Chapter 89: Punishment

The day of the trial arrived. Eirene woke early to prepare for attending the proceedings. Today, Clive, whom she hadn’t seen for several days, was already waiting for her. The atmosphere inside their private carriage felt awkward. 

Not long ago, things hadn’t been this way, but their relationship had transformed in an instant. Neither made any effort to change the mood. Clive was a guilty man with nothing to say, while Eirene faced someone who had killed her family.

“It’s been a while,” Eirene said.

“I’ve been busy with the trial,” Clive replied.

“You must have worked hard.”

Clive responded with a brief smile instead of words. They both stared out their respective windows, hoping the carriage would reach the courthouse either slowly or quickly. While they wished their time together would pass swiftly, part of them also wanted it to linger. 

The carriage, which had been moving at a steady pace, suddenly slowed. Just as Clive was about to ask the driver what was happening, Ulik approached the carriage window on horseback.

“The number of people gathered in front of the courthouse is enormous. It will take some time to get through,” Ulik explained.

At his words, Eirene leaned slightly out the window. Though she couldn’t see everyone, the courthouse entrance was indeed covered with people. The crowd was incomparably larger than during Count Phineas’s trial. Understandably so, given this was the Pope’s trial. 

Though people recognized the Grand Duke’s carriage and made some effort to clear a path, the sheer number of people and the need to avoid injuries meant their progress remained slow.

“Should we walk instead?” Eirene asked Clive.

“No, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know who might be mixed in with the crowd,” he replied.

It seemed impossible to arrive on time at this pace. Ulik, riding alongside the carriage, quietly updated Clive on the situation ahead.

“The Pope’s carriage is nearby. With other officials’ carriages as well, it seems the trial might be delayed.”

Clive silently acknowledged with a slight nod. Shortly after, their slow-moving carriage came to a complete stop. Ulik explained what was happening.

“The Pope’s carriage has stopped, causing all others to halt as well. The door is opening… huh?”

Seeing Ulik’s puzzled expression, Eirene leaned out the window again. Sebastian was stepping out of his carriage. Though at some distance, he waved to the crowd with a benevolent smile. 

He looked like someone receiving a warm welcome. The crowd surged toward Sebastian upon spotting him. The sudden rush was frightening, but Sebastian maintained his bright smile. That’s when it happened.

A stone flew through the air, hitting Sebastian’s shoulder before falling to the ground. Eirene wondered if someone had deliberately thrown it at him. 

Then three more stones flew in succession, striking his shoulders and chest before dropping. The remarkable Sebastian continued smiling.

“Such pranks are not right,” he said.

Another stone struck Sebastian’s forehead. When it hit his skin rather than his clothing, it cut him, drawing blood. A priest quickly stepped forward to wipe the blood with a handkerchief, but Sebastian extended his arm to refuse.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Give it to me.”

Sebastian took the handkerchief from the priest and wiped his own forehead.

“Don’t regret this later. Please stop these pranks—”

“You devil!” someone shouted.

With so many people, it was impossible to tell which direction the voice came from. Sebastian appeared momentarily shocked, but quickly composed himself and smiled again. In response, multiple stones flew toward him. 

Eirene covered her mouth with her hand. She had never witnessed such a scene. Countless stones, perhaps as many as the people in the crowd, were hurled at Sebastian. “Showered” would be the appropriate description. 

Sebastian hunched his shoulders and tried to shield his face, but it was futile. Soon, blood began to stain his clothes. The two priests who had accompanied Sebastian tried to protect him, but to no avail. Left with no choice, they turned toward the carriage, but the crowd pushed them away.

Now it wasn’t just stones aimed at Sebastian. Disoriented and jostled in every direction, he received punches from unknown assailants and was spat upon. Someone’s hand reached out and pulled at his clothes, tearing them. 

Other hands emerged from various directions, ripping his garments, scratching and hitting him. Some even pulled out tufts of his hair. People were shouting at Sebastian, but their voices blended together incomprehensibly. Eirene could only make out the word “devil” occasionally. 

She thought Sebastian might actually die like this.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” she asked Clive.

“We should,” he replied.

He called Ulik over and whispered in his ear. Ulik nodded and turned his horse around. Shortly after, soldiers appeared. They tried to push through the crowd and intervene, but their efforts proved ineffective. The number of people far exceeded the soldiers.

“He’ll die before he even stands trial,” Eirene said.

Though the soldiers carried spears and swords, they seemed reluctant to use force against imperial citizens. Eirene could barely track Sebastian as he was tossed about in the crowd. 

The blood that had initially flowed only from his forehead now covered his entire face. He must have been hit by more stones in the meantime. At some point, Sebastian disappeared from Eirene’s view.

“Clive, I can’t see Sebastian anymore.”

Clive called Ulik and instructed him to find Sebastian. This too was no simple task. As time passed, the crowd suddenly parted, forming a small circle that gradually widened. 

Eirene finally spotted Sebastian at the center. He lay covered in blood. She could only make out his form from a distance, but it was definitely Sebastian. Ulik approached to check on him and returned.

“His Holiness the Pope has passed away.”

Eirene let out a small sigh between her lips. It was strange. She had asked Clive whether they should stop the angry crowd and help Sebastian. Yet when she heard he was dead, she felt nothing. 

No, she felt glad. 

Though watching someone die was horrifying, she felt relieved. While thinking it was a futile death, she also felt it was the most fitting punishment for him. Eirene looked again at Sebastian’s dead body. Sebastian had died covered in blood. 

Once a man chosen by God who received divine protection. God must have found you unbearable to watch any longer, taking your breath away like this. Eirene prayed that an even more terrible punishment called h*ll awaited Sebastian after his death.

* * *

Countess Phineas sat at her dressing table and took out an item she had purchased a few days ago. Inside the box was a smaller box, and within that lay a folded paper. When she unfolded the paper, a small mound of powder appeared. 

The Countess, looking at the powder, refolded the paper with trembling hands and clutched it. When she went outside, Aishe’s screams could be heard, as expected.

“It hurts! It hurts, I tell you! Eirene, you b*tch! This is all because of her! Die! Die along with that baby in your belly!”

After cursing Eirene, she suddenly shifted.

“Aishe wants to see Eirene. I’m going to Eirene. Send me to Eirene.”

Then she reverted to her adult self again.

“It’s because of the ghost in my body. The ghost is looking for Eirene! I don’t want to see Eirene. Why would I want to see that woman!”

Unless exhausted to the point of sleep, Aishe remained in this state all day. It was a continuous cycle of reverting to her past self seeking Eirene, then returning to her present self and hating her former behavior. 

The rate at which her flesh fell off had accelerated, and the pieces had grown larger. Aishe’s bedroom was covered in blood. Kailro had managed to get medicine from a doctor, but it had no effect on her dying body.

The Countess went down to the kitchen and found the milk Kailro had bought the night before. Aishe, whose condition had worsened to affect her internal organs, could barely consume liquids. 

Warming the milk would have been better, but not knowing how to light a fire, the Countess reluctantly added a spoonful of Aishe’s favorite honey to the cold milk and stirred. She also added the powder she had brought. The Countess wrapped her hands around the cup, hoping the milk would warm even slightly.

Carrying the cup, she knocked on Aishe’s bedroom door. Though she knew Aishe couldn’t respond to her knock amid her screams, she knocked twice before entering. Aishe didn’t even notice the Countess had entered. 

Her once lovely daughter had completely transformed into a monster. Her hair had fallen out, and her skin, where flesh had dropped off, was rotting. Places where pus oozed were visible.

“Aishe, I’ve brought the milk you like. Even though it’s difficult, try to swallow just one sip.”

The Countess didn’t hold the cup out to Aishe. Knowing she would likely knock it away and break it, she kept her distance. Occasionally, for very brief moments, Aishe would calm down, and the Countess waited for such a moment. 

She pitied her daughter. She felt she might go mad with sorrow and concern. How did her child end up like this? 

Yes, just as Aishe said, it was all Eirene’s fault. If that girl hadn’t secretly escaped from the basement, none of this would have happened. By now, they would have switched bodies, and Aishe would be living happily as the Grand Duchess. 

Eirene had ruined everything. Her husband facing trial, the downfall of the Phineas family, all because of Eirene.

But there was nothing she could do. While they lived in this wretched state, that hateful woman was probably enjoying herself. No, Siaran was the problem. Everything happened because of him. 

He had claimed he kept Eirene here to protect her. That man never intended to switch their bodies from the beginning. Just thinking about it made her grind her teeth, but she posed no threat to Siaran. Moreover, he was a dark mage.

“That’s not it either. Siaran wasn’t the beginning,” the Countess muttered.

“Mother, please give me some milk,” Aishe said, having calmed down.

When she reached out her hand, the Countess gave her the cup of milk. Her daughter, breathing heavily, put the cup to her lips. She swallowed once and paused, seemingly finding it painful to swallow.

“Aishe, no matter what anyone says, you’re my lovely daughter.”

Aishe glanced at the Countess before drinking more milk. Gulp, gulp. This time she took two large sips.

“Remember, no matter what anyone says, you’re my perfect daughter.”

Aishe glared fiercely at the Countess. As she took another sip, the cup fell from her hand and shattered.

“Ugh… Mo…ther…”

Aishe clutched her throat, unable to continue speaking. As she writhed in unbearable pain, fragile pieces of flesh fell from her body.

“Urgh!”

She vomited blood. Blood flowed from her mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, as well as from the holes in her face.

“Mo… Mo…ther…”

She collapsed onto the bed. Aishe died covered in blood.