The Villain’s Ending

Chapter 38

Coloring (20)

The day arrived.

I couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon.

In the darkness, time lost its meaning.

Clank!

The sound of the door opening rang out.

It was Priest Matthias.

He wore the same pristine white priestly robe as two days ago, not a single speck of dust on it.

Behind him stood two burly guards.

Their faces were devoid of any expression."The time has come."

Matthias said, his voice calm, as if offering a morning greeting.

The guards pulled me to my feet.

My legs felt weak from sitting for so long.

I stumbled, leaning on their support.

With only one arm, it was hard to keep my balance.

My wrist still throbbed, and I felt dizzy as if I had caught a cold.

I was dragged along the long, dark corridor.

Torches embedded in the walls flickered, distorting the shadows.

At the end of the corridor, a carriage with iron bars awaited.

A repulsive stench wafted from inside the carriage.

It was a foul odor, a mixture of putrid decay and the metallic tang of blood.

Inside the carriage, a man was huddled.

His entire body was so horribly mutilated that it was difficult to recognize his original form.

His flesh hung in tatters, and bones were exposed in places.

The stench of a rotting corpse already emanated from his body.

He must have been the heretic man who had screamed earlier, and then quickly fallen silent.

The guards roughly shoved me into the carriage.

I fell to the floor, and my eyes met his.

His eyes were unfocused and hazy.

Soon, the carriage creaked and began to move.

As we emerged above ground, the light was blinding.

It was sunlight I hadn't seen in a long time.

I instinctively squinted.

And along with the sunlight, the roar of the crowd poured in.

"Burn the heretic!"

"Kill Satan's male whore!"

As the carriage was escorted, all sorts of things came flying.

Food scraps, rotten eggs, and sometimes even stones.

Fortunately, the stones hit the iron bars and bounced off.

But one ripe tomato slipped through a gap in the bars, struck my face, and burst.

Red juice and seeds covered my face. It was sticky and lukewarm to the touch.

I closed my eyes without a word.

The man beside me opened his mouth, his voice faint.

His voice was cracked and hoarse.

"...Nice weather. A perfect day to go fishing."

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

He was smiling, forcing the corners of his torn lips upwards.

"Fishing?"

I indulged him, wanting to forget that I would soon die.

"How did you get caught? You seem fine, unlike me."

He asked.

He glanced at my bandaged arm.

"Well. Originally, I was a rather prominent noble.

Fortunately, they didn't torture me."

"Enviable."

He let out a hollow laugh.

Each time he laughed, dark crimson blood seeped from his wounds.

"Were you also afflicted by the Saintess? That mad... cough!"

He couldn't finish his sentence and coughed.

"Probably, something like that."

We couldn't converse any further.

The carriage stopped in the middle of the square.

The door opened, and we were pulled from the carriage by the guards.

The square was packed with people.

Madness, excitement, and contempt mingled in their eyes.

It was as if they were enjoying a grand festival.

They pointed and shouted at us.

Every one of their faces was flushed with joy disguised as rage.

In the center of the square stood two wooden stakes.

Below the stakes, dry firewood was piled high like a mountain.

We were each tied to a stake.

Rough ropes dug into our flesh.

Priest Matthias ascended the altar and opened the Bible.

He began to recite our crimes in a solemn voice.

The crime of bringing heretical goods from the sea and plunging the faithful into despair, the crime of using heretical items to murder priests, and many other stories I had never heard before.

At least, I didn't think I had done anything so grand.

The crowd cheered wildly with every word the priest uttered.

The voices churned inside my head.

And in the crowd, I saw Seraphina.

She was looking this way, her face pale.

Her face was contorted with pain and guilt.

It was an expression as if she would collapse at any moment, as if she would die.

There were times in the past when she'd make that kind of face while trying to somehow undo the engagement, or ask if she could visit my room every morning.

I should have told her to fuck off and disappear.

She only showed expressions and emotions like that, but she never actually did anything.

As my thoughts continued, our eyes met.

And at the same moment, the priests set fire to the pile of firewood.

Whoosh!

The flames instantly flared up.

The dry firewood blazed furiously as if it had been soaked in oil.

A scorching heat enveloped my entire body.

"Aghhhhhhhh!"

"Aaaaagh! Fuck! Agh!"

The man beside me and I screamed simultaneously.

Flesh cooked, fat melted, emitting a foul odor.

Unable to do anything at all, I cried like an idiot and looked up at the sky.

There was nothing in the ashen sky.

"Sister! Levina! Save me! Sister! Seraphina! Save me! Aghhhhhh!!"

I shrieked.

I called out the names of people I couldn't even see.

"Estelle! Estelle......!"

The flames only grew fiercer.

At some point, my voice stopped coming out.

The last thing I saw was Estelle, hugging me tightly, regardless of whether I was burning or not.

****

From afar, the roar of the crowds could be heard.

At that time, Estelle was returning to the city.

Her face bore an expression mixed with fatigue, yet also satisfaction.

She was on her way back from burning down a den of heretics.

Estelle somehow felt as if someone was calling her.

"The city seems a bit noisy, what's going on?"

She asked the knight riding beside her.

"I hear a burning at the stake is being carried out in the square today.

I've heard it's the execution by fire of a heinous criminal who serially murdered priests, and a heretic whom Your Holiness captured long ago."

At her subordinate's calm words, Estelle's face hardened.

She yanked on her horse's reins.

The horse neighed, cried out, and reared on its hind legs.

She dismounted from the horse and began to run towards the square.

She shoved aside all the crowds blocking her path and pressed forward.

People screamed and parted to make way.

In her eyes, only the burning stake in the center of the square was visible.

"Stop."

Priest Matthias blocked her path.

His face was pale, but his gaze was resolute.

"Even Your Holiness's parents would be proud to see you returning after purifying the heretics.

For their sake, please remain calm."

He said, his voice calm and composed.

Estelle stared at him without a word.

And she looked back and forth between Lavin, who was still burning, and Matthias, several times.

Her face was expressionless.

The next moment, her fist shot towards Matthias's face.

Thwack!

With a dull thud, his head shattered, scattering everywhere.

Brain matter and bone fragments rained down.

The square instantly fell silent, as if a mouse had died.

The crowds gasped in horror and recoiled.

Estelle leapt into the burning pile of firewood.

Not caring if the flames caught onto her body or not.

Each time the flames licked her skin, her skin burned away.

But each time it burned, new flesh grew back, leaving it endlessly red.

Even so, as if feeling no pain, she embraced Lavin, who had not yet been completely charred black.

As light enveloped the corpse, the burnt skin healed and new flesh sprouted.

But Lavin did not rise.

What lay in her arms was merely a mass of flesh in Lavin's shape.

Estelle knew this fact all too well, yet she simply could not let him go.

She did not cry.

She neither screamed nor showed any emotion.

She merely sat there blankly, hugging the now unblemished Lavin and muttering.

"It feels like it was always like this, somehow."

Sitting blankly, as if she couldn't hear anything – no matter how the surrounding crowds stared, no matter what state Matthias's corpse was in, no matter what the priests who flocked around her said.

"Whenever I felt like something was about to begin, it always disappeared like this."

She simply stared blankly at Lavin's corpse, stroking his face.

"I wanted to hear the words 'I love you'.

No one had ever told the Saintess that they loved her."

Lavin was right before her eyes, yet his face was blurred and she couldn't see it.

Just as she couldn't remember Etoile's face.

She merely looked into a mirror and imagined that he must have looked like this.

In her memories, the faces of those she loved always faded away like that.

She merely continued to stroke Lavin's blurred face.

Because the sensation, at least, always remained in her memory.

Estelle used to find the problem within herself.

That she couldn't save them because she had done wrong, because she was lacking.

But this time, it wasn't so.

She didn't want to believe that Lavin's death was her own fault.

Looking around, she saw countless people delighting in the sight of Lavin dying.

Their faces were filled with distorted joy.

Their expressions were obscured, their faces appearing as if someone had scribbled on them, revealing nothing, yet they were clearly smiling.

Estelle gently laid Lavin down, then stared blankly at the Holy Knights surrounding her.

The Holy Knights said something, but it didn't register at all.

Like sounds heard underwater, it only hummed and dissipated.

The head of one Holy Knight, who was approaching to calm the Saintess, instantly burst open.

Only then did the crowds begin to scream and flee.

The square instantly became a pandemonium.

Estelle drew her sword and looked at each of the Holy Knights who, despite having their weapons drawn, did not charge.

Then she picked up Lavin, who was lying on the ground, and headed somewhere.

Not a single person followed her.