Chapter 94
Downfall
The very foundation that had allowed her to rule this house as its mistress... vanished.
"What's going on?"
"Doesn't something feel strange?"
The voices of men outside reached her ears.
Rather than continuing to hunt the intruder, they began talking about something they seemed to consider far more important.
"I feel like my head suddenly cleared."
"You're right. It was like something just... snapped."
"What was it? What had we been under?"
Then one of them asked,
"Come to think of it... didn't that phantom thief call Tilda a witch?"
"Do you think she really used witchcraft?"
"She might have."
At the same time, Tilda heard footsteps approaching.
"Oh no!"
Instinctively, she rushed to the door and locked it.
Click! Click!
"Lady Tilda! Please open the door!"
"Are you all right? Please answer us!"
Bang! Bang!
They pounded on the door.
Tilda remained silent.
Confusion quickly gave way to rage.
"She really was a witch, just like that phantom thief said!"
"That witch must have been using magic on us!"
"Break the door down!"
Everyone who had once served her with unwavering loyalty now shouted at the top of their lungs, freed from the influence of her magic.
She was nothing more than a rat cornered with no escape.
I have to run.
Fortunately...
Tilda had prepared even for the worst possible outcome.
She sprinted into the bathroom, tossed a rope she had hidden out the window, and climbed down.
Once she reached the ground, she untied and retrieved the rope so no one could tell where she'd escaped.
Then she fled the estate at full speed.
The final cries that echoed from the mansion behind her were—
"The family head has passed away!"
"That damned witch murdered the family head too!"
Rico Dandolo's death.
Tilda had no idea what had actually happened.
But at this point, it no longer mattered.
She had been the witch who had enchanted the estate.
An unforgivable existence.
She had escaped with her life...
...but only for the moment.
Her life now flickered like a candle before a strong wind.
Where can I go?
How could she possibly survive after everything had collapsed?
No matter how desperately she thought...
She saw no future.
Just as Yor had said—
She was incompetent.
She had wanted everything.
But she had never deserved to possess it.
She had even gained power...
...yet failed to protect what truly mattered.
I'll survive.
Even so...
She struggled desperately.
She ran deeper and deeper into the dark forest.
I'll survive!
But even that determination soon scattered like a midsummer dream.
"...Ah..."
Shapes hidden within the darkness began to stir.
Figures dressed in black masks emerged one after another.
Tilda Pascal tried to resist...
But in the end, consciousness slipped away.
***
Not far from the Dandolo estate,
three wagons disguised as merchant caravans waited by the roadside.
The brown-haired man with the ponytail climbed aboard one and let out a long breath.
"Whew... That wasn't nearly as easy as I'd hoped."
"Did we really have to go through all that trouble?"
Zed grinned.
"We had to. Otherwise, there was no way we'd have finished everything in a single day."
"Didn't you leave any traces behind?"
Garnet looked at him as though asking if he was serious.
"'Bunny Swallows?'"
"Pretty catchy name, isn't it?"
Garnet glared at him.
Zed simply smiled back.
She sighed in resignation.
"I knew you had a silver tongue, but I didn't know you had that kind of talent."
"It's one of my clan's secret arts."
"Disguising ourselves as a circus troupe to sniff out people worth swindling."
"Isn't that usually the troupe leader's job?"
"When your father is the troupe leader, you don't exactly get a choice."
"I suppose that makes sense."
Garnet nodded.
Sensing movement outside, Zed glanced through the wagon.
Several masked men were loading a large bundled sack.
"So... what about the young lady?"
"She's being delivered to the castle."
"We're honoring the contract."
"...Then we're headed the same way."
"There won't be any problems?"
"...Not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"Uuuugh... Zeeeed?"
The instant he heard the nasal voice, Zed understood.
Across from Garnet sat the pink-haired woman still dressed as a bunny girl, grinning foolishly.
She looked like someone who had gotten thoroughly drunk.
"What's wrong, Pepe?"
"Hehehe, Zeeeed! I was soooo awesome, wasn't I? For only one day's practice, I totally nailed it, right? Right?"
"...?"
"Seriously, where are you gonna find a phantom thief this cool? Even I think I'm ridiculously sexy. Look. Sexy~~."
"...Did she hit her head?"
Garnet silently nodded.
Zed leaned over and looked behind Penelope's head.
A crossbow bolt was lodged firmly in the back of her skull.
...So that's why she's acting like this.
"Hahaha! The arrows were all whoosh whoosh flying at me, and I couldn't dodge every one! Who would've guessed one would stick in my head?!"
"Hey... don't shake your head."
Still giggling, Penelope clung to Zed's arm.
Garnet sighed.
"I checked her condition."
"It's most likely temporary trauma."
"There's no need to worry."
"We'll meet up with a healer on the way and have the bolt removed."
"Ooh? Pretty lady, and you're smart too? Wanna spend tonight burning with your big sis? I'll show you a really good time."
Penelope leered like a sleazy old drunk.
Garnet's face became completely serious.
"She hit her head so badly that even her sexual preferences have become distorted."
"If we don't treat her quickly, this could become dangerous."
...She was always like that.
Zed wisely decided to keep that thought to himself.
***
Tilda opened her eyes in darkness.
She didn't know where she was.
But one thing was certain.
There was no escaping the consequences of her sins.
Who had done this?
Merchant?
Stephan?
Herman?
Or...
Rico?
Countless possibilities raced through her mind as her breathing grew ragged.
No matter who it was...
Her chances of surviving were slim.
Creeeak.
A door slowly opened in the darkness.
Someone entered.
Tap. Tap.
The light from a single candle mounted on the wall revealed only a pair of polished black leather shoes.
"It's been a while, Tilda Pascal."
The voice belonged to a young man...
Yet it carried the weight of someone far older.
Tilda knew that voice all too well.
It was the voice of the man who had humiliated her.
"L-Lord Regent... Ferda...?"
He leaned back against his chair before slowly inclining forward.
Gray hair.
Blue eyes.
They came into view.
"Tilda Pascal."
Ferda called her name once more.
“Tilda Pascal.”
“I disliked you from the moment we first met... but you have exceeded even my worst expectations.”
There was no emotion whatsoever in his voice.
That made it infinitely cold, like the edge of a frozen blade.
“Did you truly believe you could torment a merchant who supports the principality and still survive?”
Tilda opened her mouth.
“It wasn’t me. Everything was done by my fiancé—”
Smack.
Ferda picked up a document and threw it onto the floor.
It contained a detailed record of Tilda Pascal’s actions.
The information had been provided by Black Bandana.
“Go on.”
Tilda had no choice but to close her mouth as though she had swallowed glue.
But only for a moment.
“...I had no choice.”
Her lips trembled as the words came spilling out.
“My father only ever intended to leave everything to that damned Stephan from the very beginning!”
The emotions she had bottled up for years finally erupted.
“It makes no sense! Why am I the only one who can’t have it? I’m his blood too! His own flesh and blood...! I contributed to the Pascal Trading Company too, so why was I the only one...?”
Ferda understood that emotion.
He had wanted to live as a proper member of a knightly family, yet the boy named Ferda had always fallen short of their standards.
He had never received the warmth one ought to feel from family.
Ferda had hated his father for that.
“Even so, it does not change the fact that you dealt a blow to the principality.”
“I deeply regret that sin. I truly do! I will compensate you.”
Still tied to the chair, Tilda struggled until she toppled forward.
She pressed her forehead against the floor and pleaded.
“From this day forward, I will live within my station. Please take pity on this poor woman and show me mercy.”
Tilda asked through her sobs.
Ferda silently looked down at her.
“There is one thing I have been curious about.”
Ferda spoke.
“If you answer properly, I may consider letting you go.”
“W-What do you wish to know? I’ll answer anything.”
“Zed told me something.”
“Zed...?”
“The man who invaded your home. The one who destroyed the medium of your Garden Contract.”
Her fists clenched, briefly revealing her hatred at the sound of his name.
Ferda continued.
“In any case, he told me the medium you chose was a family portrait.”
What Zed had seen was a painting depicting the entire family.
A portrait from their childhood, when all of them had been smiling happily together.
“Why did you choose a family portrait as the medium?”
Ferda genuinely wanted to know.
Why would a woman who had been desperate to devour her own family choose a portrait of them?
He needed an answer to that contradiction.
“Well...”
Tears streamed down her face as she answered.
“Because they are my beloved family, of course.”
Ferda’s gaze followed the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I see.”
He murmured.
“D-Did that answer your question? Are you going to spare me?”
“I never intended to kill you in the first place. You will live.”
The moment she heard the emphasis on live, Tilda sensed something was wrong.
It sounded as though he intended to take everything from her except her life.
“But I answered your question. Why...?”
Ferda looked down at her.
“In Mist Valley, in the western part of the continent, there is a monster known as a Pluryman. Do you know of it?”
She did not.
There was no reason she would.
“They say it remembers the final words of every beast it devours. Then, when it is about to be eaten in turn, it cries out using those beasts’ voices. Why do you think it does that?”
Ferda answered coldly.
“Because it knows that speaking those words may save its life. It may not understand their meaning, but it knows that making those sounds can make others spare it.”
Ferda understood why she had chosen the family portrait as her medium.
It was so that she could appeal to sentiment and struggle disgracefully for survival until the very last moment.
“Your behavior is no different.”
Her claim that she had contributed was a lie.
Her confession that she had committed terrible deeds was also a lie.
Everything she said was merely another falsehood thrown out in order to survive.
“Thank you.”
Ferda spoke to her with genuine sincerity.
“For turning yourself into someone not even worth remembering.”
Ferda rose from his seat.
He moved away from the candlelight and vanished into the darkness.
Creeeak.
The door closed.
The room was once again left with only a single candle.
Tilda briefly wondered whether she would truly be allowed to survive.
But she was not alone in the room.
Someone had been there even before Ferda entered.
They had merely waited within the darkness, unseen until now.
The presence stepped forward and revealed itself.
Tilda doubted her own eyes.
What stood before her was covered in silver scales, with a pair of horns that seemed to pierce the heavens.
Its very form inspired majesty, wonder, and reverence.
A dragon.
That is...
Her pupils trembled.
It’s fake.
There was no possibility that a dragon of such size could exist inside such a cramped room.
By all common sense and logic, it was impossible.
She desperately tried to convince herself of that.
It was futile.
The mystery of immortality paralyzed even reason and logic.
With each exhalation came a wave of scorching air and a low growl that faintly shook her eardrums.
It became clearer and clearer.
Dragon Fear.
No matter how desperately she told herself it was an illusion, some primal part of her recognized it as truth.
And that truth became a terror no mere human could endure.
“Aaaaaaaah!”
A long scream rang out helplessly.
But there was no one there to hear it.
***
Garnet and the Black Bandana agents in black robes waited outside the castle gates.
As the operation neared its conclusion, their anxiety mounted.
After a while, a man emerged through the gates.
Garnet stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
“I greet the Regent of Valdrova.”
“I have prepared her as you requested.”
Tilda Pascal appeared behind him.
She had once been a beauty courted by countless men, but now she was almost unrecognizable.
Her hair was disheveled, her face haggard, and her eyes lacked all focus.
Saliva dribbled from her slack mouth.
Unable even to resist Luri’s touch, she staggered down the stairs.
She was a living corpse, alive in body alone.
Overwhelming terror had destroyed her mind and left nothing but flesh behind.
Garnet expressed her gratitude respectfully.
“Thank you for honoring our agreement.”
“It is too soon to thank me.”
“Is there another problem?”
“There is.”
Ferda placed a dagger against Tilda Pascal’s throat.
Startled by the sudden hostage situation, Garnet froze.
“What is the meaning of this, Regent?”
“Isabella explained to me how corporate acquisitions work.”
Ferda continued.
“We used every resource available to examine Imperial law and precedent, yet no matter how thoroughly we searched, we concluded that acquiring the company through legitimate means would be difficult. Even with Black Bandana involved.”
“Are you accusing us of lying?”
“I am curious myself. It seems one of you has lied to me, but I cannot determine which one.”
Ferda tilted his head slightly.
“So perhaps you could explain it.”
“...I did not lie.”
“Then Isabella must have lied.”
Garnet bit her lip before answering.
“She did not lie either.”
“There will not be a second chance. You will have to convince me.”
“That is...”
Garnet could not bring herself to speak.
She had an obligation to protect her secrets.
At the same time, she also had a mission to complete.
It was especially difficult to abandon everything when they had already come this far.
Garnet knew that.
Ferda knew it as well.
Even though he had placed her in an impossible position, Ferda needed an answer.
He wanted to know who their client was and why they had wanted Tilda driven insane.
“It is entirely possible.”
Instead of Garnet’s excuse or explanation, a middle-aged man’s voice was heard.
The voice continued.
“If the chief executive is judged incapable of managing the company, they may independently appoint a new manager. That is one of the rules of the Dandolo Trading Company.”
It was a middle-aged voice.
It came from among the men dressed in black robes.
The speaker stepped forward from their midst and removed his hood.
“You are—”
Ferda had never expected the client to be this man.
The man approached Ferda and bowed.
“Henri Dandolo, heir to the Dandolo family, greets the consort of the Great Flame.”