Chapter 65 : Chapter 65
Chapter 65 : A Ton of Pressure!
“Ryan Velt,” the woman with glasses read aloud. “Third-year student of the Magic Department. Eldest son of the Velt family. Witness to yesterday’s potion-class explosion.”
She lifted her head.
“Please give a complete account of your position, operational procedure, and any anomalies you perceived when the accident occurred.”
Ryan repeated the same statement he had given during the first questioning the previous day.
He had been seated in the third row of the laboratory, second seat from the left. His procedure had strictly followed the steps demonstrated by Professor Horne. The only anomaly occurred at the moment of the explosion—first the liquid inside the crucible began to surge violently, and then shards of ice crystal burst outward in a radial explosion.
He spoke at an even pace.
The bald man occasionally glanced up at him before lowering his head to continue recording. The younger female committee member stopped tapping the table edge and folded her hands together.
The questioning lasted about twenty minutes.
The questions extended from operational details to the source of the materials, then circled back to personal observations.
Ryan’s answers remained concise throughout.
The woman with glasses closed the file folder in front of her.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Your statement is largely consistent with those of the other witnesses and contains no obvious contradictions.”
She paused.
“The committee’s preliminary judgment is that the cause of the accident most likely lies with a problematic batch of materials. A follow-up investigation will pursue accountability from the supplier. You may—”
“Please wait.”
The voice came from the corner.
Everyone in the room turned their heads.
The two figures standing in the shadows stepped forward into the light beside the long table.
Their caps lifted.
Andre Garcia’s face was revealed.
Beside him, Wood Green wore a faint smile.
Ryan’s fingers tightened slightly on his knees.
After the summoner lecture incident, the two of them had been quiet for far too long. At the time Ryan had been dealing with Syl’s situation and had not wanted to provoke them directly, so he had temporarily set the two aside.
He had assumed they would continue hiding and waiting for another opportunity.
Not like this.
Standing inside the interrogation room wearing Disciplinary Committee uniforms.
The woman with glasses frowned.
“Committee Members Garcia and Green, the questioning has already concluded.”
“Concluded?” Andre stepped to the table and placed his hand firmly on its edge. “Advisor, I believe it is far from concluded.”
He pulled a stack of documents from his coat and spread them across the table with a rustling sound.
“These are the full operational records retrieved from yesterday’s laboratory.”
His fingertip tapped a particular line.
“Ryan Velt’s experiment record. The temperature control column—please look.”
Everyone’s gaze focused on the paper.
The record showed:
During the fifteen-minute experiment, the heating apparatus temperature had been adjusted three times.
Initial setting: fifty-eight degrees.
Minute five: adjusted to fifty-nine degrees.
Minute eight: adjusted back to fifty-eight.
Minute twelve: raised again to fifty-nine.
Ryan stared at those numbers.
He remembered the laboratory scene.
Frost forming along the inner wall of the beaker.
Tiny ice crystals creeping across the glass.
The cold energy release had been far stronger than expected.
At the twelfth minute, the predicted second mana peak had appeared. He had stared at the gauge, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
The needle had trembled at the top of the yellow zone, testing the boundary, but it had never crossed into red.
Then it slowly descended.
He had adjusted the temperature and stabilized it at fifty-eight degrees. The frost melted, and the liquid turned deep indigo—two shades darker than the standard finished product.
But the mana fluctuation had returned to a safe range.
And now the record lay on the table.
The numbers twisted into a trap.
“The standard procedure requires the temperature to remain constant at fifty-eight degrees,” Andre said loudly, his words striking the air like nails hammered into wood. “Yet Ryan Velt—the student who claims he ‘completely followed the procedure’—adjusted the temperature three times in fifteen minutes.”
He turned to Ryan, his eyes sharp.
“Explain that, Student Velt. Why does your operation not match your statement?”
The room fell silent.
The bald man set down his pen.
The younger female committee member leaned forward.
The woman with glasses tapped the table lightly.
Ryan spoke calmly.
“The temperature fluctuated. I adjusted it to correct the anomaly. It was simply an experimental correction.”
“What anomaly?”
“The release of cold energy from the materials was unstable. This batch of autumn ice-crystal pollen showed higher activity. I adjusted the temperature slightly according to the reaction to prevent mana instability.”
“Excuses!”
Andre tapped the document sharply.
“One adjustment might be an accident. Two could be a mistake. Three? Repeated parameter changes in such a short period—this is not normal operation!”
He turned toward the three advisors, spreading his arms as if presenting evidence.
“Advisor, committee members—allow me to remind you of Ryan Velt’s reputation within the academy.”
“Long-term bullying of fellow students. Repeated violations of school rules. Escaping punishment by relying on his noble status. All of these records exist in the disciplinary archives.”
He paused, his voice lowering.
“The academy may have tolerated his behavior in the past. But this time, he went too far.”
Wood added solemnly,
“The explosion injured twelve students. Two were seriously wounded. Robert Fischer’s right hand—the doctors say the nerve damage is irreversible. The future of a mage has been destroyed.”
The words echoed inside the small room.
Ryan could feel the shift in the atmosphere.
The neutrality in the advisors’ eyes was fading.
A colder scrutiny replaced it.
Andre pressed the attack.
He pulled out several more documents and slapped them onto the table.
“More importantly—who was the supplier of the ice-crystal pollen used in yesterday’s accident?”
He answered his own question.
“The Northern Star Trading Company.”
He emphasized every word.
“And the controlling shareholder of that company… is none other than the Velt family.”
He spun around, his finger nearly stabbing Ryan’s face.
“You already knew this batch of materials had problems! You knew the ice-crystal flowers had degraded! You knew heating them would cause an accident!”
“That’s why you kept adjusting the temperature—not to correct an anomaly, but to keep your own crucible below the explosive threshold!”
Andre’s chest heaved.
Excitement flushed his face red.
His performance was highly convincing.
Anger and righteousness blended together, forcing everyone in the room to hold their breath.
“And you, Ryan Velt, sat there calmly.”
His voice lowered, as though revealing a horrifying secret.
“You adjusted your own temperature settings and ensured your own safety. But you warned no one. You reported nothing to the professor.”
“You watched your classmates’ crucibles explode.”
“You watched the shards cut them.”
“You watched Robert’s hand be destroyed.”
He stepped back, shaking his head with a pained expression.
“In the past you bullied your classmates, and we endured it. But this time, to cover up the defective goods of your family’s merchant company, you gambled with the safety of the entire class.”
“This is no longer just a violation of school rules.”
“It is intentional harm.”
“It is attempted murder.”
His words struck the floor and reverberated through the silence.
Ryan could hear his own heartbeat.
Steady.
One beat.
Two.
He looked at the three advisors.
The lenses of the woman’s glasses reflected light, hiding her eyes.
The bald man frowned deeply.
The younger female committee member pressed her lips into a thin line.
Then Ryan looked at Andre.
Behind the performance of righteous anger on that face lay something deeper.
Triumph.
And the pleasure of revenge.