Part 2 Chapter 71
I lifted my veil at the sight of Alexander alive and well.
Slipping off my black lace gloves, I stepped up to Ryan, who stood frozen in disbelief, and cupped his cheek.
“See? He’s perfectly fine.”
“……”
My poor husband’s mind was shattered.
He had seen Alexander’s mangled corpse with his own eyes. He had even taken part in the autopsy to confirm the truth. And there, too, he had reunited with his [father] after years apart.
That he returned from all that without killing the man outright was a miracle of will.
“It’s alright. Think of it as a hallucination. Wipe it out of your mind, hmm?”
I pulled him into my arms, stroking his back.
“…Yeah.”
A sigh escaped me.
The strongest man I knew, sagging weakly against me like a child.
“Father! Sis! It’s way more fun with more people, so come play! Over here!”
Alexander’s bright voice cut in, no doubt trying to cheer Ryan up.
I turned toward him.
Soon, Alexander would return to court for the appeal.
And before that trial began—
the Bassenbergs would already be finished.
***
The Bassenberg Ducal Castle
The family cemetery still teemed with mourners.
Edgar Bassenberg remained on his lands, greeting each one daily without fail. They all saw only his grief and paid their respects, pitying him.
In truth, all Edgar felt at his son Mario’s death was fury, confusion, and bitter disbelief.
Why handle it so stupidly?
His anger was aimed at the boy himself.
He had seen both bodies with his own eyes. The scene was clear enough: Mario strangling Alexander, Alexander’s counterattack, the scuffle, the fall.
Yet from the very beginning, Edgar found it suspicious.
Why, in the middle of the Conrad Massacre retrial, would Mario strangle the defense attorney in broad daylight, leaving obvious evidence behind as if offering it up?
Documents recording Mario’s misdeeds had been found at the scene, suggesting Alexander had provoked him first. And yet…
The Mario Edgar knew would never botch things in such a way.
This was staged. Obviously so.
But with Alexander also “dead,” proof was impossible.
It should never have spiraled this far.
Weariness weighed on him. He had the gnawing sense he’d overlooked something immense.
And so Edgar chose to end all pretense of restraint. To bare claws against a Gifted had already been reckless. To linger further would be idiocy.
For now, he would at least dismiss the endless mourners.
“When is Gabriel arriving?”
His fourth son, delayed traveling back from Romaier, was the reason the coffin hadn’t yet been lowered.
Just then—
Two soldiers burst in, pale and gasping for breath.
“M-My Lord…!”
One look at their faces, and Edgar felt the cold grip of dread.
***
The Capital – Marquis Valrac’s Mansion
Diana Bassenberg lounged in a bath, maids tending to her. Fury burned in her eyes as she stared at the vial in her hand—the Salvation Draught.
“Do they think life is worthless, peddling such fraud?”
It wasn’t hers.
Several medical guilds had cut ties with her, yet somehow this “cure” was still being distributed under a false provenance.
“Maybe that Academy professor replicated your formula,” her brother Elliot had warned. “If he can mimic Gifted powers, we should tread carefully. Better to slow the distribution.”
Diana had scoffed at the idea. Ordinary men copying the divine gifts? Ridiculous.
But now, confronted with a counterfeit that looked identical, she was seething.
“Knife.”
At her soft command, a maid handed her a jewel-encrusted dagger.
Without hesitation, Diana slashed the girl’s arm.
“Ahh!”
“Drink it.”
The maid trembled, knowing it was a fake. But Diana’s glare left no choice. She swallowed.
And the wound closed instantly.
The onlooking maids gasped. Even Diana’s eyes wavered.
A fake? No—this had the true effect.
Her “unique” power had been stolen. Replicated. Turned into another “genuine.”
“AAAAH!”
She screamed, water splashing as she rose from the tub. The maids scrambled to cover her with a gown.
“That filthy rat! Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance, Elliot?!”
She stormed out, barely clothed, dragging her fury with her.
But on the stairs she met another maid, pale with terror.
“M-Madam!”
“What is it?”
“The Imperial Guard…!”
Diana frowned, hurrying down.
And froze.
Scarlet uniforms. Royal knights, everywhere. Her household subdued in moments.
“What… is this nonsense?”
A hollow laugh escaped her.
At their head stood a man she knew well.
“Nike.” The Third Prince. The hound of the crown.
“Diana Bassenberg. By Imperial order, you are to be taken into custody on suspicion of numerous violations in the Capital. You retain noble status, so we will not shackle you. But I am empowered to escort you by force should you resist. Cooperate, and no scene need be made.”
He recited it as if memorized, face blank.
Diana couldn’t comprehend it—but one thing was clear.
The moment this dog set his filthy boots past her threshold, his life was forfeit.
“You insolent little cur,” she hissed, stepping close, eyes sharp as knives.
“Do you think you can handle me?”
“Do you think you can handle me?”
When Diana Bassenberg sneered at royalty itself, Carly smiled behind her mask.
Ah. So that’s why the young lady asked me to come along.
Bania had warned her:
“Diana will never come quietly. And Nike won’t fight her directly—he’s a knight, he won’t dirty his honor by grappling a woman. If things stall, step in.”
Now Diana’s venomous tongue lashed Nike, digging at his old wounds. Carly remembered Vania’s other words:
“You have your own score to settle, don’t you?”
Yes. She remembered the day her village lay in ruins. Diana, wasting her healing gift on corpses while her own brother begged for aid—and was denied with a scream:
‘Do you think I came here to play charity in this gutter?!’
That day had made Carly who she was.
Now, Diana’s shrill voice jeered on. Nike endured, jaw tight, rope in hand.
Damn slow man. Carly had heard enough.
She shoved through the knights, seized Diana’s hair, and slammed her down.
“Kyahhh!”
The maids shrieked.
Diana, disheveled, gaped up at her attacker, unable to believe it.
Before she could speak, Carly yanked her head back and shook it viciously.
“AAAH! AHHH!”
Her body flailed like a rag doll, scraping across the floor before all.
Tears filled her bloodshot eyes. She trembled now.
“You should’ve been grateful for courtesy. But you just had to yap. And this is what you get.”
Carly leaned close, lips curling.
“I’ll gut you, then cram your entrails down that mouth.”
Still clutching the hair, she stood, looked to Nike with a jerk of her chin.
“Let’s go.”
“AAAH! AHHHH!”
Carly dragged Diana by the hair, out of her mansion, across the floor like the carcass of an animal.
