Chapter 37
The warden barely managed to suppress the question that wanted to escape his lips and instead drew out a roundabout answer.
“There was also a ring, but I brought it to the house we live in together and talked about it naturally.”
Above all, the warden did not want the prisoner to become the prison director’s wife.
A scammer pretending to be a saint wasn’t a woman worth that kind of sacrifice.
“Marriage is not something to decide hastily, so please think carefully. Suddenly taking out a keepsake… it seems a bit abrupt to me.”
No one would remain to oppose his marriage, but what would his father, the former prison director, say if he knew? He certainly wouldn’t approve politely.
“I just brought it because it was gathering dust in the mansion. I also had it cleaned and polished at a jeweler’s.”
“Then, was the ring resized?”
It was a probing question, delicately phrased.
“…Resize it?”
“If the ring is loose, it might get lost, so wouldn’t it be better to adjust it to fit your finger, Director?”
Only after speaking did he realize that his mother’s ring couldn’t possibly be bigger than Kyle’s finger, but he didn’t notice and appeared lost in thought.
He seemed to be recalling Veronica. Since Kyle was usually hard to read, guessing his thoughts was meaningless. Only when he thought of prisoner #14356 did the slightest expression reveal his emotions.
He lowered his eyelashes in contemplation. The warden realized his suspicions weren’t wrong when Kyle came to a conclusion.
“I should leave it at the jeweler again.”
Kyle’s expression twisted as if he were eager to give the gift quickly. The warden thought Kyle finally looked a little more like someone his age—smiling occasionally, always following with his eyes, even trying to gift his mother’s keepsake. It was already too late; even if the warden tried to stop him, Kyle wouldn’t listen.
The warden cautiously advised, “No matter who it is, don’t give your heart too deeply.”
He had to, if he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps.
The warden hoped his son wouldn’t repeat the former prison director’s mistakes, and that Fortress Prison wouldn’t see the same past repeated.
If necessary, the warden was willing to overstep again.
If he couldn’t turn Kyle’s heart, he decided to eliminate Veronica. If the witch of Fortress disappeared, Kyle would return to his original self.
“Have you prepared the carriage to transport #14356?”
The warden asked a lower-ranking guard who was inspecting the carriage. The guard sitting by the wheels put down his tools and dusted his hands.
“Isn’t it always a black-painted carriage for transport? Prisoners are always taken in black carriages, right?”
“I’m telling you to prepare in advance in case the Director gives the order.”
“They were put in a transport carriage before, too. Just treat them like any other prisoner. The prison already provides enough convenience. After all, they’ll be executed the day after tomorrow, so why bother?”
“Prepare one more carriage.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get it ready and report to the Director…”
“No, I’ll handle it. So report to me. And…”
The warden lowered his voice and leaned close to the guard’s ear.
“If #14356 somehow isn’t sentenced to death… push the carriage off the cliff on the way back.”
“Huh?”
The guard’s eyes widened in shock. The warden calmed him and repeated the order.
“Push the carriage with the prisoner off the cliff.”
“But…”
“They’re a witch anyway. Haven’t you heard witches don’t die in water or fire? Even if they did, this would just be punishing a witch who escaped the religious court with a lawyer’s help.”
The lower-ranking guard, who usually handled transport and rarely dealt with prisoners directly, was swayed by the idea that Veronica couldn’t die. Still, a trace of hesitation remained, and he hesitated.
“Killing her directly…”
“Who said you have to kill her yourself? The carriage simply broke while the horses went wild and fell off a cliff. Just an unfortunate accident.”
“….”
“An accident that kills a prisoner during transport is regrettable, but understandable.”
“Understood.”
The guard reluctantly agreed. Though his answer lacked enthusiasm, he was capable of doing what he was told.
If Veronica fell off the cliff and died, Kyle might grieve, but he would quickly forget her and return to normal.
Then he could meet another noblewoman and take her as his wife. All of this was for Kyle Kessnis.
When called out from the underground prison and placed in the transport carriage, it didn’t have bars, but I assumed it was Kyle’s order and didn’t mind.
Even today, the day of the trial, I hadn’t seen Richard. If we weren’t assigned adjacent cells, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know him at all. I felt a little down thinking about that.
Still, I wanted to see his face.
My gaze drifted toward the first floor where Richard’s cell must be. Through the barred windows, our eyes met unexpectedly. Richard was looking at me.
A sudden wave of longing made me frown. He curved his lips as if to make me smile. Even seeing that, I couldn’t smile.
Richard moved his lips.
“Go safely. I’m sure you’ll be acquitted.”
I remembered what he said before. I thought it was a dream back then, but it was real. Richard believed I wasn’t a witch.
“I will.”
I smiled brightly and nodded.
Now, I faced the trial strengthened by Richard’s encouragement. Sitting in court for so long was even a bit boring for me.
Maybe it was because all I could do was listen while the lawyer and prosecutor argued. That meant the lawyer was doing their job well.
“Look at the autopsy report of the murder victim. It would take considerable strength to break the neck of a man of this stature. It would be difficult for the defendant’s slender arms to do it. Yet the victim’s room shows no signs of struggle besides convulsed limbs.”
“I object! There’s no sign of an intruder at the scene. It’s likely the work of someone inside or an acquaintance. And at that time, the only suspect without an alibi is the defendant.”
The judge raised one hand.
“Do you have direct evidence that the defendant killed the victim?”
When the prosecutor hesitated, the lawyer gave me a confident look.
The trial was clearly turning in my favor. If it continued like this, maybe I could be spared, or even freed.
Just as I imagined this hopeful scenario:
“No, but the defendant had a clear motive. Allow me to call a witness.”
A witness?
I stared at the noble entering the courtroom in confusion. He swore before the sacred judge to speak only the truth and then said:
“The fake saint Veronica didn’t kill my son to cover up being exposed as a fraud. My family and I already knew she wasn’t a real saint.”
“Then why did the defendant kill the victim?”
“It’s because my wife and I tried to pair her with my son. As you know, our only heir was frail, so to continue the line, we needed to have a grandson from anyone. We thought it didn’t matter if the woman was a commoner or a liar, as long as she bore a child.”
Hearing the unexpected truth, the audience murmured. The noble, trembling with restrained anger, gave decisive testimony.
“But Veronica used our family’s goodwill, rejected my son, and tried to avoid intimacy, ultimately causing his death!”
“What?”
Gasps of shock echoed around. But no one was more shocked than me. I was dumbfounded at words I never imagined and stared at the noble.
“I didn’t want to reveal my shame, but the only way to vindicate my son is to ensure that evil woman receives proper punishment. I have no choice but to tell the truth.”
The noble bit his lips as if enduring anger and shame. His trembling fist added weight to his testimony.
Shouts blaming me erupted from the audience.
