| Chapter 12

Should I die?

Hunger and thirst had long been forgotten, suppressed by fear. I blinked, listening to the screams and sobs that seemed to drift like ghosts through the air. The tears that had been flowing endlessly had dried up at some point.

No matter how much I thought about it, there was nothing I could do anyway. There was no one who would listen to me, no one who could help me. The only choices were to admit to the crime and be hanged quickly, or to be tortured by Peterson’s hands, eventually admit to the crime, and die in pain.

If that’s the case, instead…

As I rose from the cold, hard chair, my muscles that had been stiff for a long time creaked. A sudden chill came over me, and I hugged myself, but it provided no comfort at all.

I thought about killing Peterson and then dying, but I gave up on that idea. If I failed, I would see a hell worse than hell.

Besides, Peterson wasn’t the cause of my misfortune. Killing him would be meaningless.

I slowly looked around the room surrounded by stone walls and an earthen floor. Ridiculously, I thought this was the largest room I had ever had.

I didn’t expect to end my life in a place like this, but even if it wasn’t for this incident, it probably wouldn’t have been much better. As Peterson said, it’s a life with nothing fun to look forward to even if I lived longer.

There were rings for holding candles embedded in the wall. They were quite high, so I would probably need to stand on a chair to reach them. It was just the right position.

Looking down at my skirt covered in dirt, I saw the part I had mended last time and couldn’t help but smile. It felt like a distant past, even though it was just a short while ago.

I grabbed that part and tore it hard, and a long strip of cloth ripped off. A tear that I thought had stopped fell and wet the earthen floor.

Making a loop by tying a knot was simple. It wasn’t particularly difficult, even though tears kept blurring my vision. As I pulled on both sides to check if the knot was tight, suddenly a sob burst out.

There might be nothing good about living, but I didn’t want to die. To just die like this, my life was too shabby. No, maybe that’s why I should die, but still.

…I wonder if Mom is living well with Uncle Jose? If I had caught the plague like my younger sibling, I would have found peace earlier.

Will Laurel ever be able to return to her hometown and meet her younger sibling? Probably not. The small, precious money she had saved up is now going into the pockets of some good-for-nothing at the theater.

Will the priest hear about me too?

As I fiddled with the knot made from the strip of my skirt, I wiped away my tears.

If I had known it would come to this, I wouldn’t have proudly told him my name when we parted. Then he wouldn’t have known that the maid named Lucienne, who dared to poison a noble according to the rumors, was me.

That day…

Although I went through such an ordeal, surprisingly, I had a good dream.

On a street where sunlight poured down warmly, I was taking a walk with the priest, wearing a beautiful and clean dress that seemed like something only noble young ladies would wear.

I don’t remember what we talked about, but for the first time in my life, I smiled happily. Because those green eyes that seemed so cool felt a little softer. Because his warmth from beside me felt so reassuring.

Heaven must be a place like that. I wish I could take a walk with the priest.

Ah, that means the priest would have to die too, so it might take some time, but someday.

He’s a priest, so he’ll surely go to heaven, but will I be able to go to heaven? I don’t think I’ve committed any particular sins. I sometimes lazed around and deceived the madam, but if one had to go to hell for that, there wouldn’t be room to step in hell.

Of course, hell must be wider than heaven. There are far more bad people in the world than good ones.

…But to be sure of going to heaven, shouldn’t I do at least one good deed?

As I stared blankly at the floor, I picked up a small pebble rolling in the corner, saying “Ah.” There was something bothering me.

I was glad I had learned to write from Laurel. It wasn’t perfect, but I could at least write a little of what I wanted to say.

Pleese make sure to close the window in Mrs. Vino’s room tite.
If she catces a cold again this time, she mite die.

Mrs. Almon rarely enters Mrs. Vino’s room, so she won’t notice the open window until much later. And by then, Mrs. Vino might already be meeting me.

Will Mrs. Vino be able to speak when we meet in heaven? At least she won’t throw feces at me. I can dodge it well now, but still.

Maybe she’ll appear with a stern face like in the old photograph. We might pass by each other without recognizing each other since I don’t know her old face and she has never seen my current face in her right mind.

“That’s a bit unfair. How many diapers have I changed for her?”

Muttering softly, I put down the pebble and stood up. My legs trembled as I walked to the candle holder, dragging the chair.

I wanted to recall a moment happy enough to give me strength, but my mind was blank. Memories of shoveling snow, carrying firewood, shopping, and doing laundry weren’t joyful at all when I recalled them.

It’s a life without memories to cherish. Saddened by this fact, I climbed onto the chair and cried for a while, trying to steady my breath. Feeling like I was getting weak-hearted, I thought of the knife Peterson was holding, and immediately got goosebumps.

I don’t want to add my screams to the stains on that knife. Instead of the blood on Peterson’s knife, I decided to think about the blood on the priest’s hand.

The thick, heavy cloak that covered my sight.

The dry, bluish scent from that cloak.

Those large hands that thoroughly beat the man who tormented me.

I take a deep breath. As I try to put my chin into the loop, my limbs keep trembling. Barely suppressing the rising sobs, I put the loop around my neck.

And as I squeeze my eyes shut, a thunderous voice suddenly rushes in.

“Hey, there, there! What are you doing?”

I might be interrupted. With a sense of urgency that this might be my last chance, I reflexively kicked away the chair. As I struggle in the air with the oncoming suffocation, someone hurriedly runs over and grabs my legs, lifting them.

No, if I fail, Peterson will…!

“Let go of me!”

I desperately grabbed the knot, but I couldn’t overcome the strength holding me. I lost my grip on the loop and lost balance, falling to the floor.

My face should have hit the dirt floor hard, but it’s softer than expected. Something firm supporting my cheek was moving up and down. A sweet scent suddenly and violently invaded my nostrils, making me dizzy.

“Embracing a beauty is always a pleasure, but this beauty is a bit young.”

Startled by the languid voice flowing from above my head as it caught its breath, I quickly got up. Beneath me was a red-haired man dressed in obviously luxurious clothes, grinning.

Unable to understand the situation, I looked around and backed away like a wary cat. Behind the man who was getting up and dusting himself off was Peterson, his face all scrunched up.

The man, now fully upright, was so tall and slender that Peterson looked even smaller. Wearing a perfectly fitted navy velvet coat, he had a badge with a bull emblem on his chest.

He might have been in his mid-twenties. A handsome man exuding youthful vigor. With a mole under his downturned eyes, he had a glamorous feel around him, and the silver scarf around his neck showed that he was quite particular about his attire.

Shaking his head, the man threw out a melodious voice.

“Good thing I came to see. The management is so sloppy. Should I think you’re taking our family lightly, Peterson?”

“That wasn’t my intention. Please don’t misunderstand, Lord Kirhin.”

Peterson bows his head with a face full of discontent. Bewildered, I sat down as my legs gave way under the pressure of the man striding towards me.

The man lowered his waist without hesitation and put his finger on my chin, grinning.

“Is it you? The witch who poisoned my father?”

His clear blue eyes are just like the sky. As I stared blankly at those sparkling eyes that seemed free of tension, he frowned.

“Your face is a mess. But still cute, I must say.”

I froze at his fingers lightly brushing my cheek, as naturally as if he had been doing it for decades. As he playfully raised his eyebrows, Peterson warned,

“Excessive contact with a criminal is prohibited. Please step back.”

“Don’t forget that I’m here representing our Bickman family, Peterson. In fact, if I had been a little late, this child would have been dangling in the air, and I would have forever lost the chance to know about the last moments of my noble father.”

Though his tone was smiling, his eyes were quite fierce. Peterson seemed to sense this too and mumbled,

“It’s not always this unguarded. We really just stepped away for a moment…”

“Enough with the excuses. I heard rumors that my father tried to r**e this child, and she used poison because she didn’t like it. Is that what you think too?”

Peterson couldn’t readily agree. It’s not easy to speak of a baron’s disgrace in front of someone from the Bickman family. Seeing him hesitate, the man clicked his tongue.

“I’m sorry, but I have to say that hypothesis is wrong. Completely wrong.”