No longer was she called Lady Grancel. The Princess's Murderer or 'That Prisoner', the arrogant woman who had fallen before her very eyes, so Henrietta had said.
Else was out of the villa to attend Henrietta's execution. It was supposed to be an execution presided over by the King. She had been coughing and had a fever for four days. It seemed as if the execution was the last funeral for her young daughter. The King, who had risen from his seat, was dressed in a dark and dull uniform like a funeral dress.
Instead of sitting next to the King, Else decided to watch Henrietta's death from afar. Henrietta had her head shaved and was wearing a white bonnet. She always seemed to be dressed in gorgeous dresses. The whole family had been sold into slavery and were to be executed alongside her father.
It was not a funny ending. Even if you kill Grancel and his wife, Hermi will not come back. Even if you try to save Sybil from his mistakes... It was a reality that would not change.
The woman, whose hands had been tied, was led to the execution chamber in the presence of forty courtiers. Her hands were free for a moment. It was for the execution. The man who was to cut off the woman's head made her lie face down on the floor. Henrietta was trembling. Tears were wet on her pale cheeks, and her lips were blue.
Sybil stared blankly at the woman who had once been her fiancée and cousin. Finally, Henrietta's hands were tied to the floor. The woman, whose wrists were tightly bound with leather straps, closed her eyes tightly. Else looked away for a moment. But Sybil's eyes did not wander anywhere.
There was a thud. A faint goosebump ran through her body. She turned her gaze and stared at the axe swinging down. The woman’s neck was cut cleanly in just two strokes. She had heard that a skilled rascal could cut off a head in just one blow. Henrietta’s neck was completely severed in two strokes, but the first blow would have killed her.
Else looked at the blood-stained execution ground. There were 40 people in the crowd, but not even a small murmur could be heard. Count Grancel shed tears as he watched his daughter die. However, the scoundrel did not spare him and dragged him away. Else turned around to leave.
She didn't want to see that disgusting sight any longer. She looked back at Sibyl, trying to calm her rumbling stomach. Their eyes met. At first glance, he seemed calm, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
Else thought of Henrietta's severed head. The head separated from the torso was as strange as it was foreign. It was a miserable end. She deserved to die a miserable death for killing the King's young daughter. But Hermi didn't die solely because of Henrietta's fault.
The child died because of his father's fault. If there was a fault, if there was a crime to be punished, then the same should be said for the father. On his own terms... On his own terms as an accomplice in Hermi's murder. Just because he was the child's father, he was entitled to sit there and watch over death.
Wasn't a man of noble birth, a King, treated like a slave? What Else had suffered was the same as what he had suffered in Lugdun. So it was understandable. If it was hate, not love. If he wanted to retaliate, then that was fine...
'You don't deserve to live.'
You have no right to mourn my daughter. You are an accomplice to that woman, Sybil.
Else was out of the villa to attend Henrietta's execution. It was supposed to be an execution presided over by the King. She had been coughing and had a fever for four days. It seemed as if the execution was the last funeral for her young daughter. The King, who had risen from his seat, was dressed in a dark and dull uniform like a funeral dress.
Instead of sitting next to the King, Else decided to watch Henrietta's death from afar. Henrietta had her head shaved and was wearing a white bonnet. She always seemed to be dressed in gorgeous dresses. The whole family had been sold into slavery and were to be executed alongside her father.
It was not a funny ending. Even if you kill Grancel and his wife, Hermi will not come back. Even if you try to save Sybil from his mistakes... It was a reality that would not change.
The woman, whose hands had been tied, was led to the execution chamber in the presence of forty courtiers. Her hands were free for a moment. It was for the execution. The man who was to cut off the woman's head made her lie face down on the floor. Henrietta was trembling. Tears were wet on her pale cheeks, and her lips were blue.
Sybil stared blankly at the woman who had once been her fiancée and cousin. Finally, Henrietta's hands were tied to the floor. The woman, whose wrists were tightly bound with leather straps, closed her eyes tightly. Else looked away for a moment. But Sybil's eyes did not wander anywhere.
There was a thud. A faint goosebump ran through her body. She turned her gaze and stared at the axe swinging down. The woman’s neck was cut cleanly in just two strokes. She had heard that a skilled rascal could cut off a head in just one blow. Henrietta’s neck was completely severed in two strokes, but the first blow would have killed her.
Else looked at the blood-stained execution ground. There were 40 people in the crowd, but not even a small murmur could be heard. Count Grancel shed tears as he watched his daughter die. However, the scoundrel did not spare him and dragged him away. Else turned around to leave.
She didn't want to see that disgusting sight any longer. She looked back at Sibyl, trying to calm her rumbling stomach. Their eyes met. At first glance, he seemed calm, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
Else thought of Henrietta's severed head. The head separated from the torso was as strange as it was foreign. It was a miserable end. She deserved to die a miserable death for killing the King's young daughter. But Hermi didn't die solely because of Henrietta's fault.
The child died because of his father's fault. If there was a fault, if there was a crime to be punished, then the same should be said for the father. On his own terms... On his own terms as an accomplice in Hermi's murder. Just because he was the child's father, he was entitled to sit there and watch over death.
Her hands clenched. Else looked away from the disgusting face and left.
“Your Highness, would you like something to drink? You look pale.”
When she returned to the villa and collapsed on the bed, Jeanne carefully asked, taking off the black veil on her head. Else looked at her blankly and lowered her gaze. When there was no answer, Jeanne left the bedroom and brought her a cold drink.
Summer was coming to an end, but the midday heat was still hot. The stifling heat swept over her. She thought about Sybil, sweating profusely. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't forgive that man. No way, no way... When she thought of Hermi. When she thought of the day Hermi left her, she felt like she wouldn't be able to forgive him even if she died and came back to life.
Who is he? Who is he to take her daughter away from her? Just because he is her father, and he is not her husband... Yes. Sybil was not her husband. He was not her lover. He did not establish their relationship that way. If she thinks about it, that is how it was.
Sibyl only tied Else up. She didn't name her relationship with Else. They had children and gave her the status of a concubine, but that was it. If Else hadn't given birth to twins, Else wouldn't have even received that. So... To her, her husband was the dead Millium. On top of that, he ruined Else like this.
“Grancel is finally dead.”
Jeanne hummed as she held out a cold drink. Else accepted the cold drink and looked at Jeanne.
“Don’t you feel a little better?”
She took a sip of her cold, sweet drink. Jeanne was sometimes surprisingly direct. Jules called it sincere honesty without malice. Else couldn't tell.
“It was His Majesty’s decision for the sake of Her Highness, the Duchess, and Her Royal Highness the Princess. If His Majesty had not thought of Your Highness the Duchess, He would not have taken her life so cruelly.”
Else's gaze, which had been groping the floor, fell on Jeanne. She understood what she wanted to say. Did she mean to forgive Sibyl after all? Else glared at Jeanne with poisonous eyes. The woman flinched at her gaze.
Else glared at her with her sharp eyes and bit her lip. Jeanne hesitated at her fierce expression and backed away. Anger welled up in her. Else was already upset, but hearing such nonsense from a maid made her feel hot all the way to the top of her head.
“I will step aside.”
Jeanne lowered her head at Else's crooked gaze. Else turned her head away from her and chewed her lower lip. The bitter taste of blood was on the tip of her tongue. Sybil had to die too. If Henrietta had died. If she had paid for her sins with death, then Sybil should have died too. There was no reason not to tie them up as accomplices. He was a human being who was not qualified to mourn her daughter alongside her.
'You beast of a bastard.'
Else thought of the man who raped her. Since she began living in the palace, their love affair had never been a smooth one. He always raped Else. He forced her body open and entered her, pushing her to the edge. It didn’t matter. Even if he slapped her cheeks and left whip marks on her thighs. Even if he insulted her by treating her like a government official... Else could endure it.
“Your Highness, would you like something to drink? You look pale.”
When she returned to the villa and collapsed on the bed, Jeanne carefully asked, taking off the black veil on her head. Else looked at her blankly and lowered her gaze. When there was no answer, Jeanne left the bedroom and brought her a cold drink.
Summer was coming to an end, but the midday heat was still hot. The stifling heat swept over her. She thought about Sybil, sweating profusely. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't forgive that man. No way, no way... When she thought of Hermi. When she thought of the day Hermi left her, she felt like she wouldn't be able to forgive him even if she died and came back to life.
Who is he? Who is he to take her daughter away from her? Just because he is her father, and he is not her husband... Yes. Sybil was not her husband. He was not her lover. He did not establish their relationship that way. If she thinks about it, that is how it was.
Sibyl only tied Else up. She didn't name her relationship with Else. They had children and gave her the status of a concubine, but that was it. If Else hadn't given birth to twins, Else wouldn't have even received that. So... To her, her husband was the dead Millium. On top of that, he ruined Else like this.
“Grancel is finally dead.”
Jeanne hummed as she held out a cold drink. Else accepted the cold drink and looked at Jeanne.
“Don’t you feel a little better?”
She took a sip of her cold, sweet drink. Jeanne was sometimes surprisingly direct. Jules called it sincere honesty without malice. Else couldn't tell.
“It was His Majesty’s decision for the sake of Her Highness, the Duchess, and Her Royal Highness the Princess. If His Majesty had not thought of Your Highness the Duchess, He would not have taken her life so cruelly.”
Else's gaze, which had been groping the floor, fell on Jeanne. She understood what she wanted to say. Did she mean to forgive Sibyl after all? Else glared at Jeanne with poisonous eyes. The woman flinched at her gaze.
Else glared at her with her sharp eyes and bit her lip. Jeanne hesitated at her fierce expression and backed away. Anger welled up in her. Else was already upset, but hearing such nonsense from a maid made her feel hot all the way to the top of her head.
“I will step aside.”
Jeanne lowered her head at Else's crooked gaze. Else turned her head away from her and chewed her lower lip. The bitter taste of blood was on the tip of her tongue. Sybil had to die too. If Henrietta had died. If she had paid for her sins with death, then Sybil should have died too. There was no reason not to tie them up as accomplices. He was a human being who was not qualified to mourn her daughter alongside her.
'You beast of a bastard.'
Else thought of the man who raped her. Since she began living in the palace, their love affair had never been a smooth one. He always raped Else. He forced her body open and entered her, pushing her to the edge. It didn’t matter. Even if he slapped her cheeks and left whip marks on her thighs. Even if he insulted her by treating her like a government official... Else could endure it.
Wasn't a man of noble birth, a King, treated like a slave? What Else had suffered was the same as what he had suffered in Lugdun. So it was understandable. If it was hate, not love. If he wanted to retaliate, then that was fine...
'You don't deserve to live.'
You have no right to mourn my daughter. You are an accomplice to that woman, Sybil.
Else got up and looked for the knife she had hidden away. It was a pocket knife used by the gardener of the villa for gardening. It was found when she was walking around the villa garden after moving into the villa. Else left the bedroom with the knife hidden in her sleeve.
'...He took the title of Count and turned his property over to the state...'
The quill moved quickly. He signed the blank without delay and handed the parchment to Alexander. The decapitated bodies of Lady Grancel had left the palace. Since the family had fallen, they could not be placed in the underground cemetery inside the Grancel mansion, and there was no gravestone to be made. What if they made a stone tomb in the field?
***
'...He took the title of Count and turned his property over to the state...'
The quill moved quickly. He signed the blank without delay and handed the parchment to Alexander. The decapitated bodies of Lady Grancel had left the palace. Since the family had fallen, they could not be placed in the underground cemetery inside the Grancel mansion, and there was no gravestone to be made. What if they made a stone tomb in the field?
Since the entire family, including the lady, had become commoners, there was no way to hold a funeral. Countess Grancel and her sons had already been enslaved and taken to foreign countries. In their stead, Sybil had the bodies of her maternal uncle and cousin buried near the Grancel mansion.
“Your Majesty, Her Royal Highness the Duchess has arrived.”
As he was about to get up and leave the office, he heard a commotion outside the door, and soon the door opened. Sibyl looked at the servant who had announced Else’s visit with hardened eyes. The servant was embarrassed and kept his mouth shut. It was the King who was hanging on to his concubine. The man who seemed to be ordering her to come in with joy was terrifyingly stiff.
“Come in, tell her.”
"Yes."
It had been a week or so. Else had not visited Sibyl once in the nearly two weeks. He had not thought that word had spread to the villa that he had a high fever. Else’s gaze fell on his bandaged hand. Her gaze was not barbed, but her fingers trembled for no reason.
“Else.”
She probably didn't come looking for him because she wanted to see him. Sibyl didn't think she had any love left. But he had love left... No. It was so overflowing that he felt like he would burst into tears at any moment. He looked at her with his dry lips quivering.
Just seeing her made me him nervous like crazy. He wanted to see her. He wanted to touch her. She was such a small and fragile woman that she seemed like she would fall apart if he held her. But the moment he held her head and pressed it to his chest, it felt like a sharp awl would pierce his heart.
"...What's the matter?"
Else was staring blankly at him. Her white lips were like stone, not knowing what to say. Sybil’s gaze fell on her hand. Her small hand was holding a knife. It wasn’t a knife or cutlery, but a pocket knife. Where did she get it? Clearly, no sharp objects, including dishes, were allowed in the villa’s bedroom.
Before Sybil could glare at her in surprise, the sword was thrown at his feet. Sybil looked at her, her emotions clearing. Else's lips opened.
“...I can’t forgive you.”
“Your Majesty, Her Royal Highness the Duchess has arrived.”
As he was about to get up and leave the office, he heard a commotion outside the door, and soon the door opened. Sibyl looked at the servant who had announced Else’s visit with hardened eyes. The servant was embarrassed and kept his mouth shut. It was the King who was hanging on to his concubine. The man who seemed to be ordering her to come in with joy was terrifyingly stiff.
“Come in, tell her.”
"Yes."
It had been a week or so. Else had not visited Sibyl once in the nearly two weeks. He had not thought that word had spread to the villa that he had a high fever. Else’s gaze fell on his bandaged hand. Her gaze was not barbed, but her fingers trembled for no reason.
“Else.”
She probably didn't come looking for him because she wanted to see him. Sibyl didn't think she had any love left. But he had love left... No. It was so overflowing that he felt like he would burst into tears at any moment. He looked at her with his dry lips quivering.
Just seeing her made me him nervous like crazy. He wanted to see her. He wanted to touch her. She was such a small and fragile woman that she seemed like she would fall apart if he held her. But the moment he held her head and pressed it to his chest, it felt like a sharp awl would pierce his heart.
"...What's the matter?"
Else was staring blankly at him. Her white lips were like stone, not knowing what to say. Sybil’s gaze fell on her hand. Her small hand was holding a knife. It wasn’t a knife or cutlery, but a pocket knife. Where did she get it? Clearly, no sharp objects, including dishes, were allowed in the villa’s bedroom.
Before Sybil could glare at her in surprise, the sword was thrown at his feet. Sybil looked at her, her emotions clearing. Else's lips opened.
“...I can’t forgive you.”
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