Surprisingly, Kestiel might be the one with the sharpest mind.â
She turned her head with a frivolous thought. It was strange how quiet he was, even considering that she might not hear the sound of an assassin approaching while waiting outside. She chuckled at the thought that the stoic impression of the knight intentionally made space for her.
âIf thatâs the case, he could be the real mastermind.â
Indeed, in the past few weeks, he had shown an astonishingly sharp intellect. It was his ability to accurately grasp the inclusion of the villainsâ suffering in the ending based solely on the conversation they had on the day Ishehad the dream. No, from the very beginning, it could be said that he possessed an extraordinary understanding, starting from accepting the fact that he lived his life for someone else.
The key was whether he perceives their own lives and the lives of the surrounding villains as fate or something supernatural, or if he truly recognized that they were âcreatedâ. It was an attitude that could only be held when the subject of life was not oneself. She compared the one goal she possessed, which was slightly better than her cynical attitude, and recalled the ceiling of her room that she saw in her dream.
In a novel, in a world dominated by the original work. A created world where people seemed to be made of ink. Margaret Eilish reflected in the mirror of that world.
She had no attachment to this world. She was simply aware of the petty longing for familial affection that she had never experienced in reality, as she clung to Florencia. When she stepped outside, the days would all be dismissed as dreams, freely replayed, and then they would fade away piece by piece. The real Eun Ha was closer than she thought.
â⊠Margaret Eilish.â
She continued to have such thoughts until Taylor called her name several times and grabbed her sleeve. And then, perhaps for the first time â
âItâs boring.â
â He confessed like that.
âMargaret.â
âYeah.â
She narrowed her eyes at the voice that even carried hints of tears. There was a sound as if metal was scraping against metal. Taylor closed his eyes, tears held back, with eyes so clouded that emotions couldnât be read.
âIs that what you want?â
Her sister? Taylor added, looking at her with an earnest expression that she had seen from Calix at some point. The bones of the hand gripping the fabric were pale.
âIs that all? As long as that person is there, you wonât be bored?â
Her lips twisted. She felt like she knew what they were expecting. She neither affirmed nor denied it. Taylorâs behavior became more and more agitated as if losing their composure.
âI said I would guide you on the mission. Thatâs true. Iâll do anything for you.â
âOkay.â
âIâll do everything. Whether itâs pulling down the crown prince or rescuing your sister, the noble faction will soon be in chaos trying to repay their debts.â
â⊠Because itâs your job.â
âI wish you were the protagonist, Mel.â
Upon hearing the following words, she blinked my eyes a few times. The protagonist. Was that what she wanted?
âI promise it wonât be boring. Iâll create a magnificent comedy.â
But, Margaret⊠They looked down at her silently. Their expression seemed as if they were about to cry, with actual moisture gathering in their eyes. Taylor reached out both arms and cautiously took hold of her hand. Scars, whose origins she didnât know, were scattered across their exposed arms and hands.
âAt that time, can I be by your side?â
Oh, Taylor. She smiled and called his name. Like a pitiful villain. The attitude of stimulating sympathy in order to crave affection seemed very familiar. And yet, because it resembled someone, thatâs why IâŠ
âIâll give everything to my sister.â
In the end, she spoke a slightly more honest answer.
âAfter using the collected money to get rid of the two of them, after making my father kneel before me, after proving that this wretched world is wrong, I will give everything that falls into my hands to Florencia. Originally, it wasnât mine.â
The seal in the shape of a crescent moon. As she took it out, her hand, as always, was pale and lifeless. Taylor stared at her without any movement, as she fumbled with something on the new piece of paper. She moved her lips slowly and distinctly, making sure they could hear.
âI will truly do anything for my sister. Like you. If you help me, it will become quite a remarkable story.â
Until then, she wouldnât leave. Finally, the seal was imprinted on the new request letter. Taylor Knight looked at her with a face that was close to astonishment. The bright red ink remained vivid in his pupils. His free, crimson eyes stared at it.
***
The basement of the Sinalore Prison was bustling. Florencia found it amusing to observe the prison guards wandering around, spewing profanities and causing a commotion. She spat out her contempt while enjoying the spectacle.
âFilthy creatures.â
The crimson wine stained the floor. Since Calixâs escape, the use and importation of firearms and incendiary substances had been completely prohibited, making this the last bottle. Florencia licked her lips and brushed aside her lilac-colored hair, reminiscent of her younger sister.
It seemed that the Emperor and his son were now attempting to enforce the rules of the prison. However, considering the harsh conditions of Sinlore and the fact that most of the prisoners were hardened criminals, blocking something that could alleviate their mental suffering, such as cigarettes or alcohol, was not a wise choice. The restrictions also included the prohibition of officer privileges. While nobles-turned-convicts like Florencia, who occupied solitary cells, had no issues, the absence of a communal shower was a literal disaster for the labor prisoners coming from the coal mines.
The consequences extended beyond the prisoners to the prison guards. They were becoming increasingly irritable or weary of dealing with rebellious and uncooperative inmates. Dealing with the labor prisoners who refused to listen was just as infuriating as the absence of officers. As a result, their discomfort reached its limit.
âDamn it, you son of a bitch! Canât you hear me? I said I donât have cigarettes, damn it!!â
âShut your mouth. Do you think Iâm here to guard your cell just because you have cigarettes?â
âYou crazy bastard. If I get out, IâllâŠâ
âShut up. Youâre just a nobleman in prison who canât even get out.â
âYou insane son of aâŠ!â
That place was truly chaotic.
âWhen will this madness end, huh?â
Chuckling. The mocking voice sounded chillingly wicked. She lay on the bed, her limbs bruised and swollen from torture, shaking them like a ghost. She covered her eyes, muttering that it would have been better if the torch burning outside her prison cell had been hung a little higher. The solitary cell was better than the overcrowded cells on the ground, but it was still far from satisfactory. The spaciousness that came with the absence of things on the surface also meant the absence of things that should be there. Like windows or fresh air.
With the exception of Alcatraz, meals in Sinlore were served in the same place regardless of social status, resulting in significant disadvantages. (Consider it the cessation of consideration for the prisoners on the underground first floor who couldnât see the sunlight.) She couldnât guarantee whether she would go mad or burn to death faster. Instead of the clamor of profanity, echoes of screams from Alcatrazâs torture chambers reached her ears. It was probably an interrogation related to the escape. How absurd to take out oneâs frustration in a place where there was nothing to be gained.
âYou havenât changed, have you? You used to be so good.â
Florencia laughed like a cat as she reminisced about the man she once had an unrequited love for. The wicked woman, languishing in the solitude of her cell, was still beautiful. The Duke successfully escaped. The assassin from Alcatraz did the same. Florencia knew that Margaret had gone to find them. Thatâs why she muttered to herself.
âHow kind.â
Her lost innocence, her one and only younger sister, was truly kind. She directed her gaze toward the small table where the ointment was placed. The motives of the fugitives were obvious.
âThese damn lunatics.â
Her blue eyes, resembling the night sky, turned fierce. She was clearly someone who knew what people needed most. She knew how to provide it at the right time. So when she decided to show kindness, many people gathered around her. Hence, Florencia somewhat understood the fact that those mentally disturbed individuals with their crazy thought circuits had some affection for her sister. Of course, understanding and acknowledging were two different things.
âIt seems like Iâll have to get out soon.â
She muttered to herself. Although she had never experienced hope in her life, Florencia occasionally murmured like this. Margaret Eilish made endless efforts to give her hope in life. Florencia could easily guess that fact, and she also had a vague understanding that Margaret harbored hope that she might not be a true villain. Florencia bit her lip. It was a habit that often came to her mind whenever she recalled that kindness.
âItâs too late. Itâs way too late.â
The words she had kept inside, unable to utter, finally escaped her lips. Florencia knew that her younger sister was truly making an effort. After she stopped visiting, she didnât even send letters, but considering the series of expressions and actions she had seen, it was easy to predict. But was it really possible?
Florencia recalled the crescent moon-shaped stamp she had given to her. Since she handed it to her, she had anticipated that it would turn out this way. She answered her own question negatively and flipped the blanket.
âMy innocent sister. If you knew about this, youâd get hurt. Your sister is a scarier person than you think.â
The words she had playfully uttered before had been sincere. Florencia knew very well what she had not done, but was capable of doing. That included the things she âhad toâ do.
âIf only we could have spent a little more time together.â
Whispering, Florencia recalled her younger sister, who had embraced her as the palace knights bound her arms and read the list of charges against her. It was her younger sister who gave her comfort that even their father couldnât provide. She remembered Mel, who had been kind despite her sarcastic and cynical nature and herself admitting that she was a villain in front of her. Florencia tried to reminisce about the time when her sister convinced her, long before this dramatic situation unfolded. Her mind, damaged by torture and mental stress, couldnât retrieve that memory all at once. She clenched the blanket.
Without windows, she had no way of knowing the passage of time, including day and night. In the paralyzed time, Florencia stood still for a considerable period, trying to recollect the threads of her memories. The prison guard sighed and spat out a mocking remark mixed with curses, saying that she could see all the constellations.