Translator: Nox

70 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)

Chapter 70

"You seem to have regained some sense, then?"

It was around the time when the evening light seeped in with a bluish hue through the narrow, palm-sized window.

She gazed up at him, forgetting to even breathe. For this moment, she didn't even feel the pain in her stomach.

Inside the utterly filthy detention center, he, impeccably dressed in his officer's uniform, was starkly, unnaturally clear. He looked like a painting set apart.

"Because of your pointless actions, it looks like the interrogation time will just be extended."

The cold voice pierced her chest. She flinched, her shoulders trembling.

He wore a genuinely displeased expression.

"You may know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you. So, there are a few things I need to confirm."

Her heart plummeted. She quickly lowered her gaze, afraid he might read something suspicious in her wavering eyes.

He knows her. And he knows her very well. So well, in fact, that they were once intimately close, having shared a bed.

"Name."

His tone, which suddenly shook her memories, made her breath catch.

"Name."

"...Rose. I am Rose."

On a night of torrential rain, in the bedroom of the mansion, he had asked for her name in a tone similar to today's. Back then, she had given him a false name bestowed by Achenaus.

Thinking back now, it was a deeply regrettable act. She wished she could have left him something of her true self, but at the time, she was too busy hiding behind lies, anxious about her identity being exposed.

She loved him, and was loved by him, in her false guise.

"Why no answer?"

And now, on this day, separated by the bars of the detention center, she was finally showing her true face and revealing her real name.

"......"

She opened her mouth.

She had hoped, but the sensation transmitted from her throat was chilling. The newly entering cold air stung her throat, causing her to cough. A bitter, salty scent of blood rose from deep within her throat.

She quickly covered her mouth. After her rough coughing subsided somewhat, she glanced at the inside of her palm and saw small red dots scattered across it.

Flustered, she hastily rubbed her palm against her clothes.

"Did you become mute?"

Immediately, a cold, mocking voice reached her.

Her hand, which had been trying to erase the bloodstains to avoid his notice, felt awkward.

Ah, what was I thinking...

That man, who had pressed ointment into her hand, telling her to treat her injuries first after a struggle that was not a physical fight but a fight with withdrawal symptoms, had long since been left behind in the land of winter.

The fleeting good memories had unintentionally caused confusion.

"Letters."

While she was momentarily lost in the aftereffects of her memories, Ezekiel continued to look down at her without batting an eye.

He asked again.

"Can you write?"

As she nodded, Ezekiel kicked a stone, one side of which had been sharpened to a point, towards her. The stone, passing through the narrow gap of the bars, rolled and bumped against her forehead.

"Your name. Write it on the floor."

With trembling hands, she barely managed to grasp the stone and slowly began to draw lines on the detention center floor.

Click, clack. The grating friction, which grated on her nerves, made other inmates glare at her, but they subsided upon noticing Ezekiel's expressionless face.

The pain that churned in her throat and stomach caused her grip to falter several times. Each time, the lines went askew. She scraped the floor again to add more strokes, but the result was less like writing and more like drawing.

Her name was finally completed in a messy script. She then dropped the stone.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze tracing the lines slowly, as if finding it difficult to recognize the scribbled name.

"Lizan. Is that it?"

Lizan.

It was her real name, heard for the first time in his voice. The man who had called her "Rose" with a heart-stirring gentleness now spat out her true name filled with contempt.

"It's the name of a former royal."

Commoners often named their children after the nicknames of princesses or princes born in the same era. It was beautiful to say and hear, and it carried the hope that by bestowing a good name, their children might live elegant lives like their namesakes.

Lizan's parents were no different. However, to avoid the multitude of people with the same names as current royals, her parents deliberately chose the name of a former princess. To make it special and precious.

Looking back, it was a name far beyond her station.

Her life, after all, had unfolded without being special, precious, or proud.

"I might have to add insulting royalty to your charges."

It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. But he was not the kind of man to make lighthearted jokes at her expense, so it was likely sincere. In any case, having harmed a son of the formidable Valdemara family, adding another charge wouldn't significantly change her situation as an inmate.

"Shall I give you some unfortunate news?"

"......"

"Achenaus will never return to Valdemara. You'd best give up any hope of him saving you."

Lizan silently lowered her gaze.

They've expelled Achenaus from the family.

Of course, she had expected him to return to the main family as soon as he regained his sight and exact revenge, but hearing it from Ezekiel's lips made it feel much clearer. His confident tone suggested that Ezekiel no longer felt threatened by his brother.

However, her own future, tied to Achenaus, was equally bleak.

She had long accepted that her chances of survival were slim. She had prepared herself before being captured by the pursuit party. But without ever having faced death daily like a soldier, she lacked the courage to meet her end so resolutely.

Because she was a little, no, quite a lot scared, she had intended to drink the poison she possessed and pay the price he demanded. If the end was inevitable, it was better to end it quickly and instantaneously while she still had a shred of courage. She had inwardly speculated that this might be a way to satisfy Ezekiel, who had vowed to inflict the same pain upon her.

But even that attempt at an easier death had failed. Her fate had fallen entirely into Ezekiel's hands, and now she had no right to refuse any end she might face.

She had once loved him more than anyone, but now they were strangers. His cold expression and cruel words pained her deeply.

She needed to practice erasing her feelings, but she was utterly lost and bewildered. Her mind and body were constantly collapsing, making it exhausting just to stay lucid.

Lizan silently pressed her lips together.

She used to find Ezekiel's extraordinary ability to distinguish people by their footsteps fascinating. While she could discern some differences based on the person's build, Ezekiel was particularly adept at sensing her. Even though there were maids of similar build in the mansion, he perceived her with such fine detail.

But now, she felt she could recognize his footsteps too. Watching Ezekiel stride out of the detention center, his steady, measured gait and the subtle tension in his heavy steps were particularly distinct to her ears.

He left without looking back, as if he had no need to hurry or regret anything. Unable to muster the strength to stand, Lizan, huddled on the floor, watched the retreating figure of the man. Not just her, but all the inmates followed Ezekiel's footsteps with their eyes.

That must be what presence means.

It was an overwhelming aura that left no room for other thoughts. Lizan listened intently until his footsteps faded and became inaudible. Then, as she casually turned her head, she noticed it.

The inmates' gazes had turned fiercer than before.

Someone spat directly in Lizan's face.

"I was wondering who had blinded the war hero, and it was this wench?"

"Even if she was blinded by love, she picked the wrong person to harm. Every citizen of Astria owes Major Valdemara their life..."

"So that's why she was brought here looking like this."

"Is she crazy, that crazy bitch?"

Hostility rained down from all sides. Ezekiel's unexpected appearance had instantly turned Lizan into a public enemy. Unlike other inmates, whose wrongdoings were difficult to ascertain or easy to conceal with lies, her guilt was publicly known, leaving no room for ambiguity.

"She deserves to die."

"Ah, why are you lying in the most comfortable spot? Shouldn't you crawl into a corner?"

Due to the pain, she couldn't move carelessly and remained where she had fallen. Yet, some inmates deliberately stepped on her or threatened her with their feet.

This was a terror she hadn't considered before entering the detention center. Apart from Achenaus, who had used her parents' theft to exploit her weakness, she had never experienced one-sided bullying from anyone else. At school, and in the mansion, she had mingled with people without issue. While not outgoing enough to be close with everyone, she had played the role of an older sister that her dorm mates unconsciously relied on. In the mansion, she had often heard that Ezekiel's sharp vigilance had significantly softened because of her.

There were certainly ordinary days in her life, but now those days felt like a past life.

Lizan, still clutching her aching stomach, crawled slowly towards a corner to hide.