The guard reported that the criminal Freia Nigritia had been insisting on her innocence until just moments ago, but had now collapsed from exhaustion.

Ikanel dismissed the guard. He dismissed not only the guard but all the soldiers guarding the prison. Only one suspicious figure wearing a black robe followed behind His Highness the Crown Prince.

The prison he finally stopped at was the most squalid one, yet also secured with the largest and sturdiest lock. A stench assaulted his nostrils.

A withered woman lay sprawled on the cold stone floor. Ikanel slightly furrowed his brow. Though he had given strict instructions not to t*rture her, the front of her filthy dress was completely covered in blood.

After examining her more closely, Ikanel realized that the bloodstains were not from external wounds. Freia must have coughed up blood at least three or four times in this prison. She had vomited blood.

‘She is the daughter of a criminal. She has nothing to do with me.’

Despite thinking this, his fingertips trembled slightly at her miserable condition. His eyes wavered and cold sweat ran down his face. Unable to face her wretched appearance any longer, he closed his eyes.

“What is the prisoner’s condition?”

Ikanel asked the suspicious figure standing beside him. In fact, the man was a doctor. Since bringing a doctor to see a prisoner would appear strange, he had brought him along with his identity concealed under a robe.

“I cannot tell properly from this distance… but it’s clear that if left like this, her life will end within days.”

The doctor was not as helpful as expected. Even Ikanel, with no medical expertise, could guess that much. She was a woman he had once loved. He knew better than anyone that her physical condition was different from a normal person’s.

She was someone who would cough excessively at the slightest exposure to wind. After enduring such harsh treatment, her mental shock must also be considerable. The prison food was inadequate, there wasn’t even a toilet, so hygiene was out of the question. And winter was approaching.

The more he thought about it, the more his anger surged. It was anger without cause or direction. He wanted to smash everything.

‘Did I want this? Did I really want this?’

He caught himself thinking unnecessary thoughts and quickly erased them from his mind, startled.

“One week.”

Ikanel blurted out unintentionally. The doctor, not understanding his meaning, sweated profusely.

“Can she endure for about one more week?”

‘It seems like I might be able to do something within that time.’

Ikanel was planning to smuggle her out to a foreign country. Even now, it wouldn’t be difficult to simply announce that she had died in prison, unable to endure the conditions. He intended to give her enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life without working.

One week. In about a week, he could arrange everything and get her out. Then he could also ensure she received proper medical treatment.

The doctor groaned. The Nigritia lady had suffered from an unknown illness since childhood. Despite her family seeking out all manner of skilled and famous doctors for examination, they could never determine what her illness was. Perhaps it was only because she came from a ducal family that didn’t worry about money and could use any doctor or medicine that she had survived until now.

If she remained in her current state, she might somehow endure for a week, but conversely, her condition might suddenly worsen severely within that week.

However, facing the Crown Prince’s piercing eyes directly, the doctor ended up nodding dazedly. She could probably endure for about a week. The doctor thought it would be fine.

Ikanel looked down at Freia’s face, unsure whether she had collapsed or was sleeping. Her cheeks were swollen and her lips had open wounds, having been roughly handled during her capture. Unknown filth had dried and caked in her hair. The blood that had flowed from the corner of her mouth and dried there was dark red.

Unable to bear the sight, Ikanel turned away. He intended to leave immediately. If she were to wake up, he couldn’t look her straight in the eyes. But then he heard a faint voice.

“…I-kanel.”

“…!”

Ikanel froze in place. He had been about to leave the prison. But once again, Freia murmured in a voice so thin it seemed about to break.

“Ikanel.”

He hurriedly moved his feet.

This time, more loudly and clearly:

“Ikanel, don’t go.”

Ikanel looked around. The doctor who had been with him until just now was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

He couldn’t take a single step forward, as if roots had grown from the soles of his feet. Ikanel turned around with a tense, almost fearful face. Freia was sitting demurely inside the prison. The iron bars had disappeared. She rose, limping, and approached Ikanel.

“You killed me.”

She instantly turned pitch black and laughed grotesquely. She was truly a “witch.” Ikanel stumbled backward and bumped into an invisible wall.

“It was you who made me a witch, wasn’t it?”

“Ahahahahaha”, her high-pitched laughter rang unpleasantly, screeching like metal. Ikanel fell to his knees.

“I was planning to help you escape to a distant country.”

Yes. That was truly his intention. Moreover, at that time, Ikanel genuinely believed that Freia had poisoned his teacup.

When Freia died and the calamity began, his father, the previous Emperor, stepped forward to brand her as a witch. His father said, “Since she’s already dead, wouldn’t it be good for her too if this somehow atones for her family’s sins against the imperial family?” Ikanel gave no answer. He didn’t rebel against his father, nor did he try to stop what his father was doing. He merely stood by.

‘Ah, Freia is dead. Freia is really dead.’ Sometimes when alone, Ikanel would mutter these words. He seemed to have lost his mind for a while during that period.

Ikanel embraced the Crown Princess, hastily brought in under his father’s pressure, while calling her Freia. The Crown Princess treated such an Ikanel not as her husband but as her lord. She conceived Elios at that time. Ikanel was truly not in his right mind then. Later, when Ikanel apologized for his actions that day, the Empress remained impassive, at least outwardly. She replied, “It is impossible for His Majesty the Emperor to apologize to me.”

In any case, only a very few knew that Freia being called a witch was due to rumors spread by the imperial family. Even those few were eliminated after the rumors had spread to some extent, so in the end, only the previous Emperor, the previous Empress, and Ikanel knew the truth about Freia.

Freia abruptly stopped laughing. She spoke casually, tapping her long, black fingernails together.

“How selfish. Help from you, who exterminated my family? I would rather take my own life a million times.”

Freia suddenly rushed at him. She grabbed Ikanel’s lowered chin and pulled it up. Her sharp nails dug into his skin. Blood dripped from Ikanel’s neck. Freia’s eyes were bloodshot, as if all the capillaries had burst.

“I loved you. I didn’t care whether you were a Crown Prince or a slave. I could have run away with you.”

Bloody tears flowed from her red eyes. Ikanel, unaware that he was crying along with Freia, stammered:

“I, I didn’t care either. Even if you had been merely a commoner maid, I would have been confident in raising you to my side. If only, if only you hadn’t been the daughter of Nigritia…!”

Freia’s black and mottled skin gradually subsided. Her tangled, messy hair returned to its original lustrous blonde. The red capillaries that had stood out in her eyes quickly faded away. With tears in her green eyes, Freia murmured sadly:

“‘Confident in raising me to your side’…”

Ikanel gazed earnestly at Freia with tears streaming down his eyes. He still didn’t realize that he was crying. Ikanel didn’t know how much he himself had suffered for 20 years after exterminating the Nigritia family with his own hands.

“Perhaps we were misaligned from that point.”

Freia caressed Ikanel’s cheek. Her hand felt terribly hard and cold against his face. Just like that of a dead person.

“Freia, I—”

Ikanel blurted out urgently. After briefly contorting his face in pain, he finally said:

“…I’m sorry.”

He had fallen into a planned scheme and completely destroyed the life of the woman he had loved so much. He had thought he knew Freia best, but despite that, he couldn’t trust her. If Ikanel had truly known Freia well, he should have believed more than anyone that she would never do such a thing. He finally realized this.

But Freia tilted her head quizzically at Ikanel’s apology.

“Sorry, sor—ugh, sorry. I’m sorry.”

Ikanel now knew this situation was a dream. Whether it was a dream or not, he apologized to Freia. His chest ached heavily. It was hard to breathe. Ikanel now realized that he was crying so hard he could barely speak properly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Freia wiped Ikanel’s tears with her hand.

“Ikanel, I cannot forgive you.”

“Sob, you don’t have to forgive me. I am still, nevertheless, sorry.”

“I cannot forgive you.”

Ikanel, disregarding her words, simply repeated “I’m sorry” like someone who knew nothing else to say.

“I think that if I could die by the Saint’s hand, if that would appease your anger and stop the calamity, I would rather it be so.”

Ikanel pleaded to Freia as she caressed him. Freia stopped her hand that had been wiping his tears.

“That cannot be.”

She said. Her voice sounded distant, as if resonating from the sky, different from before.

“That would only cause another wound to ‘me.'”

Ikanel looked directly at Freia. Her hair had somehow turned white, as if an eternity had passed. Her green eyes had become completely silver.

“Ikanel. Your role is now finished.”