TTMLPTWW – Chapter 140

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Thankfully, I wasn’t trapped in some cold, dingy basement but in a perfectly decent room.

I got up from the bed and peered out through the barred window.

This was an old castle, and I was on the fifth floor.

“This must be quite a distance from the capital, in some remote location.”

That made sense—there wasn’t another building in sight. Just snow, trees, and the endless stretch of the Great Forest, like a pure white world.

If only my eyesight were better, I could pinpoint more exactly…

Judging from the rust on the metal furniture and the heavy morning fog, there was probably a large lake or river nearby.

I turned my gaze to the head of the bed.

There sat the pouch of valuables I’d given to Helene.

“So, he met with Helene.”

Guess he returned it since he couldn’t bring himself to take it. I opened the pouch and checked the contents, smiling bitterly.

Grggle—

Starving as I was, I had no energy to dwell on sentiment.

Was he planning to break me by isolating and starving me? I hate boredom and hunger more than anything.

The reflection in the window showed me with a gauze patch on my forehead. I peeled it back slightly—there was a stitched-up wound underneath.

Whoever treated it had done so in time, so there’d be no risk of infection… but it looked like it would probably leave a scar.

“Is this a sign I should grow bangs?”

Once, I’d asked Masera, ‘Should I cut my bangs or grow them out?’ but he hadn’t understood the difference and couldn’t give me the answer I wanted.

“I wouldn’t know—I haven’t seen it.”

On the bright side, I could surprise Masera with a new look later, and if I ever got into a fight with someone I could flash this glorious scar to look tough. So, it was a good thing.

“It’s just a little life scratch.”

I pressed the gauze back on and went to the door.

Just in case, I tried the handle—

Click.

“Huh?”

It opens?

Maybe they’d left it unlocked because running away would only mean dying of exposure or becoming animal feed before making it out of the Great Forest.

I stuck my head out and locked eyes with two men guarding the hallway—both wearing half-masks.

“Hello?”

At my cheerful wave, the big bald one instinctively started to raise his hand before scowling fiercely.

“Running will do you no good. That’s why the door isn’t locked.”

I studied the tattoo-covered bald one with the menacing vibe, even with the mask on, and the other man who looked more approachable.

Based on my experience from my two combined lives, the bald one wearing protective tattoos is the one with the fragile heart.

Should I make him my bestie?

“I know. But I’m so hungry.”

“Why are you speaking so informally? You shouldn’t have upset Capitano.”

“You spoke informally first. I thought you wanted to be friends.”

I stepped up to the bald man, clasped his palm—bigger than a pot lid—and gave him a pitying look.

“Could you sneak me a little something to eat? I won’t snitch.”

He jerked his hand away, then glanced down at the trinket I’d slipped him—and flinched in surprise.

I whispered in a low voice.

“I might need your help from time to time. If you won’t do it, I’ll just have to ask someone else…”

I pretended to give him a choice, but I already knew the answer.

The Organization is full of people chasing immediate profit—expendables who never know when they’ll die.

The bald man shot a glance at his comrade leaning against the wall smoking a cigar.

“I could spare you a scrap of stale bread.”

“I’m injured and in pain, you know… if only I could have some meat too.”

“Oh, I don’t know…. well, we can’t have the hostage getting sick.”

Thus I struck the perfect bargain with a bald tattooed man who had the heart of a shoujo heroine.

I gestured for him to lean down, he obliged, but gave me a look that clearly said, ‘I’m only doing this because you’re as small as an acorn.’

“You have to sell what I gave you today. Gold prices will drop significantly soon.”

“Got it.”

I raised my voice so the man beside him could hear.

“I know a lot of valuable information. Want to be my conversation partner? It’s lonely all on my own.”

Maybe remembering I was married to Nox’s oil tycoon, even his buddy pretended disinterest while pricking up his ears.

“Does your luck work for horse racing, lottery, gambling too?”

“It does. Lotto numbers: 2, 6, 12, 24, 33, 35.”

Go on, try it. You’ll regret it.

Just then, both men stiffened and resumed position, having spotted someone.

“Capitano, sir, you’re here.”

“I told you to call me CEO.”

Makia was walking up with his signature crescent-eyed smile.

So Capitano is his Organization alias? Less personality than my pen-pal priest’s nickname ‘Holy Spirit Overfloweth.’

I slipped back into the room and soon found myself seated opposite Makia at the sofa and table.

“Are you done being mad now? I’m starving.”

I seriously felt like I was about to collapse.

He stared at my gaunt face, then lounged back in the sofa.

“I’m not mad.”

Not mad? After cruelly withholding food?

He rubbed at the corner of his mouth and added in a low voice,

“I’m really not.”

“Sure.”

I answered flatly.

He pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and a fountain pen, placing them on the table.

“Unfortunately, the Brigadier General is denying your death. So I’d like you to write a will/suicide note.”

“What? Suicide? My life is too rich, happy, and fulfilling right now!”

He was asking me to write something no one in the world would believe.

“You already started one before, remember? Just finish it.”

The paper he handed over was the will I had started to write before, only to stop because it was too depressing.

How did he get his hand on this? My eyes widened.

“The Brigadier General knows about this will too. He just pretended not to.”

Makia opened it, pointing to the tear-stained section with a mocking smile.

“…The Brigadier General read this?”

“Apparently a while back.”

Goosebumps prickled over me.

It read like something a sulky teenager scribbles after being scolded by their mom, which is why I’d stopped.

So that’s why Masera had been treating me like I was a terminally ill female lead.

“If you finish it, I’ll give you a meal. It would be even better if it included guilt and burden about the deaths of those around you, and resentment towards Brigadier General Vicente.”

“…Do I really have to write it with you watching? I’m too embarrassed to do it properly.”

That was my way of telling him to get lost—and he actually stood.

“Once you’re done, I’ll bring the food.”

Hopefully he didn’t mean we’d be reading it aloud over dinner.

Once Makia left, I raked my hair and sighed.

He must be planning to use a resentful, suicide note to break Masera and make it easier for Count Queensguard to reclaim Nox.

For now, the best course was to play along.

“…But what if Masera takes this seriously?”

Why does this remind me of that angsty double-suicide novel my sister mentioned?

That one where the male lead falls deep into regret after the female lead commits suicide, only to kill himself in the end…

And wasn’t the big twist that the female lead didn’t actually kill herself, but after all the assassination attempts one finally succeeded?

I shook my head to banish the dark thoughts.

“No. My man’s not that foolish.”

He’s stubborn as hell and only believes what I say.

Masera would go full ‘I refuse to believe Cynthia’s dead until I see for myself’, all while ignoring any and all so-called proof.

Steeling myself, I picked up the pen and began scratching out the will.

“Phew, done.”

It took quite a while, but at last it was finished.

I opened the door and announced that it was ready, so they could bring out a feast.

“The CEO will be here soon. Don’t start eating before he comes.”

“Teasing me like this—he should just appear with the food… huh?”

I froze when I met the eyes of the middle-aged man warning me.

“Village Chief?”

It was the village chief I told everyone about, the one who tried to buy a gun for hunting wild boar and instead got mixed up with arms smuggling. What’s he doing here?

He blinked at me a couple of times, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“Cindy… the trap expert? You’re Princess Cynthia?”

Had he only known my nickname?

His name was John Wick—Village Chief of a small town near the Queensguard County. We’d become friends after I helped him out with the beasts that raided his crops.

Of course, I raided the Queensguard estate’s warehouse for the food lures, and then caught the beast and released them. It wasn’t their fault after all, they’d only come down because it was the dead of winter and they had nothing to eat.

After giving him a quick rundown of the lost daughter of the Count Queensguard cliché, I asked,

“Did you change jobs?”

At my question, he made a face that promised an awfully interesting backstory.

And so the Village Chief’s story went…

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