conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Yes, there were some slight complications between us." Our second suspect, Ilsa Gröllmann, readily admitted to having had trouble with Arnaud. We were in the lounge of one of the empire’s municipal offices. The furnishings were modest, with nothing that really stood out save for a thoughtfully placed vase of flowers. The four of us sat on a sofa across from Ilsa, who was tall and slender, with her long hair bundled up in a professional style.
conversations.prefix: Ilsa:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "What was this complication?"
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Nothing, really."
conversations.prefix: Ilsa:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "I thought there was an error on his tax payment form and inquired about it. It turned out to be a misunderstanding on my part, and I apologized, but he never forgave me for it. Such things are common in this line of work, I suppose." She sighed deeply.
conversations.prefix: Ilsa:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Was it really a misunderstanding?"
conversations.prefix: Naofumi:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "I’m sorry?"
conversations.prefix: Ilsa:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Perhaps he was committing tax evasion and you overlooked it for a bribe?"
conversations.prefix: Naofumi:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "Absolutely not. We municipal workers have been entrusted with this work by Her Majesty Dorothea herself. We would never commit such injustices."
conversations.prefix: Ilsa:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  I should mention that asking these tough questions was my role as the bad cop. You see, police did this thing in interrogations called “good cop/bad cop,” where one officer sympathized with the suspect while the other antagonized them. Or at least, they did in the mystery novels I’d read.
conversations.prefix: Naofumi: