The Immortal Queen Cannot Escape the Lies and Obsession of the Demon — Not That She Wants To - Chapter 15

Mary stiffened with a start and shook her head.

“What… what are you talking about? Where could such evidence possibly exist?”

“The evidence isn’t fully gathered yet. That’s precisely why I’ve slipped in this opportunity for confession before it becomes too late.”

“An opportunity for confession…?”

Seeing that Mary had no idea what she was referring to, Ariana let out a sigh.

Was Mary’s information-gathering insufficient, or was Ariana’s information dissemination lacking? She couldn’t tell which, but she realized the fact hadn’t permeated deeply enough.

“I mean exactly what I said. I offer reduced sentences to those who confess their crimes.”

As queen, Ariana had faced numerous crimes and had often frowned at their absurdity.

The act of stealing food to avoid starvation and the act of exploitation for greater luxury were treated as nearly identical offenses.

The former, unable to bear their guilt, would confess but fail to pay the fines, falling into criminal slavery. The latter would nonchalantly pay the fines and repeat the same actions to recoup their losses.

Legal reform took time. Relying on the king’s discretion to adjust punishments could easily backfire. Yet, Ariana wanted to change the current situation where those driven to crime out of desperation were still whipped. Thus, the confession department, jointly managed by the church and the knight order, was established.

Though successful cases were few, it also served to connect the impoverished with job opportunities.

“…Administering poison to royalty is a capital offense, and the same applies to those who instigate it. Once evidence is gathered, you won’t escape that charge either. So confess now, here.”

Ariana had survived. Confessing could lead to a reduced sentence.

Though sending her to prison and punishing the viscount family were unavoidable outcomes, Mary’s death penalty could be averted. As long as she remained alive, she could eventually be released through a pardon granted after some time.

(Well. If this is just my overthinking, she should protest her innocence. If she does, I’ll let this slide. Whether it’s truth or lies, the evidence will bring the answer.)

To be honest, Ariana didn’t have conclusive evidence pointing to Mary as the culprit.

Among the several suspicious individuals she had in mind, she had merely taken preemptive action because she sensed that if Mary were the mastermind, she would likely meet the same fate as the perpetrator, Grecia.

(There are countless ways to atone for a false accusation. But if she’s aware of her crime and still refuses to confess here, then all that’s left is to leave it to the knights… and Valerio. I’d really prefer to avoid that.)

If Mary confessed, the wound inflicted on Valerio’s important person could be minimized.

It was the only act of mercy Ariana could offer.

(But if she truly has murderous intent…)

“—…The world is so unfair, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, the tension in Mary’s stiffness melted away, and she muttered with a listless expression.

Despite her emotionless face, her voice was filled with feeling.

“Our value is determined the moment we’re born. Tell me, Your Majesty. You said we’re both damaged goods, but in what way?”

“…………”

Ariana recognized those eyes.

Eyes brimming with hatred, where negative emotions had been condensed until they could no longer be contained within.

“How are you and I the same? Our wounds are different, our ages are different, our statuses are different. The only thing equal is that we’re both women. And yet you were permitted to marry Valerio, while I was not.”

Even as her language broke down, her calm, monotonous tone remained. Yet, her sharp words seeped with quiet anger, grating on the ears.

In social settings, she would hide her face with a fan, but Ariana deliberately showed Mary a scornful expression to provoke her.

“I heard you understood my engagement to Valerio, but was that false testimony?”

“What else could I do? Even if I said I hated it, it wouldn’t change anything. When they told me it was for our future, I had to accept it even if only superficially or he would abandon me.”

(As I thought, she wasn’t convinced at all.)

Ariana’s fears had proven true.

Even from a third-party perspective, Mary’s current situation was extremely difficult. Neither her appearance nor her low status were advantageous, nor did she possess any outstanding skills. Moreover, she was twenty-one; right in the prime marriageable age for nobility.

“Six years or as long as ten years ahead. To be postponed like that, with no telling what might happen.”

Clenching the fist resting on her lap tightly, Mary looked down and slowly exhaled.

“…But if that were all, if it were just anxiety, I might have been able to wait. I believed Valerio’s words—’I’ll definitely cure you’—for ten years, endured my illness, and he really did cure me.”

When Mary touched the bracelet on her wrist, one of the gems glowed in response to magical energy.

In the momentary glare that made Ariana squint, a sparkling red awl—no, a red ore resembling a magic stone was now gripped in Mary’s hand.

(If her murderous intent is genuine and reckless, she’ll surely strike in this situation. I was wary of a hidden dagger or poison needle, but…)

Even as the tip was pointed at her, Ariana couldn’t help but let out an admiring breath.

“This is a self-defense weapon using alchemy? How marvelous.”

“You call this alchemy? Forming a magic stone like this is the most basic step for a beginner processor, not even close to the level of an expert alchemist. Are you mocking me?”

“No, not in the slightest, but…”

She had heard that her heroic grandparents and her uncle, the former king, had the eye to distinguish between gems and magic stones, and of course could tell the difference between processing techniques and alchemy.

It seemed that, just as having grip strength allowed one to shape clay as desired, having talent made such things natural. But Ariana hadn’t inherited any of that aptitude.

“To someone like me, who couldn’t even take the first step, both processors and alchemists are people far beyond my reach. They’re wonderful, enviable.”

Having no talent for martial arts either, Ariana hadn’t learned any proper self-defense techniques beyond handling an iron fan.

But she was drawn to the deep, blood-sucking red of the awl Mary had concealed. Even if it were useless, even if it had no practical application, she felt admiration.

Whether due to her circumstances or her innate qualities, Mary’s self-esteem was extremely low.

She lamented having nothing, being capable of nothing. But that wasn’t true. The ordinary things she possessed had value.

(What a waste.)

Ariana felt pained by the way Mary Shija Liilakal existed.

Having glimpsed the brilliance of her potential. The ability to turn stone into gold. Ariana’s chest tightened.

“…What is that?”

It wasn’t sympathy or pity. Being met with an envious gaze tinged with frustration, Mary was shaken.

Mary’s life had always been one of being looked down upon—pitied as pitiful, ugly, disgraceful, shameful, utterly miserable—always, always compared to others as “better than that.”

So, even as genuine concern began to turn into sympathy, she grew dependent on Valerio, who tried to help her. He was all she had.

“Why… why are you looking at me like that?”

She had never been looked at that way before. Never been envied. Never been called wonderful except as empty flattery. And who was she to call others “far beyond her reach”?

A swirling, boiling anger welled up inside her.

—The royal family’s treasure, the young and beautiful queen, the last hope descended from heroes.

Beside the noble girl whose hidden neck scar seemed almost illusory stood her childhood friend Valerio, her fiancé, smiling proudly and serenely.

It was a face she had never seen in over ten years together. Mary could only watch from afar, at the edge of the lavishly bustling celebration.

If it were just anxiety, she could have waited. But once she knew the threat, anxiety became nothing but a detonator.

She had to eliminate that beautiful person as soon as possible, or his heart would be stolen away. Before his feelings changed, before she lost everything!

And yet. The girl she had wanted to be evil was now, even faced with clear murderous intent and a weapon, refusing to stop confronting Mary. That was unbearable.

“Why—why does it have to be you who says that—!”

Seeing the red awl aimed at her heart, Ariana braced for pain and closed her eyes.

(If I die once, maybe she’ll calm down.)

She was timid. If she actually struck, the shock would likely make her recoil. Could the hole in her clothes and the blood be somehow concealed?

Even at this critical moment, Ariana’s mind was filled only with thoughts of how to protect Mary.

“—No, at least scream or something.”

With a crack, the sound of something hard shattering, and an exasperated voice close by, Ariana opened her eyes.

In her vision was Mary, her eyes wide as the red awl was smashed to pieces, and Fols, who had one foot on the table in a sword-swinging stance, turning only his head toward her.

Then, the sound of the door—its frame left intact but the panel itself tilting toward the floor—bang as it slammed down.