Time/Date: TC1853.01.19 (Afternoon)

Location: Metropolitan Police Station - 4th Ring, Interrogation Room Three

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead with that particular frequency that made everything feel slightly unreal. Lieutenant Lyra Veyne had learned, over decades of interrogations, that this institutional lighting had a way of stripping away pretense. Under its harsh glare, expensive silk looked cheap, carefully maintained composure cracked like old porcelain, and lies—no matter how well-rehearsed—eventually came apart.

Selene Lin sat across from her, fingers finding that piece of emerald sleeve again. Rubbing. The nervous tell had been present since processing began, but now—two hours into questioning—it was constant. A physical manifestation of composure unraveling thread by thread.

They’d started with the Amber Kiss. The fingerprints on the crystal flute. The surveillance footage that contradicted Selene’s earlier testimony about witnessing Mara drug Lord Kael. Each lie exposed, each fabrication dismantled, Selene’s aristocratic facade cracking a little more.

But Veyne had been patient. Building. Establishing the pattern of deception. Because the real question—the one that mattered most—required this foundation.

"Mrs. Brenner," Veyne said, her voice carrying the professional calm of someone who’d witnessed every variation of human deception, "we’ve established that you lied about witnessing Mara drug Lord Kael. We’ve established that your fingerprints are on the crystal flute containing illegal substances. We’ve established systematic abuse spanning seventeen years."

A pause. Deliberate.

"Now I’d like to discuss something that’s been troubling our investigators. Something that doesn’t quite add up."

Selene’s pale blue eyes—that regressed violet that spoke of bloodline failure—darted to the recording device on the table. Its red light blinked with mechanical indifference, documenting everything for posterity. For cosmic law. For whatever judgment awaited.

"The baby swap," Veyne continued, pulling a file from the stack beside her. "Seventeen years ago. Three families. Three babies. A conspiracy that required remarkable coordination."

Selene’s breathing quickened. Her fingers found that silk sleeve again—rubbing, rubbing, rubbing.

"What’s interesting, Mrs. Brenner, is that we’ve been investigating how such a swap could have been executed. Hospital security protocols. Visitor logs. Medical staff schedules." Veyne’s steel-gray hair caught the fluorescent light as she leaned forward slightly. "And we’ve found something curious."

She opened the file, though she didn’t need to consult it. Every detail was burned into her memory from hours of reviewing evidence with Morrison and Wu.

"The hospital where Caelia Lin gave birth—the Fifth District Public Hospital—was understaffed that night. Chaotic. Multiple emergencies. Exactly the kind of environment where security protocols might... slip."

Selene’s throat worked. No sound emerged.

"So walk me through it, Mrs. Brenner. How did you execute a triple baby swap across three different families? What was your method?"

The silence stretched. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed. The institutional green walls seemed to press inward.

"I was on my way to the train station," Selene began, finally. Each word coming slowly, like pulling shards of glass from a wound. "It was the ninth day of Cycle Thirty-Six, during Void Season TC1835. I had a bag packed. A ticket to the western provinces."

She took a shuddering breath.

"I was carrying Serenya—Edmund’s daughter with Eveline—because I’d already swapped her with Amara. Edmund thought I was taking Serenya away somewhere safe. Somewhere, she’d have a good life. He never questioned it because he trusted me."

"And?" Veyne prompted when the silence stretched too long.

"And I was walking through the Fifth District—taking a shortcut to the station—when I heard people rushing past." Selene’s eyes went distant, clearly seeing the memory. "Talking. Excited. Panicked. They were saying that Caelia Lin had been rushed to the district hospital. That she was in emergency labor."

Veyne’s pen resumed its careful notation. "Caelia Lin. Your twin sister."

"Yes." The admission came out flat. Emotionless. "I stopped walking. Just stood there in the middle of the street with this baby in my arms—Edmund’s daughter—and I thought..."

She trailed off.

"You thought what, Mrs. Brenner?"

"I thought it was an opportunity." Selene’s voice gained a fractional amount of strength. The kind that came from seventeen years of justifying her actions to herself. "Caelia had everything I didn’t. The full bloodline. Darian’s love. The perfect marriage. And here she was, giving birth in some Fifth District public hospital while I was about to be exiled with Edmund’s child."

She looked directly at Veyne for the first time.

"So I went to the hospital."

Veyne’s expression didn’t change, but her pen paused over the notepad. "Just like that? You decided to infiltrate a medical facility and commit what amounts to kidnapping?"

"I didn’t think of it that way." Selene’s fingers found the silk sleeve again. Rubbing faster now. "I thought I was teaching Caelia a lesson. Showing her what it felt like to lose something precious."

"How did you gain access to the maternity ward?"

What came next made Veyne’s professional neutrality crack—just slightly—with genuine disbelief.

"I walked in through the front door."

The silence that followed was profound.

"You walked in," Veyne repeated slowly, setting down her pen with deliberate precision. "Through the front door. Of a hospital. To commit a felony."

"I was wearing Lin family colors." Selene gestured vaguely at herself, though she was wearing Brenner’s emerald now. "Violet robes. Silver trim. The Lin unicorn emblem. I looked confident. Purposeful. Like I belonged there."

Her voice held this terrible certainty.

"People don’t question you when you look like you belong. Especially in a Fifth District public hospital where half the staff is overwhelmed and the other half is just trying to survive their shifts."

Veyne pulled fresh paper toward her. Started writing in quick, precise strokes. "Walk me through it. Every detail."

"The emergency entrance was chaos." Selene’s voice settled into flat recitation. "Understaffed. Overcrowded. I could hear shouting from triage—something about a construction accident. Multiple emergencies are coming in."

"And?"

"And I just... walked past. Found a stairwell. Followed signs to the maternity ward." Her hands twisted together. "The nursery was on the third floor. Half the lights were out—budget cuts, probably. One nurse at the desk, but she was focused on paperwork. Didn’t even look up."

Veyne’s expression had gone very still. The kind of stillness that came from hearing something that fundamentally challenged understanding.

"You’re telling me you waltzed into a hospital nursery—"

"I didn’t waltz." Selene’s voice gained an edge. "I walked with purpose. Like a family member checking on their newborn. Like someone who had every right to be there."

"And the nurses? The security?"

"What security?" Selene’s laugh was bitter. "This was a Fifth District public hospital during Void Season. They were lucky to have enough staff to keep patients alive, let alone post guards."

She leaned forward, and for the first time, something like genuine emotion flickered across her face.

"I found the room where they were keeping the newborns. Found Caelia’s baby—it was easy, all the babies had their names above their cribs, I just need to find baby Long. And I looked at Serenya in my arms, and I looked at Caelia’s daughter, and I just... switched them."

The words came out simple. Devastating in their simplicity.

"Put Serenya in Caelia’s bassinet. Took Caelia’s baby—and wrapped her in the blanket I’d brought. Walked back out the way I came in."

The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush stone.

"And no one stopped you," Veyne said finally. Not a question. A statement of horrified understanding.

"No one even noticed I was there."

***

Detective Inspector Morrison looked up from his evidence files when Lieutenant Veyne entered the observation room. Commissioner Wu stood near the window, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. Both men turned as Veyne approached, her expression somewhere between professional shock and genuine disbelief.

"Well?" Morrison prompted. "Did she finally admit how she did it?"

"She admitted it." Veyne set her notes on the table with careful precision. "And what she’s saying... I’m not sure whether to be impressed by the audacity or horrified by how simple it was."

Wu moved closer, dark eyes sharp with calculation. "What did she say?"

"She walked in through the front door." Veyne’s voice held that particular flatness that came from reporting something absurd but apparently true. "Wearing Lin family colors. Looking confident. And just... swapped the babies."

The silence that followed was profound.

"She what?" Morrison’s weathered face cycled through confusion, disbelief, and then dawning horror.

"Fifth District public hospital during Void Season," Veyne continued. "Understaffed. Chaotic. Emergency entrance overwhelmed. She walked past security, found the maternity ward, switched two babies in their bassinets, and walked back out."

"And no one stopped her?" Wu’s voice came out very quiet. Dangerous.

"No one even noticed she was there."

Morrison sank into his chair, one hand rubbing his face. "By the Light. When Mara brought those DNA results this morning, and we realized there was a baby swap... I assumed we’d be uncovering some elaborate conspiracy. Professional networks. Medical staff bribed for access."

"And it was just..." Veyne gestured helplessly. "A woman with confidence and the right clothes walking into an understaffed hospital during a chaotic emergency."

Wu moved to the window, staring out at the afternoon light. His reflection showed a man working through military strategy, applying battlefield logic to a situation that didn’t fit any pattern.

"It doesn’t make sense," he said finally, turning to face them. "The baby swap itself, yes—that’s crude. Opportunistic. But everything that came after?"

His voice sharpened.

"Covering tracks for seventeen years. Silencing witnesses. Maintaining the deception across three families. That requires sophistication."

Morrison’s head snapped up, detective instincts suddenly alert. "You’re right." His mind was clearly racing through evidence. "Sir, look at what we’ve documented."

He pulled files from the stack, spreading them with practiced efficiency.

"The baby swap itself—crude and opportunistic. A crime of opportunity rather than careful planning." His finger tapped one file. "But look at what came after. Someone buried this for seventeen years."

"We need to go back in there," Veyne said slowly. "Ask her about the hotel workers from the Amber Kiss incident. Three waitresses disappeared. We assumed witness elimination, but..."

"But if she just walked into a hospital on impulse," Morrison finished, "terrified and fleeing afterward... did she have the resources and presence of mind to orchestrate systematic witness elimination over nearly two decades?"

Wu’s expression had gone very still. That military commander’s focus when puzzle pieces revealed a different picture than expected.

"The coverup," he said quietly. "The way the scandal was buried for seventeen years. The way no one questioned the identities. That’s not the work of someone who acts on impulse."

Morrison nodded, his weathered face grim. "Selene couldn’t have done that alone. This kind of systematic coverup requires resources. Connections. Years of coordination."

"And there’s another question," Wu said, moving back to the table. "Why was Caelia Lin giving birth in a Fifth District public hospital?"

The question hung in the air like smoke.

"She lives in the Second District," Veyne said slowly. "Married to Darian Long. Access to the finest private clinics in the empire. Why would a celestial family matriarch give birth in a chaotic public facility?"

Morrison’s eyes narrowed. "And how did Selene just happen to overhear a conversation about it? At the exact moment she was carrying Edmund’s daughter to the train station?"

"People rushing past," Veyne quoted from her notes. "Talking about Caelia Lin being rushed to the district hospital. In the Fifth District. During Void Season."

Wu’s jaw tightened. "That’s not a coincidence. That’s staging."

"Someone wanted Selene to hear about Caelia," Morrison said, pieces clicking together. "Someone knew she’d be at that location, at that time, carrying a baby."

"Someone who knew Selene well enough," Veyne added quietly, "to predict exactly what she’d do when given the opportunity to hurt her twin sister."

The three of them stood in silence, the weight of revelation settling like a physical presence.

"So we’re not looking for a sophisticated baby swap conspiracy," Wu said finally. "We’re looking for a puppetmaster."

"Someone who manipulated Selene into committing a crude crime," Morrison agreed. "Then spent seventeen years managing the coverup."

"But why?" Veyne’s question cut through the theorizing. "What’s the endgame? What does someone gain from three babies swapped across families?"

Morrison gathered evidence files. "We need to question the Long family. Find out why Caelia was in that hospital. Who knew about it. Who might have arranged for Selene to ’overhear’ that information."

"And look at everyone close to Selene," Wu added. "Someone who knew her schedule that day. Knew about the planned exile. Knew about her rivalry with Caelia."

"Someone who understood her well enough," Veyne said quietly, "to use her as a blunt instrument."

Morrison moved toward the door. "We need to question her about those hotel workers right now. If they’re alive, that changes everything."

"And if they’re not..." Wu’s voice trailed off, the implication clear.

Lieutenant Veyne re-entered the interrogation room with Morrison following. Selene looked up, her pale blue eyes showing exhaustion that went bone-deep. Her fingers had finally stopped rubbing the silk sleeve—too tired even for that nervous tell.

"Mrs. Brenner," Veyne said, settling back into her chair. "We need to discuss the three hotel workers from the New Year’s banquet. The waitresses who served at the event. They disappeared after that night."

Selene’s face went through several expressions—confusion, then dawning understanding, then something that looked almost like relief mixed with indignation.

"You think I killed them?" Her voice came out sharper than before. "You think I’m some kind of... of cold-blooded murderer who eliminates witnesses?"

Morrison leaned against the wall, watching her carefully. "Three women disappeared the night of the banquet, Mrs. Brenner. Women who could testify about what happened. It’s a logical conclusion."

"Well, your logic is wrong." Selene straightened in her chair, and for the first time since the interrogation began, there was genuine fire in her voice. "I may be a horrible person. I may have done terrible things. But I am not a murderer."

She took a breath, collecting herself.

"Those three women—yes, I arranged for them to leave. I gave them gold. Enough to live comfortably for years. I told them that if they stayed, if they testified, they would spend the rest of their lives in prison for their part in what happened. For serving the drugged drinks."

"You threatened them," Morrison said.

"I gave them a choice." Selene’s voice was firm. "Stay and face charges, or take the gold and start new lives somewhere else. Far from the capital. Far from the scandal. I have their addresses. I can give them to you right now. You can send officers to verify they’re alive and well."

The silence that followed was profound. Morrison exchanged a glance with Veyne—this didn’t fit the profile of a cold, calculating killer.

"You’re telling us," Morrison said slowly, "that you paid witnesses to flee rather than killing them?"

"Of course I did." Selene’s voice held this mixture of exhaustion and genuine offense. "What did you think I was? Some kind of monster who goes around murdering people? I panicked. I wanted them gone. I didn’t want them dead."

She leaned forward, pale blue eyes intense.

"The only person I ever truly wanted to hurt was Caelia. My perfect twin sister, who had everything I didn’t. Everyone else—they were just... in the way. Complications. But I never wanted anyone dead."

Veyne made careful notes. "You mentioned three waitresses. What about the fourth person? We have reports of four missing workers."

Selene’s certainty faltered. "Four? I only paid off three. The ones who served the refreshments, who could testify about the drinks." She paused, thinking. "There was someone else that night. Someone who was with Lord Kael in that room. But I don’t know who she was. I didn’t arrange for anyone to be with him—that wasn’t part of my plan."

"So three witnesses paid to leave," Morrison summarized. "One mysterious fourth person you know nothing about."

"The three I can help you find. I have addresses." Selene’s voice was quiet now. "Lieutenant, I know what I did was wrong. The baby swap, the Amber Kiss, the years of cruelty. I’m not trying to escape punishment. But please understand—I’m not a murderer.

She looked down at her hands.

"I acted on emotion. In rage at my sister. On desperation to keep secrets hidden. But I never had some grand plan spanning seventeen years. I never orchestrated systematic witness eliminations. I just... reacted. Made decisions in the moment. Tried to fix one problem, which created another..."

Her voice broke slightly.

"It’s all been falling apart for so long. I’ve been terrified for years that someone would discover the truth. And now you have. And part of me is almost relieved."

Back in the observation room, Wu listened to the recording with increasing certainty they were looking at the wrong person for the sophisticated elements of this conspiracy.

"She’s not the mastermind," he said flatly. "She’s impulsive, emotional, reactive."

Morrison nodded. "The baby swap was opportunistic. The hotel workers were panic management—pay them off, make them disappear, but don’t kill them. It’s all reactive."

"So who arranged for her to be at that train station at exactly the right time to overhear about Caelia?" Veyne asked. "Who’s been covering tracks she didn’t even know needed covering?"

Wu moved to the window. "We need to question the Long family. Find out why Caelia was in that Fifth District hospital. Who knew about it."

"Someone who knew Selene’s schedule that day," Morrison added. "Knew about the planned exile. Knew about her rivalry with Caelia."

"Someone who understood her well enough," Veyne said quietly, "to use her as a blunt instrument for their own purposes."

The question hung in the afternoon air as shadows lengthened through the observation room windows.

In the interrogation room beyond, Selene Lin sat alone under fluorescent lights, having finally admitted the simple truth—and revealed herself to be not a mastermind, but a pawn.

But the truth, it turned out, was just the beginning.

The real investigation was about to start.