TTMLPTWW – Chapter 131

No one is born evil.

And no one stays a perfect angel forever.

People go through life being forced to make countless choices—so how could anyone always choose the right answer?

The Helene I’d seen in Count Queensguard’s household had been a refined young lady who never laid a hand on her servants. Instead, she always had others punish those in the wrong for her. She expressed anger, yet avoided taking responsibility herself.

Maybe that’s why she’d grown numb to the consequences of others acting on her behalf. But right now, that face of hers…

“Was it a mistake made in a fit of anger? You’re not someone who takes lives so easily.”

At my question, Helene’s face drained of all color.

As soon as we’d entered the room, Masera had been observing her palms carefully. Now he stepped forward.

He didn’t miss the moment Helene’s composure wavered.

“There’s a clear laceration on Princess Helene’s hand. It looks to be from something sharp, likely while using a fragile or jagged object as a weapon. Judging by how far it’s healed, it occurred around the time Prince Carlos went missing.”

All the eyes that had been focused on me now turned toward Helene.

Panicking, Helene clenched her injured hand into a fist.

Did Carlos know something that could destroy Helene? Was he killed for trying to reveal it…?

“What do you want me to do?”

“Help me. Just once—at least as the brother who grew up by my side.”

Recalling that last conversation with Carlos, I staggered back a step. Masera wrapped his arm around my shoulder and whispered softly.

“Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“……”

“I’m not saying I trust you blindly. I also trust in what I’ve judged to be right.”

He seemed to understand that blind trust only builds expectations—and those expectations can end up hurting both people.

Masera stepped forward and stood in front of me.

His back to me, he felt like a solid wall of protection. One that wouldn’t matter if it came crumbling down on my side.

“During the investigation into the disappearance of a maid named Anna, we discovered there was no record of her—because she had already been registered as deceased in the past. After a thorough follow-up using a business card found in her home, we confirmed her death is closely tied to the criminal organization.”

“Cynthia paid off the syndicate to silence her, didn’t she? Anita’s husband was murdered because of that too—!”

Helene had just recovered from her earlier panic and was about to push back, but Masera didn’t give her the chance.

“Hans Everett showed up at the orphanage where my wife was volunteering. He threatened Anita and her child and demanded money. There were witnesses.”

Masera turned directly to Anita and continued.

“The day my wife gave him the bracelet, a massive jackpot hit the gambling hall for the first time in years. This happened even though the machines had been rigged not to pay out. Yet Hans Everett won the payout. We have a witness for that too.”

He calmly began presenting the results of a long-running investigation.

I hadn’t known he’d dug this far. He never said a word. But now that he was laying it out so precisely… I realized this was his strategy. To strike at the crucial moment.

His face was expressionless as usual, but I could read the subtle fury in his eyes.

“Anita, if you want the truth about your husband’s death, I’ll tell you without holding anything back.”

Anita, whose face had remained emotionless the whole time, nodded.

“Your husband was killed in a back alley by members of the gambling den. So tell me—do you really think it’s right to doubt my wife, who risked herself trying to help you, while mourning a gambling-addicted husband who exploited her and died what you’ve decided was a noble death?”

His words were ice cold, but they stung.

I’d always believed kindness would be returned in kind—but I knew by now that wasn’t how the world worked. So I listened quietly.

Then why did Masera have such a wounded look on his face?

Anita, who had listened silently, slowly shook her head.

“I had already suspected all of that. Thank you for confirming what kind of end that man met.”

Then she said something no one had expected.

“I was threatened by Princess Helene to become her witness in this smear campaign.”

“Anita…?”

Anita hadn’t betrayed me—she’d betrayed Helene.

Helene’s face turned deathly pale. The room fell eerily silent, as if someone had poured cold water over the entire gathering.

“And that’s why I’ve come to speak only the truth. Princess Cynthia saved the lives of me and my child. It’s true that she once lived as a maid, but she would never kill someone just to hide that past.”

From the start, she had only pretended to side with Helene—her real intent had always been to turn the smear campaign upside down.

It was just like her, always keeping her integrity, never joining in when the other servants bullied others.

“Most of the incidents are tied to illegal gun trafficking. After her divorce, Princess Helene lived in a house provided by the organization. This whole press conference was a plot to frame Princess Cynthia as a murderer.”

She calmly shared everything she had seen and heard while staying with Helene.

Helene leapt to her feet, her face drained of blood. She hadn’t expected this at all.

“You ungrateful—how dare you lie like that after everything I did for you—!”

But it was too late now.

Masera, who had been watching quietly, finally opened his mouth.

“Duke Rukanosa has already testified that you embezzled funds from the trade guild by partnering with the organization, and forcibly evicted Diem residents.”

With the roles of accuser and accused now completely reversed, the journalists’ pens flew frantically across their notebooks.

The murmuring crowd, which had been cautious moments ago, now erupted all at once. Shouts aimed at Helene filled the hall.

“She gave the Ducal House’s business money to criminals? Was she trying to bring down the whole Ducal house?! What a demon!”

“She killed anyone related to her sister and tried to pin it on her? All to make herself the sole heir?!”

In that moment, the once-revered Duchess with royal blood had fallen—now seen as a criminal beyond forgiveness.

Masera raised a hand, silencing the growing outrage, and turned to Helene.

“No matter what suspicions you bring against my wife, it won’t matter. The position you’ve ended up in is the result of being deceived and used by the organization’s second-gen leader—‘Capitano.’”

“Capitano?”

The man she thought was helping her behind the organization’s back… was the boss himself?

Helene collapsed into her chair, stunned.

‘I was tricked by Capitano? No… that’s impossible.’

She had sensed it, deep down, but hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Believing Cynthia was the killer… watching everything turn against her… even killing her own brother with her own hands—

All because of the only person I had trusted…

Masera’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts—low and unyielding.

“Helene Queensguard. You are hereby under arrest and will be investigated for charges of murder conspiracy, embezzlement, funding criminal organizations, and involvement in multiple missing person cases.”

He had come with the intent of arresting her from the start.

The doors burst open, and military police stormed in.

Helene resisted fiercely and screamed.

“No! I didn’t kill everyone! I…!”

As she struggled in pain, her gaze locked with Cynthia’s—a look of sympathy on Cynthia’s face.

That girl’s a fake.

She had fought so hard all this time to say just that.

‘But the fake one is…’

She’d convinced herself Carlos was lying. That he was mistaken. But now, she couldn’t speak the words aloud.

She was afraid that those siding with Cynthia would force the cruel truth down her throat. A truth she could no longer deny.

She finally realized—there was no one left on her side.

With her body limp and spirit broken, Helene pleaded.

“…Before anything else… I want to see my father.”

* * *

Cynthia granted her request, and Masera took Helene and the soldiers to the mansion where Count Queensguard resided.

Helene, standing in front of the Count’s room in handcuffs, turned to Cynthia with hollow eyes.

“…Could I speak with Father alone? As a final favor.”

Cynthia would allow it.

Because she didn’t know the truth. Because she would assume that Count Queensguard—who knew her weakness—was about to be eliminated by someone else’s hands.

“I’d like you to allow her request, Brigadier General.”

As expected, Cynthia permitted them some time alone.

“Helene, think carefully. What you see isn’t always the whole picture.”

Cynthia gave her a cryptic warning, but Helene only sneered internally.

‘Only Father knows the truth now.’

Her Bariesa royal blood was her last remaining shred of pride, and the only purpose Helene had left.

‘I need to bury the truth. We’ll both die as fakes… forever.’

Even in death, she wanted to remain a Princess.

Eventually, Helene opened the door and stepped inside, staring down at her father lying in bed.

Though unconscious, he still looked immaculately composed.

“Father, I won.”

She felt a strange thrill and twisted into a mad grin.

“You were my enemy from the beginning. I wanted your approval—and I hated you for it.”

Her brothers had never cared much for the throne or succession. They had arrogantly assumed that what was rightfully theirs would fall into their laps eventually.

In contrast, she had been treated as nothing more than a product for the marriage market.

“You want to receive heir training and run the family business? Marriage is the best business. Focus on becoming the perfect bride.”

Having someone like you for a father is what turned me into this.

I’ll let the daughter of the woman you love live in torment, not knowing the truth, until she dies.

She poured out her resentment as she reached toward him with her hand still bound in cuffs.

The first time had been an impulsive mistake. But this time, she meant it. And that made it easier.

Just as she tried to seize hold of her hatred, a strong force gripped her wrist and stopped her.

“You should’ve killed me on your first try.”

A cold, low voice cut through the air, and Helene’s pupils went dry in an instant.

Count Queensguard was staring up at her, his eyes wide open. He looked at her, eyes full of scorn with something else mixed in, the look of someone taking in something completely worthless.

“I don’t know whether you came to kill the truth, or to take your anger out on the consequences of your own choices—”

His ice-blue eyes flicked toward the handcuffs on her wrist.

“But either way, you’ve handed me the perfect chance to incinerate something useless.”

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