Chapter 54
“If you abandon me and go to Kyle, he’ll be the one to get me out of here safely. That’s more likely to succeed than you and I trying a reckless jailbreak together.”
I let go of Rihardt’s hand and slowly turned away. Looking into his faintly shining, fragile eyes, I couldn’t help but speak a truth that wasn’t a lie.
I knew full well how uncalculated, irrational, and sentimental what I was about to say would sound.
Still, I confessed the unvarnished truth my heart urged me to say.
“If it fails, all that will be left for me is death… but if the end is with you, I don’t think I’d be afraid to die.”
Even if attempting an escape with Rihardt became the last day of my life, it certainly seemed better than living a half-hearted lie, pretending to love Kyle.
This time, it was Rihardt who stiffened as if shocked. He fell silent for a moment, unable to reply immediately to what I had said.
Not long after, Rihardt answered in a trembling voice.
“No — I don’t want your death. Even if I have to part with you.”
As he spoke, Rihardt wrapped his arms around me. The scent from his embrace felt warm and comforting, and for some reason it brought tears to my eyes.
Is this our farewell…?
Rihardt was sent to the first-floor cell block for commoner prisoners. I was assigned to the second-floor cells where nobles and model prisoners were kept — one level above him.
When Kyle said he would arrange it, I refused at first, but in the end here I was on the second floor… of all ways to end up.
“I hope my cellmate isn’t a noble…”
It might be a petty gripe, but having conned nobles for a living, I was secretly hoping my cellmate would be a commoner.
Without any information, holding only a single basket, I was led to the door of my new room.
Squeak, clank! I found my mouth slightly agape at the prisoner inside the cell. A guard shoved me inside and said,
“That one will be Malefico — your new roommate from today. Hey! You’re supposed to use the bed opposite, so move your useless stuff.”
The guard, having said his piece, was about to close the iron door. I grabbed the door and shouted in a small but passionate voice.
“Wait a minute! What is this? Why do I have to share a room with that hag? Are you discriminating against people by slapping a witch accusation on them?”
“Stop your squawking. Don’t confuse being given special treatment with being discriminated against. That prisoner didn’t come in because she’s a witch either.”
I glanced sideways at the wrinkled old woman who watched me with narrow eyes. She’d called herself a witch when we met on the lawn — what on earth is her true identity?
“Then what’s her charge? Is that old woman a noble? Or a model prisoner or something?”
“If you’re curious, ask her yourself. Don’t make a fuss; keep quiet.”
The guard didn’t properly answer a single thing. He brushed me off, released my hand from the door, shoved me inside, and slammed the door shut.
“Haa…”
My roommate was an elderly witch-looking woman. I sighed and turned away.
The cell was cluttered with cloths and papers covered with strange symbols, and old, worn books scattered about. And you’re saying she’s not a witch?
There wasn’t the damp, underground smell of a cellar, but the room had a stale, musty odor. I didn’t relish the idea of serving my sentence in a place like this.
“You came in late and let cold air in, didn’t you?”
The old woman, a blanket draped around her shoulders, removed her magnifying glass and set down the book she’d been reading. Reluctantly, I shouldered my basket and stepped into the room.
“So I should use this bed, right? Is she really a noble? Reading books at dawn before the sun’s even up…”
“Hoho, wouldn’t it be nice to have been born a noble.”
“If she’s neither witch nor noble, then what is she? And what are those unknown symbols?”
I tried to mask my irritation and brusqueness as I made the bed. Sheets with markings I couldn’t tell if they were pictures or writing fluttered down. The old woman picked one up and said,
“Careful! That’s a talisman to cure joint pain!”
Is she senile? I don’t want to live with a roommate whose mind drifts off like this.
Just as I was thinking of asking Kyle to change my cell assignment, the old woman muttered and began tidying the room while talking to herself.
“If not me, then who’s a witch? Since before, that young one acts like she can see everything. It’s not that my charge isn’t witchcraft, it’s that I’m not a witch.”
“Tell me the truth. Why are you in here then?”
“I ended up here because of childbirth. I was the only midwife in the village, but the baby was born dead. They blamed me and took me away, told me to stay here. But receiving meals on time isn’t so bad.”
Right — what matters is that you get fed.
I almost nodded unconsciously, then snapped back to attention. What mattered now was the old woman’s crime. Whether true or false, that reason would put me at ease.
So, she’s a model prisoner, not a witch? I quickly changed my mind and softened my tone toward her.
“Anyway, since we’ll be sharing a room, let’s get along. You should tidy these messy cloths and air the room more often. Are the designs on this cloth really talismans to cure joint pain?”
I picked up a cloth with my thumb and forefinger and handed it to the old woman. In the dim light it looked ragged enough to pass for a mop.
“You see now, you’re not a seer; you’re just blind. You really don’t know what this is?”
The woman shook the cloth in front of my face. I grudgingly nodded.
“A witch who can’t draw such talismans — pathetic. Lazy and unwilling to learn.”
The woman tutted and began to straighten the cloths.
It irked my pride that she treated me like a halfwit just because I didn’t know a few talismans. Who was she to talk?
“It’s only because no one taught you. How about I teach you? Want to learn?”
“You’ll teach me sorcery?”
I squinted at the supposed witch. I wasn’t sure she could really teach me, and as a former saint candidate, was it okay for me to learn dark arts?
But I’d learned how to pick locks and slip through bars before, and that skill had proven useful. Learning talismans might one day come in handy.
The old woman gave me a lascivious look and said,
“If you do me one small favor.”
Deals require exchange. Somehow this felt like an offer meant to benefit her.
“…What do you want?”
If she asked for something difficult, I’d refuse outright. But suddenly a sharp gleam flashed in her cloudy eyes.
“Let me meet that person, just once.”
The old woman’s gaze sharpened and fixed on me. An eerie feeling crept over me.
“Who?” I asked.
“The prince’s knight.”
Rihardt? Hearing Rihardt’s name unexpectedly made me uneasy.
The old woman gripped my arm tightly, bared her yellow teeth, and moved her wrinkled lips.
“The knight who’s always with you. You know who I mean. I want to talk to him. There are things to confirm.”
A flush of revulsion rose up. She wanted to meet Rihardt?
It wasn’t as difficult a request as I’d feared — Rihardt would agree to meet if I asked.
Still, I couldn’t accept her offer. Some indistinct discomfort stopped me from agreeing.
To woo me, the old woman whispered another thing.
“You want to get out of this prison, don’t you, young one?”
“Who wouldn’t want to get out?”
I agreed vaguely. I didn’t trust a fellow prisoner enough to expose my intent to escape. I didn’t know what the so-called witch truly wanted or what her scheme was, so I remained wary.
Yet her proposal shook my caution because it was tempting.
“You must be looking for a way to open the gate.”
“How could you—!”
“You asked me about the passage before. You must have asked because you want to get out of prison.”
I feared that by asking earlier I might have leaked escape plans.
“I’m not lying. I also know the talisman to open the gate. Don’t you want to open the gate?”
