SPTM 17

Chapter 17

Watching Veronica disappear into the building, Richard turned back toward the murmuring prisoners. Among them were a few who looked on him with goodwill, but the ones with nastier crimes in their eyes were the ones glaring at him the most.

Because of Veronica…?

Richard assumed the unexplained hostility came from the fact that he had stopped their harassment earlier. During the entire walk, he had heard the prisoners’ lewd whispers and filthy remarks aimed at Veronica.

“How long’s it been since a beauty like that stepped into the Fortress? Tired of staring at grass and waves all the time—finally something nice to look at.”

“Think she’s lonely stuck in solitary confinement? If they put her in with me, I’d make sure she didn’t feel alone. Heh.”

“Don’t be stupid. The guards probably already claimed her as their mistress.”

Just listening to them made Richard have to fight the urge to show his disgust. If this weren’t a prison, he would have immediately handed them over to the city guards for their words alone.

He stood there, face stiff, forgetting even to continue his walk, when a small-built prisoner rushed over in alarm.

“Something’s wrong! The witch is being harassed by the guards—hurry, you need to go!”

“Where is it?”

Following the prisoner at a run, he came to a cramped corner fenced in with iron bars. But contrary to what was said, neither Veronica nor any guards were there.

“Where’s the witch…?”

“Why would the witch be here? She’s probably with the warden.”

A voice came from behind. Turning, Richard saw a group of rough-looking prisoners slouching toward him, hands in their pockets, blocking the way.

The moment he looked at their faces, each bearing a scar, he realized he’d been tricked.

“So that story about guards harassing her was a lie too?”

When he looked for the scrawny prisoner who’d lured him here, the rat had already slipped away into the gang.

The man at the front, scratching at the grime on his neck, replied instead.

“Whether it was true or not isn’t our problem. Wherever the witch is, that’s not your business either, is it? How about worrying about yourself instead?”

Even though he had clearly been deceived, Richard felt a strange sense of relief knowing Veronica wasn’t here. Which meant there was no reason to waste his time with these men.

As he ignored their jeering and tried to push through, a bat-faced prisoner stepped in his way.

It was the same one he had subdued earlier for pestering Veronica, now glaring at him with grudging hatred.

“Step aside.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. Someone wants us to take care of you, see.”

The group tightened its circle around Richard, watching carefully, waiting for the signal to pounce.

At someone’s shout, they lunged all at once.

“Get him!”

The guard who had shown me into Kyle’s office closed the door behind me, but Kyle, standing by the window, still didn’t turn around. He just flicked his fingers toward me, eyes still fixed on whatever was outside.

“Come here. There’s something I want to show you.”

The gesture was the kind one might use to summon a dog or a pet. Annoyed, I still pursed my lips and walked over, small steps echoing against the floor.

When I stopped a few paces behind him, he gestured again.

“Closer.”

“What? What exactly are you trying to show me?”

Standing beside him, I looked out the window—and gasped.

The view ahead was a broad expanse of blue sea, but when I lowered my eyes, I saw a shadowed corner of the yard beneath the building. There, several prisoners were surrounding and beating one man.

That man was Richard.

I pressed up against the glass, shouting in alarm.

“Why aren’t you stopping them? You can’t just watch while a fight breaks out between prisoners!”

“Why should I?”

His calm retort held not a trace of intent to intervene. His expression made it plain—he had no thought of giving the order to disperse them.

A chill shot down my spine. Realizing he was simply observing Richard’s beating like one might idly watch ants fight, my skin prickled with horror.

“T-Then I’ll go stop it myself.”

I turned, ready to run out and at least tell another guard. But behind me came Kyle’s derisive laugh.

The prison warden, who should be responsible for maintaining order and protecting inmates, showed not the slightest concern. My irritation boiled over.

Just as I reached the door, Kyle stopped me with a single, casually spoken line:

“That rebel is getting beaten because of you.”

“…What?”

Kyle seized my shoulder, forcing me to turn back toward the window, his voice dripping arrogance as he whispered by my ear.

“I knew he was still strutting around like a knight in here. But it was strange, wasn’t it? That he only softened that stiff courtesy of his when it came to you.”

I swallowed hard, seeing my own eyes waver faintly in the glass reflection.

“So I had the prisoners test him. To see if he’d try to protect you like you were more than just another inmate. And well—the result is right there.”

The bat-faced prisoner’s earlier harassment had been orchestrated by Kyle. Richard, not knowing, had stepped right into the trap.

I jerked against Kyle’s grip, trying to shake him off.

“Let go! He was only acting out of chivalry!”

“A fraud who played the saint, a witch like you… and he still insists on showing you chivalry? That’s hardly pure. That clingy look in his eyes whenever he sees you—it’s filthy. You belong to me.”

Kyle’s mouth twisted into a smile that looked like he was forcing down anger. His yellow eyes glared at me with possessiveness, mingled with annoyance, as though I were already his property.

Even the fingers clutching my shoulder unconsciously tightened.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Then again, you’re the kind of woman who uses dim-witted fools like him without an ounce of guilt.”

Kyle brushed the raindrops from his cloak, brows twitching faintly. His eyes, cold and sharp, fell upon the black carriage.

It irked him today more than ever: that while he, the warden, and the knights rode on horseback, the prisoner being escorted was sitting comfortably inside a carriage.

To get out of the drizzle, Kyle had stopped at the gate of a nearby lord’s castle. And there, he met a woman posing as a saint.

“A saint, from the kingdom, you say?”

“Yes… yes. I’m traveling incognito, on pilgrimage.”

Kyle knew at once she wasn’t real. He had seen the true saint before. The woman’s strained, awkward smile was proof enough.

Still, he didn’t expose her to the lord and lady of the castle. Because he couldn’t take his eyes off her—her wavy golden hair, her clear blue eyes.

Something in her appearance reminded him of someone else. He frowned slightly, lost in thought, and the woman’s lashes fluttered as if she were afraid. Even her frightened expression mirrored his memory of his mother.

“May I know the saint’s name?”

“C-call me Veronica.”

Even the name seemed false. But he didn’t care.

He had intended to stay only a day or two, but ended up lingering nearly four. Not just because of the unending rain—but because Veronica intrigued him.

“Ve-Ver-Veronicaaa. Wh-where did you gooo?”

“Oh… young master.”

The pitiful voice belonged to the lord’s son. He suffered from serious defects, and Veronica was staying under the pretense of praying for him.

The boy clung to her constantly, trailing after her everywhere she went.

“I w-went to your room, but you weren’t there. I looked everywhere. Why did you go outside?”

“The roses in the garden were blooming so beautifully, I just wanted to take a quick look.”

“I-I told you not to go far, since I can’t walk well.”

“I was just about to head back in. You want to pray now, don’t you?”

There was nothing saintly in the way he stared at her—only a sticky, lustful gleam. But Veronica, oblivious, answered him with a kind smile.

Or perhaps she wasn’t oblivious at all, but merely pretending not to notice, to maintain her façade as a saint.

Kyle stood in the garden she had left, gazing at the rain-drenched roses that looked all the fresher for it.

“A brilliant flower always attracts pests.”