It’s about Mixel Luke Dice. Five days before the incident, he met with Bleria. After her body was discovered, it seems Heaven summoned him for questioning, but Mixel was released without any significant findings.
The Allnight intelligence division far surpasses Heaven’s, so the lack of results from Heaven’s investigation doesn’t necessarily prove Mixel’s innocence.
However, if he had, for some reason, spirited Bleria away and prepared a fake body, there was a glaring problem.
Would Damian Heaven really not have noticed?
It’s nearly impossible to replicate physical features perfectly. When creating a fake body, it’s common to damage distinctive parts—especially the face. Someone like Damian would surely have noticed something amiss.
The idea that Damian might have recognized it as fake but pretended otherwise was even stranger. Damian was the only person in Heaven who truly knew Bleria’s identity. He had reportedly been indifferent toward her until Harriet Heaven’s pregnancy, after which he became slightly more lenient.
With this in mind, there were two plausible scenarios:
Contrary to his outward demeanor, Damian had developed some affection—or at least pity—for Bleria.
Two,
“She’s truly dead.”
Most people in the capital believed the latter. Coldly speaking, the chances of Bleria’s survival were slim.
Mixel had little to gain from helping her escape, and Heaven would find it more troublesome to keep her alive given the aftermath they’d need to manage. After all, it was Damian who had brought Bleria into this mess.
Heaven’s knights were the only witnesses to her leap, so they might have killed her. Alternatively, she might have taken her own life.
“Even if I die…”
The fleeting memory darkened Gopher’s expression.
No. Bleria had a way to survive. He had painstakingly prepared an escape route for her; if she hadn’t rejected his help, she could have fled, precariously but successfully.
She wasn’t the type to throw her life away for pride. She had other options. There’s no way she died alone.
“I don’t need your help, not as Bleria.”
The memory of their last exchange kept surfacing, making Gopher clench his teeth.
Even when reasoning, it didn’t add up. Bleria wouldn’t have made such a choice—it was the logical conclusion. If she was dead, she would indeed have been murdered. Surely…
He recalled Bleria’s twisted smile, reddened eyes, and trembling body before abruptly standing.
If there was something he wanted to confirm, he’d have to go see for himself. Conveniently, he had an excuse ready.
***
Damian Heaven readily agreed to Gopher’s unexpected visit. Despite the many matters he must have been dealing with, he promptly appeared in the drawing room.
When Gopher saw Damian, he scrutinized his face intently but found nothing beyond chronic fatigue.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they sat across a table.
Gopher’s pretext for visiting Heaven was to protest the use of a fake, so he mentally prepared the right words. Damian spoke first before he could voice any of them.
“The imposter is dead.”
As if he knew precisely what Gopher had been wondering.
Dead? Bleria?
How could he be so sure? If the body was fake, there must have been suspicious elements. If so—
“Did you kill Bleria?”
His tone and words were calm, but his voice felt foreign.
Gopher instinctively reached for his neck, realizing he wasn’t wearing a cravat.
Yet it felt like someone was choking him, the passage of air narrowing. He found Damian’s silence increasingly suffocating.
To fill his compressed lungs, he drew shallow, rapid breaths.
“She’s not ‘Bleria’ anymore. You must have heard the rumors. Before anything could be done, she took her own life. I saw the corpse myself, so there’s no need to worry about her being alive.”
As he listened, Gopher rubbed his neck. The discomfort in his breathing caused his fingers to press harder, scraping his skin.
How had Damian confirmed the body was hers? How could he be so sure she acted of her own will? Would he reach the same conclusion even knowing Gopher had tried to help her escape?
A storm of rebuttals and forbidden thoughts swirled in his mind, leaving him nauseated.
“We were unaware the body was a fake,” Damian continued, “but regardless, Heaven must take responsibility for what has occurred. As requested, we have prepared compensation.”
Gopher reflexively took the document Damian handed him. His eyes scanned the text, but his mind was elsewhere.
Did Damian Heaven have any reason to lie? What would he gain? Because the duke had wept belatedly for Bleria? Because Harriet Heaven had cared for her? Would such flimsy reasons compel Damian to cover for Bleria’s escape?
Though Damian often wore a stoic expression, Gopher found him surprisingly easy to read. Their thought processes were similar.
That’s why the possibility of Damian orchestrating Bleria’s escape or permitting her to flee seemed implausible. If Gopher were in Damian’s position, he would have eliminated Bleria to avoid complications.
Which meant…
Did he kill Bleria?
As the edges of the document crumpled under his grip, Damian called out to him. Gopher responded instinctively, as he always did. But—
“Why do you look like that? I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You nearly married an imposter. Luckily, she’s dead now, so she won’t be marrying you. You’ll never speak to or see her again. If she has any decency, she won’t even haunt your dreams. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I—”
“Upon His Grace’s suggestion, you decided to break the engagement recently. Isn’t that why you went to Egle Mountain to deliver the notice?”
Ah.
That’s right. That had been the plan all along. Even opening an escape route for Bleria was merely part of abandoning her.
The image of Bleria’s face resurfaced—shocked, distorted, crying, and finally smiling when he had told her he would abandon her.
His advice to her had been to always conceal her true feelings and maintain a firm expression. Bleria had zealously followed that advice, driven by her survival instincts and desire to hide her origins.
So when he told her he didn’t love her, she finally revealed her emotions—perhaps, just perhaps…
Stop.
A gut feeling warned him not to reach any conclusions. Gopher forcibly scattered his thoughts. But Damian’s words continued.
“Of course, it was the most reasonable decision. I can only apologize for the inconvenience caused by something we should have handled first.”
Damian spoke as if remembering something while sipping his coffee.
“Now that I think about it, that imposter relied on you quite. Didn’t she jump after speaking with you? Maybe you pulled the trigger yourself.”
The very thought he had been avoiding came firing out of Damian Heaven’s mouth. It felt as if all the blood in his body surged to his heart, bringing with it a heavy, dull pain.
Because of me, she died.
His mouth felt tightly sealed, his palate and tongue pressed together with no space between. Though he maintained his usual smile, speaking even a word was nearly impossible. Gopher forced his voice out as if wringing his vocal cords dry.
“I’ll review the matter at home.”
Without waiting for a response, he gathered the documents and headed toward the door. He hesitated before turning the handle, held back by lingering doubts. He didn’t want to leave even the slightest question unanswered.
He needed to know if Damian Heaven honestly had any reason to lie.
Was it an objective reality that Damian’s words felt accusatory, or was it his own wretched emotions distorting the truth? Seeking clarity, Gopher asked,
“What did you do with the body?”
“Burned it.”
Burned it.
Fire.
That cursed flame had now consumed Bleria as well.
“There’s a fire in the annex!”
“You can’t go in, young master! They’ll both be fine. The mages are doing their best, and the fire will soon be under control. Please, just wait a little longer!”
“In the end, it’s come to this.”
“I’m sorry, young master. Lord Isaac and Lady Delilah…”
“If you’d like, we can gather the ashes—”
Gopher couldn’t listen any longer and stormed out of the drawing room. The door slammed shut behind him, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to care. Inside him, a far more significant upheaval was raging.
He leaned against the door, clenching and unclenching his fists. His stomach churned.
Damian Heaven had no reason to lie.
Damian Heaven had the discernment to recognize a fake body.
Damian Heaven had neither the affection to personally save Bleria nor the pity to allow her escape.
The conclusion was clear.
Bleria Heaven was dead.
And what does that matter?
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
Keskes
Pls story goes with gopher’s side because I want to listen him suffocating from his mouth. I don’t want to learn some third characther saying gopher felt ill or something. I want to read him going mad exact with his worlds.