Late at night, inside an interrogation room of the Imperial First Prosecutorate.
The interrogation room was surrounded by smooth, soundproof black walls, with only a metal table and two chairs in the center.
Cold light poured down from overhead, bleaching everything a ghastly white.
At that moment, John's hands were already cuffed in a pair of silver-white shackles, and he sat quietly in the interrogation seat.
Yet he seemed completely unconcerned about his current predicament. His face still bore an unhurried, composed expression, his black eyes calmly fixed on the tightly shut door ahead.
As though he were contemplating something.
"Tap, tap!"
Amid the faint sound of boots crossing the tiles, the interrogation room door silently slid open.
The blond, slick-haired young prosecutor who had greeted John earlier slowly entered beneath John's watchful gaze.
He had not brought a single attendant with him, and a faint, courteous smile lingered on his face.
Then, under John's scrutinizing gaze, he slowly took his seat.
"Creak."
"General John Maslow."
The young prosecutor smiled at John. His voice was steady and professionally warm, yet within this interrogation room, it felt more unsettling than a roar.
"I regret meeting you under such circumstances. I am Krauser Valendena, currently a second-rank interrogator of the Imperial Procuratorate, and I am responsible for your case. I look forward to your guidance."
Krauser slowly placed the documents in his hand on the table, then folded his hands together in a relaxed posture.
His azure eyes leisurely studied John before him, carrying a trace of curiosity and confusion.
As though, to him, interrogating this general who had only recently rendered unparalleled service in Faoken under charges of treason—
The outcome did not matter.
Of course, that was an established fact.
For Krauser, who had graduated in the top ten of