* * *
Over the past few months, I had been working on earning Carlisle’s favor while secretly plotting how to escape from him.
I concluded that if Carlisle wouldn’t let me go willingly, I would have to force his hand by external means.
So, on the night Carlisle left for the North, I wrote a letter exposing Jeanne’s deception.
The letter accused Jeanne of concealing her gender to approach the royal family and claimed the poisoning incident was a fabrication of her own design.
I entrusted the letter to Luke, though my hands trembled as I passed it to him.
When Kelly noticed, he suggested there might be a better way, but I disagreed.
“If I waver, Carlisle will never let me go. I have to show him my resolve, no matter what. It will come down to one of two things: he’ll give up on me, or he’ll stand by as I’m executed.”
“A bold gamble,” Kelly remarked.
“But if the Crown Prince doesn’t love you, this is nothing but a death wish. Do you have proof of his love?”
His worried tone made my gaze falter momentarily.
He was right—if Carlisle didn’t truly love me, this plan would only hasten the guillotine ending I feared.
But after a brief hesitation, I answered with conviction.
“Yes, I do.”
Two days before Carlisle’s return to the capital, an unprecedented downpour drenched the city.
While I stared blankly out at the gloomy rain, lost in thought, the commotion outside grew louder.
Shouts, breaking objects, and curses filled the air, only to be replaced by an eerie silence.
The creak of the door broke the stillness, and as soon as I saw who entered, my heart sank.
It was Luke.
“How dare you barge in here?” I asked haughtily.
Luke smirked at my arrogant tone, then stepped aside to reveal Temple Knights with grim expressions.
Their presence alone told me everything.
My worst fear had come true—the plot was progressing as in the original story. Jeanne, discovered as a man, was now destined to face her execution.
“The Assembly and the Temple have summoned you to answer for your crimes,” Luke declared.
“Crimes? I’ve done nothing wrong!” I protested.
“I received a letter a few days ago accusing you of deception,” Luke replied.
His words made me shudder, but he continued, his tone impassive.
“Not only did you conceal your gender and mock the royal family, but you also impersonated a fake saint. These are crimes of the highest order, not even requiring trial.”
Contrary to my expectations, Luke didn’t seem triumphant.
If anything, he looked more somber than usual, as though he wasn’t relishing this moment.
Watching him closely, I asked,
“Why that expression? You’ve finally cleared the way to claim Carlisle for yourself.”
“I wonder about that myself,” Luke replied softly.
“Did you not hate me as much as I thought?”
“Perhaps.”
His unexpected answer left me stunned.
Luke’s voice turned uncharacteristically introspective.
“I despised you for stealing Carlisle, but deep down, I hoped your ideals would endure. I wanted you to achieve all the justice I had abandoned in compromising with reality.”
Luke’s normally cold green eyes flickered with a rare sadness.
His words weren’t calculated to win me over; they were his genuine thoughts, born from knowing my death was near.
Noticing my gaze, Luke turned his head aside, as if unable to bear the intensity of it.
‘After all, you were such a gentle child. Even your current coldness is just a shield, and I knew it too well to hate you.’
Luke was undoubtedly the protagonist of this story.
As the author, I had poured all my ideals into him.
I wanted readers to love him, and I made him embody my vision of a perfect protagonist.
Despite loving Carlisle, Luke never abandoned his belief in protecting the Aileen people.
Even if it meant clashing with Carlisle, he chose to protect rather than seek affection.
And I admired that about him. Smiling faintly, I said,
“If you pity me so much, why not let me live?”
“That’s a separate matter. If you resist, we will use force.”
“If there’s no trial, what happens to me?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Luke replied without hesitation.
“After a week of questioning and checking for other offenses, if nothing new comes to light…”
“I’ll be executed, won’t I?”
Luke fell silent.
“So this is how it ends,” I murmured, holding out my hands without resistance.
Luke cast a binding spell over my wrists and draped his cloak over my head.
His hand on my shoulder felt unexpectedly warm.
“If you want to live a little longer, stay silent during the Assembly and the Temple’s questioning. The longer the investigation drags on, the more your execution will be delayed.”
“Why give me such advice?”
“Because I understand your intentions.”
His answer made me chuckle softly.
I could deceive spirits, but not Luke.
Stepping outside for the first time in days, I took a deep breath.
The night air smelled of rain, and the bright moon brought Jerome to mind.
“Everything’s going according to plan so far,” I thought, glancing at my bound wrists before biting my lower lip.
“Now, it all depends on Carlisle’s decision.”
Following a physical examination that confirmed Jeanne’s identity as a man, three days of intense questioning ensued.
They scrutinized everything—why Jeanne posed as a noblewoman to approach Carlisle, whether the recent poisoning incident was her own doing.
As Luke advised, I remained silent, but the psychological pressure was relentless.
At first, it was simple threats, but eventually, they waved a heated brand in front of my face, trying to coerce the answers they wanted.
Still, I remained defiant.
“So what if I hid my gender? The fools who fell for it are to blame!”
My insolent attitude shocked the priests, some of whom raised their hands against me.
Knowing I was a man seemed to dissolve their hesitations about physical violence.
Beaten and interrogated until dawn, I was thrown into the cold dungeon, struggling to remain conscious.
If I died here, all this suffering would be for nothing.
Late one night, the dungeon door opened—an uncommon event.
Only one person could freely come and go.
A presence loomed in the darkness, and after a moment of silence, Carlisle slipped his arm under me to lift me up.
“I heard you’ve said nothing during the interrogations.”
“…”
“Are you deliberately enduring torture just to show me this broken version of yourself?”
He let out a shallow breath and slowly opened his eyes.
Before him stood Carlisle, gazing at him with a cooler expression than usual.
Carlisle’s thumb brushed over the bruise on his cheek, and then he spoke.
“You’ve always been like that, even as a child. Jerome never had everything, but somehow, he always managed to get what he wanted most. Meanwhile, I had everything I could possibly want…”
“…”
“…except for the one thing I truly desired. That, I could never have.”
His voice carried a hint of bitterness, though the warmth in his tone felt oddly out of place.
“That’s why petty tricks like these won’t work on me. I’ve decided I’ll have you, no matter what. Even if it means destroying you in the process. I don’t need society’s approval. I’ll lock you away somewhere and keep you only for myself…”
“I want to go to Jerome.”
“…”
“I want to go to Jerome.”
He barely managed to form the words with his dry lips.
Carlisle’s previously calm eyes flared with fiery anger, and he grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for a sudden kiss.
Carlisle bit down harshly on his lips, the act filled with raw, desperate emotions that felt suffocating.
He turned his head to break free from the kiss and gasped for air.
Carlisle, momentarily dazed, asked in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because I love Jerome.”
“You could love me instead. You haven’t even tried to love me.”
Carlisle’s face looked like that of a child teetering on the edge of a cliff, one gentle push away from falling.
Hugging him tightly, Carlisle murmured in a subdued voice.
“No, that’s not it. I’m not asking you to love me. Just stay by my side. If you go to the underworld, you’ll die. Like Jerome did… and you’ll die too.”
“…”
“Please, think about it one more time. Okay?”
Maybe it was the pain from his injuries, or the rare warmth against his skin awakening his vulnerability, but his eyes reddened, and his voice cracked.
Still, he repeated himself like a parrot.
“I want to go to Jerome.”
Tears streamed down his face as he spoke.
Carlisle, who had been watching his tears fall silently, wiped them away with his thumb.
Accepting his touch without resistance, he continued.
“You’ll be fine without me. It might hurt for a while, and you might feel a pang of regret now and then. But you’ll survive. Jerome is different.”
“…”
“No one else will save him if I don’t… That’s why I can’t give him up.”
It was true.
Even when everyone else abandoned Jerome, he couldn’t. Even if that determination led to his own death.
Just as Jerome had comforted him, he wanted to offer the same solace to Jerome’s soul.
He wanted to tell him that not everyone had given up on him.
Even if the path to Jerome was strewn with thorns, he was willing to let his feet bleed to reach him.
“So please, let me go. I’m begging you.”
Even as tears dampened his cheeks, his voice was resolute.
Carlisle, who had been staring at him blankly, let out a hollow laugh and buried his face in his shoulder.
“Why are you so sure I’ll let you go?”
“…”
“I could’ve let them execute you. Or locked you up in a dungeon where I’d be the only one you’d ever see. What makes you so certain I’ll let you go?”
“Because you…”
He hesitated. Carlisle, in a low voice, urged him on.
“Don’t stop. Keep going.”
“…”
“Go on.”
“Because you care about me.”
Guilt stabbed at his chest.
Though Carlisle repeatedly denied it, he knew the truth. Carlisle’s heart always raced whenever he held him while he slept.
That heartbeat was the very foundation of his daring plan.
To Carlisle, who remained silent, he whispered an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I was the one asking for something you couldn’t give. I know that. I do, but…”
Carlisle tightened his embrace, his arms trembling slightly.
He sighed deeply, regret thick in his voice as it echoed in the dungeon.
“…it still hurts.”
Despite all of Carlisle’s misdeeds, he hugged him one last time with genuine affection.
After all, just as a good beginning was important, so too was a proper ending.
After holding him for what felt like an eternity, Carlisle finally spoke.
* * *
Carlisle, you’re good too, however, just like what Jeanne says, Jerome needed Jeanne much more than you and they truly love each other.. I feel sorry for your unrequited love but we can’t force anyone to love or stay with us..🥺🥹🥺