TTMLPTWW ~ Chapter 155

 * * *

Beyond the fingertips reaching for the scattered stars in the aurora, a lifeline appeared.

The rope made of blankets, which I had used during the escape earlier, was hanging from the tower window.

I grabbed it with all my might.

“Ugh!”

Due to my innate lack of strength and weak bones, I felt immense pain in my hands and wrists.

Eventually, just before I lost my grip, Masera grabbed the rope with one hand.

Despite being at his limit due to the gunshot wound, he held onto the rope with sheer willpower, slowing our descent as we slid down.

Soon, we fell with a thud onto the snow-covered ground.

Snowflakes scattered as the impact of the fall jolted through my entire body.

I blinked, looking up at the sky where snow was pouring down.

My heart was beating rapidly.

Fortunately, the straw piled underneath acted as a buffer, preventing any major injuries.

“We’re alive, right?”

To my joke, Masera, who was underneath me, smiled weakly.

I could see his chest area was stained a dark color, and red blood was spreading on the white snow.

I tore a piece of my skirt and pressed it firmly against the gunshot wound to stop the bleeding.

He looked up at me, who had become silent, and placed his hand over mine.

I could see his breathing slowing down. I was afraid of the increasingly faint breath escaping his lips.

Markiel’s men were running down from the tower.

How many more hurdles did we have to overcome? Had I used up all my luck with what just happened?

The past, where even with good luck, I couldn’t avoid losing loved ones, was terrifying.

* * *

“You know,”

Cynthia said, mustering the last of her strength to move him behind a baggage cart, then taking out the pistol Brigadier General Steve had given her.

“The reason I have trauma isn’t because I’m afraid of losing my life. I’m brave enough to face my end standing in the middle of a bombing.”

Cynthia, holding the pistol, lowered her body like a skilled soldier and peeked outside.

Masera watched Cynthia’s back with blurred vision.

Cynthia turned to look at him with a pitiful expression.

“It’s just guilt.”

The hand gripping the pistol was trembling.

She was recalling how the bombing, directed by the coordinates she had provided in her previous life, had swept through not only the enemy lines but also a civilian village.

“…And it was shame. I killed so many people under the guise of saving someone. That’s why I couldn’t say it.”

Everyone, friend and foe alike, was the same, with their own lives.

But that was a nice thing to say only in times of peace.

Once war began, everyone simultaneously took on the roles of killer and victim.

In the hellish dilemma where you either killed or your family died, there weren’t many choices.

That’s why she didn’t have the courage to tell him she loved him.

She was merely showing it through actions instead of words.

Cynthia, who was aiming her gun, gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger as an Organization member emerged from the tower.

The bullets she fired pierced the knees and arms of the running Organization members.

After the gunshots ceased, she lowered her stance again and muttered to herself.

“They say you have to be prepared to abandon yourself to save someone.”

It wasn’t just about life.

You had to abandon your values, beliefs, and the entire life you lived according to justice.

Cynthia’s eyes, looking at Masera, were tinged with blood, and then she asked with a detached, emotionless face.

“…When will this hell end?”

The incessant gunshots, screams, and shouts felt distant.

Masera, breathing heavily, looked up at the red aurora that was said to be connected to the world of the dead. Are you someone from beyond there?

Will you go back once you’ve completed your mission to save someone?

“Even if every world that exists is hell, and life itself is a punishment…”

He managed to part his lips and smiled at her.

“I will belong to your world. Whether it’s hell or heaven.”

Bang!

Masera, leaning weakly, raised the gun he held in one hand. An Organization member, who was aiming at Cynthia, screamed and fell from the window.

Click, click.

All the bullets were gone. The same was true for Cynthia.

Organization members with guns surrounded them and began to close in.

“You acted like you’d never held a gun before, but you’re quite good, aren’t you? You cheeky little bitch.One of the Organization members, acting with the composure of a victor, grabbed Cynthia’s wrist tightly.

“Come quietly. That guy looks like he’s about to die soon.”

At that moment, a cool sound cutting through the air grazed her ear.

She saw a cool afterimage disappearing behind the Organization member’s back.

Slash!

The Organization member who grabbed Cynthia’s wrist spurted blood.

“Keugh…”

Beyond the Organization member collapsing like a log, a tall man was visible.

It was a man in a rolled-up shirt and vest, with an unlit cigar in his mouth.

“Who?”

The eyes of the Organization members, who were looking at him with puzzled expressions, drifted downwards.

Then, the expressions of the Organization members, who discovered the blood-soaked sword in his hand and something else in the other hand, were filled with horror.

It was the gruesome corpse of the Organization member who had gone to search the other side.

Soon, the moonlight escaping the clouds revealed the man’s face.

The man, who looked like an assassin covered in blood, was Count Grant Queensguard.

“You filthy bastards, calling my precious princess a bitch.”

The Organization members, overwhelmed by his cold gaze, froze for a moment.

“Count Queensguard?”

One of the Organization members, terrified, reflexively pulled the trigger.

At the end of the continuous gunshots, the face of the Organization member who had used up all his bullets turned pale.

The other Organization members remained frozen.

The Queensguard had long dominated the underworld, and they were like masters who treated the Organization leaders like dogs.

As they hid in the outskirts and committed all sorts of cruel acts, they were a source of terror to the people of the underworld.

“Is that all?”

The Count, using the corpse in his hand as a shield, tilted his head.

“The era of swords is long gone, but I still want to use elegant methods.”

Swish-

The Count’s sharply honed double-edged sword, which spat out the cigar, reflected a gruesome light.

“Ah, of course, the guys I brought will be using guns.”

Beyond the Count, who was glaring fiercely with his sword, the sound of loud gunshots echoed from afar.

‘There are many of them. Not just one or two.’

They brought other Organization guys.

The Organization members, realizing that the Count hadn’t come alone, began to be crushed by the pressure.

The only Organization member who had charged at him trembled with the gun in his hand.

“How…”

With a gun without bullets, he was helpless before a knight with a sword.

“Aaaagh!”

A scream erupted along with the sound of cutting through the air. Red blood splattered in a line on the ground.

After instantly piercing the opponent’s vitals, the Count, who pulled out his sword, shook off the blood on the blade.

“I’m not as good as I used to be.”

He wiped the blood that had splattered on his cheek with a handkerchief, reminiscing about his lightning-fast movements of the past.

“Take care of them all, without leaving a single one alive.”

As soon as the Count’s order was given, rival Organization members appeared all at once.

Ta-ta-ta-tang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out simultaneously, and the Commedia dell’arte Organization members began to fall one by one.

The Count stared intently at Cynthia, expecting words of gratitude, but she only wore a suspicious expression.

“But why did you come here, mister?”

His eyebrows twitched at the title ‘mister.’

“I came to save you.”

At the simple and clear answer, Cynthia paused for a moment in thought.

“Ah, the train station isn’t finished yet, so you came to save me?”

Looking down at Cynthia, who had an expression of having guessed the answer correctly, the Count slowly shook his head.

“You are more important than the train station.”

“…?”

What’s wrong with him?

Cynthia flinched and shrugged her shoulders in alarm.

It sounded like a nice thing to say at first glance, but the other party was a villain who only pursued profit.

“Ah, it’s because of the right to the throne and the remaining inheritance?”

Watching her try to derive a conclusion that was like the Count, he let out a deep sigh.

“Let’s go back now.”

In any case, he had achieved his goal of saving Cynthia.

Then, seeing Masera, who was bleeding and leaning on her shoulder, the Count frowned slightly.

If he saved his son-in-law, who had rebelled against the military, Cynthia, his wife, might also be put on the execution stand.

“Your husband…”

The Count stroked his lips and pondered.

Since he said he looked at faces, wouldn’t it be okay to select the best-looking men and arrange new husbands and lovers for her?

It would be rare to find someone as handsome as that guy, but if he searched the entire continent, he might find two or three.

“Brigadier General, you can’t die… If Brigadier General dies, I’ll kill everyone and then kill myself…”

But seeing Cynthia hugging Masera and shedding tears, the Count lamented and closed his eyes.

Every time a drop of tear fell from her big eyes, it felt like a dagger was flying and stabbing his heart.

“Why are you trying to leave me alone?”

How can even her crying face be the same?

Recalling Princess Margarita’s tearful face, he rubbed his face as if washing it.

He had always been weak to the princess’s tears.

Now, the tears shed by her daughter were making him vulnerable.

‘I can’t help it.’

The Count approached Cynthia, lowered himself, and spoke in a kind voice with a gentle smile.

“Promise me you won’t call me mister anymore.”

Even if he couldn’t be a good father, he could gladly be the executioner who dirtied his hands instead.