"Forgive me for asking, but is there something under your desk?"
Though it was hardly the right moment, I still asked her point-blank:
"I thought I heard something just now. A thunk, like 'someone squirming under the desk and bumping their head.'"
SpiCa answered without batting an eye:
"My leg hit the desk."
As expected of the director of the Tactical Division, she could lie with a perfectly straight face. Had she taken a training course at the CIA?
The lie itself was pretty lousy, though... well, that was very CIA of her too.
I merely asked flatly, "And who exactly is this 'leg' of yours?"
"A leg is a leg. How could it be a person?"
Because of my physical condition, it was difficult for me to produce a knowing, natural smile.
Even so, I worked my facial muscles into a positively nuclear-friendly smile at SpiCa.
"If there's nothing there, can I take a look?"
I tried to walk around the desk to her side.
"No!"
Several strands of White Silk shot out from beneath the carpet behind me, binding my hands and feet and immobilizing me.
This was White Silk she had laid beneath the carpet beforehand.
Was SpiCa panicking?
I didn't need to actually see anything. Her reaction alone told me everything...
"Oh my, you've tied A-Liu up under your desk, haven't you?"
Rather than admit it, SpiCa gave me a kindly... helium-flash smile.
"Miluno, sometimes being too perceptive doesn't make you very likable, you know?"
The White Silk began winding around my limbs. My danger radar went into overdrive, and a sense of foreboding welled up inside me.
"Wait, I don't want to be brainwashed!"
Come to think of it, I had never personally experienced SpiCa's brainwashing... and I didn't want to!
The glare on her