Chapter 40
Agnès stood facing the priest and explained everything step by step.
That the Overhan family had been secretly running a horrifying child-trafficking operation.
That the witnesses standing here were criminals involved in that crime—
and that they had come forward to confess out of remorse.
Of course, they were confessing because the Basteron knights threatened their lives,
but this version served better to impress the priest and highlight Rickman’s cruelty.
Then Agnès exposed the fake-art scheme that Rickman had created to hide the trafficking.
The priest’s eyebrows tightened.
“I know nothing about such vile people!” Rickman shouted.
But it was a hopeless claim.
The kidnapped children were rescued inside Overhan’s abandoned property,
and these witnesses were arrested on the same site.
Agnès watched Rickman scream and stomp his foot like a child throwing a tantrum.
She remained calm and surveyed the courtroom.
There were very few people present:
- The priest
- Agnès
- Rickman
- Dylan
- Several assistant priests
- Temple guards for secret hearings
Not even fifteen people—each bound by strict secrecy.
After confirming this, Agnès spoke quietly:
“Please bring in the final witness, Hassel Overhan.”
At that name, Rickman froze stiff, not even blinking.
When Hassel entered, supported by two guards, Rickman slowly—almost creaking—turned his head toward him.
Hassel, giggling like a madman and glancing around the room, finally saw Rickman.
“R–Rick… man… you… ah… killed… aahh!”
His words were more like broken fragments than sentences.
Each time he tried to speak, he gasped for breath and curled up, unable to continue.
Even so, Rickman’s face had already turned ghostly pale, and his entire body shook as if submerged in ice water.
Yet Rickman desperately tried to talk his way out.
“That man… he worked for our household long ago! He committed a grave offense. I punished him. What is the problem?”
His voice trembled despite trying to sound bold.
“And besides!” Rickman shouted even louder, “He was imprisoned before the abolition of slavery! Would you have me release him now? Look at him! Do you think a man in that condition could survive alone? I showed mercy! I cared for him!”
Agnès felt so sick she had to cover her mouth for a moment.
After steadying herself, she faced the priest again.
“Rickman Overhan dares lie in front of the sacred representative of the gods. As I stated, that man is not a servant—he is Hassel Overhan, the rightful heir of the Overhan countship.”
“Agnès Everchen! How dare—! Every word that woman says is a filthy lie!”
“Silence!” the priest thundered.
Rickman flinched. Agnès quickly continued.
“Hassel Overhan was active in society. If you summon nobles who knew him, the truth will become clear immediately. Also, Rickman has just admitted himself that he imprisoned this man.”
The priest turned to Agnès.
“Do you know nobles who were close to Hassel Overhan?”
Agnès had already prepared for this and confidently listed names and families.
The priest instructed the guards:
“Bring them here. Even if it takes time. It will be harder for this man to appear in court repeatedly.”
The priest looked down at Hassel with a mix of pity and revulsion.
“If this truly is Hassel Overhan… Rickman Overhan, you will never receive divine forgiveness.”
His words favored Agnès’s side—but they also left her with a bitter taste.
The priest cared far more about a noble being brutalized than dozens of commoner children being sold as slaves.
Rickman, seeing the situation slipping away, tried again:
“Priest! It is true—that man is my brother, Hassel Overhan! But I had a reason! A reason I had to imprison him!”
He paused dramatically, inhaling deeply as if delivering a tragic story.
“Hassel was the heir to the Overhan family. But after a terrible accident, he went mad. I only wanted to protect our proud family’s honor! My brother wouldn’t have wanted his shameful state revealed! I acted out of love and loyalty!”
Agnès stepped forward.
“Priest, I beg you to judge according to the gods. What Rickman Overhan did to his own brother is nothing short of monstrous.”
“That is not true!” Rickman screamed, completely losing reason.
“And even if I have sinned!” Rickman’s face twisted, “That woman does not deserve to be my son’s mother! She is not Noah’s real mother!”
Agnès faced the priest calmly.
“Priest, the same accusation was made in our previous trial. I trust the temple’s judgment. Did any evidence prove that I am not Noah’s birth mother?”
The priest answered:
“No such evidence existed.”
“Because I destroyed it all!” Rickman shrieked.
“The fact remains,” the priest said coldly, “there is no proof that Lady Everchen is not Noah Overhan’s mother. Blood is sacred. Without proof, it cannot be severed.”
“Yes, Priest. Noah Overhan is truly my son.”
Agnès said, her voice filled with carefully crafted joy.
She didn’t believe that blood alone created family—
but right now she would use anything she could.
Rickman grabbed the stand hard enough that his knuckles turned white, glaring at her with pure hatred.
But Agnès was no longer the woman he used to control.
Like a crawling caterpillar turning into a chrysalis, and finally a butterfly with trembling new wings,
Agnès was now rising—unsteady but determined—to the sky.
Rickman found her transformation sickening.
And what enraged him more was that Agnès was not even bringing up the subject he feared most:
Noah’s biological father.
She was ignoring that trump card—as if she could still win without it.
Rickman wanted nothing more than to break her serene expression.
And he had already prepared the method.
He stepped toward the priest, wearing an expression that was half-pitiful, half-triumphant.
“Priest, I believe my son’s wishes are what matter most. I ask that we officially hear Noah’s opinion here in this courtroom.”
Agnès stared at him in horror.
Noah had said he wanted to stay with her.
Rickman must know that.
So for him to say this meant—
What did he tell Noah?
No… no, it’s obvious.
He told Noah I’m not his real mother.
“Priest, Noah Overhan is too young. Such a harsh trial will be painful for him.”
“That is not true,” Rickman countered. “He is the heir of the proud Overhan family. He can withstand it.”
“Rickman!”
“Or are you afraid Noah’s words will disadvantage you, Lady Everchen?”
“Your crimes are already clear,” Agnès pleaded. “At least let Noah stay somewhere safe—how can you—how can a father—!”
Rickman glared with burning eyes.
“Bring Noah Overhan here. Let us hear the child’s will.”
The trial was turning into a mud-slinging match.
The priest sighed deeply but accepted Rickman’s request.
“I will allow it. Where is the boy? At the manor?”
“He came here with us,” Rickman said, wearing a grotesque smile that mixed cowardice with triumph. “He will come immediately if summoned.”
“Priest! Please, the child shouldn’t—!” Agnès cried.
“Lady Everchen,” the priest said sternly, “no matter his father’s sins, the child bears the father’s name and must one day lead the house. We must confirm whether Noah Overhan is ready for such duties.”
“Noah is just a child! He cannot—!”
The priest ignored her and ordered Noah to be brought in.
The heavy courtroom doors opened.
A tiny child entered with a guard.
Noah scanned the intimidating courtroom, anxiety in his eyes—
then saw Agnès.
He flinched violently and lowered his head.
That one small movement made the entire court fall silent.
Because anyone watching would assume:
Noah did NOT want to be with Agnès.
Agnès’s hand trembled violently as it clutched the edge of her dress.
