Part 4
Liel gripped the Harmonia hanging around her neck tightly in her hand. It was her last resort. Her head throbbed from forcing her mind to spin over and over again. Since only Dyina had come to visit her in prison, there was a high chance her own family had been confined to the Count’s estate. The thought of her collapsed mother rising in her mind brought another wave of sorrow surging up, and she bit down hard on her lips.
The thought of being executed at dawn, when the long night would finally pass, forced a dry, hollow laugh out of her cracked lips. Her swollen lips and the dried tear tracks stuck to her cheeks stung painfully. She unclasped the Harmonia from her neck, clutched it firmly in her hand, and slipped it into her pocket.
Should I break the tower with magic?
It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. But the shackles on her feet had the ability to restrain and suppress her magic, making it impossible. Even if she did manage to escape on her own, the situation would not improve. It was all the more miserable. If only she had time to gather evidence… But with the charge of attempted regicide, enduring was anything but easy.
Time crept by with her eyes wide open. How long had passed? Darkness so heavy that she couldn’t see an inch ahead of her descended beyond the bars. Liel leaned her back against the wall, like a broken clock.
What is that…
Footsteps shuffled outside the door. Liel cautiously approached and pressed her ear to the door. It didn’t sound like the guard was moving. Just then, something slipped through the crack under the door. Once the presence disappeared, Liel picked up what had caught on her toes and carried it over to the window to check. In the faint moonlight, she barely made out a small folded piece of paper.
[Tomorrow morning, 10 o’clock. The third chime.]
She couldn’t tell who had sent it, but a faint hope sparked within her. Perhaps the Tigris family was planning to rescue her. Even so, would anything change? She didn’t know. But she could not simply die like this.
“I must live… no matter what.”
Only then could she prove her innocence and take revenge on Dyina. Liel read the paper over and over, then crumpled it, stuffed it in her mouth, and swallowed. There had to be no evidence left behind—not even something so small.
“Get out!”
After a sleepless night, just as she was drifting into unconsciousness, the guard’s irritated shout struck her ears. Liel weakly lifted her head and forced herself to rise. The guard barked at her to hurry down, her shackled feet dragging across the stone floor. At the base of the tower, a cart—no different from a coffin on wheels—awaited her.
“Get in.”
Without a word of protest, Liel quietly climbed inside. The path to the gallows felt more gruesome than a descent into the mouth of hell. The sun rose blood-red, lighting the world, but the shadow that lay before her was only that of a setting sun—pure darkness. With no guiding lantern in the pitch black ahead, the only thing awaiting her was death.
“They say she tried to kill the Duke.”
“I heard she held a grudge because she wasn’t allowed to marry.”
Though it was early in the morning, quite a crowd had gathered to watch the hanging. It was a vulgar spectacle. Liel clenched the necklace hidden in her pocket. If the plan written on that note was real, it might go well. But if it failed, then she would have to entrust everything to Harmonia.
At last, they reached the gallows. Soldiers shouted at Liel to step down, and she forced her reluctant feet onto the ground. The soldiers shoved her harshly up the scaffold steps. With each push, she climbed, her torn soles leaving trails of blood.
“Criminal Liel Tigris, out of spite for not being able to marry Theo Nobillis, son of Duke Berta Nobillis, attempted to murder the Duke, and is hereby sentenced to hang!”
Liel, who didn’t even know what crime she was being condemned for, dropped her head at Marquis Beroca’s declaration. He eyed her, who only let out a bitter laugh, and then said sharply:
“If the criminal has any last words, speak them now.”
“…”
Liel swallowed hard. After a moment of silence, she raised her voice—thin, weak, yet clear and resolute.
“I, Liel Tigris, proclaim my innocence.”
And with her words, the bell in the clocktower began to toll for ten o’clock. One… two… three. The third chime rang—and at that exact moment, the soldier moving to execute her gave a strangled cry and toppled backward off the gallows.
“What—what is happening?!”
Marquis Beroca unsheathed his sword, waving it furiously as the soldiers rushed about in alarm.
“Carry out the sentence at once! Now!”
At his repeated command, arrows rained toward the scaffold. The soldier who was fastening the rope around Liel’s neck also collapsed with a scream. And then, a man in a white mask—marked with a single teardrop—appeared atop the scaffold. Drawing his sword, he began cutting down the soldiers surrounding Liel.
“It’s treason against the king’s command! Kill him as well!”
“Yes, sir!”
The soldiers surged in around the masked man and Liel. Though she longed to fight as well, her hands were still bound and her feet shackled. The masked man held the soldiers at bay, but the overwhelming numbers made the fight desperate.
“Ugh!”
A spear slashed the man’s leg, staggering him. Seizing the chance, the soldiers thrust their weapons forward without pause. Liel could not let the man—whoever he was—die for her. She twisted her body, raising her tied wrists toward the spear aimed her way. The blade cut through her bonds, freeing her hands. Seizing the moment, she dodged and snatched up a sword dropped by another soldier.
“I’m fine—run away!”
She pushed at the masked man’s back, whispering urgently, then swung her sword to deflect a spear before charging straight at Marquis Beroca.
“C-capture her!”
Startled by Liel’s sudden assault, Beroca tried to dodge but was too slow. Liel knocked aside his blade and spun back, pressing her sword to his throat.
“Let that man go. Or the Marquis of Beroca dies here.”
Her threat was icy and sharp. Beroca squirmed, trying to resist, but when her blade pricked his neck and blood trickled down, his fear overcame him. At his frantic eye signal, the soldiers hesitated. When they still did not disperse, Liel pressed harder, drawing more blood.
“L-let him go! Quickly!”
Beroca’s shout broke the soldiers’ resolve, and they reluctantly opened a path. Yet the masked man did not flee—he stood still, gazing at Liel.
“Tell them this for me. I have never committed a single crime.”
Liel forced a smile, slipping the noose hanging nearby around her own neck. Whoever this man was, if this plan worked, she would return—owing him her life. She murmured that she would repay this debt no matter what.
But instead of leaving, the masked man stepped closer, as if to whisper something to her. And at that instant—several soldiers who had pretended to retreat drove their blades into him.
Liel had no time even to scream.
Seizing the moment, Marquis Beroca rammed his elbow into Liel’s stomach and yanked the rope. Her light body dropped, suspended by the noose. The sword slipped from her weakening grip, clattering down.
Yet no one noticed—her other hand still clutched a bloodstained necklace.
