MHHC Chapter 112

Monster

Margaret was dragged to the base of the platform and thrown to the floor by the knights.

She collapsed in complete exhaustion, limbs sprawling. Her damp eyes and pallid cheeks conveyed indirectly how gripped by terror she was.

Adelheid tried to maintain her composure, but it did little good.

As Margaret was forced to her knees, helpless, the image overlaid with Greta's blood-soaked, collapsed form.

"Now, listen."

Adelheid slowly raised her head. At the bewilderment and desperation that surfaced on her previously composed, docile face, the Emperor smiled lazily.

"The testimony thus far makes clear both the evidence and suspicion that you use magic. A few mad sympathizers babbling won't change the verdict that's already been decided."

The courtroom's chill seemed to creep up through her knees, spreading through her entire body. A verdict already decided. The Emperor's tone made clear his determination not to reverse his decision regardless of what she did. Her innocence had never mattered in the first place.

"But if you truly are a demon, then regrettably, those who've had prolonged contact with you must face the same charges."

"…"

"Nobles receive annual blessings from the High Priest, so they'd have some resistance, but a maidservant kept close at hand—well…"

Even now, he meticulously excluded his own blood relation, Grand Duke Ansgar, from suspicion—it didn't even warrant a bitter laugh.

"Demons and humans are fundamentally different… If they failed to sense something wrong, they lack faith. If they knew and hid it, they're merely wicked accomplices."

"Please show mercy."

Adelheid pressed her hands to the floor and bowed her head. Even to her own ears, her thin voice trembled pathetically.

"That woman has nothing to do with me. She's merely a long-standing retainer of Ansgar who attended me out of duty, so please…"

"Ah, now you're starting to sound desperate."

The Emperor's delighted voice descended cruelly over Adelheid's pleading head.

"There are only two options. Either admit right now to being a demon, or demonstrate before this assembly the 'miracle of revival' you supposedly performed."

"Please…"

"Those sympathetic to demons, or who knew of demons but failed to report them, deserve extreme punishment. Such people are demons themselves."

It was absurd, binary logic. But when the person spouting such nonsense was the Emperor of Denburg, the meaning changed entirely.

The Emperor maintained his leisurely smile, merely switching which hand supported his chin as he spoke casually:

"Who knows? Perhaps the healing abilities your father so desperately wanted will manifest fortunately at this moment."

"…"

"Begin."

The instant the Emperor's command fell, the trembling old woman's body was pressed helplessly to the floor.

The knight gripping Margaret's shoulder drew his sword from his waist.

The low metallic ring sent goosebumps across Adelheid's skin.

"…Ah."

The wickedly sharp blade leveled at Margaret's nape. No—at Greta's nape. Adelheid blinked rapidly. When she looked again, it was Margaret…

The knight with raised sword paused, holding still as he watched Adelheid.

Perhaps this was merely a threat.

With so many eyes watching, surely he wouldn't commit such an atrocity. For a brief moment, she allowed herself foolish relief.

"…Aaaah!"

The knight's sharp blade sliced diagonally across Margaret's artery.

Blood spurted, then fell to the marble floor with wet pattering sounds. The entire scene—the sounds, the metallic blood-scent thick in the air, the spreading stains—

Everything captured in her distant vision was both agonizingly slow and vividly clear. Adelheid gasped for breath.

"…Ah."

When the knight released his grip on her shoulder, Margaret's body lurched forward.

Margaret supported herself weakly on the floor with one hand, pressing the other to her nape. Blood dripped steadily between the fingers compressing the wound.

Adelheid stared at Margaret without even blinking.

Blood soaked rapidly through the front of her dress, and the little remaining color visibly drained from her already ashen face.

'This is my fault.'

Self-recrimination rose as naturally as breathing. She should never have involved herself in anything from the start.

She should have given up on everything. Done obediently as told, without curiosity or attempts to protect anyone, just as she'd always lived before…

Just because the situation had improved slightly, just because she could finally care for those around her, just because she'd gained some meager power…

In the end, she'd ruined everything with her own hands.

"…Your… kugh… Grace…"

The clarity had returned to Margaret's terror-stricken eyes at some point.

Perhaps blood loss was approaching lethal levels—fine capillaries stood out visibly on her pale nape and cheeks.

Margaret studied Adelheid's helpless trembling, then firmly shook her head.

"…I… kgh… am… fine."

The meaning was clear. Don't use your 'power.' Even if she died, preserve yourself by pretending ignorance. To the loyal Northerners, serving as 'Mistress of Ansgar' meant protecting her before their own lives.

"…"

Adelheid couldn't even be certain she was breathing properly. The skin around her eyes burned hot.

This felt different from holding back tears. The Emperor and nobles were laughing lightly, as though she and Margaret were entertaining spectacles.

"What will you do? If you leave her like that, she'll die of blood loss soon."

Hearing the Emperor's amused voice, Adelheid clenched her fists violently.

Was it from anger? She felt enormous magic roiling within her. It came instinctively.

If she removed the bracelet suppressing her magic, she could immediately summon enough power to take every life here and more.

Kill them.

Someone seemed to whisper. It was Mikhail's voice, which had clung to her ear like a hallucination since some indeterminate point.

Valentin gave you a blade. It's power meant to protect you, so don't hesitate. Kill them and save your person.

Simultaneously, Adelheid realized this absolutely could not be Mikhail's whisper.

He had never once called Valentin by name. So this voice came entirely from within herself.

Why endure when you have power? Why submit to them again? In the moment she dimly grasped Valentin's feelings—which she'd thought she could never understand—she realized she was becoming a monster herself.

Adelheid roughly scrubbed her damp eyes with the back of her hand.

'If I'll be called a monster and condemned either way—'

She slowly rose from where she'd been kneeling, unsteady.

Unable to see her own expression in a mirror, she didn't know how she looked—but several nearby knights flinched backward.

Adelheid grasped the thin bracelet that had hung from her wrist like a tether to sanity.

She placed her fingers on the loosened clasp. Drew one deep breath with lowered lashes, then tore it away violently.

"…"

The surroundings darkened instantly, as though the sun had disappeared behind clouds.

Those who reflexively looked skyward realized they were inside a building. And that they were now looking at the criminal they'd been gleefully condemning moments before.

Bluish magic flared up her slender body like flames. The courtroom's floor and walls trembled in resonance with that fierce power.

The murmuring commotion spread rapidly. Shock, bewilderment, and a strange fear rippled outward.

Several weak-willed individuals tumbled from their seats; a few quick-thinking ones began edging toward the doors.

"Ungh…"

Adelheid staggered toward the platform. The knights drew their swords but seemed unable to muster the courage to swing at her.

For every step she advanced, they retreated two in confrontation.

The closer she came to the platform, the more expression drained from the Emperor's face.

His amused leisure evaporated instantly, replaced by a pallor of stark fear that made him cower.

When Adelheid's steps reached the bottom stair of the platform, the Emperor's lips trembled finely, spasmodically.

"S-stop… that m-monster from reaching me!"

"Margaret."

The Emperor's shrieking cry and Adelheid kneeling before Margaret while suppressing her magic were simultaneous. The timing was so precise it almost seemed like mockery.

No matter how one rationalized it, for him to tremble and cower so fearfully was… well.

Stripped of magic, 'Adelheid' was objectively just a frail-looking woman.

The nobles—forgetting they'd been briefly frightened themselves—shrugged at each other, suggesting His Majesty was being overly dramatic.

"Show me where you're hurt."

Meanwhile, Adelheid extended her hand with devout posture, soothing the death-pale old woman.

Margaret's ashen fingertips trembled violently before she barely managed to reveal the wound at Adelheid's words.

Examined closely, the injury was even more horrific. The laceration was deep, and blood still gushed from the severed artery in amounts approaching fatal.

Adelheid pulled her trembling lips into a smooth smile to reassure Margaret.

"It's all right. Something like this will heal quickly."

Adelheid calmly gathered magic into both hands. Then she spread them, carefully enclosing Margaret's gasping throat.

Margaret shuddered as though touched by something cold. But it was only a moment—after blinking a few times, her breathing began growing noticeably easier.

The kugh, kgh groaning gradually subsided. Adelheid pressed her forehead gently to Margaret's, delicately controlling the magic.

"…I'm sorry. For putting you through this."