* * *
Most of the servants here were former soldiers, so they calmly surrounded Stefan, trying their best not to provoke him.
“Please release the Princess. You’re still young; don’t become a criminal for the rest of your life.”
“If you surrender now, you might receive leniency.”
Butler Milchenko and Dahlia tried to persuade Stefan, but he was already at the edge of a cliff.
Meanwhile, Count Queensguard, who had come out of his room after hearing the commotion and witnessed the hostage situation, hurriedly stepped forward.
“You need money, right? Just let my innocent daughter go, and negotiate with me first!”
Helene frowned as she watched the Count trying to save Cynthia.
Although Cynthia was an important figure, he seemed more emotional than usual.
Stefan said, sweating profusely, “Innocent? Your daughter is a murderer.”
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
Count Queensguard frowned and retorted.
‘Does he really think I killed the Vicente family?’
Cynthia turned her gaze to Stefan. Something that could have been sweat or tears was dripping down his chin.
Consumed by anger, Stefan was gradually losing his judgment and reason.
“When you get down to it, it’s all because of Brigadier General Vicente! That bastard stole everything from the Vicente family!”
“Ugh!”
As the edge of the glass gradually pierced her skin, Cynthia squeezed her eyes shut.
Just then.
Bang!
The sound of hurried military boots and the crash of someone colliding with the display case echoed through the room.
“Kugh!”
Soon, the hand holding Cynthia released her.
Surprised, she opened her eyes and saw Masera, who had thrown himself at Stefan to subdue him.
“Brigadier General…?”
Masera, who was supposed to return next week, was here?
Cynthia’s eyes widened as she saw his hardened face. Blood was flowing from his hand, which was clutching the shards of glass.
Clatter!
Taking advantage of the opening, the Butler, Dahlia, and the soldiers rushed in and pinned Stefan down, handcuffing him.
“Stay still!”
“Agh! Let me go!”
Masera, who had dropped the glass shards, immediately embraced Cynthia.
Then, in a chilling voice, he ordered the soldiers who were pointing their guns at Stefan, “Lower your guns immediately.”
He was worried that Cynthia might experience another panic attack.
Everyone lowered their guns and stepped back.
Masera quickly pressed a handkerchief to Cynthia’s neck.
“Are you alright? There’s so much blood…”
The next words didn’t come out.
His eyes were trembling like a candle flame in the wind.
She had never seen him like this, always composed and calm. It was as if he was someone who had almost lost something precious.
‘Was he always someone whose heart beat so fast?’ Cynthia pressed down on his palm with the handkerchief, her face crumpling.
“It’s not my blood. You’re the one who’s hurt, Brigadier General.”
Only then did Masera belatedly realize that the blood was coming from his own hand, and he let out a sigh of relief.
Helene watched the scene with wide eyes.
‘Brigadier General Vicente? Why is he back already?’
And it had to be today, at this hour. The timing was so absurd that she almost laughed in disbelief.
Unlike when he looked at Cynthia, Masera turned to the soldiers with a fierce gaze.
“Take him away and lock him in the basement.”
Masera glared at Stefan, his brow furrowed menacingly.
Stefan had bullied Masera during his powerless childhood, and even after he grew up, he had demanded money and acted up, only to be severely punished.
But then, the captured Stefan began to shout in a frenzy.
“Masera, your wife is a murderer! She killed your adoptive parents, the Vicente couple, and my father! I’ll keep my mouth shut about everything, so you take responsibility and settle the debt!”
Masera’s eyes sank coldly as he heard those words.
He was looking at the people who had appeared behind the subdued Stefan.
“Stefan? What are you doing here?”
Helene turned around at the sound of someone’s voice and distorted her expression.
Stefan’s father, Oliver Visente, and the Vicente couple were standing there, looking terrified at Masera.
‘They were living perfectly fine at the official residence?’
They looked a little thinner, but otherwise unharmed.
The soldiers who had hastily brought them here at Stefan’s urging saluted Masera and stepped back.
Stefan looked at Helene with a bewildered expression.
“…Duchess, what is going on?”
Princess Cynthia had clearly said that she had killed the Vicente couple and Oliver Visente.
At that, Helene turned her head sharply and glared at Charles, who had reported that the Vicente family had been taken care of.
Charles also looked clueless.
Helene bit her lip, momentarily upset that the plan had gone awry, but soon began to brazenly deny everything.
“See? Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t true? Isn’t it fortunate that we confirmed they’re safe?”
Then, Stefan’s anger turned towards Helene, feeling betrayed.
“Duchess! You knew that adopted children have no obligation to pay their adoptive parents’ debts, yet you tricked me into becoming a criminal?”
‘What is he talking about?’
Helene glanced down at a piece of paper that had fallen at her feet. It seemed to be a page torn from a book during the commotion.
Helene’s face turned ashen as she looked at the torn paper.
It read, ‘Adopted children are not obligated to pay their adoptive parents’ debts,’ a revised law.
‘…The law changed? Just a week ago?’
Could this be happening?
Why was fate always on that devil’s side?
Helene gritted her teeth in resentment.
* * *
Masera, who had been briefed on the general situation by Butler Milchenko, stared at the Vicente couple for a long time. His expression was inorganic, devoid of any emotion.
‘Should I just kill them? I’m getting tired of all this.’
As Masera was thinking that, he turned his head when he felt a gentle touch on his hand.
Cynthia, holding a handkerchief, was looking up at him, clutching his injured hand.
Strangely, as soon as he met her eyes, he felt the storm in his heart calm down.
Masera stared back at the trembling Vicente couple.
“So you crawled back in here and even touched my wife.”
His calm voice, devoid of emotion, was all the more chilling.
Lady Eleanor shook her head, clasping her hands together as if begging. She had already realized that all her plans had fallen apart.
“No, it’s a misunderstanding. We came to apologize to you for what happened in the past.”
The only remaining option was to apologize and beg. She shed tears and spoke in a pitiful voice.
“Masera, I was so sorry back then. I was so devastated after losing my son. I’ve been bitterly regretting and blaming myself all this time.”
Masera’s eyes were still emotionless.
“Apologies made right before death are nothing more than last words. And even those are mostly lies.”
He had seen countless people on the verge of death.
Humans were like that, trying to fabricate even their last words to be remembered as saints by those who remained.
“What can we do to ease your heart? I’ll beg like this.”
She knelt down, facing the prospect of a miserable death instead of settling her debts.
On the other hand, Count Vicente stood tall, refusing to apologize to the end.
“When did we ever do anything to apologize for? I don’t remember.”
Lady Eleanor gave him a look, but he stubbornly played dumb.
“When is the repayment deadline?”
At Masera’s question, Count Vicente quickly replied, “Two days from now. If you just pay this back, we’ll leave quietly. And we’ll keep our mouths shut about what your headstrong daughter-in-law did to us.”
Masera gave a simple but extremely harsh order to the soldiers.
“Confine them for three days and then return them to the gambling den run by the organization.”
The couple’s faces turned ashen.
They didn’t know what would happen to them if they returned empty-handed after the repayment deadline.
They would rather go to jail or die here.
The desperate Lady Eleanor immediately looked at Helene.
“Duchess! You must help us now!”
“What?”
“You said you would help us in every way possible! It’s in the Dowager Duchess’s letter!”
Helene’s face turned pale.
Her gaze involuntarily turned to Cynthia.
Cynthia, with her characteristic innocent face, moved only her lips and said,
‘I told you I wouldn’t stay still.’
[Humans were like that, trying to fabricate even their last words to be remembered as saints by those who remained.]
*Quotation: Giovanni Boccaccio, 『The Decameron, First Day』
