Extra's Path To No Harem-Chapter 197: Torture Specialist

Do I really have no choice but to act myself?

Either I find the bombs and disable them.

Or—at the very least—I make contact with Anna and coordinate from there.

No matter what it takes, I need to get into the Imperial Palace.

Sneaking in wouldn’t be the problem. With invisibility magic, slipping past guards and wards should be manageable. Risky, but doable.

The real issue was something else entirely.

"The problem is... where exactly they’ve hidden the bombs," I muttered.

If they were scattered throughout the palace—or worse, placed somewhere critical—charging in blind would be suicide. One wrong move, one delayed response, and everything would be over.

Then—

"Should we find out?"

I turned toward the voice.

"What?" I asked. "You mean you?"

"Well, not me exactly," Feiz said lightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "But we do have a specialist on our team."

...A specialist?

I stared at him, confusion plain on my face.

"What kind of specialist can locate bombs without triggering them?"

Feiz didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he raised his hands and began making exaggerated gestures—idly inspecting his fingernails, tapping them together, then flicking his tongue out as if tasting the air.

The movements were casual. Almost playful.

Yet somehow... I understood immediately.

"...You don’t mean—"

"Mm," Feiz hummed, cutting me off. "Exactly that."

So that’s what he meant.

Someone who didn’t search places—but people.

Someone skilled at extracting information.

Not through spells or machines... but through methods that made people want to talk. Or left them with no other choice.

I exhaled slowly. "You’re saying we can get the bomb locations directly from the perpetrators."

"If they’re still alive," Feiz replied calmly. "And if they actually know."

That casual tone of his made my skin prickle.

I fell silent.

So Feiz has someone—someone who’s good at torture.

It wasn’t an appealing suggestion. From a modern perspective, torture was repulsive, something to be condemned without question. I’d always believed that.

But this wasn’t a time for ideals. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

If even one bomb went off, the damage would be irreversible. Lives would be lost. Panic would spread. The Academy—and possibly the capital itself—would descend into chaos.

I clenched my jaw.

I needed the locations.

By any means necessary.

"...Fine," I said at last. "Bring him here. But make sure he’s someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

"Don’t worry about that!" Feiz answered instantly, far too cheerfully.

Before I could say anything else, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor.

The silence he left behind felt heavier than before.

I stood there, arms crossed, staring at the door. A part of me hoped Feiz wouldn’t come back. Another part prayed that he would—and soon.

It didn’t take long.

The door opened again, and Feiz stepped inside, followed by a man I didn’t recognize.

"This is him," Feiz said simply.

The man bowed politely. "Greetings, sir."

I blinked.

This guy?

I looked him over carefully. He was slender, almost fragile-looking, with neatly combed hair and clean clothes. If I passed him on the street, I would’ve mistaken him for a quiet clerk or a bookish assistant—not someone pulled from the back alleys.

He didn’t look like a torture specialist at all.

The only thing that felt off... was his eyes.

"What’s wrong with his eyes?" I asked quietly.

Feiz glanced at him, then back at me. "Ah. You noticed."

I struggled to find the right words.

They weren’t bloodshot. Weren’t sharp or cruel.

They were just... empty.

Not dull—hollow.

Like wells that had been drained long ago, leaving nothing behind. No emotion. No hesitation. No humanity.

Just looking into them made an unpleasant chill crawl up my spine.

The man met my gaze without flinching, without blinking.

"...Is there a problem, sir?" he asked gently.

His voice was calm. Polite. Almost warm.

That somehow made it worse.

Feiz smiled faintly. "Don’t worry. He’s very professional. He won’t enjoy it, and he won’t talk about it afterward."

I swallowed.

"I see," I said slowly. "And his loyalty?"

Feiz didn’t hesitate. "Absolute."

The man bowed again. "I exist to extract truths."

A shiver ran down my spine.

I looked away first.

Feiz caught the subtle change in my expression and immediately tried to reassure me, clearly misunderstanding the reason for my discomfort.

"C-Come on! He might look like that, but he’s actually very diligent at his work!"

"That’s right!" the man added enthusiastically. "I’ll work hard no matter what you order me to do!"

"Uh... right. Sure," I replied vaguely.

I appreciated the enthusiasm. Truly.

But the longer this conversation dragged on, the more uneasy I felt. Something about the man’s eager grin—paired with the aura of someone who enjoyed his job a little too much—made my instincts scream at me to move things along.

So I got straight to the point.

"See that man tied up over there?" I said, gesturing toward the bound figure slumped against the pillar. "I need you to find out where the bombs mentioned in this letter are hidden. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I can!"

The answer came far too quickly.

"Good," I said after a brief pause. "Then... give it a try."

"Yes, sir!"

With a confident stride, the torture specialist stepped forward and placed his bag on the floor.

Then, one by one, he began pulling out the contents.

A hammer.

Nippers.

A saw.

An awl.

Each metallic clink echoed unpleasantly in the quiet warehouse.

I felt my eyebrow twitch.

"...You carry all of that around?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Preparedness is the foundation of professionalism!" he replied proudly, carefully laying each tool out on the table as if presenting priceless artifacts.

The metallic clink echoed far too clearly in the room.

I stared at the growing lineup of instruments with a stiff expression.

...Aren’t those all construction tools?

Why would anyone need this many for an interrogation?

No—more importantly, why did he look so happy?

My gaze slowly shifted to the specialist’s face—just in time to see him pick up the awl and smile in a way that sent a chill straight down my spine.

Ah.

I see now.

So that’s how it is.

"Um... I just remembered I have something important to take care of," I said quickly, already taking a step back. "I’ll leave this to you. Just... let me know the results later."

"Understood!" the man answered enthusiastically. "Leave everything to me!"

That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

Before he could say another word—or worse, before he could start—I turned on my heel and fled the room.

The door had barely closed behind me when—

"AAAAAARGH!!"

A scream so raw it made my scalp prickle tore through the corridor.

I froze for half a second.

...Nope.

I pretended I hadn’t heard anything.

With my heart pounding and cold sweat forming at my temples, I quickened my pace and left the area entirely, abandoning that hellish sound behind me.

Some truths didn’t need to be witnessed firsthand.

And some methods...

Well.

I was very, very glad they weren’t my responsibility.

I didn’t stop walking until I was several corridors away.

Even then, the echo of that scream clung to my ears like a curse.

I leaned against the cold stone wall, closed my eyes, and exhaled slowly.

"...This is necessary," I muttered, more to convince myself than anything else.

For the first few minutes, the sounds didn’t stop.

Muffled cries leaked through the thick walls—dull, distorted, as if the building itself were trying to smother them. Occasionally, there was a sharp clang of metal, followed by a pause. Then another scream, hoarse and desperate.

I pressed my fingers into my temples.

I didn’t need to imagine what was happening inside.

My mind was already doing a fine job of that on its own.

Time stretched.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Eventually, even the screams began to change.

They lost their edge.

The raw panic dulled into something weaker—broken gasps, pleading voices that no longer carried strength, only fear. Words I couldn’t make out. Promises. Begging.

Then... silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that made my stomach twist.

I was just starting to wonder whether that silence meant success—or something far worse—when footsteps approached.

Calm. Unhurried.

Feiz appeared around the corner, hands in his pockets, expression as casual as if he’d just finished a pleasant walk.

"...Is it done?" I asked.

"Mm. Almost," he replied lightly. "He’s holding out longer than expected, but that’s normal."

I stared at him. "Normal."

"Of course," Feiz said, tilting his head. "People cling to hope longer than they realize. It’s impressive, really."

That wasn’t comforting. At all.

Before I could respond, the door behind him creaked open.

The specialist stepped out.

His clothes were still neat. His hair still perfectly in place.

There was no blood on him. No visible sign of what had just occurred.

Only his eyes had changed.

They were sharper now—focused, like a craftsman who had just finished inspecting his work.

He bowed politely. "Sir. We have results."

"...That was fast," I said quietly.

"Yes," he replied with a gentle smile. "Once the subject understood the situation, cooperation improved significantly."

I chose not to ask what that meant.