TTMLPTWW – Chapter 136

“Helene, that prison attire really suits you. And that rope bracelet? Such a vintage look.”

Cynthia tossed the joke casually at Helene as they sat across from each other in the visitation room.

It was the kind of room tucked inside a detention center, empty of guards or investigators. Just the two of them, alone.

“Want a cookie? I heard you don’t have anyone to send you snacks.”

Cynthia proudly held up a box of gingerbread men she’d picked up from a nearby dessert shop. When that got no reaction, she switched tactics, lifting a hefty money bag and a pouch stuffed with jewelry.

“And this is for bribing the guards. You need to become top dog in prison, don’t you think?”

She said it with the tone of a mother packing a lunchbox.

Helene, dressed in ivory prison garb, winced but said nothing.

As she opened the cookie box, Cynthia kept the mood light, as if gossiping.

“Carlos, is he really dead?”

Helene’s eyes drifted, lost in thought.

Her brother’s face, stretching a hand toward her and whispering his regret, kept flashing before her eyes.

“I hit him in the head with a vase, and after that… I don’t really remember.”

Eventually, Helene gave a crooked, biting smile.

“Why, are you worried because you liked him? Planning to take revenge on me or something?”

How long would she have to suffer from the embarrassing memory of her unrequited love, when it wasn’t even hers in the first place…

Cynthia made a disgusted face.

Was the fact that she didn’t involve Edford proof that Helene still had some conscience left?

“I don’t like him romantically. I’m just worried about him as a fellow human being.”

“So the Organization kept trying to frame you like that, probably to make it look like you ran away with a man so they could get their hands on you. That way, even the Brigadier General wouldn’t go looking for you. You’re their lucky charm, after all.”

Why was that sharp brain of hers only firing now?

Cynthia tilted her head slightly, sighing as she popped a cookie in her mouth.

“Helene, do you want to know why you failed?”

Helene’s dulled gaze trembled. It was a question she’d asked herself countless times. Why couldn’t she win? What had she done wrong?

“What, are you going to say something cliché like ‘justice always prevails’?”

Cynthia looked down at her bound wrists and shook her head.

“It’s because you always hesitated. You’re not built for evil.”

A true villain never shows their malice outright. They deceive, manipulate, and shift the blame with expert subtlety.

“What kind of crap is that?”

“If you’d been a real villain, you would’ve won—and claimed justice too. Even though you lash out like a wildcat, you’re as soft as a mouse inside. You kept trying to do things you couldn’t. And the way you went about it wasn’t even like you.”

“That’s…”

“This isn’t justice, either. You were so desperate that you fell for a trick, made unfavorable choices, and lost.”

‘So in the end, Capitano used my desperation to blind me.’

But what good was blaming someone now? It had still been her choice.

As Helene stewed in bitter self-reflection, Cynthia asked in a serious tone,

“Why didn’t you reveal the fact that I killed my father and my identity? It was your key card.”

“…I think I understand the feeling of having no choice but to do it to survive.”

Remembering Carlos’s final moments, Helene lowered her gaze, bitterly.

“Well, I admit I was stupid for falling for it. I really thought you were a psychopathic killer. But you really did like Carlos, didn’t you? That part was true.”

“You know, you’re going to be some old grandma one day, telling everyone at your seventieth birthday party, ‘Let me tell you how I ended up in prison, all because I fell for some bad boy.’”

“You’re insane…”

Helene went pale, muttering in horror—it felt disturbingly plausible.

Cynthia gave a sweet smile and placed a cookie on Helene’s hand.

“If you’d channeled that rage into your talent, things might’ve turned out differently. That ‘Duchess’ Perfume’ you made? It’s selling like crazy now as ‘Witch’s Perfume.’ You were always better than me at that stuff. I don’t have your instincts. I’d probably end up sinking with some duck plushies and a warehouse full of unsold junk.”

Helene thought back to when Cynthia used to praise her. She’d brushed it off as fake flattery back then, but… maybe it had been genuine.

“In this world, once you prove your value, recognition follows. I never got to live in that kind of world.”

Cynthia spoke like someone digging through a very distant past.

“I was planning to suggest you start a business and then mooch off your success. Shame that didn’t pan out. I wanted to see you divorced and living it up with a bunch of hot younger guys, turning the Duke into some pathetic ex-husband.”

Cynthia bounced excitedly at the scenario she had just thought up.

“Remember what I said? It’s not over until it’s over.”

Was constantly injecting hope into someone facing execution her way of getting revenge?

Helene let her head fall back with a sigh.

“You really are… like a sunshine princess. That’s why I hate you.”

She murmured the words with a faint, fading smile.

Maybe if she’d met someone who could’ve shown her that there are things more important than winning… things could’ve been different.

Still, there had been something precious.

She’d just failed to recognize it in time.

Like her brother, who’d promised to make a dream even she had forgotten come true.

‘Was that my last chance?’

There had been a moment, a chance to prove what she’d learned.

Helene took a bite out of the gingerbread man’s leg—and for the first time, gave Cynthia a warm smile.

“Cynthia, you know… the truth is…”

Just as she was about to tell her the truth.

KABOOM-!

A deafening explosion shook the entire building. Cracks split across the walls and ceiling like spiderwebs.

At the same time, a hand shoved Cynthia backward.

‘Helene?’

CRASH-!

The moment Cynthia realized Helene had pushed her away, the ceiling collapsed and heavy debris came crashing down on her head.

* * *

“Cough, cough.”

A haze of dust blinded her vision. Cynthia rubbed her eyes and looked around.

It felt like a bomb had gone off—an earth-shattering explosion, then the building crumbling down around her.

Everything was dark. The structure’s skeleton jutted out through the shattered debris and concrete.

Trapped inside the collapsed building, Cynthia pressed her hands to her ears, trying to drown out the tinnitus screaming in her skull, and took a deep breath.

“Helene!”

Finally snapping back to her senses, Cynthia called out to her.

Then she turned her head—she’d heard something. A faint groan from somewhere.

“Ugh…”

The pained sound came from beneath the rubble of the collapsed ceiling.

“Sis, sister.”

Seeing Helene trapped under the debris overlapped with the image of her sister from her past life.

Cynthia rushed toward Helene, frantic. She spotted a hand barely sticking out and looked down beneath the fallen slab.

“Sister! Sister!”

She grabbed the bound wrists and pulled, but a pained scream tore out from underneath.

“Why the hell are you calling me your sister? That hurts—stop it. My leg’s completely pinned.”

Panting hard, Helene caught sight of Cynthia’s face, now a complete mess.

‘What’s with that look? I don’t get it.’

Watching Cynthia grunt and strain to lift the slab, searching for anything to use as leverage, Helene couldn’t help but feel pathetic. Not at Cynthia, but about herself.

A nearby wall, still miraculously intact, began to crack. Signs of a second collapse.

Helene stared at it for a moment, then spoke.

“What do you think you can do alone? Go get help.”

Cynthia bit her lip, pale as a ghost, and stared down at her.

“Ok. But, don’t you dare die in such a petty way. You still have to get your big, dramatic revenge on me for being a fake, remember?”

Her eyes red from rubbing the dust out, Cynthia stood up, voice quivering.

“Make a lot of money with that business sense, and pay off your debt to me.”

“…When did I borrow money from you?”

“Focus and try hard to remember. If you can’t, you still have to pay it back.”

Trying to joke, Cynthia forced a smile—but her eyes were already crying.

‘So now you’re finally showing it. You’re a crying mess because of me.’

“Just get the hell out already.”

Even now, her last words weren’t kind.

Helene quietly watched Cynthia walk away. One of her shoes had fallen off, and her sock was soaked with blood.

Once Cynthia was gone, silence settled over the wreckage.

“Cynthia, in the end, I never got to tell you. You talk too damn much.”

She muttered to herself bitterly.

You win. In the end, your kindness broke me down.

‘Am I really going to die all alone after all?’

Helene sighed, clinging to consciousness.

A pitiful end, fitting for a devil consumed by obsession.

‘…Being alone is terrifying.’

I don’t want to die.

“But the sister I know isn’t someone who would wither away in someone else’s shadow. Even if your personality is trash, you have a strong business sense, and you’re smart.”

If I’d opened up to Cynthia back then—if I’d actually talked to her—maybe I could’ve broken through that wall I clung to. Seen a different world.

Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for that man’s lies. Maybe we could’ve had a rivalry that meant something…

“Thank you, my rival.”

She whispered her gratitude to the space where Cynthia had stood.

It was the first sincere thanks she’d given since she’d mistakenly thought the Duke had tailored her wedding dress.

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