How long had she been rolling around on the floor like that? Laura finally found something useful.
She noticed something sticking out from under the carpet, and upon looking into it, she found a sharp nail sticking out of the floor.
She struggled, rubbing the rope binding her hands against the nails. It took a while, as the position was awkward, trying to use the nails on the floor with her hands tied behind her. But somehow, she managed to break the rope.
With her hands free, the rest was a piece of cake. She even untied the ropes that bound her legs and began massaging her arms and legs, which were numb from poor circulation.
Now all she had to do was find a way out of here.
'...The door was, of course, locked from the outside.'
It was impossible for her, not particularly strong, to break through this sturdy wooden door. She had to find another way out.
'By the way, where does the light come from?'
If she could find a place where light could shine, she felt there was hope. She searched for a hole in the room between the piles of luggage. This space seemed to be used as a storage space.
And after a moment, she could see a source of light behind a dusty pile of luggage: a small window in the wall near the ceiling, intended for ventilation.
She stood up and looked outside, and a flower bed overgrown with bushes came into view.
'Can I get out of here?'
Laura calculated the size of her body and the window. She figured if she could just get her head out, she could probably get out somehow.
'Please, open.'
Laura stepped onto the stack of boxes and pulled at the bars blocking the window. Fortunately, the repairs had been done long ago, and even with her relatively modest strength, she was able to open it.
She squeezed herself into the narrow space. It was only after enduring the suffocating, rib-crushing pain that she managed to escape.
As she emerged from the darkness, the bright light seemed to pierce her eyes, but Laura moved quickly.
All she had to do was get to the entrance. From there, she just had to stop Byron, who was disguised as a porter carrying gifts and sneaking into the mansion.
As Laura was moving behind the low shrubs, waiting for the flower bed.
“Oh, Your Excellency!”
“I came to check if the child is behaving well.”
Roderick arrived in front of the underground warehouse and ordered the knight guarding the door to open it.
“I’ve been keeping it tight, so don’t worrymmm gasp.”
The knight, who had opened the warehouse door, saying there was no problem, was left speechless by the scene inside. Laura had already escaped through the window.
“...She couldn’t have gone far. Hurry up and chase after her.”
“Yes, yes, Your Excellency. I, I’m sorry.”
Roderick gave the order with a calm expression. The knight nodded several times in confusion, then gathered his companions and began to pursue Laura.
And at that time, in front of the main gate of the Duke's residence.
Byron was passing through the security checkpoint wearing shabby laborer's clothes.
“This is a birthday gift for the Princess, sent by Marquis Caenis.”
“...Hmm. I’ll check the contents for a moment.”
The officer at the checkpoint opened each box, inspecting its contents. Inside were ornate ornaments and tea sets.
“What is this?”
The knight asked, looking at the suspicious cylindrical box. The attendant, said to be sent by Marquis Caenis, answered politely.
“Oh, it’s 50-year-old aged tea. You can open it and take a look.”
The knight, ordered to carefully examine everything, opened the lid and sniffed. Inside were, quite literally, aged tea leaves. A strong, earthy aroma tickled his nostrils.
“Well, everything is fine. Please pass through.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The servant entered the Duke's residence with a proud air, and Byron, who had been watching the situation anxiously while holding a gift box behind him, swallowed hard and followed him.
Of course, he looked quite different than usual. He'd used drugs to change the color of his hair and eyes, and even had a ridiculous fake beard glued to his nose.
Anyway, if they just passed this checkpoint, it was practically over.
Only Roderick or Ophelia, who knew each other well, would be able to recognize the disguised person. How could a porter who had barely come to deliver a gift see the faces of the noble Duke and Duchess?
He was about to step inside the mansion with a smile of conversion.
'Over there!'
Laura, who was hiding in the bushes, found Byron and looked around.
She had to get him to safety quickly before it was too late. And she planned to escape with him. That way, they could always try again.
“Master...!”
“Found her! Catch her!!”
However, Laura was unable to get near Byron and was captured by the knights.
The knights covered her mouth to prevent her from screaming, and quickly hid behind the building so that no one else could see her.
Byron tilted his head and turned around when he heard Laura calling him. But he couldn't see anything. Laura had already been dragged away by the knights.
“Why are you doing that?”
“...No. I thought I heard something. Let’s go in quickly.”
Now, all he had to do was go into that child's room and hide.
By the end of the day, Roderick would be dead, and his loyal soldiers would take over the mansion.
If it weren't for the Knights of Weishaffen, who had been reduced to shielding the false Emperor who had usurped his throne, Hiram Tobias Vito Peles...his uprising would have ended in an easy victory.
Byron followed the servant's instructions and climbed the stairs to Aila's room.
To that foolish hunting dog that waits only for him, not even knowing that she must kill her own father.
A procession of laborers headed toward the Princess's room. This was the result of Aila's insistence on inspecting the gift herself.
Byron entered Aila's room, wedged between the workers. She was elegantly drinking tea, seemingly completely oblivious to the workers.
And until all the other workers left, Byron, who was left alone there, cautiously stood in front of Aila.
"Father."
She called him in a choked voice, as if her voice had been choked with emotion.
“My daughter, it’s been a long time.”
Byron sat down on the soft sofa, removing the mustache he'd been pinning under his nose. Even if it was for the sake of the event, he didn't want to remain in this ridiculous state for even a moment.
He arrogantly swung his hand, calling out to Aila. Without hesitation, she approached him and knelt before him.
"I hope you're well prepared, my daughter. Now, avenge your father."
Byron stroked her soft hair carefully.
“...Of course, Father.”
Aila looked up at him with intense eyes. It was the gaze of a predator about to hunt, but Byron simply interpreted her earnestness as a desperate desire for his praise.
Because it's always been that way.
"Yes, well done. You haven't forgotten your promise to your father, have you? That you'll take that terrible thing's life with your own hands."
Byron said with a frown, as if he didn't even want to mention Noah's name.
A child who had no sense of humility insisted so strongly that the time to kill Noah was postponed, so shouldn't the promise be kept?
“Yes, I will.”
Aila smiled, resisting the urge to cut off his head at any moment. How could she possibly not endure a little, after all, after all, she'd come this far?
At her answer, Byron, seemingly satisfied, opened the gift box he had brought. He removed the soft velvet cloth that had been placed to protect the jewels, revealing a hidden space beneath.
Beneath it were a silver dagger and a vial of medicine that he had always cherished.
"Now, use this sword to cut down Roderick Allan Weishaffen. The vial contains a deadly poison, so apply it to the blade."
Could it be that it was exactly the same? It was the day in the past, or rather, the day in the future, when she died.
With a glint in her eye, Aila pulled the well-forged blade from its platinum scabbard. She imagined it slicing Byron's throat...
"He'll be coming to this room when it gets dark. I called him. In the meantime, rest comfortably here, Father."
Aila spoke with a strangely eerie smile. It was a smile that hinted at murderous intent. It wasn't surprising, considering she was about to be assassinated, that she would feel that way, but...
‘...What is this creepiness?’
For a moment, Byron felt a sense of fear, as if he had become an animal being dragged to the slaughterhouse.
But he dismissed that ominous feeling, almost instinctive, as nothing more than a feeling of dread. Just as Aila had felt the same way about him in the past, but dismissed it as a misunderstanding.
“Yes, then... I’ll hide myself. You finish your work.”
Byron smiled and hid in the closet.
Wouldn't it be a problem if someone other than Roderick came in earlier than the scheduled time and discovered him?
Hiding in a small space was humiliating, but it was worth it for the glory that would come later.
So he stepped into the trap that was set to catch him.
She noticed something sticking out from under the carpet, and upon looking into it, she found a sharp nail sticking out of the floor.
She struggled, rubbing the rope binding her hands against the nails. It took a while, as the position was awkward, trying to use the nails on the floor with her hands tied behind her. But somehow, she managed to break the rope.
With her hands free, the rest was a piece of cake. She even untied the ropes that bound her legs and began massaging her arms and legs, which were numb from poor circulation.
Now all she had to do was find a way out of here.
'...The door was, of course, locked from the outside.'
It was impossible for her, not particularly strong, to break through this sturdy wooden door. She had to find another way out.
'By the way, where does the light come from?'
If she could find a place where light could shine, she felt there was hope. She searched for a hole in the room between the piles of luggage. This space seemed to be used as a storage space.
And after a moment, she could see a source of light behind a dusty pile of luggage: a small window in the wall near the ceiling, intended for ventilation.
She stood up and looked outside, and a flower bed overgrown with bushes came into view.
'Can I get out of here?'
Laura calculated the size of her body and the window. She figured if she could just get her head out, she could probably get out somehow.
'Please, open.'
Laura stepped onto the stack of boxes and pulled at the bars blocking the window. Fortunately, the repairs had been done long ago, and even with her relatively modest strength, she was able to open it.
She squeezed herself into the narrow space. It was only after enduring the suffocating, rib-crushing pain that she managed to escape.
As she emerged from the darkness, the bright light seemed to pierce her eyes, but Laura moved quickly.
All she had to do was get to the entrance. From there, she just had to stop Byron, who was disguised as a porter carrying gifts and sneaking into the mansion.
As Laura was moving behind the low shrubs, waiting for the flower bed.
“Oh, Your Excellency!”
“I came to check if the child is behaving well.”
Roderick arrived in front of the underground warehouse and ordered the knight guarding the door to open it.
“I’ve been keeping it tight, so don’t worrymmm gasp.”
The knight, who had opened the warehouse door, saying there was no problem, was left speechless by the scene inside. Laura had already escaped through the window.
“...She couldn’t have gone far. Hurry up and chase after her.”
“Yes, yes, Your Excellency. I, I’m sorry.”
Roderick gave the order with a calm expression. The knight nodded several times in confusion, then gathered his companions and began to pursue Laura.
And at that time, in front of the main gate of the Duke's residence.
Byron was passing through the security checkpoint wearing shabby laborer's clothes.
“This is a birthday gift for the Princess, sent by Marquis Caenis.”
“...Hmm. I’ll check the contents for a moment.”
The officer at the checkpoint opened each box, inspecting its contents. Inside were ornate ornaments and tea sets.
“What is this?”
The knight asked, looking at the suspicious cylindrical box. The attendant, said to be sent by Marquis Caenis, answered politely.
“Oh, it’s 50-year-old aged tea. You can open it and take a look.”
The knight, ordered to carefully examine everything, opened the lid and sniffed. Inside were, quite literally, aged tea leaves. A strong, earthy aroma tickled his nostrils.
“Well, everything is fine. Please pass through.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The servant entered the Duke's residence with a proud air, and Byron, who had been watching the situation anxiously while holding a gift box behind him, swallowed hard and followed him.
Of course, he looked quite different than usual. He'd used drugs to change the color of his hair and eyes, and even had a ridiculous fake beard glued to his nose.
Anyway, if they just passed this checkpoint, it was practically over.
Only Roderick or Ophelia, who knew each other well, would be able to recognize the disguised person. How could a porter who had barely come to deliver a gift see the faces of the noble Duke and Duchess?
He was about to step inside the mansion with a smile of conversion.
'Over there!'
Laura, who was hiding in the bushes, found Byron and looked around.
She had to get him to safety quickly before it was too late. And she planned to escape with him. That way, they could always try again.
“Master...!”
“Found her! Catch her!!”
However, Laura was unable to get near Byron and was captured by the knights.
The knights covered her mouth to prevent her from screaming, and quickly hid behind the building so that no one else could see her.
Byron tilted his head and turned around when he heard Laura calling him. But he couldn't see anything. Laura had already been dragged away by the knights.
“Why are you doing that?”
“...No. I thought I heard something. Let’s go in quickly.”
Now, all he had to do was go into that child's room and hide.
By the end of the day, Roderick would be dead, and his loyal soldiers would take over the mansion.
If it weren't for the Knights of Weishaffen, who had been reduced to shielding the false Emperor who had usurped his throne, Hiram Tobias Vito Peles...his uprising would have ended in an easy victory.
Byron followed the servant's instructions and climbed the stairs to Aila's room.
To that foolish hunting dog that waits only for him, not even knowing that she must kill her own father.
A procession of laborers headed toward the Princess's room. This was the result of Aila's insistence on inspecting the gift herself.
Byron entered Aila's room, wedged between the workers. She was elegantly drinking tea, seemingly completely oblivious to the workers.
And until all the other workers left, Byron, who was left alone there, cautiously stood in front of Aila.
"Father."
She called him in a choked voice, as if her voice had been choked with emotion.
“My daughter, it’s been a long time.”
Byron sat down on the soft sofa, removing the mustache he'd been pinning under his nose. Even if it was for the sake of the event, he didn't want to remain in this ridiculous state for even a moment.
He arrogantly swung his hand, calling out to Aila. Without hesitation, she approached him and knelt before him.
"I hope you're well prepared, my daughter. Now, avenge your father."
Byron stroked her soft hair carefully.
“...Of course, Father.”
Aila looked up at him with intense eyes. It was the gaze of a predator about to hunt, but Byron simply interpreted her earnestness as a desperate desire for his praise.
Because it's always been that way.
"Yes, well done. You haven't forgotten your promise to your father, have you? That you'll take that terrible thing's life with your own hands."
Byron said with a frown, as if he didn't even want to mention Noah's name.
A child who had no sense of humility insisted so strongly that the time to kill Noah was postponed, so shouldn't the promise be kept?
“Yes, I will.”
Aila smiled, resisting the urge to cut off his head at any moment. How could she possibly not endure a little, after all, after all, she'd come this far?
At her answer, Byron, seemingly satisfied, opened the gift box he had brought. He removed the soft velvet cloth that had been placed to protect the jewels, revealing a hidden space beneath.
Beneath it were a silver dagger and a vial of medicine that he had always cherished.
"Now, use this sword to cut down Roderick Allan Weishaffen. The vial contains a deadly poison, so apply it to the blade."
Could it be that it was exactly the same? It was the day in the past, or rather, the day in the future, when she died.
With a glint in her eye, Aila pulled the well-forged blade from its platinum scabbard. She imagined it slicing Byron's throat...
"He'll be coming to this room when it gets dark. I called him. In the meantime, rest comfortably here, Father."
Aila spoke with a strangely eerie smile. It was a smile that hinted at murderous intent. It wasn't surprising, considering she was about to be assassinated, that she would feel that way, but...
‘...What is this creepiness?’
For a moment, Byron felt a sense of fear, as if he had become an animal being dragged to the slaughterhouse.
But he dismissed that ominous feeling, almost instinctive, as nothing more than a feeling of dread. Just as Aila had felt the same way about him in the past, but dismissed it as a misunderstanding.
“Yes, then... I’ll hide myself. You finish your work.”
Byron smiled and hid in the closet.
Wouldn't it be a problem if someone other than Roderick came in earlier than the scheduled time and discovered him?
Hiding in a small space was humiliating, but it was worth it for the glory that would come later.
So he stepped into the trap that was set to catch him.
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