30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 160

Ihan’s [Lie Detection Ability] was a skill even Isis acknowledged.

His hearing could pick up heartbeats, his sense of touch could detect minute movements, and his sense of smell and taste could catch not only the faint scent of sweat but also subtle traces of deception—hormonal changes, to be precise.

His sight observed slight muscle relaxations, pupil contractions, and even faint tremors in the body.

Lastly, his sixth sense assisted in overall judgment and decision-making.

Ihan’s lie detection ability was a ‘technique’ that utilized all of his senses to their fullest.

However, while it sounded easy in theory, applying it in daily life was extremely challenging.

Mobilizing every sense to extract information imposed immense stress and fatigue.

If overused, it often left him feeling light-headed.

Perhaps it was proof that great power always came at a steep price?

And so...

“First question. If you know whether the expelled mages from the Magic Tower are alive, can you also track their location?”

“......”

Huey shook his head, denying it.

No, it couldn’t be done.

—Twitch.

...A faint scent of sweat and a sharp, metallic tang filled the air.

“I see. So, it is possible.”

“!??!”

“Second question. Then, can that tracking still be done now?”

“......”

“Hmm....”

Huey fell into silence.

He had likely realized that Ihan’s ability was real after being caught lying once.

And like a true mage, he was now resolved to avoid any further reactions.

His steadfastness suggested he had no intention of responding anymore.

It was clearly a frustrating situation, but Ihan—

“Is that so? Then it’s possible.”

“!!!”

—didn’t care whether his opponent remained silent.

The body’s responses weren’t something that could be hidden just by refusing to answer.

Even without verbal responses, Ihan could extract information through subtle changes in scent, heartbeat, muscle tension, pupil dilation, and breathing patterns.

And it was his intuition that pieced together those fragments of data into certainty—intuition that could just as easily be called ‘judgment.’

For three years—no, for more than half his life—he had been entangled with mages and spent his time fighting them.

Didn’t they say familiarity breeds contempt?

Like obsessive critics who become experts on celebrities they hate, Ihan was the “Anti of All Antis” when it came to mages.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call him an expert—a specialist at reading the character of mages.

‘I’m not wrong.’

Ihan reaffirmed his belief, convincing himself to trust the information he gathered and the judgments he made.

Not a single shred of doubt entered his mind.

‘I’m the world’s greatest mage detector.’

With that conviction, he continued.

“Is the Magic Tower still in contact with the expelled mages?”

“Does the Magic Tower have devices to monitor, track, or communicate with them?”

“Did you come to this kingdom not just to meet Irene Windler but also to connect with the expelled mages?”

“Do you harbor impure intentions toward Irene Windler?”

“Are you planning an act of terrorism against this kingdom?”

“Are the Empire and the Magic Tower planning to attack Pendragon?”

A relentless barrage of questions.

Drip...

Cold sweat poured down Ihan’s back, and his head throbbed slightly, but he didn’t stop.

It was an obsession bordering on madness.

Not just to find the mages, but to know everything.

“...Ugh, uh...!”

Huey de Beiron trembled in fear.

The terrifying obsession, the madness, and the murderous intent Ihan harbored toward mages filled him with dread.

It was as if Ihan had resolved to annihilate the very essence of mages.

Huey de Beiron, unable to withstand that aura, finally—

“Urgh....”

—collapsed.

“Tsk, what a drama queen. I’m the one who’s actually about to die from this headache.”

The foam at Huey’s mouth made his fainting seem overly theatrical.

Ihan massaged his aching head, frowning deeply.

While he was suffering from a splitting headache, the idiot he was interrogating suddenly fainted—how pathetic.

Mages, as expected, were frail in both body and mind.

Downing his iced coffee and milk tea in quick succession, Ihan tried to quench his burning thirst.

At that moment, the café fell silent.

Everyone—the housewives, workers, and part-timers—stopped chatting and laughing.

And then...

“...Honestly, I’d probably faint too. No, it’s impressive he only fainted.”

A man approached.

His face looked haggard, but his sharp, shining eyes gave off the presence of someone important.

Ihan offered him a calm nod of gratitude.

“Thanks for your help.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just glad I could assist, Sir Ihan.”

Pendragon Guild’s branch leader—Simon.