The Villain’s Ending

Chapter 37

Coloring (19)

My consciousness was fading.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing that stung my nose was the smell of mold and old stone.

And faintly mixed in between them, the metallic, acrid smell of rusted iron.

It seemed to be an underground dungeon.

I tried to raise my body, but my right arm felt as if it didn't exist.

Turning my head, I saw a thick bandage wrapped below my forearm.

But the pristine white bandage was already soaked through with red blood, taking on a dark crimson hue.

At the end of the crude bandage mass, the severed surface of my wrist throbbed.

At least blood wasn't dripping profusely like thawed meat.Though a strong smell of unknown herbs was rising from it.

Seraphina came to mind.

The sensation and pain I felt each time the severed surface of my wrist was touched still lingered, a tingling ache.

My right hand was gone.

The revolver was gone too.

My fiancée was gone.

My family was gone.

It felt as if not only my past but also my future had vanished.

I couldn't tell how much time had passed.

There were no windows in the underground dungeon, and the torch embedded in the wall flickered dimly, barely burning.

My head felt hot.

As if I had caught a cold.

Leaning my back against the cold stone floor, I stared blankly into the darkness.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.

Click, clack.

Even, unhurried footsteps.

The sound stopped in front of my cell.

With a clank, the rusted iron bar door creaked open.

A priest entered.

He wore a neatly pressed white priestly robe, and his hair was tidily combed back.

He appeared excessively neat, completely out of place in this damp, dirty space.

He looked down at me, then quietly knelt before me.

Like a priest who had come to hear a confession.

He placed an old Bible on the floor and laid both hands neatly upon it.

Then, he took a piece of bread, hard and dry-looking, from his pocket and tossed it beside me.

It was covered in the abundant dust on the floor and a bit of stagnant blood, making me lose my appetite for it.

"I am Priest Matthias. Lavin Edelgard.

Ah, no, you are merely Lavin now, aren't you?"

His voice was soft and calm.

"I also know very well that you have done nothing wrong."

Instead of answering, I gave a faint laugh.

"If you know so well, then it would be good if you'd let me out... Cough!"

My voice was hoarse to a surprising degree, even to myself.

It was because I hadn't spoken for a long time.

As a result, a dry cough escaped me as I continued to speak.

"Have you come personally to offer a prayer, then?"

"Something like that, yes. But it is also for your soul."

Priest Matthias did not lose his smile.

His face was serene, and his eyes held a touch of compassion.

"That you did not personally kill the priests, the Lord also knows."

"If your esteemed God knows, then let me out."

At my sarcasm, his eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.

He probably wouldn't have understood my words.

I didn't know why I was here.

Not just in this dungeon, but simply in this place.

In this world, crawling with nobles, the Church, and commoners, no matter where one went.

It was certainly not a pleasant place to live, unless I was by Estelle's side.

He soon regained his composure and continued speaking.

"You have corrupted the Saintess."

"I merely drank coffee with her, shared cigarettes..."

He cut me off and began to speak.

"Saintess Estelle, before meeting you, acted solely according to God's will.

But you planted seeds of private emotions in her heart.

Human emotions like doubt, affection, and jealousy."

"For all that, she seemed to have a lot of people she hated in the Church."

"The Saintess is not human.

She is not swayed by such frivolous emotions."

I let out a hollow laugh.

The sound of my laughter bounced off the cold prison walls, echoing emptily.

"Estelle was always like that. From the very first time I met her."

Priest Matthias's face stiffened for a moment.

He was speechless for a moment, his lips merely parting.

Just then, a scream echoed from the far end of the corridor.

"Aghhhhh!"

It was a sharp, prolonged, tearing scream.

The faint sound of flesh and bones being crushed was mixed in.

I turned my head toward the direction of the sound.

Priest Matthias followed my gaze, then looked back at me and spoke.

His face held a hint of pride.

"Normally, you would have been there too."

"Hmm..."

"I prevented the torture that would have been inflicted upon you.

I believe torture is a barbaric act that offers no help whatsoever.

Confessions extracted under duress are not truth, and merely defile the body.

God does not desire such savage methods."

He spoke as if he had bestowed tremendous mercy.

In fact, it truly was tremendous mercy.

Hanging by my neck and dangling had been so painful, but if I went there, I would certainly blurt out every truth and untruth I knew.

I stared blankly at him.

"Then the person screaming over there is..."

"That is a heretic. Not a person."

The priest said, his face stern.

"So, what happens to me?"

I found myself adopting a submissive posture without realizing it.

Perhaps it was because the man's scream sounded quite terrible.

"You must be punished.

Your very existence has defiled the Saintess and left a blemish on God's glory."

He rose from his seat.

And looking down at me, he spoke as if delivering a death sentence.

"Two days from now, in the square, you will cleanse that defiled body and soul with fire.

The Saintess will be punished similarly.

As she has been stained by sin because of you, she too must be duly punished.

Losing someone she loves will be sufficient.

That is God's will."

"A trial, or something like that..."

I asked, with a sense of regret.

At my question, Priest Matthias wore a truly incomprehensible expression.

He looked at me with eyes as if I were a madman.

"A trial? Who would so barbarically hold a trial?

These students who've received a mediocre education... Tsk."

His voice was mixed with contempt and incredulity.

"When God knows all, sees all, and directly punishes the sinful, how dare barbaric humans gather to pass judgment?

A trial, truly a savage notion."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Torture is barbaric, and a trial is barbaric, he says.

Perhaps burning someone alive isn't barbaric then.

The people living in this world, including 'Lavin,' were difficult to understand.

Perhaps that's why being beside Estelle, who didn't demand understanding, was more comfortable.

Priest Matthias turned his body as if he had nothing more to say.

Before leaving, he added one last remark.

"May God's mercy dwell upon your soul."

"Excuse me! Are you really going to burn me to death!?"

I found myself speaking politely without realizing it.

And he disappeared into the darkness without a reply.

The iron door closed, and silence returned.

Left alone, I let out a hollow laugh into the empty darkness.

And feeling somehow hungry, I hunched over and picked up the bread that had fallen to the floor to eat it.

Like a dog.

It tasted terribly bad.

The next day, when mealtime arrived, the iron door opened again.

This time, it wasn't Matthias.

Holding a tray, a person cautiously stepped inside.

It was Seraphina.

Her face was pale, and dark shadows were heavily cast beneath her eyes.

She looked like someone who had stayed up for several nights straight.

She looked as if she were about to die.

She said she had pleaded with the priest who was supposed to come and had come in his stead.

Her voice was trembling slightly.

"...Lavin."

She set the tray down in front of me.

Warm soup and hard bread, and a glass of water.

Steam was rising from the soup.

"Feed me some bread, cut off the part someone else might have used."

I said, watching her body flinch.

I didn't want to pick up the bread from the floor and eat it like a dog.

I glanced at my severed right arm.

"Ah, ah, yes. I'll feed you right away. Right away, yes."

Seraphina tore the bread into small pieces one by one, soaked them in the soup, and slowly fed me little by little with a spoon.

And when the soup was about halfway gone, she began to shed tears with a blank, expressionless face.

"Don't take it too hard. I'll be dead soon anyway."

I was comforting her instead.

"Levina?"

"Lady Levina, well. She's holed up at home, saying she'll recuperate for a while."

"Any news about the Saintess?"

"...None."

Seraphina placed the spoon she was holding back into the bowl.

"How's your injury...?"

"I don't think I can say I'm fine."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

"...I'm sorry."

"I get it."

Seraphina moved to sit beside me.

And sitting side by side, she buried her head in her knees.

"Why did you kill the priests?"

Seraphina whispered.

Her voice was filled with resentment and sorrow.

"That's..."

I almost screamed.

That I didn't do it.

But I closed my mouth.

I knew well it would be useless to say anything.

Because she would never believe me.

Just as it had always been.

I knew it all too well.

But I still couldn't give up on Seraphina.

Even as I perfectly feigned indifference and detachment on the surface.

In a corner of my heart, a faint lingering attachment still remained.

I was going to die soon, but before I did, I wanted to keep looking at Seraphina like this.

I was confused whether 'Lavin' wanted this or if I wanted it, but honestly, what did it matter?

I looked down at the bandage on my severed right arm.

The throbbing pain returned.

"Well... how did I kill them? The Church will decide, I suppose."

She couldn't say anything and just began to cry silently.

Large teardrops streamed down her cheeks, falling onto the cold stone floor.

"Hey, Seraphina. I'm being serious."

I said, looking directly into her eyes.

"Actually, I didn't do it. Not a single one.

And if I said I didn't do it, would you believe me?"

At my question, Seraphina hesitated.

Her eyes wavered.

She bit her lip.

In the end, this was all there was.

She would pretend to offer an opening, but in the end, give nothing.

No matter how much I expressed my feelings, no matter how many times I stated what I wanted, Seraphina would only pretend to listen.

"But everyone says you did... Even the Church, even the Academy.

All the evidence points to you. From the cigarette you smoked at the priest's mansion, to the traces...!"

"Seraphina. If others say so, then it must be so, I guess."

I said, smiling faintly.

"I'm going to be burned to death, they say. I could have just blown my head off and died painlessly.

They say I'll burn slowly, dying in agony. I'm scared. I don't want to die like that."

At my words, Seraphina bit her lower lip.

"So, I have one favor to ask before I die."

I reached out my hand toward her, then realized my right arm was gone and extended my left hand instead.

Only the cold air touched my fingertips.

"Hold my hand."

At those words, Seraphina, despite her hesitant expression, extended her hand to me—a hand still bearing bruises and marks from where she had gnawed at it.

Gripping her hand tightly, I pulled Seraphina toward me.

"...Ugh, Lavin?"

Our faces came so close that our lips almost touched.

I was about to kiss her, but an unpleasant feeling made me push Seraphina away slightly.

I'm not 'Lavin.'

"Don't be by Kyle's side.

I can't do anything for you, but please.

I just... don't want to see you smiling beside that bastard."

My voice was almost a plea.

"I hope you don't become happy."

At least, I wasn't pleading with the woman right in front of me.