Chapter 40

Rachel bit her thumb in front of the tightly shut iron door. For several minutes now, she had been unable to open the door that had been granted to her.

It all started with something Marcus had said.

“Need help?”

As always, while sharing drinks together, he suddenly asked her that.

“Curious, aren’t you? About what kind of woman she is.”

Instead of answering, Rachel set down the glass she had been about to drink from. Her fingers trembled slightly. It felt as though her carefully hidden feelings had been entirely exposed.

To be honest, she was curious. What kind of woman could shake him so deeply, even without a single memory of her? She had imagined the woman over and over, only to erase her again.

“…Never mind.”

Still, she tried to hold back. Jeckart would get angry. She had already done more than enough to earn his dislike. She didn’t want to add unnecessary curiosity on top of that.

Yet Marcus seemed to have anticipated even this.

“By the way, Jeckart will be away from the office all day tomorrow. Erich said so. Looks like he has some official business.”

With the reason for her patience gone, Rachel could no longer restrain herself. Thus, with the help of Marcus, who held the rank of Inspector Stifts, she arrived at Bellen Prison.

“Not going in?”

Marcus, who had been waiting patiently for her hesitation, prompted her. Throughout the journey, she had sensed a strange excitement in him.

“I’ll manage myself. Go.”

Rachel glanced at him briefly and replied curtly, her voice betraying the tremor she could not conceal even from vanity.

“We’ll be up all night, I bet.”

Ultimately, it was Marcus who made the decision.

“Open it.”

He commanded the guard at the iron door. A chilling metallic clank resounded through the air. Rachel held her breath. The moment the lock clicked and the door began to open felt like it stretched into eternity.

The solitary cell beyond the door was dark. Perhaps understandably, it was an underground room with not a single window. In that darkness, the image of the woman inside appeared and disappeared in her mind repeatedly.

“I’ll go alone.”

Surprisingly, Marcus stepped back without insisting on following.

It seemed his curiosity, unlike hers, was not directed at the woman. Then what had brought him here? What had compelled him to come?

“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Her thoughts were interrupted naturally by the hand that nudged her forward. As she took a hesitant step, the iron door closed behind her, enveloping the room in complete darkness.

Click-

Rachel lit the lamp she had brought.

Finally, in the dim light, she faced the woman.

Ah, so it’s you. The one who shook Jeckart.

Her green eyes, gleaming even in the faint light, slowly scrutinized the woman before her.

The woman’s eyes were covered, and her hands and feet were bound. She was very small, appearing even smaller as she huddled.

Her hair is blonde… unlike mine.

Rachel bit her lip lightly and reached out to remove the cloth covering the woman’s eyes.

The woman’s eyelids fluttered for a moment before she slowly opened her eyes. Through the parted lids, Rachel caught a glimpse of her irises—they were also gold.

Her eye color is different too.

Her nose, her mouth—nothing about her matches me.

Rachel let out a cold laugh at that realization.

Had she hoped, even a little, that the woman might resemble the one Jeckart’s heart leaned toward? But looking into her eyes allowed no such illusion. The feelings she had tried to suppress now shifted in an entirely different direction.

“Who are you?”

The woman’s frightened voice sounded. Rachel smiled faintly.

“…Monica.”

The one who would deliver hell to you.

Chains connected to pulleys raised a pair of arms toward the ceiling. Yet the chains did not stop rising.

Edit, who had been slumped, seemed to regain consciousness and lifted her head. Red, sticky liquid ran down her pale jawline.

Though she had not been there long, Edit was already exhausted from Monica’s indiscriminate violence.

At first, it seemed she was using only hands and feet, but at some point, she pulled out a whip from the corner of the interrogation room.

It was less interrogation than sheer venting of anger.

“Do you know? I’ve never failed an interrogation.”

As she slowly approached with the whip, she corrected herself, as though she had suddenly remembered something.

“Ah, except for just once.”

Perhaps recalling that failure, the woman’s green eyes flashed with a chilling intensity. They became even more cruel. The whip descended upon Edit relentlessly, tearing through air, clothing, and skin alike. Exquisite pain tore through her entire body.

“Ugh.”

Edit let out a suppressed groan.

At that moment, her feet began to lift off the floor. Tension in her shoulders brought aching pain. Her thumbs barely brushed the blood-soaked floor.

That was when the pulley stopped.

“…I really don’t know anything.”

Edit’s exhausted voice barely carried, tasting metallic with each word.

Rachel, sitting cross-legged in the interrogation chair, replied casually.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I particularly want to ask anyway.”

“Then… what do you intend to do with me?”

“Thinking about it. What I’ll do.”

Edit closed her eyes in resignation before she could say more. Her toes, which had been barely touching the floor, also lost all strength. The pain in her shoulders worsened, but she ignored it. Compared to the burning pain across her back, it was nothing.

Her head slumped forward weakly.

Rachel watched and took out a cigarette. Lighting it, she smoked slowly, seeming truly lost in thought.

In truth, Rachel’s dilemma wasn’t about what she would do. That was already decided. The question was the method.

How to kill her, how to kill her properly…

Would it break his heart?

A soft exhale sent a cloud of smoke scattering in the air.

At first, she had thought of striking the face. That gentle face he cherished—obliterated, formless.

But doing that would only make it unforgettable. His mind would endlessly reconstruct and restore it, leaving an even prettier image in his memory.

Then what should she do?

How should she lie dead for him to finally break?

Ash fell from the long cigarette in the ashtray to the floor.

Rachel stubbed out the cigarette after a few more drags and rose.

She hadn’t found a method.

Or perhaps, there was no way to erase the woman entirely from his memory. No matter how she looked or how she lay dead, she would always remain in Jeckart’s mind.

Not as her face, but as something else.

Thinking this, Rachel’s hatred for the woman deepened. Enough to want to torment her for a very long time.

Jeckart got into the car. The interior, long unused, was filled with cold. Even with his unexpected early return, it still felt that way.

“Heading straight to the mansion?”

Erich asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yes.”

The engine growled as it started. No sooner had the car begun moving than Jeckart asked,

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. Crown Prince Bariel just made contact with Perel Monty. Their location is in the village of Tarak, where they’re hiding.”

His black eyes darkened further. Whenever he fell into thought, this always happened.

“The purpose?”

“No confirmation yet, but…”

“No. We’ll find out there.”

“Yes.”

As the situation required careful action, much needed to be discussed. Jeckart postponed conversation until reaching the mansion, where the documents awaited.

He stared out the window. The city at sunset was dyed in crimson.

Racing through the sunset, he arrived at the mansion. He headed toward the study with Erich, but the butler suddenly called him.

“Master.”

Jeckart stopped at the butler’s voice. His greying mustache quivered with each word.

“You have a guest.”

“A guest?”

“Yes. Inspector Marcus Kruger. He’s been waiting for quite a while. Perhaps you should meet him first.”

Jeckart’s face stiffened at the unexpected name.

Officially, Marcus was merely a subordinate within the Stifts. This was the first time he had come to the mansion to see Jeckart.

Jeckart altered his course toward the reception room instead of the study.