Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]
Chapter 178: When Law Serves Power
CHAPTER 178: WHEN LAW SERVES POWER
Santo — the Chief of Police of Makazhar City. A man with enough influence and authority to determine the final outcome of this entire incident — stepped into the investigation room.
His footsteps were steady, his eyes sharp, and his aura carried the weight of command; a presence that demanded silence, as though the very air had to yield to his authority.
Al gazed at the people inside the room with his usual indifferent expression — his eyes lingering briefly on the newly arrived chief. He noticed the subtle smiles on the faces of the principal, Darius, Kugo, and Lefon.
And with that single observation, he understood immediately.
So this man is their trump card, huh...? Hmph. Let’s see how they plan to play it. He thought.
Upon entering, the police chief greeted the elite fathers warmly — a handshake here, a respectful nod there — before taking over the room as though it were his stage.
The expression in their eyes shifted. Their confidence bloomed like poison.
Even the officers stationed in the room could sense something was off — the atmosphere subtly wrong — but none of them dared to speak.
The chief leaned slightly toward Kugo, whispering something in a tone laced with mild respect, before offering a polite bow to Darius and Lefon, the two wealthiest men in Makazhar City.
Unfortunately for them, they either forgot — or were completely unaware — that Al’s senses were far sharper than an ordinary human’s.
He could hear their whispers clearly.
While the information itself wasn’t exactly important — mostly condescending remarks about him and smug assurances of their ’inevitable victory’ — it made one thing abundantly clear: today was going to be long and painfully dull.
A sigh threatened to escape him.
Soon after, Santo opened a thick folder handed by one of his subordinates. As the subordinate began explaining the report, Santo’s eyes scanned the room. They halted when they landed upon the anomaly — upon Al.
And when their gazes met, disgust met disinterest.
Cold.
Silent.
One looked at this as an easy and amusing job; the other saw it as nothing more than another tedious annoyance.
Then Santo spoke. His voice was deep and commanding — the kind that made people instinctively turn their heads, compelled to listen.
"Since this case involves elite families and a major educational institution," he announced, his tone heavy with importance, "I will personally take over this matter."
The fathers smiled faintly, satisfied.
Al and Sebastian, however, remained composed.
Without much preamble, Santo went straight to the point, his words sharp and decisive.
"And after conducting a thorough review of the case," he continued, flipping a page as though sealing someone’s fate, "everything has become quite clear."
Al’s eyes narrowed slightly. He already knew where this was going, but the speed and bluntness with which this man moved almost amused him.
Santo pressed on, voice unwavering.
"Taking into account the social status, political influence, and family reputations involved... and in accordance with the applicable law — we have decided..."
The words hung in the air like a drawn blade.
Breaths were held.
All eyes lowered slightly, waiting for the sentence that would shape the entire room’s direction.
"...that Mr. Al’s status will be changed from reported individual to suspected perpetrator in the assault case. Therefore, beginning tonight, you will be placed in temporary custody and the case will proceed to court immediately."
The room fell completely silent.
For Al and Sebastian, every second seemed to weigh heavily — as though even the air had thickened under the pressure of injustice.
Meanwhile, the principal and the elite fathers could barely contain the urge to celebrate. Their lips twitched, their gazes lowered to hide the triumph in their eyes — but Al could see it clearly. They were ecstatic.
Sebastian shifted slightly, one arm still crossed as his calm demeanor masked the sharp calculation in his gaze.
He didn’t speak, not yet — but the look in his eyes alone seemed to say: the world isn’t as simple as you think.
He turned briefly toward Al, assessing his master’s reaction.
He knew Al’s current mood wasn’t exactly pleasant — and if provoked too far, things could end disastrously.
Fortunately, Al’s expression remained the same.
Indifferent. Bored. His face, calm and unreadable, carried only the faintest trace of disgust.
Sebastian quietly exhaled, relieved.
That was close.
Still, this whole procedure was absurdly rushed. They had declared Al a suspect with almost no deliberation, despite the obvious inconsistencies in the witnesses’ statements and the entire sequence of events.
Should I step in... or will Master handle this himself? he wondered.
Meanwhile, the people in the room — especially the police chief, the principal, and the three elite fathers — seemed to be waiting for Al to crack. To lash out. To shout, rage, or lose control, giving them the perfect excuse to escalate things further.
But to their dismay —
Al merely yawned.
A long, lazy yawn, as if this entire ’serious proceeding’ was no more than a dull classroom lecture he was forced to attend.
The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the room, its mechanical rhythm somehow more interesting than the farce unfolding before him.
Sebastian was the first to break the brief silence that followed. He stood up slowly, straightening his posture, and directed his calm yet firm gaze toward the police chief.
"Pardon me, Sir," he began, his tone courteous yet edged with unmistakable sharpness.
"But this decision feels rather premature. Isn’t it against procedure to assign a suspect status without valid and concrete evidence? Moreover, detaining him under these circumstances... doesn’t exactly sound like a fair or reasonable course of action."
He continued, his voice steady and clear — every word crafted to pierce through the hypocrisy of the room.
"Besides, this child is still underage, and his national examination is only a few days away. If the goal is merely to continue the investigation, then implementing tighter supervision should already be sufficient."
Every word he spoke made perfect sense — both logically and legally. Even the other officers who had begun the earlier interrogation subtly nodded, silently agreeing with Sebastian’s reasoning.
Unfortunately, not one of them dared to raise their voice before their superior.
Santo merely shook his head, almost pityingly.
"I’m afraid you don’t quite understand, sir," he said in a deliberately patient tone. "This, unfortunately, is a special case."
Sebastian frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Santo folded his arms, adopting a posture of authority.
"Considering the nature of the evidence, the testimonies, and the photographic records — they are already sufficiently compelling. What remains is the sensitivity of the matter itself. Releasing this child out there would only put him in greater danger," he said flatly.
He leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowing.
"What if something terrible were to happen to him... simply because he crossed a family as powerful as the Norvaliens?"
Then, taking a few deliberate steps forward, he tossed the folder onto the table in front of Al — not too harshly, but enough to echo through the room. The thud carried weight, as if meant to reinforce his authority.
"And if you truly understand the situation," Santo added with a faint smirk, "you’d realize that I’m actually trying to protect him. So there’s no need for unnecessary questions."
Sebastian exhaled sharply, his patience thinning.
"Those so-called evidences and testimonies still need proper examination," he countered, voice calm yet cutting. "I fail to understand why you treat them as conclusive."
He took a step forward, his expression turning slightly colder.
"So, what exactly are you implying, Sir? That you anticipate retaliation from the Norvalien family against this boy?"
His tone sharpened further.
"If that’s the case, shouldn’t it be your duty as law enforcement to suppress such elite influence until the case is resolved — instead of worrying about their emotional response?"
Santo let out a light chuckle, followed by a dismissive shake of his head.
"For elevating someone to suspect status, these proofs are more than adequate. Further validation will take place during the next round of questioning and, naturally, in court proceedings. I suppose your understanding of law is... limited."
He smiled faintly, then continued in a tone that blended arrogance and cynicism.
"And as for suppressing elite families... hmph, an interesting thought. But the world, my dear teacher, does not operate merely on theory." He said.
"We, the police, can certainly apply pressure — but ensuring that nothing unexpected occurs afterward?" He raised a brow. "That’s a different story."
A weary sigh escaped him.
"What if one or two of them are insane enough to act out regardless of police pressure? Human emotions..." he said, tapping his temple lightly, "...are rather unpredictable."
He patted Sebastian’s shoulder lightly. A faint trace of dried red could be seen on Sebastian’s sleeve — blood from the man Al had killed earlier.
Fortunately, Santo didn’t notice. He simply brushed it off with his fingers, oblivious.
Then, with a tone that carried the weight of mock disappointment, Santo said,
"As a teacher reputed for both skill and empathy, you should understand the realities of the world and of human nature."
He removed his hand and ended his statement with a casual, almost playful smirk.
"As professionals in human-related work—or even as humans ourselves—it’s important we understand how the human mind and emotions work, don’t you think? Unless..."
His eyes glinted mischievously.
"...you’re not quite human yourself. Hehe." He laughed lightly as he walked past Sebastian.
The moment the words ’not quite human’ slipped from his mouth, Sebastian’s eyes widened in disbelief — and so did Al’s.
That phrase — normal human — was an extremely sensitive one among the DIAR, especially those aligned with Al’s faction.
The calm elegance that usually wrapped Sebastian’s demeanor shattered instantly.
The lazy disinterest that Al wore like armor vanished, replaced by an icy sharpness that could freeze blood.
A dark pulse rippled faintly through the air — power dense and heavy — before a faint electric sting sparked behind their ears.
The emotional control chips embedded there immediately activated, suppressing the surging hostility.
Sebastian sighed under his breath, his self-control slowly returning.
Al, meanwhile, simply leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering toward the ceiling as if all of this were nothing but tedious noise.
Kugo and Santo — both practitioners of internal energy — sensed a faint wisp of that darkness. But it was gone in an instant, leaving them wondering whether it had just been their imagination.
Santo stopped beside Al and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
"This child falls under a special category of case," he explained evenly. "We cannot treat him like a common criminal, but we must secure him for questioning. I hope you understand."
Sebastian turned toward the principal, a silent plea in his eyes.
He knew there was little hope — the principal was clearly on their side — but at least, he wished the man would grant Al the chance to take his national exam.
The principal understood the look perfectly... yet merely shrugged.
"Let the police handle it," he said coolly. "You’ve done your part. No need to drag this any further."
Sebastian wanted to argue, but the brief emotional disturbance earlier had left his focus unsteady. He exhaled, letting the words die on his tongue, then looked toward Al.
Through a telepathic link, his voice reached the young master’s mind.
"Master... this isn’t looking good. I apologize — my position as a teacher doesn’t seem enough to handle this situation." he said.
"If only I had taken on a higher role earlier... perhaps the principal—"
Al cut him off, shaking his head slightly, clearly irritated by Santo’s lingering touch on his shoulder.
"It’s fine, Sebastian. You don’t have to worry," he replied flatly. "I might not have told you yet, but from the start — their plan was never going to succeed."
Sebastian blinked, surprised.
"What do you mean, Master?"
Al’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk.
"Ugh... You’re the most tactical among my subordinates, but you’re surprisingly dense this time," he said with quiet amusement.
"Help is already on its way."
For a moment, Sebastian was puzzled — then he smiled faintly. He trusted his master.
"Understood, Master."
Across the room, Santo, the principal, and the elite fathers — Darius, Lefon, and Kugo — all watched Al and Sebastian’s strange composure in silence.
They were convinced — this time, they had finally cornered him.
I still don’t get why they struggled so much with this kid, Santo mused arrogantly. A single word from me, and it’s over.
Everything’s settled, thought the principal, suppressing a smile. Now I just need to make this scene look convincing enough for Alasia. That’ll protect my career.
The brat finally fell, Kugo thought confidently. I hope he’s detained along with that smug teacher. If not, getting rid of this boy will be enough to avenge Jogo.
Good, Lefon mused to himself.
I can use this to confront Alasia Group — that their scholarship simply produced a wild child. And with that, I can sever my family’s ties with that company. Perfect.
The four of them radiated smug certainty.
Except for Darius.
He remained silent, his brows furrowed in quiet doubt.
It should end with sending this kid to that trial ground. Daraka must have prepared everything there. But... is it really going to be this easy?
No. Something felt wrong.
Why does it feel... off? All this time, even touching a single strand of that boy’s hair was nearly impossible — and now we’ve managed to corner him this easily?
A sinking unease stirred in his gut.
And that unease — soon found its answer.
Because just as the elite fathers began preparing for their quiet celebration, the door to the interrogation room opened once more.
Two women stepped inside.
Two women whose very presence made Al finally exhale — a faint breath of relief escaping his lips.
Whether their arrival would end this farce... or turn it into something far more chaotic — that, remained to be seen.
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