TKMLTE 108

CHAPTER 108

Translator: Rae

***

M*rder

Maurice nibbled at her fingernails nervously.

Since Prince Carl had learned of the child’s existence, he must have discussed it with the queen as well. There should have been word from the royal family by now, yet as time passed, the silence became more suspicious,

Worse, she had suddenly been transferred elsewhere, making visits impossible. The new prison was even more squalid, its conditions far more wretched than before. Stripped of any noble standing, she was now nothing more than another prisoner in a filthy cell. For Maurice, who had lived as a noble for so long, this existence was unbearable.

The air reeked of dampness and decay, and sharing a space with others who likely hadn’t bathed in weeks was a torment all on its own.

She didn’t know why she had ended up here, but one thing was certain—someone had intervened.

'It must be that wench’s doing.’

Maurice gritted her teeth, seething with fury. No matter how much she tried to remain rational, there was no way to stay composed in this situation.

Now, the only ones she could rely on were Carl and the queen.

Her mother had already been executed in front of everyone. Maurice would never forget the stones and curses hurled at her before she d*ed.

‘I can't d*e like this.'

Her once striking red hair was now an ordinary shade of brown, but even so, she knew she was still beautiful. She had spent her whole life refining her appearance—there was no way she wouldn’t shine.

‘I’m carrying the child of Prince Carl.’

No one could harm her.

Maurice dug her nails into the rough stone floor, scraping it with a sharp, grating sound. Then, she flinched in surprise and quickly checked her nails for damage before wiping them clean with a piece of cloth.

Her pupils were slightly unfocused, her clothes tattered—but even in this wretched place, she maintained her appearance. She smoothed her hair with whatever means she had and kept her face as presentable as possible.

Using the only weapon she had left—her beauty—she ensured her survival. Life in prison wasn’t comfortable, but it was bearable. There was no one to hear her grievances, no one to plead her case to. Not that it would have mattered—no one would pity her.

Too many had suffered because of her and her mother’s actions. Maurice pressed her lips together, her foot tapping anxiously against the cold stone floor.

'It's fine. The royal family would never abandon their own blood.’

Even if she were lying, they would have no choice but to believe her. Confirming a pregnancy took time. And if a physician examined her, she could claim her frail body made an accurate diagnosis difficult, buying herself even more time.

But more than that, Maurice truly believed it. No, she knew it. She was carrying Prince Carl’s child.

She felt it. The life growing inside her.

Maurice let out a low chuckle, a breathy, almost delirious sound as she glanced around the wretched prison cell. She wouldn’t be here much longer.

She continued to cling to false hope. She had even begged the prison guards to k*ll her, but they only looked at her with cold, indifferent eyes, refusing to grant even such a request. But the days of living in this place, treated as less than human, wouldn’t last forever.

They couldn’t.

“Maurice Anne. You have a visitor.”

She had been told she was in isolation, that visits were impossible. Yet now, someone had come to see her. It had to be someone of high status. And Maurice instantly knew who it was.

“...Ha! Hahaha! Of course!”

A flicker of light returned to her unfocused violet eyes. She hastily ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it down and pushed herself up from the floor. Then, she followed the guard out of the cell without hesitation into the dimly lit passageway.

Her entire body ached from lying on the hard stone floor for so long. The Melissa who once wore elegant dresses and fine shoes was gone. Now, Maurice was draped in nothing more than a tattered cloth, looking pitifully shabby.

Yet, despite everything, she still carried herself like a noble. Her chin remained high, her gaze slightly lowered, and though she wore old, worn-out shoes, she walked as if she were still adorned in heels, moving with an air of grace.

As the door opened and she caught sight of the person who had come to see her, Maurice’s face stiffened.

“…Your Highness Prince Cheston?"

Cheston, upon seeing her, curved his lips into a smile—one that spread into a full, open grin. With a brief glance to the side, she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Another man stood beside him.

Maurice forced herself to school her expression before stepping forward to face him.

“...What brings you here? When I heard someone had come to see me, I assumed it was His Highness Prince Carl.”

“I couldn’t just ignore it after hearing that you were carrying my brother’s child. I was already handling some business nearby, so I thought I’d stop by. No need to appear so surprised.”

Cheston nodded toward the man who had accompanied him. The man cautiously approached Maurice and took hold of her arm before beginning to examine her body.

“W-What are you doing?! Let go!”

Maurice’s anxious gaze darted around as she tried to pull her arm free. But the physician, having finished taking her pulse, merely shook his head.

A silent exchange passed between the man and Cheston. Maurice trembled, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“I-I’m really pregnant! I will send a word to His Highness Prince Carl!”

“I can’t let my brother smuggle you away. Maurice Anne, you don’t seem to understand why you ended up here.”

At Cheston’s words, a shiver ran down Maurice’s spine. The madness flickering in his blue eyes made her mouth go dry.

“I-If you k*ll me, everyone will condemn you!”

“You were already someone who wouldn’t have surprised anyone by receiving the d*ath sentence. No one will pay you any mind. You should have stayed quiet—then none of this would have happened.”

Maurice’s face turned d*athly pale. She bolted toward the door, screaming for help. But despite her desperate pleas, the people outside didn’t so much as stir.

Cheston stepped toward her with a grin. She sucked in a sharp breath as his shadow loomed over her.

***

Whitney received two pieces of news early in the morning.

She had yet to deal with Liona’s business, but for some reason, she had a feeling that opening these letters would only give her a headache. She stared intently at the two envelopes resting on her desk.

One was from the prison where Maurice was being held. The other was from Cheston.

“Will you not check them?”

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Zegmon asked carefully. Whitney tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in wonder. She knew she had to read it, but her hands refused to move.

“I will. But first, I need to decide how to deal with the ‘gift’ I received.”

“This incident happened within your territory, so wouldn’t it be fine for you to deal with them personally, Your Grace?”

“But unlike the Viscount of Wieg, these people have nothing.”

She had stripped the Viscount of Wieg of everything and had him executed immediately. However, the two men brought in by the Kennedy Mercenary Group owned nothing. Getting rid of them would be nothing more than cutting off loose ends. The priority was to uncover the mastermind behind them. If they confessed, she was even willing to consider granting a lighter sentence.

She needed to figure out the extent of their involvement, and above all, since there was no real benefit in punishing them within the ducal estate, it would be better to extract information first and then hand them over to the royal family.

“I should inform His Highness Prince Cheston. It would be wise to consider our options before dealing with those behind this. In the meantime, have them locked up in the ducal prison.”

“Understood.”

Zegmon nodded, his gaze lingering on the letters resting on the desk.

"Which one should I check first?"

“Well, it’s better to get the worst over with first.”

In the end, Whitney decided to open the one from prison first. Considering it had arrived early in the morning, it must be an urgent matter.

[The Duchess Regnant of Orléans, this is the prison in the capital of Reville.

We are sending this letter urgently as we have important news to report. Maurice Anne has d*ed.

The cause is unknown, but it appears to be due to an attack by ruffians.]

“...This is nonsense. Why were they trying to transfer her out of the blue? Sir Zegmon. Maurice is d*ad.”

“How is that even possible? The fact that they attempted to move a convicted prisoner was already strange enough in the first place.”

Indeed, unless it was by the king’s orders, such a transfer should have been impossible. However, it was unlikely that the king would command another transfer after already having her moved once.

“We need to send someone to investigate the situation. As far as I know, the prison in that region doesn’t allow visits, and even if they were transferring her, there’s no way the security would have been breached so easily.”

“I will go with the knights and look into the matter.”

“Will you? You have to be careful, though. The prison guards might be on it as well.”

Zegmon nodded and left the room.

Whitney stared blankly into the air before running a hand through her hair and rereading the letter.

Maurice’s sudden passing brought a shiver to her nape.

Could it have been His Majesty the King’s doing, eliminating the root of the problem?

She drummed her fingers against the desk, lost in thought. No matter how she looked at it, this sudden turn of events was difficult to accept. The security at the capital prison couldn’t have been that lax—it felt as if someone had intentionally gotten rid of her.

‘Who was it?’

If it wasn’t the king, then who else would dare to orchestrate something so brazen?

Tap, tap, tap.

Her fingers drummed against the wood in a steady rhythm before stopping abruptly. Her tightly shut eyes slowly opened wide.

Her Highness the Queen. It must be her..

Whitney could only think of one person.

She must have found out about Maurice’s pregnancy—perhaps she only intended to take the child, but when that proved difficult, she decided to disguise her d*ath as an accident to erase any potential weakness.

With a throbbing headache, Whitney leaned back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. News of Maurice’s d*ath had likely reached the king by now. She could read Cheston’s letter and respond, asking him directly. Yes, she hesitated. The unpleasant content of the first letter made it difficult to bring herself to open the other one.

But delaying wouldn’t change the reality of what had already been sent. Her pale fingers finally unfolded the sealed letter.

[As you predicted, human trafficking is indeed taking place in Yohareim. We have gathered evidence and handed it over to the guards, so the royal court will launch an investigation soon. The news will be announced after the banquet, but I thought you should know ahead of time.]

As expected, Whitney’s suspicions had been correct. Human trafficking had long been outlawed in the Kingdom of Luowen. With slavery abolished, the very idea of trafficking was unthinkable.

The upcoming banquet was bound to be unusual. Whitney felt a storm brewing on the horizon, her nerves on edge. She turned her gaze to the pure white bird waiting by the window, its presence silent but expectant.

“Is it waiting because it knows I will reply?”

"Chirp, chirp."

As if responding to her questions, the bird sang its delicate tune. Whitney paused to listen, momentarily entranced by its melody. But when the bird began hopping impatiently, urging her on, she sighed and tied the note to its slender ankle.

Yet, the bird didn’t fly away. It merely tilted its head, watching her expectantly. Her gaze drifted past it, out the window—where a carriage was rolling through the gates of the duchy.

***

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