Finally, Erita was put on trial. The first trial was held, and several nobles, palace maids, and maids-in-waiting were present as witnesses. I, along with Noah and Countess Reuben, was present to testify in the case of the poisoning of the palace maid. If it were revealed that I wasn't the daughter of Countess Reuben's sister, Agnes Harrison, then the truth about her deception would be revealed. Seeing Countess Reuben face-to-face for the first time since Ayla's death, I felt awkward and embarrassed.
“Countess Rotsilt, how are you?”
Countess Reuben smiled kindly, as if nothing had happened, but unlike before, she used polite language. It felt like she was drawing a line, and I sensed some distance, so I glanced at her, and she took my hand.
“Yes, Countess Reuben. I hope you are well.”
"I'm in good health. You've lost a lot of weight, Madam. Don't skip meals."
The judge announced the start of the trial. The Queen did not show up. It was said that a public defender had taken on her defense, as no one would defend the perpetrator of such a heinous murder.
Erita, wearing a gray prison uniform and a shackle around her wrist, entered the courtroom with a stern look. She was not called a Princess or a royal daughter, but a defendant. The world called her a mad, fake Princess. Somewhere, tongues were clicked, and curses were hurled at her. Erita's blue eyes, never having experienced such treatment before, were dark and sunken. She raised her head, then turned, her gaze fixed on something. Her eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, and she stared at the Marchioness of Wales, who sat in the witness stand.
“Madam, why are you on the witness stand?”
The Marchioness of Wales looked at her with a look of ignorance.
"It's true. I'm sitting here to testify against your sins. Why are you doing this?"
"Madam Wales, you promised to clear my name and restore me to my position as Princess when the opportunity arises. And if that doesn't work, you even promised to take me to your mansion and look after me."
The countless gazes in the courtroom resonated. Despite being met with a multitude of gazes filled with suspicion and wonder, her composed face held no expression. As a high-ranking noblewoman, she was in a situation where she couldn't be easily dismissed, so no one, except the judge, spoke or whispered.
“Witness. Were you intimate with the defendant?”
A middle-aged judge wearing a silver-gray wig and black robes pushed up his monocles and asked. Only then did the Marchioness smile gently and shake her head.
“Not at all, Your Honor.”
“Rosalia!”
With a shrill cry, Erita's eyes, which had been withered, became filled with venom and blazed.
"You've been coming to my room so often! You're saying it was all a lie? Have you been pretending to comfort me all this time? Pretending to be on my side? I killed Count Daywood's daughter, and I killed your husband's mistress, the maid, all on your orders!"
The guards grabbed Erita, who was striding toward the Marchioness, as if ready to pounce on her. She muttered incoherently and cursed while held captive. Finally, the room was quieted down with the judge's warning to vacate the courtroom. The judge sighed and questioned the Marchioness of Wales.
“As the defendant claims, did you ever order her to commit murder?”
"No. It's absurd to order the Princess of a country to do anything. I've never met the defendant alone, and we have no personal relationship. The only time we've sat together was at Her Majesty's tea party. Since stepping down from my position as a lady-in-waiting, I've devoted myself to my family, so I rarely enter the palace for personal matters outside of tea parties and events. You can check the attendance register. And Ayla Delson's death had nothing to do with me. I never verbally abused her while she was my mistress at the mansion, and I helped her end her illicit relationship and secure a position as a palace maid. The servants will testify to this."
Erita's expression became blank as she stood there, her shoulders slumped. I, too, had no idea she was acquainted with the Marchioness of Wales, and I'd never seen them together or conversing. She added calmly.
"As an example of our lack of familiarity, she once pretended to lose a necklace at a banquet held after a shooting competition and attempted to frame Countess Rotsilt, claiming she had arranged for Ayla Delson to steal it. My husband and I, having frequent contact with Countess Rotsilt and her husband, actively tried to dissuade them and assert Lady Rotsilt's innocence. This was witnessed by most of those present."
“You said that all of that was done with the intention of betraying Diana by pretending to be on her side and then betraying her!”
Despite Erita's shrill voice, the Marchioness remained calm and composed. In fact, she even appeared serene. With a gentle expression, she dismissed Erita's claims as mere nonsense.
"What would I gain by doing such a thing? Your Honor, I understand that this woman suffers from a serious mental illness, including delusions. Please be aware that the innocent Mrs. Rotsilt has been wrongfully tormented by her delusions for a long time, and that she clearly intends to frame me for my association with her."
"Your Honor, listen to me. She simply evaded the law. She orchestrated countless murders, and she was the one who linked me to Admiral Belford and Frogen's illegitimate son! She even tried to drive the Rotsilt's apart!"
“Defendant, do you have any evidence?”
At the judge's words, Erita's lips parted in a daze. Seeing her inability to respond, those present all whispered and criticized her delusions and hypocrisy. The judge's stern face twisted into an unpleasant frown in the chaotic atmosphere.
"The Marchioness of Rosalia Wales, who stands before the witness stand, is a person of upright character, a constant example of good deeds, and a role model for the world. The defendant's unfounded statements constitute defamation and insult, so please refrain from making such statements."
As he raised a hand solemnly, the courtroom fell silent again. Erita lowered her head and gritted her teeth in indignation. Something about her aggrieved her so much that her fists clenched so tightly they turned white.
The public defender representing Erita seemed unmotivated. His soulless voice, as if reading from a Korean textbook, merely offered perfunctory remarks like, "Ah, Your Honor. Considering her young age, her long life ahead of her, and her frail mental state, I beg you to show her mercy." This didn't seem to be of much help to her.
Although it was claimed that she had been switched with the Princess as a newborn, it was against her will. As soon as she became an adult, she began colluding with enemy figures, leading to the conclusion that she had conspired with conspirators and been posing as the Princess. Admiral Claire's testimony, while in custody, proved decisive. Ultimately, she was deemed a wartime treason suspect and charged with eight counts, including serial murder. She was sentenced to death in the first trial, the maximum penalty. Just as she realized that an appeal would be futile, Erita let out a single scream and collapsed to the ground.
"No! That's not right! I'm a Princess! I'm Her Majesty the Queen's own daughter!"
The Queen, who had tried to secure the throne by any means necessary, tried to secure Erita, a puppet who constantly lost her balance and collapsed. Ultimately, she cut the connection like a thread and gave up on her. I could only watch Erita's cries, mixed with tears, with a blank expression.
Queen Grace II, accompanied by Baroness Mason and a small group of attendants, secretly left the palace. They intended to go to the solitary cell where Admiral Claire, still under investigation, was being held and hear his story. Descending into the dim basement, where the dim, faded incandescent light flickered, the Queen stood before the iron bars of the cell and waved the maids and guards away.
“Your Majesty, it is dangerous.”
At Baroness Mason's urging, the Queen gave an order in a cold voice.
"What danger is there in that person locked inside? I have a gun for self-defense, and as the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, I've undergone extensive military training. I have a question for him, so you wait at the entrance."
Baroness Mason bowed, his eyes icy, and left, leading his maids and guards. The Queen, who had waited in silence until they had completely departed, saw a blue-eyed middle-aged man, dressed in the shabby manner of a refugee, beyond the iron bars. His once robust physique had shrunk to half its size. The young woman, once a Princess, and the young man, once a captain, had met in the underworld and the summit nearly twenty years later. The Queen spoke in a low voice.
"Winston Clare. Why didn't you tell me everything? If you had, not only the House of Bethilne, but other royal houses would have questioned my right to rule and my right to the throne. Especially the Winters, who are high in the line of succession."
Admiral Claire stood up, lowered his gaze, and stroked his chin. His beard had been shaved with a dull razor by a guard, leaving a raw scar on his chin and philtrum. He slowly raised his head and gazed intently at the Queen. The two faced each other, separated by bars. After a moment of silence, the admiral spoke.
"It sounds obvious to you now that I've realized my sins and repented. It's not even true. So, feel free to execute me."
The admiral smiled gently, a faint smile playing on his lips. The Queen's eyes narrowed fiercely at the sight. "Just because of that smile, I made such a misjudgment." The admiral continued quietly, his voice trailing off as she ruminated on her past mistakes.
"I could have claimed to be Diana's father, exposed the flaw of being a mixed-blood illegitimate child, and disqualified her. Or I could have caused trouble by accusing Your Majesty of conspiring with me to assassinate the Crown Prince. But I didn't. Ultimately, nothing would change. Your Majesty could have killed Diana and me, denying our existence or distorting the truth. That's probably what you intended to do when Janet exposed the truth. People trust the words of those in power more."
“Why did you commit such a sin when nothing would change? You’re so stupid.”
"I used to think it would be like that. No, I hoped for it in vain. Now I realize it was all meaningless."
The Queen felt a pang of inward bewilderment. Clearly, this had been initiated out of self-loathing and a desire for revenge, yet she couldn't fathom why he was giving her such a look. In many ways, his actions and confessions were inconsistent and contradictory. Since this would be her last encounter with him, she asked questions uncharacteristically, driven by emotion. Perhaps it was more like a way to release the long-simmering, pent-up emotions.
"Winston Clare, if I hadn't been of royal blood, you wouldn't have courted me in the first place. In your greed for power, you even attempted to abandon your wife and daughter to become my husband. Furthermore, you even killed my brother, the Crown Prince. I've endured unspeakable pain and betrayal ever since."
"Power, authority, and even royalty are inherently yours. I loved Your Majesty for that very reason. From my perspective, it was a sincere desire, even one that made me abandon my family."
“You must have approached me with intention from the beginning.”
"Your Majesty, do you remember the first time we met? You were alone in the square, unguarded, wearing a hat that obscured your face, a simple blue dress, and two whipped cream waffles from a street vendor in each hand."
"So?"
"Some men approached you. Even with your face covered, you were beautiful. They probably didn't think you were a Princess."
"Are you suggesting we reminisce now? That's meaningless; it's just something that happened in the past. Perhaps you planned that whole situation in advance."
"No. I was planning to leave immediately after helping the Queen, or rather, a woman I met by chance in a difficult situation. I was running late."
The Queen's green eyes slightly wavered as she faced the truth of the past, which had been distorted and ignored for so long, at the admiral's words.
"Wait a minute, why are you in such a hurry? I was just going to treat you to a meal to thank you for helping me! I have a lot of money!"
The one who boldly seized upon the passing coincidence and stood up was none other than the Princess Grace of the past, herself.
“Countess Rotsilt, how are you?”
Countess Reuben smiled kindly, as if nothing had happened, but unlike before, she used polite language. It felt like she was drawing a line, and I sensed some distance, so I glanced at her, and she took my hand.
“Yes, Countess Reuben. I hope you are well.”
"I'm in good health. You've lost a lot of weight, Madam. Don't skip meals."
The judge announced the start of the trial. The Queen did not show up. It was said that a public defender had taken on her defense, as no one would defend the perpetrator of such a heinous murder.
Erita, wearing a gray prison uniform and a shackle around her wrist, entered the courtroom with a stern look. She was not called a Princess or a royal daughter, but a defendant. The world called her a mad, fake Princess. Somewhere, tongues were clicked, and curses were hurled at her. Erita's blue eyes, never having experienced such treatment before, were dark and sunken. She raised her head, then turned, her gaze fixed on something. Her eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, and she stared at the Marchioness of Wales, who sat in the witness stand.
“Madam, why are you on the witness stand?”
The Marchioness of Wales looked at her with a look of ignorance.
"It's true. I'm sitting here to testify against your sins. Why are you doing this?"
"Madam Wales, you promised to clear my name and restore me to my position as Princess when the opportunity arises. And if that doesn't work, you even promised to take me to your mansion and look after me."
The countless gazes in the courtroom resonated. Despite being met with a multitude of gazes filled with suspicion and wonder, her composed face held no expression. As a high-ranking noblewoman, she was in a situation where she couldn't be easily dismissed, so no one, except the judge, spoke or whispered.
“Witness. Were you intimate with the defendant?”
A middle-aged judge wearing a silver-gray wig and black robes pushed up his monocles and asked. Only then did the Marchioness smile gently and shake her head.
“Not at all, Your Honor.”
“Rosalia!”
With a shrill cry, Erita's eyes, which had been withered, became filled with venom and blazed.
"You've been coming to my room so often! You're saying it was all a lie? Have you been pretending to comfort me all this time? Pretending to be on my side? I killed Count Daywood's daughter, and I killed your husband's mistress, the maid, all on your orders!"
The guards grabbed Erita, who was striding toward the Marchioness, as if ready to pounce on her. She muttered incoherently and cursed while held captive. Finally, the room was quieted down with the judge's warning to vacate the courtroom. The judge sighed and questioned the Marchioness of Wales.
“As the defendant claims, did you ever order her to commit murder?”
"No. It's absurd to order the Princess of a country to do anything. I've never met the defendant alone, and we have no personal relationship. The only time we've sat together was at Her Majesty's tea party. Since stepping down from my position as a lady-in-waiting, I've devoted myself to my family, so I rarely enter the palace for personal matters outside of tea parties and events. You can check the attendance register. And Ayla Delson's death had nothing to do with me. I never verbally abused her while she was my mistress at the mansion, and I helped her end her illicit relationship and secure a position as a palace maid. The servants will testify to this."
Erita's expression became blank as she stood there, her shoulders slumped. I, too, had no idea she was acquainted with the Marchioness of Wales, and I'd never seen them together or conversing. She added calmly.
"As an example of our lack of familiarity, she once pretended to lose a necklace at a banquet held after a shooting competition and attempted to frame Countess Rotsilt, claiming she had arranged for Ayla Delson to steal it. My husband and I, having frequent contact with Countess Rotsilt and her husband, actively tried to dissuade them and assert Lady Rotsilt's innocence. This was witnessed by most of those present."
“You said that all of that was done with the intention of betraying Diana by pretending to be on her side and then betraying her!”
Despite Erita's shrill voice, the Marchioness remained calm and composed. In fact, she even appeared serene. With a gentle expression, she dismissed Erita's claims as mere nonsense.
"What would I gain by doing such a thing? Your Honor, I understand that this woman suffers from a serious mental illness, including delusions. Please be aware that the innocent Mrs. Rotsilt has been wrongfully tormented by her delusions for a long time, and that she clearly intends to frame me for my association with her."
"Your Honor, listen to me. She simply evaded the law. She orchestrated countless murders, and she was the one who linked me to Admiral Belford and Frogen's illegitimate son! She even tried to drive the Rotsilt's apart!"
“Defendant, do you have any evidence?”
At the judge's words, Erita's lips parted in a daze. Seeing her inability to respond, those present all whispered and criticized her delusions and hypocrisy. The judge's stern face twisted into an unpleasant frown in the chaotic atmosphere.
"The Marchioness of Rosalia Wales, who stands before the witness stand, is a person of upright character, a constant example of good deeds, and a role model for the world. The defendant's unfounded statements constitute defamation and insult, so please refrain from making such statements."
As he raised a hand solemnly, the courtroom fell silent again. Erita lowered her head and gritted her teeth in indignation. Something about her aggrieved her so much that her fists clenched so tightly they turned white.
The public defender representing Erita seemed unmotivated. His soulless voice, as if reading from a Korean textbook, merely offered perfunctory remarks like, "Ah, Your Honor. Considering her young age, her long life ahead of her, and her frail mental state, I beg you to show her mercy." This didn't seem to be of much help to her.
Although it was claimed that she had been switched with the Princess as a newborn, it was against her will. As soon as she became an adult, she began colluding with enemy figures, leading to the conclusion that she had conspired with conspirators and been posing as the Princess. Admiral Claire's testimony, while in custody, proved decisive. Ultimately, she was deemed a wartime treason suspect and charged with eight counts, including serial murder. She was sentenced to death in the first trial, the maximum penalty. Just as she realized that an appeal would be futile, Erita let out a single scream and collapsed to the ground.
"No! That's not right! I'm a Princess! I'm Her Majesty the Queen's own daughter!"
The Queen, who had tried to secure the throne by any means necessary, tried to secure Erita, a puppet who constantly lost her balance and collapsed. Ultimately, she cut the connection like a thread and gave up on her. I could only watch Erita's cries, mixed with tears, with a blank expression.
***
Queen Grace II, accompanied by Baroness Mason and a small group of attendants, secretly left the palace. They intended to go to the solitary cell where Admiral Claire, still under investigation, was being held and hear his story. Descending into the dim basement, where the dim, faded incandescent light flickered, the Queen stood before the iron bars of the cell and waved the maids and guards away.
“Your Majesty, it is dangerous.”
At Baroness Mason's urging, the Queen gave an order in a cold voice.
"What danger is there in that person locked inside? I have a gun for self-defense, and as the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, I've undergone extensive military training. I have a question for him, so you wait at the entrance."
Baroness Mason bowed, his eyes icy, and left, leading his maids and guards. The Queen, who had waited in silence until they had completely departed, saw a blue-eyed middle-aged man, dressed in the shabby manner of a refugee, beyond the iron bars. His once robust physique had shrunk to half its size. The young woman, once a Princess, and the young man, once a captain, had met in the underworld and the summit nearly twenty years later. The Queen spoke in a low voice.
"Winston Clare. Why didn't you tell me everything? If you had, not only the House of Bethilne, but other royal houses would have questioned my right to rule and my right to the throne. Especially the Winters, who are high in the line of succession."
Admiral Claire stood up, lowered his gaze, and stroked his chin. His beard had been shaved with a dull razor by a guard, leaving a raw scar on his chin and philtrum. He slowly raised his head and gazed intently at the Queen. The two faced each other, separated by bars. After a moment of silence, the admiral spoke.
"It sounds obvious to you now that I've realized my sins and repented. It's not even true. So, feel free to execute me."
The admiral smiled gently, a faint smile playing on his lips. The Queen's eyes narrowed fiercely at the sight. "Just because of that smile, I made such a misjudgment." The admiral continued quietly, his voice trailing off as she ruminated on her past mistakes.
"I could have claimed to be Diana's father, exposed the flaw of being a mixed-blood illegitimate child, and disqualified her. Or I could have caused trouble by accusing Your Majesty of conspiring with me to assassinate the Crown Prince. But I didn't. Ultimately, nothing would change. Your Majesty could have killed Diana and me, denying our existence or distorting the truth. That's probably what you intended to do when Janet exposed the truth. People trust the words of those in power more."
“Why did you commit such a sin when nothing would change? You’re so stupid.”
"I used to think it would be like that. No, I hoped for it in vain. Now I realize it was all meaningless."
The Queen felt a pang of inward bewilderment. Clearly, this had been initiated out of self-loathing and a desire for revenge, yet she couldn't fathom why he was giving her such a look. In many ways, his actions and confessions were inconsistent and contradictory. Since this would be her last encounter with him, she asked questions uncharacteristically, driven by emotion. Perhaps it was more like a way to release the long-simmering, pent-up emotions.
"Winston Clare, if I hadn't been of royal blood, you wouldn't have courted me in the first place. In your greed for power, you even attempted to abandon your wife and daughter to become my husband. Furthermore, you even killed my brother, the Crown Prince. I've endured unspeakable pain and betrayal ever since."
"Power, authority, and even royalty are inherently yours. I loved Your Majesty for that very reason. From my perspective, it was a sincere desire, even one that made me abandon my family."
“You must have approached me with intention from the beginning.”
"Your Majesty, do you remember the first time we met? You were alone in the square, unguarded, wearing a hat that obscured your face, a simple blue dress, and two whipped cream waffles from a street vendor in each hand."
"So?"
"Some men approached you. Even with your face covered, you were beautiful. They probably didn't think you were a Princess."
"Are you suggesting we reminisce now? That's meaningless; it's just something that happened in the past. Perhaps you planned that whole situation in advance."
"No. I was planning to leave immediately after helping the Queen, or rather, a woman I met by chance in a difficult situation. I was running late."
The Queen's green eyes slightly wavered as she faced the truth of the past, which had been distorted and ignored for so long, at the admiral's words.
"Wait a minute, why are you in such a hurry? I was just going to treat you to a meal to thank you for helping me! I have a lot of money!"
The one who boldly seized upon the passing coincidence and stood up was none other than the Princess Grace of the past, herself.
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