TTMLPTWW ~ Chapter 156

Cynthia nodded at his suggestion.

“Yes. Not ‘Uncle,’ but Count.”

“Not that either.”

“…Then ‘Old Geezer’? It wouldn’t be something like ‘Dragon Slayer’ or ‘First Sword of the Republic,’ would it?”

“I hate all of them, without exception.”

Even while sniffling, Cynthia diligently applied pressure to her husband’s wound to stop the bleeding and tied the cloth tightly.

“Then what do you want me to call you?”

“……”

The Count, who could never bring himself to say he might be her father, sighed deeply.

“We’ll decide on a title later.”

His eyes, honed as sharply as his sword, met someone’s gaze.

“That clown seems to have something to say.”

Across from them, Markiel, accompanied by his subordinates, was visible. Blood dripped from his gunshot wound, flowing from his arm to his fingertips.

“Now the main characters are all gathered. Though not with very pleasant ties.”

He raised a hand as if announcing the climax of a play. Then, he spoke mockingly to the Count.

“Seeing you come in person, so unlike you, it seems this Princess is quite precious to you.”

The Count rested his sword on his shoulder and tilted his head slightly.

“You must be Blake’s son. Were you planning to call roll with all the people who hold a grudge against me?”

“Just…”

Markiel grinned and retorted.

“Why did you let me live then? Did you have some ridiculous sense of chivalry?”

“I usually don’t leave loose ends, but I was feeling strangely soft-hearted. I couldn’t bring myself to kill a child.”

“Liar. You’re someone who knows better than anyone that living is more painful than dying.”

Ah, was that about Cynthia? The Count looked up, a weary expression on his face.

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking much. I don’t have the luxury to worry about the kid of someone I killed. I don’t care about what kind of miserable life you’ve lived, and I have no intention of understanding it.”

At his indifferent words, Markiel covered his mouth and chuckled.

“Aside from anything related to Princess Margarita, I like your inhuman side.”

It was then.

Kwaang-!

With a sudden explosion, flames erupted from the lower part of the tower.

The entire ground shook like an aftershock before slowly settling.

Markiel, with the collapsing tower and raging fire behind him, looked at Cynthia, who was covering her ears.

Wasn’t this Princess the greatest means of revenge?

He considered himself the last person to sever the hopelessly tangled chain of hatred.

Other than that, he had no particular goal or attachment to keep him alive.

“There’s a catacomb (ancient underground cemetery) beneath here. There’s also an underground passage that the lord who lived here dug to escape.”

Cynthia’s face paled as she realized something. The explosion just now had clearly come from underground.

‘Could it be that they’ve planted a widespread amount of explosives under the ground we’re standing on?’

Cynthia’s prediction was correct.

Markiel spoke with the composure of someone who held all the cards.

“The range is quite wide. If I set off the explosion, everyone here will die. If you leave the Princess behind, that won’t happen. What will you do?”

It was a proposal that didn’t consider his own life at all, aimed solely at the other party’s misfortune.

“……Explosion?”

“Then we’ll die too, right?”

At the unexpected words, the Organization members, feeling threatened, held their breath and looked around, regardless of whether they were friend or foe.

‘He wouldn’t have called us here just to make a threat like that. He’s planning to humiliate us by making us abandon Cynthia and then kill us all.’

One spark he had left behind had become a madness that sought to burn everything. Was this how he would finally settle things?

The Count turned his gaze to Cynthia and stared at her silently.

Her face was paler than usual. Then, his blue eyes widened slightly as he realized something.

The crimson-stained upper garment wasn’t Masera’s blood, but blood flowing from her.

‘She’s been shot.’

Right now, she seemed to be numb to everything, not even realizing she was injured. It meant she was in a state of extreme agitation, moving perfectly even after suffering a fatal wound or accident.

The Count frowned and sighed.

“Hey, military dog son-in-law. Get up.”

“……”

Masera slowly raised his head.

Cynthia, who thought he had lost consciousness, looked at him with a surprised expression.

“When else would I get to act spoiled like this?”

He had only awakened through sheer willpower, but he smiled faintly to reassure Cynthia, showing her the broken hairpin from his inner pocket.

The opal hairpin in his inner pocket had coincidentally deflected the bullet’s trajectory, preventing a fatal wound.

“How?”

Cynthia stared blankly at the hairpin in his hand. As soon as she felt relief, her body lost strength and she felt dizzy.

“When something is hard to explain logically, you can just say it’s God’s will. But it wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

He took out a morphine syringe, removed the needle cap with his teeth, and added in a low voice.

“You saved me.”

“I saved you……”

Cynthia, swaying and muttering, leaned her head against Masera’s shoulder. He inhaled deeply as he inserted the syringe into his arm.

The Count, who had been watching the two with lowered eyes, lifted his sword with a determined look.

“What are you dawdling for? If you’ve come to your senses, take the Princess and leave. Don’t forget first aid for the gunshot wound.”

Only then did Masera check Cynthia’s condition, his face hardening as he pulled her into his arms.

“What do you intend to do, Father-in-law?”

“Are you worried about your father-in-law?”

“I’m worried my wife will be sad. She’s kind to everyone.”

The Count chuckled.

“You be the one to show your back in such an unsightly way. I have too much pride.”

Finally, the drug took effect, and Masera stood up abruptly, lifted Cynthia in his arms, and began to run quickly.

Markiel watched the scene as if observing it.

The war orphan boy, who had seemed resigned and devoid of the will to live, was now struggling to survive.

As Cynthia had said, he wondered if he had wanted to know what people lived for by glimpsing into someone else’s tragedy.

“Impressive.”

Markiel smiled at the Count.

He was very pleased with this situation, where even a villain who only knew himself was volunteering to sacrifice himself.

It was also a scenario he had always wanted to see.

The Count, who had been staring at the departing two, looked at Markiel with dry eyes.

“Did you want to die beautifully?” Such romantic ideas are common among men.”

The Count raised his sword and added.

“But that’s a story for when you’re a hot-blooded young man. I have no intention of dying beautifully.”

He looked back at the rival Organization members, who were terrified and confused.

“The catacombs usually extend extensively to the outside of the fortress. Retreating won’t save you from being blown up. If you want to live, kill first.”

As someone who had once been a knight commander, he possessed cool-headed judgment and the ability to control people.

The Count then pointed his sword at Markiel and commanded in a dignified tone.

“Annihilate all the Commedia dell’arte clowns. I will grant the qualification of the new leader of the underworld to the one who kills the leader.”

All for his beloved daughter.

* * *

Cynthia struggled to lift her heavy eyelids.

Her vision, navigating through the darkness, wavered dizzily. It felt like she was running far away from the ghostly sound of the wind.

His tight breath touched Cynthia’s cheek.

‘I’m sleepy……’

She didn’t feel cold. She felt very comfortable, as if she were lying in a cozy place.

Masera’s voice echoed faintly.

“……You can’t.”

“You mustn’t fall asleep.”

“Please.”

Masera kept talking to her, thinking that if she fell asleep, she would never open her eyes again.

“A long time ago, your mother asked me for something.”

“……”

“She asked me to become the knight of the Princess in the fairy tale when you came to keep your promise in the future.”

Cynthia barely opened her eyes, holding on to her mind, which was about to fly away.

Her pale lips moved, but only a faint breath escaped.

“The Princess and the knight in fairy tales are completed with an ending where they live happily ever after.”

At the time, Princess Margarita seemed to be talking about the greatest happiness she knew.

“In our family, it is said that a lucky child who is loved by God is born every generation. But I think it’s more beautiful to complete happiness together over a long period of time.”

“Just because you’re lucky doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be happy. So, I hope this child lives as a happy Princess.”

“……She said that we would be able to find proof that we could be happy in the future.”

He pushed through the snow that had piled up to his knees, took something out of his pocket, and placed it in Cynthia’s hand.

“Cynthia, I think I’ve found the proof.”

It was a small winding key part from the royal music box that was broken and not working.

It had been inside Cynthia’s broken necklace.

Masera, looking at the Princess who had fallen into a deep sleep in his arms, looked up at the bluish dawn sky.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as if swallowing the surging emotions.

“……We have finally completed it, we have.”