Chapter 42
It was certainly something to celebrate that Veronica had been acquitted and was leaving the prison, but cowardly as he was, Richard couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness.
The prison without her was unbearably dull and meaningless. Time passed so slowly that he could hardly understand how he had endured it before.
So he beat up a fellow inmate assigned to the same cell. It was a level of depravity he would never have imagined before, but strangely, it made him feel lighter.
He paced in front of the bars, thrilled at the thought that he might see her, even for a brief moment.
“When will you come? I haven’t seen you in days, I want to see you soon.”
Veronica returned with a solemn, detached expression. There was no way her innocence hadn’t been proven, yet she looked as though she had been sentenced to death.
Richard had faithfully kept his promise to get her released. He secretly paid a large sum to the lawyer and wrote letters to the magistrate.
He was confident that Veronica could leave the prison alive and with dignity.
But his expectations were shattered. It was as if she had received a death sentence.
At first, he had tried to prevent her escape. He believed criminals belonged behind bars.
Later, however, he wanted nothing more than her release. She was innocent, after all.
Eventually, he became the one leading the charge to break her out. Veronica… because he had fallen in love with her.
“Veronica.”
She was a mischievous liar, yet lovable in a way that made it impossible to hate her.
“Yes?”
Even if Veronica were a murderer, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t love her.
“Come with me. Live a new life with me.”
Richard smiled brightly.
“I love you. Will you marry me?”
They say people act out of character when faced with death, indulging in behaviors they would never normally consider.
If my deviation from the norm stemmed from a death sentence, what could be the cause of Richard’s eccentric behavior?
A lie that I would rot in prison for life? Or the persuasion that escaping with him was the only way to survive?
One thing was certain—Richard wasn’t proposing with completely pure intentions. Otherwise, why propose in a subterranean cell without a ring or bouquet?
Couldn’t he even see that I was wearing a prison uniform?
“Wouldn’t it be better to say something like that outside?”
“But I want to do it now. Can you answer me now?”
Richard looked at me with sparkling eyes. Ugh, isn’t it cheating to shine your eyes like that?
Yet I found myself imagining a future running away with Richard. Staying at shabby inns, sharing meager meals, walking side by side.
Perhaps if we left the country, marriage wouldn’t be impossible. We could live in a quiet village like ordinary commoners.
In the end, I gave in to the sweet fantasy I had created.
“Alright, I’ll go with you. But I’ll think a bit more about marriage.”
Seeing Richard’s radiant smile, everything felt like it would be okay. That was the feeling I had.
Many prisoners were out for a walk on the lawn today as well. A good day to gather information.
Having rotted in Fortress Prison long enough, I knew a lot and had a sharp tongue, so I was looking for an inmate who could provide information.
I scanned the prisoners like hunting for prey.
“That one… has a menacing look, eliminated. That one over there… eyes too sharp, eliminated.”
Finding someone to talk to in this prison was surprisingly difficult. My wandering gaze finally landed on a hunched-over inmate sitting alone.
Was this the only option? I awkwardly approached and spoke to the elderly woman basking in the sun.
“You’re a witch too, right?”
“Ah, the young one from before. Didn’t I say I’m not a witch?”
“You are a witch.”
I replied curtly and perched beside her. Everyone in the world already called me a witch, so what was the point in denying it now?
Becoming a saint was out of the question; I might as well blend in with witches.
“I’m Veronica. What’s your name?”
“Name’s Malefico, but everyone calls me the witch hag. You’ve got that fancy title ‘Witch of Fortress,’ haven’t you?”
I scratched my cheek reluctantly.
“You’ve been here a long time, so you must know the prison layout well, right?”
“Curious about something?”
“More like… if I ask, would you tell me?”
I tilted my head up and down, scanning the woman. Should I ask what my fate would be? Whether I’d be executed on the scaffold or live a long life outside?
I bit my lips to stop myself from saying it.
Instead, I asked the question I had originally planned, trying to sound casual:
“Is there a secret passage in this prison by any chance?”
“…Why do you ask something like that?”
The old woman blinked as if surprised by my question. I shrugged lightly.
“Just curious. Maybe there’s a way to sneak in outside items, or a secret hole only prisoners know about.”
“A passage… a passage…”
The old witch dragged out her words, wasting time as if pondering or trying to recall an answer.
When no answer came for a long while, my patience ran out.
“Never mind! Boring.”
I hadn’t wanted to talk to her anyway, just wasted time. Losing interest, I stood to leave. At that moment, her liver-spotted hand grabbed my wrist.
Her husky voice slipped through wrinkled lips.
“Wait. I have something to tell you.”
“…What is it?”
The old witch revealed her yellowed teeth in a sly smile. Overwhelmed by the strange atmosphere, I focused on her while still held by the arm.
“I don’t usually tell anyone, but since you’re a witch, I’ll tell you. Actually, it’s a secret…”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Witches don’t need passages. Witches can open any door, so it’s as if there are no doors at all.”
“What?”
I tilted my head in confusion. She spoke louder.
“I’m not really imprisoned here. I stay because I want to. I can stay wherever I want.”
I furrowed my brows.
“What do you mean?”
She shouted loud enough to make ears ring.
“This is basically my home!”
“…”
Another passing prisoner sighed sympathetically for me.
“There she goes again. She says she’s not a prisoner but that this is her home. Looks like her mind isn’t all there.”
“…Then I guess I’m a guest. I’ll go back now. Goodbye.”
Exhausted, I didn’t even have energy to be annoyed. I turned away with dry, lifeless eyes.
Late that night, I went to Richard’s cell. We needed to share the information I gathered during the walk and plan the escape.
Richard had a map he clipped from a newspaper spread out on the desk, and I sketched the prison layout on paper.
We were ready to discuss the escape seriously, but one thing bothered me. I turned my head and asked.
“Richard, do we really have to meet like this?”
“There’s only one chair in the solitary cell. There’s no other way.”
“But I can’t focus on planning like this.”
I was sitting on Richard’s lap. He occupied the only chair, and sitting almost leaning on him while drawing distracted me.
I frowned at him, and he avoided my gaze, embarrassed.
“If you can’t even make eye contact, why insist on this position?”
Wouldn’t it be better if one stood and one sat? At least both standing would allow serious discussion while viewing the map.
“But sitting like this means you won’t see Veronica from behind. If we cover with a blanket, the guards might not notice if they pass by suddenly.”
Richard didn’t release his arms around my waist. Even without eye contact, he showed no intention of giving in.
Except for the slight discomfort, he wasn’t wrong. I bit my lower lip and adjusted my position.
“Alright. Let’s start like this.”
