The greatest problem with investigations was simple.
Most clues did not want to be found.
They hid.
They decayed.
They vanished with time.
Kel had spent nearly two weeks investigating the island.
Ancient ruins.
Forgotten records.
Abandoned manors.
Old fishermen.
Retired sailors.
Harbor workers.
Guild archives.
Yet despite all his efforts—
Very little progress had been made.
The deeper he investigated.
The more contradictions appeared.
Every witness said something different.
Every record disagreed with another record.
Every story changed depending on who told it.
Inside his dormitory room.
Kel sat near the window.
Moonlight illuminated piles of notes spread across his desk.
Several maps.
Ancient manuscripts.
Lists of names.
Old maritime records.
The silver-haired youth rubbed his forehead.
Inside his mind.
Seiren floated lazily.
"You look annoyed."
"I am."
"Still no answers?"
"Only questions."
The Guardian glanced through his eyes.
The desk looked like a battlefield.
A battlefield where information itself had died.
"Then what will you do?"
Kel remained silent.
Several moments passed.
Then a faint smile appeared.
A dangerous smile.
The type that usually meant someone else would suffer.
Seiren immediately became interested.
"What are you planning?"
Kel leaned back.
His golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"Using idiots."
Silence.
The Guardian blinked.
Then laughed.
"Specific idiots?"
"The society."
Another silence.
Then Seiren laughed harder.
Very hard.
The infamous Aedon Study Society.
The organization dedicated entirely to misunderstanding him.
The organization currently researching his nonexistent romance strategies.
The organization whose members spent more time analyzing his daily movements than their own studies.
And now—
Kel intended to weaponize them.
The Guardian immediately approved.
"Continue."
Kel folded his hands.
"The society already follows me."
A pause.
"They already collect information."
Another pause.
"They already investigate places I visit."
Seiren slowly understood.
Then began laughing again.
"You want them to investigate for you."
"Exactly."
The silver-haired youth looked toward the notes scattered across his desk.
People often underestimated rumors.
That was a mistake.
Most rumors were false.
Exaggerated.
Fabricated.
Distorted.
Yet.
A rumor rarely appeared from nothing.
Somewhere.
At the center of every lie—
There existed a small truth.
A single fact.
A single observation.
A single clue.
And if enough rumors accumulated.
The truth eventually emerged.
Like gold hidden within sand.
Kel stood.
Then gathered several documents.
Maps.
Copies of notes.
Fragments of investigation records.
Nothing important.
Nothing dangerous.
Just enough.
Just enough to bait curiosity.
Inside his mind.
Seiren immediately understood.
"You're feeding them information."
"Information they want."
The Guardian grinned.
"And in exchange?"
Kel smiled slightly.
"They'll bring me information."
The next day.
The trap was set.
Inside the academy library.
Kel deliberately sat at a visible table.
Not hidden.
Not isolated.
Visible.
A place where students could observe him.
Naturally.
Observers appeared.
Three minutes later.
A member of the society entered.
Five minutes later.
Two more arrived.
Ten minutes later.
An entire corner of the library became suspiciously occupied.
Students pretending to read.
Terribly pretending.
Inside his mind.
Seiren laughed.
"They're awful spies."
"They are students."
"I've seen fish better at hiding."
Kel chose not to comment.
Eventually.
He deliberately left.
Naturally.
A notebook remained behind.
Completely by accident.
Absolutely.
Five seconds later.
The society member nearest to the notebook noticed it.
Ten seconds later.
Another noticed.
Twenty seconds later.
Three students debated whether touching it was ethical.
Thirty seconds later.
Ethics lost.
The notebook opened.
Inside.
Several maps.
Old locations.
Abandoned structures.
References to the fisherman legend.
Notes regarding the noblewoman.
Question marks.
Circled locations.
And one particularly interesting sentence.
Possible witnesses still alive?
The students stared.
Then stared harder.
Their eyes widened.
A mystery.
A real mystery.
Not dating.
Not romance.
Not haunted dates.
An actual investigation.
The society members immediately became excited.
That evening.
An emergency meeting was called.
Inside the meeting hall.
Dozens of students gathered.
The society leader stood dramatically before them.
His expression serious.
Very serious.
"Everyone."
A pause.
"Aedon Flinth is investigating something."
Gasps erupted.
Someone immediately opened a notebook.
Another prepared ink.
A third adjusted glasses dramatically.
The leader continued.
"We have obtained evidence."
A map appeared.
The audience leaned forward.
The atmosphere became scholarly.
For once.
Not romantic.
Actually scholarly.
The irony was incredible.
Meanwhile.
Several streets away.
Kel drank tea peacefully.
Inside his mind.
Seiren was laughing.
"They're doing exactly what you wanted."
"Good."
The society leader continued speaking.
"We must determine why these locations matter."
The students immediately divided responsibilities.
Research teams formed.
Library teams.
Archive teams.
Interview teams.
Historical teams.
Even field investigation teams.
The society transformed overnight.
From romance theorists—
Into amateur detectives.
And because there were dozens of them.
Their reach surpassed Kel's.
Far surpassed it.
One student interviewed fishermen.
Another searched church records.
A third visited old districts.
A fourth investigated family histories.
Dozens of minds.
Dozens of perspectives.
Dozens of mistakes.
But also—
Dozens of opportunities.
Three days later.
The first reports appeared.
Most were nonsense.
Absolute nonsense.
One theory claimed the fisherman became an immortal ghost.
Another suggested hidden treasure.
A third suggested ancient sea dragons.
Seiren laughed continuously while reading them.
"These people are insane."
"Most theories are."
Yet.
Among the nonsense.
Something useful emerged.
A witness.
An old fisherman.
A forgotten church record.
A shipping document.
A family name.
Small clues.
Tiny clues.
But real.
The exact result Kel wanted.
Inside his room.
He sorted reports calmly.
Separating nonsense from possibility.
Removing exaggerations.
Keeping fragments of truth.
And slowly.
Very slowly.
The investigation began moving again.
Inside his mind.
Seiren watched quietly.
Then smiled.
"You really turned a fan club into investigators."
Kel shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
"I turned curiosity into labor."
The Guardian burst into laughter.
Outside.
The society worked harder than ever.
Believing themselves participants in some grand mystery.
Believing they were helping uncover hidden truths.
Believing they had gained Aedon Flinth's trust.
None realized they had become unpaid investigators.
Meanwhile.
Their unwilling founder sat comfortably in his room.
Reviewing reports.
Drinking tea.
And letting the rumors work for him.
For the first time since arriving at Aetherial Institute.
Kel finally discovered something useful about the academy.
Students loved gossip.
And if directed correctly—
Gossip could become the most efficient intelligence network in existence.