TFR 31

chapter 31

Rosellina thought that Gunter was struggling with emotions he didn’t even need to bear. She looked at him and spoke.

“Gunter.”

“I’m sorry, Roberto.”

Rosellina placed her hand on Gunter’s arm, which was still tightly wrapped in tattered bandages.

“I am a sinner. And you have shown the best consideration possible to someone like me.”

“…….”

“Thank you. I will also do my best to pay for my sins.”

As always, Rosellina spoke firmly. If she were to be whipped, she would endure it. If she had to be dragged in a cart, she would go. Her life was going to end anyway. Enduring more physical pain wouldn’t make her any more miserable. Rather, if it could help the people she wanted to protect, there would be nothing happier. She wanted, even just a little, to atone for the unhappiness she had caused others. That was truly all there was to it.

Watching Rosellina’s consistently calm expression, Gunter felt his emotions growing more complicated. As he scratched his head and stood up, Rosellina also rose from her seat.

“Ah, Monterno Aventurine will be coming along too. Apparently, we need to see what kind of magic he possesses.”

Rosellina nodded. That information held no meaning for her. Gunter seemed to want to say something else but ultimately left the room. Rosellina glanced at the mask he had brought her—the very item the weapons dealer had sold her.

She believed that the moment she put on the mask, her true self would disappear, leaving only the sinner, Roberto Bridam. She knew that would always have to be the case. Without hesitation, she placed the mask over her face. Surprisingly, it made her feel much calmer.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Something cut sharply through the wind, making Dantes flinch—it sounded like a whip being swung. Rosellina wasn’t the type to make moaning sounds, so it made him even more uneasy. If he didn’t listen carefully, he couldn’t tell whether she was being hit or not.

“Marco, please, just stay still.”

“I bought this whip today; it sticks to the hand so well,” Marco said, swinging a short riding whip through the air. Dantes frowned at the sight. Since their argument in the morning, Marco had been deliberately trying to annoy him.

Cesario, unable to bear it, went over to Marco and snatched the whip away.

“Ah, my whip! Why are you taking it?”

“Stop it.”

“Tch.”

Marco clicked his tongue. The sharp whooshing sounds disappeared, but Dantes’ hearing had become even more acute, as if he were trying to detect Roberto’s footsteps among the marching sounds.

Whoosh. Thud.

He clearly heard someone being struck—a heavy sound, hitting a person’s body. Dantes stiffened his neck to look. Soon, Monterno shouted.

“Why are you hitting him?! He’s struggling to walk as it is!”

It seemed Roberto had been hit. Dantes couldn’t hear what the knight replied. Gunter looked back worriedly.

“Someone’s enjoying themselves, huh?”

Marco sneered openly. Dantes said nothing.

Enjoying themselves? That wasn’t it. It felt more like someone had placed a water-soaked bundle on his shoulders—heavy and agonizing. Despite insisting that Roberto be punished, Dantes couldn’t understand this suffering.

“He lied. He deceived me, tricked me. Was that how much he wanted to push me away?”

He kept repeating this to himself. His heart wavered; he feared that he might rush to Roberto now, put him in the carriage, and call a doctor to take care of him.

Yet, simultaneously, his heart remained restless. He had only just realized that Roberto was a woman. Could she endure this forced march, those hard shoes, and the whip?

Dantes’ fundamental feeling toward Roberto was betrayal. Despite being a woman—being a woman—he hated that she had tried to frustrate him.

He hated the idea that it could be said to no longer matter. It couldn’t be meaningless. For six long years, Dantes had repeatedly blamed himself and regretted it. If only he hadn’t made that confession, he might not have lost Roberto.

But that wasn’t it. The confession might not have been sinful. Still, Roberto had deceived him and insisted on paying for her sins only through death or punishment.

“Why choose such a difficult path? Why?”

He would never forgive her. He had vowed it several times, yet the resolve crumbled like sandcastles.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

The sound of something whipping through the wind rang again. Dantes nearly stopped his horse, but he gripped the reins tightly.

“I won’t waver. Not over such shallow emotions.”

Dantes steeled himself. Even if he had these feelings, she would not move a muscle. She might even advise him not to act foolishly. Looking after her offered no advantage to him—but he still wanted to choose it. He wanted to care for her, to keep her by his side, and express those feelings plainly.

Still, he recalled Rosellina’s words vividly—the cold, emotionless voice between dawn and morning:

“Whether I am a woman or a man, I am a sinner who has mocked the royal family. By accepting the punishment decreed by His Majesty, I will atone to everyone for living a false life.”

Dantes bit his lip and then shouted:

“Speed up! At this pace, when will we ever reach the palace?”

Everyone was taken aback. They had never seen him so irritable, and he wasn’t considering Rosellina at all. Despite being disoriented from repeated whipping, Rosellina tried to focus on his words.

The procession began to quicken slightly. Rosellina kept pace. Even the soldiers, burdened with their gear, looked somewhat weary from the faster pace. Monterno, sitting behind the carriage watching Roberto, wore a grim expression. Simultaneously, he was impressed by Roberto’s endurance.

“If Lord Porte saw this, he wouldn’t have done such things.”

“Nonsense. A traitor would betray under any circumstances. Blinded by jealousy, no doubt.”

“Even if His Majesty wasn’t there, Lord Porte might have lost. Look how she keeps up this pace.”

“Monster. A monster.”

Monterno, with his sharp hearing, caught soldiers whispering. He couldn’t understand it. These knights labeled the true, enduring strength of a soldier as monstrous, even envious. Could they really belong to the kingdom’s top royal knight corps?

If he were a knight, he would have wanted to learn from Rosellina’s mental fortitude and combat ability. But such people seemed nonexistent.

“Unlike what the wizard said, Emperor Dantes acts entirely as he pleases. Maybe the Delion Knights aren’t anything special. They’re all fools.”

Monterno recalled his mentor, who advised him to use magic for the empire’s benefit.

“Head to the capital, Senreita. Meet Dantes Belkin.”

“His Majesty the Emperor? Why?”

“So you can use the magic you’ve learned correctly.”

“What does using it correctly mean?”

“Not to torment others or serve personal gain, but to benefit many.”

“Is Dantes Belkin living that way?”

“Now he is. I hope he remains the same when you meet him.”

Monterno remembered ignoring his mentor’s worries in the past.

“Dantes Belkin has changed. Master. Or perhaps it was your mistake. The real one is not him but the person before my eyes.”

Without a single complaint, Monterno watched the prisoner march steadily onward. Seeing that the first look in his eyes hadn’t changed, he realized his judgment was correct.

This person was certain. He would not misuse Monterno’s magic.

Monterno’s admiration for Roberto grew clearer. At the same time, his resentment toward Dantes sharpened.

The knight, captivated by the thrill of striking someone, swung the whip more and more often. Monterno gave up even on shouting. The more he held back, the harder Roberto seemed to be hit.

Monterno felt almost sickened by human cruelty. He turned his gaze from behind and peeked out the window. Dantes and his companions led the procession boldly ahead. Gunter and Marco glanced back, but Dantes and Cesario faced forward resolutely.

“What exactly counts as insulting the royal family? How much must one insult them to deserve this? Is the royal family really that important?”

Monterno could not suppress the thought, even though he shouldn’t have entertained such questions.