CH 29

Surprisingly, Kestiel might be the one with the sharpest mind.’

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.

‘If that’s the case, he could be the real mastermind.’

Indeed, in the past few weeks, he had shown an astonishingly sharp intellect. It was his ability to accurately grasp the inclusion of the villains’ 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 ‘created’. 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.

“… Margaret Eilish.”

She continued to have such thoughts until Taylor called her name several times and grabbed her sleeve. And then, perhaps for the first time –

“It’s boring.”

— He confessed like that.

“Margaret.”

“Yeah.”

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 couldn’t be read.

“Is that what you want?”

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.

“Is that all? As long as that person is there, you won’t be bored?”

Her lips twisted. She felt like she knew what they were expecting. She neither affirmed nor denied it. Taylor’s behavior became more and more agitated as if losing their composure.

“I said I would guide you on the mission. That’s true. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll do everything. Whether it’s pulling down the crown prince or rescuing your sister, the noble faction will soon be in chaos trying to repay their debts.”

“… Because it’s your job.”

“I wish you were the protagonist, Mel.”

Upon hearing the following words, she blinked my eyes a few times. The protagonist. Was that what she wanted?

“I promise it won’t be boring. I’ll create a magnificent comedy.”

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 didn’t know, were scattered across their exposed arms and hands.

“At that time, can I be by your side?”

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, that’s why I…

“I’ll give everything to my sister.”

In the end, she spoke a slightly more honest answer.

“After 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 wasn’t mine.”

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.

“I will truly do anything for my sister. Like you. If you help me, it will become quite a remarkable story.”

Until then, she wouldn’t 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.

“Filthy creatures.”

The crimson wine stained the floor. Since Calix’s 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.

“Damn it, you son of a bitch! Can’t you hear me? I said I don’t have cigarettes, damn it!!”

“Shut your mouth. Do you think I’m here to guard your cell just because you have cigarettes?”

“You crazy bastard. If I get out, I’ll…”

“Shut up. You’re just a nobleman in prison who can’t even get out.”

“You insane son of a…!”

That place was truly chaotic.

“When will this madness end, huh?”

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 couldn’t see the sunlight.) She couldn’t guarantee whether she would go mad or burn to death faster. Instead of the clamor of profanity, echoes of screams from Alcatraz’s torture chambers reached her ears. It was probably an interrogation related to the escape. How absurd to take out one’s frustration in a place where there was nothing to be gained.

‘You haven’t changed, have you? You used to be so good.’

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. That’s why she muttered to herself.

“How kind.”

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.

“These damn lunatics.”

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.

“It seems like I’ll have to get out soon.”

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.

“It’s too late. It’s way too late.”

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 didn’t 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.

“My innocent sister. If you knew about this, you’d get hurt. Your sister is a scarier person than you think.”

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 “had to” do.

“If only we could have spent a little more time together.”

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 couldn’t 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, couldn’t 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.

Volume 1 Completed.