Access to the central plaza, where the Founding Festival had once been celebrated in all its grandeur, had been restricted for days.

A high platform had been erected, seemingly in preparation for a grand occasion, with rows of seats set up for onlookers. Yet there was no joy in the air. The atmosphere was heavy and sombre.

When the restrictions were finally lifted, the first people to ascend the platform were members of the Count’s family dressed in prisoners’ uniforms. They were bound with ropes and forced to stand before a guillotine, its cold, merciless blade gleaming in the light.

Until the very end, the Count insisted that it had all been an accident. But the court rejected his appeal.

Even if the duke’s death had not been deliberate, the fire he set to conceal it claimed countless innocent lives.

The imperial family seized the opportunity presented by the execution of a nobleman to reaffirm the authority of the throne and demonstrate the empire’s unwavering power. In order to secure the Frasers as allies, the date of the execution was brought forward, setting a new precedent.

The former Count and Countess Everett, along with Amelia, were brought before the assembled crowd.

By law, all those bearing the Everett name were subject to execution. However, Vincent Everett — a previous victim of the conspiracy and the first to raise suspicions about the case — and the Dowager Countess, who was nearing the end of her life, were spared. The Duke of Fraser had intervened on Vincent’s behalf, testifying to his crucial role in exposing the truth.

William Everett now stood before the people not as a count, but as a condemned criminal. Yet he still kept his head held high.

Despite his clothing being stained with mud and dust, he seemed intent on clinging to the last fragment of aristocratic pride, holding himself as though he were innocent.

Thud.

A stone cut through the air and struck his forehead, splitting the skin open.

“You have no conscience!”

“My son died because of you!”

“My child lost both parents before even learning to walk! Do you feel no shame?”

“My daughter too!”

In a fit of fury, the crowd filling the plaza began to hurl stones.

They were the families of those who had perished in the Fraser fire.

Amid the swelling roar of voices, anguished cries tore through the air.

The Count had never apologized to the victims once. The rage directed towards him was growing uncontrollable. Soldiers stepped in to restore order, but the rain of stones did not cease.

Amid the turmoil, the execution began.

Each name was called out. Each condemned person was dragged before the guillotine, their crime proclaimed aloud.

“I—I don’t want to die! Mother! Father!”

Amelia was declared the winner.

Even as the soldiers dragged her forward, she turned around and screamed for her parents. Her body shook visibly as her head was forced beneath the cold blade of the executioner’s axe.

From the moment she was brought into the square, Amelia had been paralyzed with fear. Her face turned deathly pale.

“Amelia Everett is hereby sentenced to death.”

“N–No… no…!”

Her screams were cut short.

With a single, merciless blow, her head was severed from her body.

Her head, with its golden hair gathered into a single braid that had already lost its lustre, rolled from the platform. She had not even had time to close her eyes.

For the brief moment that the blade fell, even the crowd that had been shouting curses fell silent.

Some turned away, unable to bear the sight.

Others forced themselves to watch until the very end.

Before Amelia’s blood had cooled, Laura Everett was brought forward. As though she had already surrendered to her fate, she lowered her neck beneath the blade without resistance. The sentence was carried out swiftly.

William watched as his wife and daughter were beheaded before his eyes.

Although he was bound to prevent escape, he would not have been able to move even if he had not been tied up.

Only then did the full weight of his crimes descend upon him.

He stared at the lifeless bodies of his wife and daughter without blinking. Not even a sigh escaped his lips.

Slowly, William closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he lifted his head and turned towards the crowd filling the plaza.

At the very front, where the platform stood in full view, Vincent was watching.

‘You would not show your face while I was imprisoned—yet you come now, at the very end?’

“William Everett!”

Finally, the executioner called William’s name.

William kept his eyes fixed on his son as he stepped forward. When he knelt beneath the guillotine, there was no sign of fury or desperation on his face; he made no plea for mercy.

The blade, still slick with bright crimson, fell once more.

William Everett’s life came to an end.

As the execution of the infamous criminal came to a close, cheers erupted throughout the plaza. The Empire proclaimed that justice had been served. To serve as a warning to all, the severed heads of the condemned would be displayed in the square for a week.

When it was over, the crowd dispersed as though nothing remarkable had happened.

Before long, the square grew quiet.

Only Vincent remained.

He stood in silence, watching the workers scrub the blood from the stones.

***

At the very hour when crowds gathered in the plaza to witness the executions, another life ended quietly within a manor in the capital.

“M–My Lady!”

As was her custom when it was time for her medicine, a maid entered the Dowager Countess’s chamber to bring her tea.

She found the elderly woman lying neatly on the bed, her hands folded one over the other.

There were no signs of intrusion. There was no indication of a struggle.

On the bedside table were only an empty medicine bottle and a letter.

The physician, who was summoned soon afterwards, confirmed that the cause of death was an overdose of medication.

She had chosen to end her own life on the very day that her son, Count Everett, was executed.

Her funeral was held quietly, without ceremony.

Although Count Everett’s title had been stripped away, the title and estate she had inherited from her birth family remained intact. Before long, collateral branches and distant relatives began to appear, disputing the inheritance.

Vincent, the sole surviving heir, formally refused it.

By law, the estate should have passed to the person named in her will.

However, the will, said to have been written during her lifetime, was never made public.

The only information disclosed was that the Fraser family had been entrusted with the authority to open the Dowager Countess Everett’s will.

No explanation was offered.

It was said that this decision had been made solely at the Dowager Countess’s request.

***

Although the man responsible for the fire that had plagued Logan for so long had met his end, his daily life remained unchanged.

He had not attended the execution. He only received a verbal report of what had happened that day.

However, the Dowager Countess’s s*icide came as a complete shock.

“You have a visitor, Your Grace.”

Logan lifted his head from the documents he was reviewing at the butler’s announcement. Before he could ask who it was, Vincent appeared in the doorway.

Having just concluded his family’s funerals, Vincent looked noticeably thinner. His cheeks were hollow, his beard untended, and dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes. It was a sight that would have broken the Dowager Countess’s heart had she lived to see it.

“I came to apologize for what my family has done. And for being foolish enough to ask you to conceal my father’s crimes without knowing the truth.”

Vincent bit down briefly on his lip before lowering his head. His voice was heavy, as though he were struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“I tried to convince myself that it was all right because I didn’t know anything. I thought that perhaps ignorance would lessen the guilt. But the truth is, I was wrong not to question Isabella — the young maid who suddenly appeared at the estate. And after hearing Isabella’s story from you…”

His voice faltered. His expression twisted as though the words themselves were cutting into him.

“I turned away from the truth. I chose not to see what was uncomfortable.”

During those days, Vincent had shut himself away in his room and done nothing but think. He regretted not realizing sooner. He was angry with his family for committing such crimes and never confessing them. Yet no matter how many times he turned those thoughts over in his mind, the tight knot in his chest would not loosen. In fact, it only drew tighter.

Sometimes he thought it might have been better if he had been executed alongside them.

He had even tied a length of cloth to a ceiling beam, wondering if following in his grandmother’s footsteps would bring him peace. Ultimately, however, he could not bring himself to kick away the chair beneath his feet.

He did not possess that kind of resolve.

Tears fell steadily from his lowered face, darkening the carpet below.

Logan saw the stains spreading across the fabric, but said nothing.

Instead, he simply opened a drawer, took out an envelope he had prepared in advance, and placed it quietly on the desk.

“Take it.”

Vincent’s gaze shifted to the envelope. Recognizing what it contained, he immediately shook his head.

“I can’t. I don’t deserve that. As I am now… I’m nothing.”

“That’s precisely why I’m giving it to you.”

Logan’s voice was steady as he addressed Vincent, who had assumed the envelope held money and refused it for that reason.

“Not to the eldest son of the Everett count’s house—

but to Vincent, the lawyer who worked for the Fraser ducal estate.”

“Since you’re unemployed now. Unless you intend to make me out to be some heartless employer who refuses to pay severance to a long-serving employee, take it.”

For a fleeting moment, a faint smile touched Vincent’s lips.

It was the first smile he had shown since his family’s execution.

Teasing had always been his role.

“…I suppose I should accept my severance. Considering how much you overworked me.”

Even Logan’s awkward attempt at humor did not escape him. Vincent picked up the envelope, knowing that refusing it would mean rejecting not merely the money—but the sincerity behind it.

“Thank you.”

It was only two words, yet they carried guilt, apology, and farewell all at once.

“I’m leaving the Empire. I want to go somewhere else… help those in need through the law. Live in atonement. I’ll carry even the sins I didn’t commit.”

It would never be enough to repay what his family had done.

Still, it was the path he had chosen.

“I see. If that’s the road you’ve decided on.”

Logan watched him in silence before giving a slight nod.

He had hoped Vincent might return to Fraser Enterprises one day.

But he would not force him.

Vincent offered one last smile, then turned his back.

“I hope Isabella wakes safely.”

He paused at the threshold to say it.

Then he stepped out.

The door closed softly behind him.