Chapter 55
The moment she brought it up, I knew—it meant she was offering to teach me sorcery.
Sensing my wavering heart, the old woman curled her lips into a crooked smile.
“If you let me meet him, I’ll pass on the art of spellcraft to you.”
Now that my attempt to turn the lever of the operating door had failed, if I could open it through sorcery, Richard and I might escape from Fortress Prison.
But… I wasn’t a witch.
Even if the old woman taught me the magic circle, there was no way someone who wasn’t a witch could actually use magic.
And even though she claimed she could open any door, there had to be a reason she still remained here in Fortress instead of escaping herself.
It clearly wasn’t because they treated her well or gave her good meals.
So this “deal” of hers, while sounding advantageous to me on the surface, was in truth nothing more than a deceitful trap.
I almost fell for it for a second.
Brushing my hair back, I smacked her hand away.
“I don’t need it.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t have time to waste learning tricks. When you’re counting your days before execution, every single one is precious.”
The old woman froze, not immediately understanding my words, then asked again.
“You know when you’ll die?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t…”
“Neither do I.”
The old woman’s face went blank with confusion.
Feeling smug, I shook out my blanket and spread it over the bed.
A beat later, she realized I’d been playing word games with her and began to grumble under her breath.
The night was short because of the fire that had broken out.
I had barely fallen asleep in my newly assigned cell when the iron door rattled open.
Still groggy, I lifted my head to look at the guard.
“Prisoner 14356, you here?”
The guard warden’s face was oddly stiff despite the urgency in his tone.
Something was clearly wrong.
Could they have discovered that last night’s fire was set on purpose?
Or that I’d sneaked into the tower to open the operating door?
Oh, right—the key I’d stolen from Kyle. I still hadn’t returned it.
Had Kyle noticed it was missing and sent the warden to fetch me?
“The warden wants to see you immediately.”
So Kyle had indeed sensed something amiss.
I grabbed the key and tried to stall for time.
“Just a moment. Let me wash up first.”
But unlike usual, when they would let me take my time getting ready, the warden refused outright.
“He said it’s urgent news. Wash later—come now.”
“At least let me brush my teeth—”
“Now.”
He looked ready to drag me out by force if I delayed any longer.
But it didn’t seem like my treatment had changed; the urgency felt genuine.
That, in itself, made me curious.
What kind of news could be so pressing that they couldn’t wait a few minutes?
And since it wasn’t just any guard but the warden himself who had come for me, I couldn’t exactly refuse.
In the end, I tucked the key behind my back and left the cell.
“All right, I’m coming.”
At that moment, I had no idea how terrible the news awaiting me would be.
The warden led me not to the reception room where Kyle and I usually ate, but to his office.
Kyle, looking somewhat disheveled from the early hour, was seated at his desk, staring grimly at a document.
When the warden left, only Kyle and I remained.
I tilted my head, puzzled that he wasn’t even looking at me.
“Didn’t you say it was urgent?”
Finally, Kyle lifted his head and met my eyes, the paper still in his hands.
“Listen carefully, and don’t panic. A decision came from the court.”
“What kind of decision?”
He either didn’t realize that his warning not to panic was making me more anxious—or he did it on purpose.
I steadied my breathing, telling myself to stay calm no matter what.
“Your execution date has been set. It’s not far off.”
“What…!”
So much for not panicking.
Kyle’s mouth seemed to move in slow motion, the words echoing in my mind before I could even process them.
Did he just say my execution date was decided?
No—it couldn’t be.
But the sorrow in his expression left no room for denial.
That’s why he’d told me not to be shocked.
I exhaled shakily, trying to compose myself.
“I see. It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t expect this. I knew this day would come eventually.”
“Are you really all right?”
“…No.”
I pretended to be calm, but even my trembling voice betrayed the truth.
My execution date… It’s been decided.
Who in the world could possibly be all right with that?
I wasn’t fine at all.
I gave up pretending and sank weakly onto the sofa.
Kyle watched me with pitying eyes.
There he was—the man who claimed to love me—looking perfectly calm while I was being sentenced to death.
Anger flared up in me.
They’d falsely accused me of witchcraft, pinned a murder charge on me, and now they were going to execute me—and he just sat there looking regretful?
My resolve to keep pretending affection for him began to crumble.
I can’t forgive him.
With burning eyes, I glared at Kyle.
“So what now? You’re just going to let me die?”
“You’re furious. Come here.”
He extended his arms toward me.
I stood from the sofa and walked over. He still held his arms open, as if asking me to come into them.
After learning about Kyle’s past, I had made a decision.
If this was his twisted way of loving me, then I would use that love to my advantage.
I hesitantly sat on his lap and leaned against him.
Kyle chuckled softly, clearly pleased.
I bit my lip in silence as he said the words I had been expecting.
“Of course I won’t let you die. I told you I’d get you out of Fortress, didn’t I?”
“How?”
“On the day of your execution, I’ll divert the transport carriage. Two carriages will leave the prison. The one you’re in won’t go to the gallows—it’ll head to my estate instead. From then on, you’ll live with me.”
So that was your plan all along.
Ever since I heard from the warden about his mother—a former prisoner who became the warden’s wife—I’d suspected something like this might happen.
I was destined to follow in her footsteps.
Kyle, it seemed, could never free himself from his mother’s ghost.
Part of me almost pitied him.
But pity quickly turned to fury.
To think my only escape from death was to become his woman… the thought made me sick.
As I bit my lip hard, Kyle reached into a suitcase and pulled out a small velvet box.
I recognized it immediately—something I’d seen when I searched his room last night—but I pretended to be surprised.
“What’s that?”
“A gift for you. You said you didn’t want jewels or dresses, but this is special. Take it.”
When Kyle opened the box, a vivid blue sapphire ring gleamed brilliantly under the light.
Tiny diamonds sparkled around the large central stone.
I couldn’t help but gasp.
Such a ring was the kind nobles used for engagement or marriage—far too extravagant to be called a mere “gift.”
My voice trembled slightly as I asked,
“You’re giving this… to me?”
The unspoken words something this expensive? hung in the air.
Kyle silently took the ring out and grasped my left hand.
He slid it onto my fourth finger with care, smiling as if satisfied with the perfect fit.
“It was my mother’s. I’m glad it fits you, too. Since it’s a keepsake, don’t even think of selling it—keep it safe.”
The ring felt unbearably heavy—not just because of the gemstone, but because of what it symbolized.
It was almost laughable that I’d once thought jewels were useless to a condemned prisoner.
This one was far worse than useless. It was a chain disguised as love
