The Villain’s Aide Has Run Away - Chapter 3.2
“Very well. Then I’ll change the question. Why did you release her?”
Leslun’s eyes flew wide. His pupils shook violently within them.
That had been something he carried out entirely on his own, without telling anyone.
Could it be that Lady Miroi had spoken of it? If so, that was an even greater disaster. It would only be a matter of time before the Count found out, and that meant his family’s safety would be in jeopardy.
“…How did you know of that?”
He couldn’t deny it wasn’t him; the unease filling his chest—his heart pounding as though it would burst through his skin—had already seized control of his entire body.
“Are you asking me that right now?”
Kailos repeated, looking almost incredulous. But then, for whatever reason, he closed his mouth.
“Well then. How did I know, indeed.”
It felt like he was deliberately drawing things out. Even knowing that, Leslun’s anxiety would not subside.
“Did the Count tell you?”
“It was the Count who informed me Lady Miroi had disappeared. But the fact that you were the one who released her—well, that was nothing more than my own keen deduction.”
Leslun’s dismay showed plainly. He thought perhaps it was a relief that the Count had not yet discovered what he had done, but if the Crown Prince had realized it, then the Count would inevitably learn of it soon enough.
“So then, there must be a reason why the Count mustn’t know.”
Unaware that the Crown Prince’s tone had loosened somewhat compared to earlier, Leslun sank into despair.
He had failed to protect his family. He pictured soldiers breaking into his home, binding the bodies of his loved ones, and his face went white.
And then, watching him, Kailos spoke as if a good idea had just come to him.
“I’ve changed my mind. Move him to the infirmary for treatment.”
At the Crown Prince’s order, a guard entered and unlocked the chains binding Leslun’s body.
***
Leslun walked and walked again through a silent corridor.
It was wide enough that ten grown men could walk abreast, yet he was alone, and the emptiness of it pressed upon him.
That bleakness overlapped with his own trembling, cowed state, bringing back the memory of the first time he had stepped into the Count’s manor.
From an early age, Leslun had been quick to learn letters and had taken a great interest in books. Perhaps it was an influence of the forgotten memories from his previous life. It was being caught in that state by the Count that had led to him receiving the position of clerical assistant in the Count’s household.
At the time, Leslun, who knew nothing, had been satisfied simply with the thought that he could now read books freely. Because of that, he had failed to realize other things.
The bullying of other servants, or working through sleepless nights—these he could endure. What truly terrified him were the punishments given for refusing a noble’s orders. He came to know firsthand the differences in social rank that he had only ever heard about.
Of course, that wasn’t all. The Count did not stop at punishing only him; he dragged Leslun’s family into it as well. Terrified beyond reason, Leslun had no choice but to obey whatever the Count demanded.
Now, he was on his way to meet someone even greater than that.
The vast, splendid corridor, so far beyond anything in the Count’s manor, seemed to announce that the commands he would face from now on would be heavier still, many times over.
Leslun had always been frail, ever since childhood. Even when receiving the same punishment, he would take three or four days longer than others to recover. And as he grew older, his resistance to physical pain only weakened further.
If he were to be tortured, he had no idea how quickly he might end up spilling everything.
“I suddenly know too much.”
Whether the return of his past life’s memories would serve as a blessing or a curse, he did not know.
After stopping at the infirmary, Leslun was to go straight to where the Crown Prince awaited him. He walked neither too quickly nor too slowly.
To endure the oppressive weight of the corridor, he swallowed dryly again and again as he went, until suddenly a grand sight appeared before him.
The door was as enormous as the ceiling was high.
Heavens… how many people would it take to push open such a door? Do I even deserve to pass through it?
He found no answer to those questions as he hesitated. Then, the door opened of its own accord. Light poured out, brilliant as though from the gates of heaven.
Leslun raised a hand to shield his face. He thought he hadn’t died—but was that assumption wrong?
Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness and he lowered his hand, his mouth fell open again.
The inner chamber bathed in sunlight was dazzlingly magnificent. Nothing in it was ordinary. It radiated overwhelming majesty.
“If you’ve arrived, come in quickly.”
And then he realized.
This is the Crown Prince’s chamber.
Standing before the Crown Prince’s private bedchamber, Leslun once again cursed his own imagination.
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