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In this thrilling and precarious atmosphere, the man’s following words were unexpected given the situation.

 

“You, were you really sick? Tell me!!!”

 

“Um…”

 

I stumbled on my words, caught off guard by the urgency and genuine concern in his voice..

 

Wait, is he thinking that I can no longer visit him because my illness got fatally worse or something?

 

“…”

 

I bit my tongue at the ridiculous hypothesis. There’s no way that could be it, right?

 

Of course, news of my illness had spread quite widely, but except for Florencia–who knew better than to take things at face value, yet still believed me–the other main characters were far too clever to be deceived by my acting.

 

Even Beatrice knew my disease was a ruse. And honestly, I couldn’t care less about what the main characters speculated the reason for my lie was. In the end, they overlooked my actions, treating them like the trivial matters they were.

 

But why did this man start to have doubts? Not just anyone, but him?

 

I knew there was absolutely no chance for him to believe my farce, but I never expected him to openly question me like this either.

 

“I’m asking if it wasn’t just an act. Answer me, Margaret Eilish,” he persisted.

 

What should I answer? I pondered.

 

I only escaped harsh punishment because I was deemed too fragile to have been able to participate in, or prevent, the supposed coup my sister and Calix orchestrated. 

 

I anxiously looked at Calix, aware of the approaching jailer, likely alarmed by the clanking metal noises. It was evident he was going to make me leave.

 

Upon reaching us, the guard instructed me to distance myself from ‘the criminal.’ I struggled, biting my lower lip hard, torn about what to do.

 

I didn’t want to anger Calix, and make him repeat his previous inquiry in front of the guard. Nothing good would come out from revealing that my illness was a myth here .

 

“Margaret.” he growled. 

 

“y…..yes? Yes.”

 

“It’s not true, is it?” he asked, moving closer and gripping the iron bars.

 

This made the jailer nervously shout that it was time for me to leave, but the Duke’s intense stare persisted. His jet-black pupils trembling with anticipation for an answer.

 

Feeling suddenly drained, my head spun. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that his reaction went beyond mere sympathy toward me. As panic set in, a question emerged in my mind: Did he know about his impending death?

 

If he knows the fact and still remained composed, does that mean he accepted it? If not, there may still be a chance to intervene or at least escape. The portrayal of him in the novel, filled with despair and having given up on life after losing Beatrice for good, made me hope that he didn’t reach that stage yet. Poor Calix, in some way, he was just love’s victim.

 

Calix’s past was quite bad.

 

 Maybe that is the reason why they barely restrained him. Everyone knew what happened with Beatrice must have devastated him and that he wouldn’t even try to escape. It was just a matter of vigilance because the entire country, including the Prince, knew about the man’s tragedy. I know it too.

 

“Duke Hamel.”

 

Even though he was a prisoner, he was still a Duke. So, I called him by his last name and title. 

The man was still desperately looking at me.

 

I forced a smile, aware of the weird ambiance. And speculated that perhaps I unintentionally gave him the ‘lingering attachment to life’ feeling I couldn’t inspire in Florencia.

 

Because he was looking at me like he didn’t know how he’d react if I was truly sick.

 

“…Tell me the truth. I’ll listen calmly,” he tried to persuade me.

 

Just say yes. Lie one more time, it won’t hurt, my mind whispered to me. The thought kept tugging at me like an uncontrollable impulse.

 

No, wait. Pull yourself together, Margaret; I said, trying to clear my head.

 

In a state of slight confusion, I whispered:

 

“Rest for now, Duke”

 

Then, I turned towards the jailer, handed him a gold coin and muttered to myself, “Let’s just leave quickly,” while making sure Calix couldn’t hear me.

 

There was still one person left to visit.

 

* * *

 

The novel’s ending was far from being happy for everyone. In fact, mostly Beatrice and the prince benefited from it. They got married, and those who had opposed her were condemned.

 

Beatrice Mary Rosen was truly, and perfectly blessed; she was known as the Happy Rose, the empire’s First Lady. Among all the epithets given to her, there was not a single negative one. None at all.

 

And it was the same for the Crown Prince too.

 

He safely ascended the throne without a succession war, and triumphed over his biggest rival, Calix Hamel.

 

As the former Empress’ only living son, he eliminated anyone who posed a threat to him and also those who had once cursed him during his powerless childhood.

 

He emerged victorious without even getting his hands dirty.

 

There was nothing left in the empire to threaten his reign.

 

Now, why don’t I turn this stinking happy ending upside down? Let’s give this story a deliciously twisted turn.

I hated it because every event and action was just a means to strengthen Beatrice and the prince’s love, but what about the rest of us?

 

What about my sister who was treated as nothing more than a disposable antagonist. She was the typical woman blinded by her greedy love. A smart woman who stupidly risked everything she had for a man who never wanted her? Please 

 

She also died the most cruel death among everyone who perished in the story. 

 

She was burned alive.

 

In front of anyone who wished to see.

 

It was a death chillingly fitting for someone who was later recorded as a witch in the empire’s historical records.

 I can still remember how the comments celebrated that chapter.

 

‘Ah, that sweet potato is finally dead. Sprite shower! Beatrice, be happy now and only walk the flower path. Congratulations!’ these were the comments that flooded in when my sister died..

 

Even I commented things like that. Now I realized how we, readers, often overlook the hidden circumstances behind the scenes. We fixate on simplified roles of protagonist and villain, failing to glimpse the layers beneath. 

 

Of course, given the numerous atrocities she committed in the original work, one could easily argue that Florencia was not a good person.

She’s a villainess, so she deserved to scream for hours while getting her flesh burned away, right? And as readers, we can comfortably curse at her, and be happy at such a scene.

But every character has a story worth unearthing. Perhaps there was more to Florencia than her assigned role.

 

From what I saw when I got here, she was not this cruel “villainess” or the bloodless “witch” she was made to be in the story. When I actually experienced the consideration and love that villainess was capable of, I couldn’t spout the same nonsense anymore.

 

So I kept asking myself, was Florencia Eilish really a ‘villainess’ from the beginning?

 

‘Mel, how would you feel if I harassed someone? Would I really appear as a witch to you too?’

 

‘My innocent younger sister. If you knew about this, you’d be hurt. Your sister is a more pitiful person than you think.’

 

‘It wasn’t me, really. Believe me! I…! No, that’s not it…’

 

‘Dumb Margaret, it’s my fault. It’s because of my love. You’re innocent, don’t blame yourself. Besides, I’m satisfied with this ending.’

 

‘All I did for my love was justifiable, right? Now, the story has ended.’

 

My sister’s voice echoed in my head, tearing my heart apart.

 

“We are at the lowest part of the dungeon now, young lady. I’ll say it again, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to be here”

 

The jailer’s voice, dragging me back to reality, shook eerily. I threw some coins to him on the floor, making them jingle.

 

He became quiet so quickly, it was unbelievable. Ah, money is indeed powerful!

 

“Well… It Should be fine.” he said, picking up the money.

 

As the daughter of a Marquis and Florencia’s sister, I had access to quite a large amount of money. My sister was the wealthiest woman I know, and just the pocket money she gave to her frail younger sister was enough to save up for a decent house.

 

That’s why I didn’t actively interfere with her actions. With that much money, I had hoped that she’d live a happy life, without getting involved with the main characters.

 

Well, anyway……

 

I went deeper into the basement and looked at the visible iron bars.

 

Unlike the other rusty things, the iron bars, which had been replaced countless times and enchanted with electricity that’d shock the prisoner if they were to touch them, were still clean. Maybe the one occupying the cell had caused another accident because the bars looked brand new.

 

Ah, he had behaved quite well for a long time.

 

“Come out,” The jailer commanded.

 I knew it would be useless though, so i softly said:

“I came to visit.”

 

“…”

 

“You still don’t want to show me your face? Ah, what shall i do, I might not be able to come back anytime soon~”

 

Crack. The sound of something breaking cut my words off. And not long after, a man, clutching something that looked like a pillow, revealed himself.

 

His lips trembled, as if he was struggling to find the right words to say .

 

* * *

 

Jung Eun-ha, the real me, had many similarities with Margaret Eilish.

 

A financially stable life, a normal home with a mom, and a dad. It was a seemingly well-functioning family.

 

At least that was how it was when I was very young.

 

But the year I turned ten, my mom passed away.

 

And when I turned twelve, my dad became a murderer.

 

I didn’t know the exact reason for the murders, I could only assume that the first one was revenge on the man who harmed my mom.

I don’t know why, but I always kept it a secret, and never questioned my dad either. Maybe I was scared of how he’d react. At that time, I couldn’t even report it. My dad was just a desperate man, clinging to his self-defense.

 

‘That man did something wrong.’

 

The voice that was instilled in my head was still clear. I was in complete denial, and I didn’t try to escape from that framework.

 

Because outwardly, our family still seemed somewhat normal.

 

Then, after another two and a half years, my dad killed an innocent person for the first time.

 

That’s when I realized that he was crazy.

 

Evil deepens as it continues to act. Now my dad was not an innocent person avenging his wife but just a serial killer.

 

The last time he killed someone was when I was eighteen.

 

When he choked me. 

 

And as I was dying, I regretted it. At that moment, I asked myself If things would have gotten this bad, had I reported him from the beginning.

 

Should I have tried a little harder? I couldn’t be sure. I really couldn’t be sure of anything.

 

But maybe………just maybe, I could have saved the others and myself.

 

* * *

 

The man had white hair. It wasn’t shiny silver but white like cobwebs, dusty and lifeless. His white patient-like clothes and pale skin made him look translucent.

 

The jailer clicked his tongue at his appearance, and said:

 

“After Young lady left yesterday, he had a seizure and stayed awake all night.”

 

Seizure. This particular condition of his was the reason I often visited this man.

 

“Then he must have only rested this morning. Did I wake him up?”

 

“…”

 

The prisoner’s bright red eyes were blurred as if in a daze. He continued to bite his lips, then asked with a very uncertain tone.

 

“Because of whom?”

 

His voice cracked like static. He seemed to assume that I couldn’t visit him anymore because of someone else.

 

I shook my head, denying his allegation.

 

There were various types of villains in the story.

Florencia the manipulative villainess.

Duke Calix, the climaxing sub-male lead.

And the extras who spread various unfounded rumors about the main leads.

 

The man before me didn’t fit into any of those categories.

 

I had once hoped, along with a few other readers, whether it was possible to give him a better ending.

 

He had no emotional or political motives for his actions, he was simply someone who killed people for a living.

 

Taylor grew up as an assassin. His philosophy was that if someone becomes a nuisance to one of his customers, they die. It was one of his guild’s rules, and he simply followed it.

 

“Because of whom..,” he repeated.

 

Unlike others, he didn’t say things like “Don’t go,” “Why,” or anything like that. so , i just answered:

“It’s not because of anyone.”

 

Taylor’s expression showed incomprehension. After his red eyes wandered around for some time, they focused on me again.

 

Then, he narrowed them, and looked like he was about to cry, which was absolutely unexpected.

 

“uuh,Taylor?”

 

“Do you hate me? I keep having seizures, so… “

 

His hand reached through the iron bars, and electricity immediately sparked. I could see it crackling in the air and on him  .

 

“Oh, my God… Shit, shit, shit.”

 

Unexpected curses kept slipping from my dumbfounded mouth.This was undoubtedly not very lady-like of me, but who’d care about that right now?

 

“Mel.”

 

He called my name again, his voice distorted by pain. And his hand, desperately reaching through the iron bars, was trembling.