Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 93

She traced Ezekiel’s complexion with her gaze and added a word.

“My condolences.”

The doctor was someone who knew about the unusual bond between Madam Serva and Ezekiel. Ezekiel silently looked down at the deceased elderly woman, then removed the medal from his uniform and placed it on her chest.

“I honor Serva as a meritorious figure.”

“Yes.”

Montcalm paid his respects to Serva’s body.

Ezekiel cut down one of the elegantly draped decorative curtains with his sword and covered Serva’s body.

According to Anna’s account, she had hesitated, unable to understand Madam Serva’s instruction, which delayed her just enough to be shot by a pursuing soldier. Even after Ezekiel’s detachment stormed the inn and the tide had turned, the spy named Levian repeatedly shot Serva—once, twice, thrice—to vent his anger.

Red.

No one would ever know now which of the red curtains Madam Serva had seen last.

“Doctor Paulina.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible for someone’s eyes to not see color correctly?”

If there was anyone who could give the most accurate answer to this question, it would be Paulina, who specialized in ophthalmology. Ezekiel waited for her response.

“Yes, while it’s not common, it does happen. Some people cannot distinguish certain colors, and in rare cases, some cannot distinguish any colors at all.”

“It’s possible? Even so, they can function normally in daily life?”

“Yes. They just can’t see color properly, but that doesn’t mean they’re blind. Usually, such people seem to distinguish colors using their own standards—through volume or brightness, for example. So if Madam Serva was the one who first described Miss Rose’s features to you, Major…”

Suddenly, Rose’s name came up. The subordinates, well aware of how sensitive a matter Rose was to Ezekiel, collectively tensed.

But Paulina remained calm. It was something she had been determined to tell Ezekiel ever since joining this journey. She had simply not had the opportunity until now.

“I believe that Miss Rose might not be the red-haired, green-eyed young lady we assumed. The Rose I saw had hazel eyes.”

“The Rose I know… isn’t Rose?”

Was Serva the one who first described Rose’s features to him?

Ezekiel restlessly combed through old memories.

No, it wasn’t her.

“Your hair is long. What color is it?”

“My hair… it’s red.”

“If your hair is red, does that mean your eyes are green? That combination is fairly common.”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why your name is Rose.”

It was Rose herself.

So he had never doubted her for a moment. She had no reason to lie to him.

“You’re saying Rose’s eyes were hazel?”

“That’s how I saw them. But beyond that, I can’t say—I couldn’t see more since Miss Rose always dressed modestly.”

“Ah…”

Paulina answered concisely, only within the bounds of what she could confirm. But this time, the maid who had been listening to the conversation gasped. Ezekiel’s gaze immediately turned to her.

“Come to think of it, you were fairly close to Rose, weren’t you?”

Anna hadn’t expected Ezekiel to remember that. She calmed her pounding heart.

“Though we were close… even in front of us, Rose never let her guard down.”

“So you don’t know either?”

For some reason, everyone who had seen Rose in person gave nothing but vague impressions. Overwhelmed by frustration, Ezekiel roughly ran a hand through his tousled hair.

“But…”

A thin voice caught his ear.

“There was one day when Rose let her guard down in front of us.”

Ezekiel asked again, “When was that?”

“Not long after Rose arrived—one night when Madam Serva was away from the mansion. Do you remember? That night, the thunder wouldn’t stop. We could hear your groans through the doors, and all of us were so scared we didn’t know what to do… and then Rose came downstairs. Her hair was completely loose like she’d just woken up, and she was in her nightgown. She opened the door. For a moment, the room lit up with lightning, and before the door closed…”

He remembered that night. He had personally torn her nightgown apart to search her body.

The sound of that rain seemed to echo in his ears—shaaa.

There was no worse feeling of foreboding.

“I caught a glimpse of Rose from behind. Her hair was brown.”

A woman with brown hair and hazel eyes, who had once had a deep relationship with a man up until late autumn.

He already knew one such woman.

***

It was the first day of the new year, a day to bid farewell to the old and welcome the new, yet the detention center was more silent than usual.

As midnight approached, the guards went around the detention center, dragging out inmates who had received the death sentence. Some struggled not to be taken, only to be beaten and bound hand and foot by the guards. Among them, some pleaded their innocence, others begged for their lives, but Lisanne quietly complied as a guard bound her wrists while she lay curled on the stone floor.

Since Ezekiel’s visit, she had been unable to support herself.

Was it because someone as hateful as her was still alive that her parents couldn’t leave the northern detention center?

Would Ezekiel temper his desire for revenge and reduce her parents’ sentence to forced labor only if she died—the one who had caused the trouble?

Such thoughts made each breath she took in this place feel meaningless.

It was almost a relief that the end was near. Every day had become too burdensome. She no longer looked forward to tomorrow.

The coarse rope dug into her bony wrists. The hastily twisted fibers scraped her skin with prickly burrs, leaving cuts.

“Get up.”

When Lisanne couldn’t walk properly, a guard grumbled, shoved an arm under her armpit, and forced her to her feet. She was practically dragged along, limp.

Behind her, someone sniffled through quiet sobs. It was one of the women she had grown fond of during their time together.

She hesitated briefly but turned away. There was no point in letting them see her face one last time.

The square where the gallows had been set up was already crowded. Executions were a form of entertainment. Spectators threw stones, hurled insults, and spat at the approaching convicts.

“Out of the way, move!”

The guards tried to control the crowd, but it was of little use. Lisanne staggered under the rough hands grabbing at her hair and body.

She couldn’t recall how she made it through the crowd. Shoved this way and that, her hair pulled, struck as she went, she eventually found herself at the gallows. Following the executioner’s instructions, she stepped onto the stool prepared beneath the noose.

Though her eyes were open, her memories came in fragments. Perhaps it was because this outcome had surpassed what she could mentally accept.

The executioner tied her ankles and knees with rope and placed a black cloth over her head.

“You have ten seconds. If you believe in God, pray now.”

What kind of prayer does one say before death?

She had never thought about it.

Even thinking of someone felt like a sin. She hoped her loved ones were safe, but to pray for someone else’s well-being as a sinner seemed like another crime.

Why had it come to this?

Why did it have to be this way?

When she stripped away the blotchy emotions whose original colors she couldn’t even remember, all that remained at the bottom was pure regret.

She no longer knew how much time was left.

Lisanne closed her eyes.

If God is there, please let my breath stop quickly, without prolonged suffering.

She thought she had dried up completely, with nothing more to spill. But that wasn’t quite true. A single tear slid down her cheek.

The executioner kicked the stool out from under her feet. As the ground disappeared beneath her, her body floated into the air.