AWLITEB Chapter 40

"Perhaps this would be a good moment to... shut your mouth."

Genos spoke with his eyes still closed.

If he opened them and looked at Saento's face, he'd lose all rationality and act purely on instinct.

Before that happened, he needed Saento to please, please shut his f*cking mouth.

But if Saento had possessed any self-control, he never would have lusted after Isabella, who was younger than his own daughter in the first place.

Saento stared at Genos through blurred vision, giggling. He was a man who understood neither restraint nor patience. And drunk as he was, that was even more true.

"Isabella, that woman, once you see her, heh, hehe, you can't stop thinking about her at night. Kuk. There's something strangely sensual about her..."

"Saento Beauhady."

To shut Saento's vile, repulsive mouth, Genos picked up the severed pinky finger from the floor and held it before his eyes.

Saento's eyes widened.

Since waking from unconsciousness, he'd forgotten about his severed finger.

"N-no, no!"

Saento screamed, trying to grab the finger Genos held.

But Genos pulled his hand back slightly, dangling the finger like a toy.

"G-give it back. Give it back, please! It's v-very important to me!"

When Saento tried to rise from the sofa, Paile stepped forward and pressed down on his throat, pinning him in place.

"I swore I'd cherish it in my arms until the day I die!"

Saento struggled, shouting.

Right. Exactly as expected. From the moment Genos had heard about a ring—a woman's ring that didn't even fit—forced onto Saento's finger, he'd predicted this.

This was the ring of his previous wife, the one he'd starved to death out of jealousy.

"Confess, and I'll return this nauseating object. Don't worry."

Genos stood beside the sofa, looking down at Saento.

The ring on the severed finger glinted.

Saento trembled, lips shaking.

"C-confess?"

"Yes. Confess. You didn't even commit any crime, did you? You simply rented a carriage from a rental shop at Rosalie White's instruction. Am I wrong?"

"..."

"So you won't face any punishment. Just confess which carriage you rented from which rental shop on Rosalie White's orders. That's all."

"...R-really, really, just that, if I confess, you'll... you'll give back my ring? My beloved Lily's ring?"

Saento asked, soaked in hope.

His moist eyes and the smile on his lips disgusted Genos.

He needed to navigate this crisis carefully.

God, he wanted to kill him so badly he could barely think straight.

He wanted to draw his sword right now and pierce this man's heart. Drain enough blood to stop his life. Make his breathing cease. Make his heart stop beating.

No matter how long he lived, this human would never contribute even a speck of good to the world.

No—he would pollute the world and spread his stench.

Even if Genos ended this man's life right here, right now, would anyone mourn?

No. It would be far easier to find people who'd be grateful. After all, wasn't this a man who could barely maintain two guards?

Genos shook his head briefly.

The more he thought about it, the more reasons he found to end Saento's life.

He needed to find more rationality.

"Yes. I'll return your beloved Lily's ring. So promise to confess."

Genos spoke wearily.

Now, before he sank any deeper into this murderous intent, he wanted to escape this pit.

Saento swallowed dryly and nodded jerkily.

"O-okay. I'll confess. If that's what it takes."

Saento reached toward the finger Genos held.

Blood still dripped from his severed digit.

"What kind of idiot pays before the transaction is complete?"

Genos stepped back, keeping the finger out of reach.

"Th-then when will you give it to me!"

Saento shouted in panic.

"I'll call for you when I need your confession. Until then, I'll keep your f*cking finger safe. Don't worry."

Saento's body shook violently.

But in this situation—with his finger severed, his body restrained, his weakness exposed—Saento was utterly powerless.

Genos tilted his head toward Paile.

Paile removed his hand from Saento's throat. Saento glanced around nervously, then slowly sat up.

"When will you call?"

"Soon. You won't wait long. Relax."

Genos handed the finger to Paile.

Paile wrapped it in one of the handkerchiefs he always carried and tucked it into his coat pocket.

Saento bit his lip hard enough to leave teeth marks, watching the entire process.

"You kept the letters you exchanged with Rosalie, didn't you?"

Genos asked.

Saento visibly flinched.

"Of c-course I burned them all."

"One of your disgusting hobbies is collecting and hoarding everything. I could tell that the moment I walked into this room."

Genos glanced around the study.

Saento closed his mouth.

Because the study was indeed crammed full of items. In one corner, a pile of worn-out shoes. In another, a heap of pens with nibs worn down to nothing. And on the opposite side, stacks upon stacks of letters.

"You're famous in the south for keeping every single possession of your dead wife without burning anything, aren't you?"

"...There are no letters damaging enough to truly harm me. I'm at least smart enough to know that."

Saento spoke with wounded pride.

But Genos paid no attention to his words.

Genos pointed at the letter pile, looking at Paile.

Paile dug through the waist-high mountain of correspondence. Soon he found letters with Rosalie's name on them.

They were letters coordinating meeting dates and times—nothing about the actual crime written in them.

They might serve as supporting evidence in some situations, so Genos had Paile store them along with the finger.

"Well then. Time to leave. I'm dying to get out of this place."

Genos headed toward the door, his face twisted with disgust.

Paile followed, but suddenly Saento spoke.

"W-wait. Wait a moment. I have a question."

"I don't think asking it would be wise."

Genos turned back, suppressing his anger.

"No, I need to ask."

Saento rose from the sofa, forcing strength into his alcohol-clouded eyes. He staggered forward and stood before Genos.

"Are you also... one of the men who was promised marriage to Isabella?"

"..."

"Is that why you're doing this? Because I desire Isabella? Out of jealousy?"

"..."

"I thought so. All evil comes from jealousy! Jealousy causes everything, doesn't it?"

Saento laughed.

He raised both hands high and spun in a circle.

"All those devil's whispers are created entirely by jealousy! I feel so good meeting a comrade?"

Comrade.

The moment he heard that word, Genos lowered his head and took a deep breath.

The scent of blood ghosted across his senses. But that metallic tang felt woefully insufficient.

Meanwhile, Saento continued his drunken rambling.

"I'm going to possess Isabella no matter what. She appears in my dreams every night!"

"What do you like so much about Isabella?"

Genos turned fully toward Saento and asked.

He approached with large strides.

"Tell me. What exactly appeals to you so much?"

"Sh-she resembles my wife."

Saento, backed against the wall, answered in a stammering voice.

"What?"

"She's sh-shrinking, timid, constantly reading the room. I'm attracted to women like that. Kind and gentle, and if you're just a little nice to them, they don't know what to do with themselves. Then after you treat them well, they always betray you... by meeting other men."

Saento clenched his fist as he spoke.

The severed finger stump ground against his palm, sending pain shooting through him. Saento screamed and clutched his injured hand.

"Any-anyway. That's why Isabella caught my eye immediately. But that doesn't mean I'm not devoted. Look. Even now I treasure my wife's ring like my life! But if Isabella comes into my arms, I'll cherish her more than anyone too. Hehe. You know what? Those timid ones who don't know anything... they act differently at night!"

Genos's eyes sank like a midnight sea.

His patience—which had been stretched remarkably far—finally reached its end.

Paile confirmed the look in his eyes. When Genos showed that expression, there was no stopping him.

Paile pulled out a large cloth he'd kept folded in his coat pocket. When he unfolded what he'd compressed, it was the size of a blanket.

Paile spread the cloth on the floor at a distance and waited for Genos to finish his work.

"You know one thing but not the other."

Genos stared piercingly at Saento.

Saento was much shorter than Genos, forced to look up at him.

The intimidation from his height and build began to slowly choke Saento.

The atmosphere had completely changed from moments before.

Cold sweat ran down Saento's back. He seemed to be sobering up, bit by bit.

"You and I are not comrades. What you know about Isabella couldn't fill even a speck of space. So how could you possibly put us on the same level?"

"Why... why would I not know about Isabella? I know her better than anyone! That modest, kind, timid girl, I can take good care of her—urk!"

Genos grabbed Saento's face in his palm and squeezed.

The tremendous force crushing his face made Saento desperately claw at Genos's hand with both of his own.

But the more he struggled, the harder Genos's grip tightened around his skull.

"Urk, urk! Urk!"

"Isabella is not a woman you can dare to look at. You know nothing about how magnificent she is, how extraordinary the things she can accomplish."

"S-save me, save me... urk!"

"You don't know her true value, and yet you put Isabella's name on your vile lips—it's absurd from the start. And you say we're comrades? Don't make me laugh."

Genos burst into laughter.

Saento's face turned bright red.

Genos's nails dug into the flesh wherever they pressed hardest, tearing skin and drawing blood. His nose and mouth were blocked—he couldn't breathe.

Genos watched Saento dying with satisfaction. Pleasant euphoria spread through his entire body like fireworks.

But just before Saento's breathing stopped completely, Genos released his face.

Saento crashed to the floor, curling into a ball and gasping desperately. He crawled on all fours toward the door in frantic escape.

Genos pressed his foot down on Saento's back, stopping the pointless flight.

"There's a reserved seat prepared just for you. Why run?"

Genos grabbed his ankle and dragged him across the floor to the cloth Paile had spread out.

"AHHHHHHH!"

Saento screamed. The final thrashing of a man who sensed his death.

Once Genos had fully positioned Saento on the cloth, he sat on his abdomen.

Then he covered Saento's mouth with his hand and smiled.

"Going to try screaming?"

"Mmph, mmph!"

"That mouth that can only spew garbage when it opens—you want to use it one last time?"

"Hngh, mmph..."

Tears pooled beneath Genos's palm.

Genos smiled down at Saento's eyes while pulling a blade from his inner breast pocket. It was roughly a palm and a half in length when the segments were connected. Shorter than a longsword, longer than a dagger.

The perfect blade for the kind of death he wanted to give this man.

More tears streamed down Saento's face. His struggling intensified.

But it wasn't enough to stop Genos.

"Isabella White is my wife and the magnificent woman who will become Grand Duchess."

Saento's eyes widened.

Only now did he realize who held his lifeline.

But by the time he understood, the situation was already far too late.

Genos bit the sheath with his mouth, drew the blade, then spat it to the floor.

He brought the blade's tip to the location of Saento's heart.

"Mmph, mmph, mmph!"

The blade cut through Saento's shirt fabric and began to slowly pierce his flesh.

Saento's pupils dilated as his body convulsed.

Genos captured every detail in his eyes.

"Whether you can wash away the sin of insulting her even in hell, I'm not sure."

The blade's tip drove deeper. The moment it touched Saento's heart, blood surged.

Droplets splattered across Genos's face in elegant patterns, like wallpaper designs.

"But by all means, give it your sincere effort."

Genos drove the blade in to the hilt.

Saento's heart, pierced with precision, lost all function and stopped completely.

He died with his eyes and mouth wide open, frozen in an expression of horror.

Genos shrugged.

It would have been better if he'd died more horribly, but he decided to be satisfied with this.

He wiped his blood-soaked hands on Saento's coat, then stood.

Looking at Paile, he spoke casually. It was a lie so half-hearted that no one would believe it.

"Oops. Didn't mean to kill him."