79. Just before ascending the execution platform.

Roselia could only stare up at Klaus, as if caught in a surreal dream.

For a long moment, Klaus simply looked down at her in silence, his expression unreadable.

Eventually, reality set in, and Roselia snapped out of her daze, her voice urgent.

“How did you even get here? No—what are you doing here? You can’t be here! The imperial family already suspects you!”

“That’s why I came,” Klaus said firmly.

“What?”

Roselia looked at him, wide-eyed, as his resolute words sank in. Klaus’s expression softened with a sorrowful twist as he gazed at her.

“You’re here because of false accusations against me. It’s my fault you’ve been locked up.”

“But… I…”

Contrary to her expectation of Klaus handling the situation with his usual composure, his obvious distress left her flustered.

His voice, heavy with suppressed emotion, broke the silence.

“I’ll get you out of here. Somehow. Just hold on. Tomorrow at the trial, don’t say a word. Under imperial law, if a defendant invokes the right to remain silent, the trial can be delayed.”

His uncharacteristically hopeful statement drew a bitter smile from Roselia.

She knew the Crown Prince far too well. If she kept silent during the trial, he would sentence her to death without hesitation. That’s exactly how it had happened in the original story.

Resolving herself, Roselia lifted her head and met Klaus’s gaze, her expression firm.

“Listen carefully. You must not show up at the trial tomorrow.”

“What…?”

“That’s what they want,” she said.

“They want you to appear, defend me, and cause a scene. You can’t play into their hands.”

“That doesn’t make sense—”

“Don’t come to the prison again, either. That’s what’s best for both of us,” she interrupted, her voice resolute as she met his eyes.

“For my sake, promise me.”

Her unwavering tone made Klaus’s expression twist in pain. Unable to meet her gaze, he bowed his head, muttering softly.

“The nights are cold. Make sure you keep a blanket over you.”

With those parting words, Klaus disappeared back into the shadows.

Roselia stood still, her eyes fixed on the darkness where he had vanished, unable to move or speak.

* * *

And as always, the sun rose, and with it came the dawn of the next day.

Under the glaring sunlight that illuminated the imperial corridors, Roselia, bound by the soldiers, walked forward with a resolute expression.

It was the day of her trial.

As she was led through the grand imperial halls, Roselia stopped before an enormous door, clenching her trembling hands tightly to conceal her fear.

The towering doors swung open, and blinding light poured onto her dark hair.

What lay before her was a massive hall, three stories high—a place reserved for grand ceremonies like coronations or appointments, far beyond what Roselia would ever have imagined seeing in her lifetime.

Lining the edges of the enormous hall were countless nobles and imperial officials.

Among the sea of faces, there were none she recognized.

The absence of Klaus, as she had requested, brought her both relief and a bitter taste in her mouth.

‘Yes, Klaus shouldn’t be here for the sake of Claucet and the Duke’s household,’ she reminded herself.

Though it was what she had wanted, a strange ache settled in her heart.

Soon, the soldiers roughly pushed her forward, forcing her to walk toward the center of the hall.

Sitting on the throne above the dais was Crown Prince Esteban, gazing down at her with an impassive expression.

Beneath the platform, the nobles stared at her with disdain and scorn etched on their faces.

The scene mirrored the original Roselia’s execution, described in vivid detail in the novel. Suppressing a bitter smile, Roselia quietly stepped into place at the center of the hall.

As she stopped before the dais, the Crown Prince spoke in a stern voice.

“The imperial trial will now commence.”

The murmurs of the audience fell silent, his voice echoing through the hall.

“Antonio de Hesingk, I ask you: who ordered you to retrieve the imperial seal?”

Roselia, her expression steady and unshaken, replied calmly, “No one ordered me.”

Her firm denial caused the Crown Prince’s brows to furrow.

“Then are you admitting that you stole the seal of your own accord?”

Roselia lifted her gaze to meet his directly, her voice ringing with conviction.

“I did not steal it.”

“Then how do you explain the imperial seal found in your bag?”

“Someone must have placed it there to frame both myself and the Duke,” she declared boldly.

At her confident retort, the Crown Prince narrowed his eyes and pressed further.

“And who would do such a thing? For what purpose?”

Anticipating the question, Roselia steeled her expression and answered firmly, “To use me as a pretext to bring down the Duke.”

The Crown Prince paused, his gaze weighing heavily on her as he drew out his next words.

“If what you claim is true, then there must be someone who orchestrated this falsehood and set this trap. Who is it?”

Despite the oppressive atmosphere and the Crown Prince’s intense scrutiny, Roselia stood tall, meeting his eyes directly as she opened her mouth to respond.

“Someone who claimed to be a servant led me to that location and, under the pretense of inspecting my belongings, searched my bag. It’s certain that they planted the seal at that time,” Roselia declared.

At her words, the Crown Prince pressed his fingers to his temple, his expression hardening.

“Antonio, none of the servants present that day reported seeing you,” he said coldly.

Roselia’s face twisted in frustration as she retorted sharply, “And why should I believe them?”

But the Crown Prince dismissed her defiance with a calm and measured response.

“That day happened to be the monthly Royal Servants’ Assembly.”

“…”

Roselia froze. She knew about the Royal Servants’ Assembly from the original story—a periodic gathering of all palace servants to deliver important directives, review upcoming events, and ensure discipline. During this time, only the bare minimum number of servants were left on duty in essential areas.

*Of all days, it had to be that day…* Roselia’s mind raced. If that was true, then who was the servant who led her there?

The Crown Prince interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you have anyone who can verify your claim?”

Roselia’s gaze instinctively swept over the hall. Countless nobles and officials, their eyes cold and unfeeling, stared back at her as if she were prey waiting to be devoured.

It was the same as in the original story—those same disdainful stares that watched the original Roselia ascend the execution platform. Alone and abandoned, without a single soul to mourn her death.

‘Am I destined to follow the same path?’ she wondered bitterly, her mouth dry with the taste of resignation.

Turning to the Crown Prince, she spoke calmly, “I suppose not.”

For a moment, something akin to pity flickered in the Crown Prince’s expression, softening his tone.

“Antonio,” he said gently.

Roselia raised her head weakly at his voice, finding his gaze uncharacteristically somber.

“If you were merely a pawn in the Duke of Valtazar’s rebellion, I can show leniency. You were only following your employer’s orders, unaware of the larger scheme,” he offered.

“…”

If she accepted, Klaus would be branded a traitor and executed by the Crown Prince.

It would be the easiest way to save herself—pretend to be an innocent victim and walk away from Klaus, as she had once intended.

‘After all,’ she thought, ‘my original plan was to sever ties with the Duke and live quietly, no matter what happened to him.’

But why did she care so much now? Why was Klaus weighing on her mind?

Perhaps it was because she had glimpsed sides of him that hadn’t been portrayed in the original story.

Though harsh and unyielding, he cared deeply for his sister. Though dismissed as a greedy aristocrat, he worked tirelessly, day and night, to manage his estate.

And though seen as a shady financier to nobles, he was secretly building schools for impoverished commoners.

The more she saw of him, the more she realized how different he was from the man described in the original story.

‘Perhaps the original didn’t capture all of him,’ she mused.

That thought made her resolve waver.

Looking up at the Crown Prince, Roselia spoke firmly.

“The Duke of Valtazar had no involvement in this matter.”

Her unwavering declaration made the Crown Prince’s brows knit in frustration.

“I’ll give you one more chance. Are you certain it wasn’t at his orders?” he demanded.

Despite his displeased tone, Roselia remained composed, lowering her head slightly.

“How could I lie to Your Highness?” she replied evenly.

The Crown Prince let out a heavy sigh before his expression hardened once more.

“Then it seems you acted alone,” he declared icily.

Roselia bowed her head, silently accepting his words.

The Crown Prince turned to the assembly and announced, “I will now pass judgment. Even if treason was not your intent, stealing the imperial seal is an unforgivable crime. I, Esteban Vandelroth de Rugbeljet, sentence Antonio de Hesingk to—”

Suddenly, the massive doors of the hall swung open with a loud crash.

“Wait!” a voice called out.

All eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. Count Bernas, supported by Claucet and leaning heavily on a cane, entered the hall.

Roselia’s eyes widened as she took in the Count’s gaunt face—he looked as though he had aged years in the weeks since she had last seen him.

The nobles in attendance began murmuring amongst themselves, recognizing the Count’s face.

With Claucet’s help, Count Bernas limped forward, his cane tapping against the floor with each unsteady step.

“Count Bernas?” the Crown Prince said, his tone laced with irritation.

Standing before the dais, the Count bowed deeply.

“I will prove this child’s innocence,” he said, his voice solemn and steady.

The Crown Prince raised a skeptical brow.

“Count Bernas, I’ve heard you’ve been bedridden due to illness. How do you intend to prove Antonio’s innocence?”

In response to the Crown Prince’s icy words, the Count said nothing. Instead, he lifted the fabric of his trouser leg to reveal a disfigured scar—a testament to the horrors of war.

The grotesque sight made the Crown Prince and the surrounding nobles grimace.

“If necessary, I’ll offer what remains of my leg to prove it,” the Count declared firmly.

 

 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

☕ Hi, friends! Your support means the world to me. If you’d like, you can buy me a coffee here: Click the link on the image! 💖

Thank you for keeping me inspired! 🌸

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃