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And it sounded as if she was trying to console and soothe me.

“…You haven’t had any contact with Carlix until now. I know. I know what you’ve been doing since I came to the capital. Pretending to be sick to gradually reduce your influence in social circles, doing quite a lot of good deeds while overlooking Florencia’s actions. So I thought. That you would be different from the villainess. That you were just someone with strong sisterly love.”

Her eyes were red from tears.

“So tell me. Tell me that you have nothing to do with him. That you are different from Florencia.”

‘…Is this it?’

Was her reason for coming here just to pour out such complaints?

“No, or is it exactly what I thought? I’ve been pushing myself so hard with doubts! I should have known earlier. I should have doubted when you started making remarks about their execution schedule. What exactly is it that you don’t like about me and His Highness? Do you hate me? Or do you love His Highness? Which one is it? How can you be so—”

“—Enough.”

I turned my head briefly towards Kestiel before looking away again.

Beatrice, gazing at the knight who loved her, moved her lips, but Kestiel responded to her desperate look with a face that usually showed no expression to others. Even Beatrice, with her face filled with shock, denied the situation, so there was no need to say more.

“….”

The eyes, once praised for their sunlight-like brilliance, now quietly sank. I clicked my tongue dismissively, thinking that this foolish girl’s words were not worth listening to, and asked indifferently.

“Why are you thinking so extremely?”

One advantage of being an observer is finding small pleasures in such things. Finding differences from the original work that I, as a supporting character, couldn’t change and discovering settings that weren’t in the original was quite entertaining in its own way.

I laughed inwardly with delight. Such a reversal of the ending was not in the original. The heroine of absolute good always won, was always confident, and never got angry. (Though she showed fear at the villains’ actions, it was resolved with just a few kisses from the Crown Prince, so it couldn’t be called real fear.) I looked up and asked.

“Are you scared?”

“Should I say no? Those who tormented and abused me under the guise of love? Which side are you on? Do you love His Highness? Or do you hate me? Why, why are you doing this!”

Her voice grew louder and then stopped in a burst of anger. I can’t describe exactly what I thought while listening to her resentment. I just wanted to smile broadly.

Even the winner feels fear. Yes, there is no perfect comedy. The ending has already changed, so perhaps there’s more to observe as a supporting character.

Beatrice Mary Rosen was safe in any situation. The climax was decorated with her anxiety, not the situation itself.

Except for the kidnapping by the villains at the very end, she had never been physically harmed. Because she was the protagonist.

Only before the ending, of course.

“What exactly are you afraid of?”

Are you afraid Carlix Hamel will torment you again? Or worried about the suffering His Highness the Crown Prince will endure because of it? Or are you concerned about your tarnished image? Fear that I will repeat my sister’s evil deeds?

I fired off a series of questions and waited for her reaction. She stuttered, unable to continue, then muttered quietly.

“Carlix can’t kill me by his own will. Even if it sounds arrogant, I can’t help it. He loves me. He wouldn’t have broken out of prison just to torment me. He surely said that as long as I was happy, there was nothing more he could do despite cursing His Highness.

So I’m asking you. What did you talk about with him? Is this another scheme to harm me and His Highness? Did you say something similar to Florencia? Just tell me what you want. Stop tormenting me.”

I looked down at her blankly and then smiled kindly.

How pitiful.

With eyes filled with contempt, I stared straight at her. I hadn’t heard what Carlix had said to her just before he was imprisoned, but I could imagine it was something he said with a rather desperate face. I never expected her to interpret it this way.

Yes, Carlix certainly wanted Beatrice. The heroine herself knew this more clearly than I did, so she was trying to find the entire reason for the breakout in the ‘villainess’s younger sister who is filled with malice towards her.’

He wouldn’t harm the one he loves. So, he must be conspiring with the villainess’s younger sister to harm the Crown Prince.

“I don’t understand.”

Why do you think I must either hate you or love you completely?

“We are strangers. As you said, we haven’t had any contact since you came to the capital, so what exactly is there between us that makes you act like a child? I just don’t want to see the Crown Prince, who wants to marry me after killing my sister. Stop looking for the cause of the problem in your relationships.”

You need to grow up.

I propped my chin on my hand. The scared heroine before me was really overlooking something important. Unfortunately for her.

“Well, it seems you’ve already decided that I am a villainess like my sister. Let me make one thing clear.”

My sister never begged for cooperation from those around her.

“If you want to safely become the Empress, you need to abandon the arrogance of thinking you can judge others. Blaming Carlix’s breakout on my enmity is absurdly pathetic.”

Ah, it’s hard to talk for long. Damn noble speech patterns. Muttering such complaints to myself, I observed Beatrice’s face, which was the very picture of confusion. She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, trembling as if to deny reality.

“Then why did Carlix ask His Highness to lift your probation? What are you to him? Why would he…?”

I straightened up from leaning against the backrest. While Kestiel sighed beside Beatrice with an expressionless face, accepting the distortion of the ending wasn’t too difficult.

My cheerful answer resonated in the room.

“He must miss me a lot. I was his daily visitor, and my visits were suddenly cut off. How could he not?”

The original heroine couldn’t break her silence. My sister would have laughed her head off if she had seen this.

Oh, Beatrice. So you know how to tremble in humiliation, not just fear. I must indeed be the villainess’s younger sister to think this way.

If asked whether I felt pity, I might have nodded.

If someone asked how obsessively she clung to him to be so consumed by a victim mentality, I’d have no answer. Whether she was purely good or not, I decided not to rashly condemn Beatrice as evil and sweetly whispered to ease some of her worries.

“Don’t worry too much. This is exactly how far I can be rude to His Highness.”

So, the beloved lady should just pray earnestly and watch over the situation until she is safe by her lover’s side. Evil ties are destined to be defeated. Isn’t that the most beautiful story of all?

Once, the Crown Prince brought a court jester to her when she was trembling with anxiety. What he said then had a similar nuance. Kestiel clicked his tongue at the series of nauseatingly sweet words. How amusing that he, once known as the sweetest knight in the empire, would react this way.

Anyway.

Beatrice covered her stiffened face with both hands and whispered softly.

“Everyone always says that, and I know. That’s all I can do. That’s all I’ve ever been able to do.”

I tilted my head and asked cheerfully, shouldn’t you be grateful?

The heroine did not deny it. She just laughed hollowly and then turned to give me advice.

“If you think you’ll be different, you’re truly arrogant. I know you have nothing, Lady. You don’t have even what I possess, now or in the future.”

It wasn’t hard to notice that the end of her radiant smile was trembling anxiously. She too knew that the people she once knew were changing. Even Kestiel Reload was showing signs of discomfort. Anyone but an idiot would notice.

To be honest, I don’t dislike stories where the male leads do everything for the heroine. When I was Jung Eunha, I used to comment, just let the male lead handle it. Go cry! And the catharsis of poetic justice flooding in as a refreshing turn of events was undeniable.

As expected of a reverse harem, the male lead candidates were almost worshipping her. It was just a bit over the top.

‘I only wish for you to rely solely on me. If you are happy by my side, nothing else would bring me greater joy.’

That was what the Crown Prince had said. What did the Grand Duke say? And Kestiel? Come to think of it, the male leads always wished for her not to be involved in dangerous things. I mulled over their devotion anew before shaking my head. I was getting tired. The personal affairs of the novel’s characters, unrelated to my sister, didn’t hold my interest for long.

“Of course.”

So that’s all I said.

“Carlix will come to find me soon. He surely will.”

“If that happens, you should comfort him more gently.”

I mocked with a theatrical tone. If the heroine says so.

I once remembered Florencia hurling arrogant insults before being thrown into the underground prison of Sinalore. She had said this to Beatrice, who looked down at her like a judge next to the Crown Prince who held her shoulder, spouting nonsense about the greatest villainess:

“Is that all you can do? His Highness granted you only that much? Oh, how cowardly. Yes, it’s better to be the greatest villainess than an incompetent princess. What people feared was His Highness and the Grand Duke, not you. So remember, child. After I step down with the disgrace I deserve, you must fix that foolish behavior of yours so as not to disgrace His Highness. Now, let me walk to hell on my own.”

Back then, Florencia Eilish truly walked like a queen. Not as if entering a dungeon, but as if heading for a coronation. She remained noble to the end.

I couldn’t tell if her words had wounded Beatrice, but I could affirm that Beatrice should have listened to her carefully. Whether intentional or not, people were gradually turning their backs on her.

At the very least, she should have found things she could do on her own.

Beatrice, apparently displeased with my attitude, narrowed her eyes briefly before straightening her posture. She returned to her confident heroine demeanor and declared in an angelic voice.

“Yes. If the chance for repentance is wasted.”

I pray you despair on the day Florencia dies. May evil vanish from this country.

I shrugged. Kestiel, who had been following her with a chiseled expression, seemed to have made up his mind about something as he extended his hand to escort Beatrice and bowed. I saw the corners of the heroine’s mouth curve subtly, despite her previous lament about being unable to do anything. In the end, Beatrice naturally accepted the help offered to her. If that’s all the heroine is, I should laugh.

It must be nice to be so beloved. Thinking this, I whispered to the protagonist of this world.

“I’ll pray for things to go as you wish.”

It was only two days later that I heard the news of Taylor Knight’s escape from prison.

* * *

It was an unusually dark night, with the moon a thin sliver in the sky. Taylor looked up at the approaching guard with a blank expression. The guard was trying hard to conceal his fear. The meal tray was shoved into the cell.

“…”

The same reaction every time. Taylor didn’t bother suppressing the rising discomfort.

The main difference between the prisoners in the upper levels and those in Alcatraz was complete isolation and the quality of the food. Unlike the meals that required a fork or spoon, which were somewhat human, the food at Alcatraz was fit for trash. The meals were barely better than dog food, perhaps a little worse than cat food.

No wonder the food looked this bad. Taylor reached out and grabbed the rock-hard bread and the watery tea—nothing more than warm water with a few leaves—pulling them toward himself and shoving them into his mouth. The crunch of the bread was nauseating.

“Tastes awful.”

He muttered irritably. The guard simply turned away without a word.

The guards at Alcatraz were not held accountable for the terrorist incident at the Sinalore labor camp. Hence, these violent wardens seemed to be in good spirits. The reason Taylor didn’t throw stones or cause a ruckus was likely due to this.

Taylor remembered the moment he was first imprisoned: the cursing crowd, the guild members who looked at him with disdain, and Beatrice, who gazed at him with a mix of relief and pity. Lastly, himself, immobilized by a poisoned needle.

Living in Alcatraz was unbearable. The harsh environment, mental isolation, and the screams from the nearby cells were more than enough to break a person. However, Taylor was maintaining himself relatively well even in this confined space. He stared blankly at a glass bottle rolling around before him. It contained medicine.

Margaret Eilish had brought him medicine for every wound. The reason the guards allowed this was obvious.

Taylor smiled at their incompetence and looked out of the iron bars. They still treated him as nothing more than a solitary assassin who knew nothing. He muttered softly enough not to be heard.

‘Bribes, huh.’

He memorized the name of the guard who would have taken the bribe. Having leverage increased its usefulness. Mentioning his family background could make for effective blackmail. The opportunity would come eventually. Extracting information wasn’t hard.

Beyond these calculations, the screams and curses of the guards and prisoners echoed from the torture room. Taylor listened to the noise as if it were music.

“Talk, you bastard. I don’t care if the Grand Duke escaped. Damn it. The money he stole must still be somewhere.”

“Ugh, argh…!! Damn it… Why don’t you just go beg Lady Margaret or something—”

“—Say that again. What?”

The harsh voice echoed. The guards, posing as torturers, were brutal. They thought they might get their hands on the money that the dismissed or suspended guards couldn’t find, and this made them savagely interrogate the prisoners from Sinalore. The assumption that there might be undiscovered gold significantly heightened their violence.

The prisoner let out a bitter laugh with a bubbling sound of blood.

“Crazy bastard. If you act up outside at night, you’re dead. Let’s see how many more die for bribes.”

Ah. Taylor recalled hearing similar lines several times. About five times? Yes, five times in two days. He laughed lazily.

All members of the Glacies guild bore the surname Knight. When they referred to themselves, they often used the term ‘night.’ The repetitive lines from the torture room were blatantly obvious.

The guild was sending someone. Or they already had.

“Now, of all times.”

Glacies had abandoned him. At least, they had before.

Taylor clenched his teeth as he looked up at the sky. It was absurd to realize now, but one thing was certain.

The medicine bottle never ran out of medicine.

His body, which used to tremble daily due to the lack of control devices, no longer had seizures.

The guild, at least in his judgment, still seemed to need Taylor Knight.

The last scream of the guild member from the adjacent torture room filled the hallway.