtle rustle of approaching footsteps.
The man also took note of this detail, for it was one thing to work, and quite another, even in life, to walk like this — quietly, creeping around. It was an excellent marker, with the help of which this specialist could be detected, despite his disguise, it would be enough to pass the memories to the analysts, and then — the procedures are worked out.
— He's already come to his senses. — said a female voice with characteristic Chinese tones and accent, through which it will not be difficult to trace the carrier, the main thing is to survive and transmit information. — Should we knock him out?
— No need to. — replied a male voice, quite young, clear, without an accent. It was almost impossible to detect the markers. It is quite possible that the young man is French, either an experienced agent of long-term bookmarking, or a returned local specialist. Strangely, though, they both spoke French, even though Roman knew more than a dozen languages and more than three adverbs for each of them.
— Wouldn't that get in the way of setting seals?
Seals? What kind of seals are we talking about? Do Asians work? But who? It's probably a Chinese game, but it's possible that Chinese mercenaries are involved to deliberately mislead. Not enough data.
— It doesn't matter anymore. — A man's voice replied calmly, but somewhat tiredly. — The main thing was to get him here, now he's in my power. — Roman used all his abilities to get as much information as possible, but he hadn't stopped being human yet, so the last words made him sweat.
— Okay, if you say so... — the woman stretched out with some hesitation, clearly provoking the man for answers.
— This place is cut off from the rest of the world. — The man gave in to the provocation. — My seals have cut this cellar out of the world, made a copy and replaced the original. We're in a Mystic House of the highest order.
— You're not afraid to tell him so much about yourself? — The woman said hesitantly. — He's smart, he's probably already found out who kidnapped him.
— It doesn't matter. — A Japanese man who became famous last year replied in the same tone. — I want answers. And I'm going to get them. — replied a man, no, a boy.
— Sora Hoshino. — Roman spoke, hoping to start a dialogue, to play on weaknesses, to lead into logical traps — it was his only chance. — Do you realize that your actions will be considered a direct threat and aggression against the state of Magical France? Destroying my guards is reason enough for you to be imprisoned in Azkaban for the rest of your life, or even sentenced to a dementor's kiss. You are setting yourself up for a trap... ....
The man went on for a long time, describing the problems and dangers caused by the criminals' actions. Roman listed the laws that had been broken, added clarifying aggravating circumstances, and so on. He didn't stop talking for twenty minutes, feeling inwardly that his babbling would accomplish nothing. But to stop was to give up.
The citation of another paragraph of the law was interrupted by a rude shove in the side, which caused the man to turn face down, and then he was abruptly lifted, carried, and hung by his bound hands from a massive hook. It was uncomfortable and even painful, but not critical, and Roman was able to get a good look at those present.
Yes, he had not misidentified Hoshino, whom he had seen several times from afar, but the woman he had only seen on a photo card from an agent's memory. Yusheng Lan, Chinese, a strong martial artist who specialized in an extremely effective combination of combat magic and cold weapons. Extremely dangerous. Why is she here? What is her connection to Hoshino?
The man looked around, noticed the Japanese man at a small table, studying some papers intently, Lan standing next to Roman. Then the man lowered his eyes and goosebumps ran down his back, his body instantly covered in cold sweat: the entire floor was covered with complex magical figures and a plethora of oriental hieroglyphics. What were they up to?
— I made vows and oaths. — Roman spoke in a hoarse voice, unable to take his eyes off the floor. — Even legilimency is powerless, and I won't say a word myself.
— It doesn't matter. — Hoshino replied in a steady tone, not taking his eyes off the papers. — The important thing is that the knowledge I need is in your brain, and the rest is unimportant. — The boy put the papers aside and looked into Roman's eyes. — Your family patriarch and his allies, associates, peers and superiors have decided that the right is always the one on whose side the power is. They are right to a certain extent. But they forgot that they are not the only ones who are strong, and that power itself is something else... — as if thinking, the guy interrupted, but continued very soon, but in such an indifferent tone that Roman's stomach turned in fear. — Don't hope for help or at least revenge — there won't be any. No body — no case...
In about fifteen minutes Roman Richard as a person disappeared under this sky, only a physical shell was left of him, obediently answering every question asked without doubt or memory problems. The interrogation lasted more than twenty hours, and when it was over, the body of a member of a branch of the Dunois family crumbled to dust. Thus ended the life story of Roman Richard, secret agent, informant, and much more for his family into which he had been introduced at an early age...