ILTDAMH|CHAPTER 111

Chapter 111

Lucianne’s Trial (2)

“Marican, is the meal not to your liking?”

On the morning of the trial, Ruan asked in concern, noticing that Marican had barely touched her food.

She set down her fork and sighed softly.

“Ruan… the meal is delicious. I just feel… unsettled now that the day of the trial has actually come.”

It wasn’t the trial itself that troubled her—it was the thought of seeing Lucianne’s face again.

“If you’d rather not see her, I can go alone,” Ruan said gently, covering her hand with his.

Marican shook her head.

“No, Ruan. I’m an important witness in this trial. I have to be there. Besides… I want to finally sever all ties with the Beanomann family.”

“I understand. It’ll be a long and difficult day, so you should eat enough to keep up your strength.”

“Yes, I will, Ruan.”

At his calm encouragement, Marican forced herself to eat a few bites.

***

“You have five minutes. Make it quick.”

As the prison door creaked open, the guard spoke sharply. Penelope stepped inside.

“Lucie.”

“Mother? Mother!” Lucianne rushed to the bars, her voice trembling. “I’ve missed you so much…”

She had once been accused of regicide, only for her charges to change suddenly to treason. Treason, simply because she had carried a dagger into the imperial palace.

It was absurd. She had protested, but every lawyer who came to her cell had said the same thing—that surviving this would be impossible.

No matter what people whispered about Marican, Lucianne was nothing more than the daughter of a destitute baron. She had even been disowned and stripped of her title, yet now they called her a traitor for carrying a blade.

It must be Ruan behind all this.

That wretched woman—does she want me dead because of one stab wound?

Lucianne burned with resentment. She longed to storm into the Duke’s mansion and confront Marican face-to-face.

But she couldn’t even leave her cell. Every lawyer had told her plainly: the punishment for treason was death.

Until now, she hadn’t been allowed to see anyone but her court-appointed attorney. 

When Penelope finally appeared, Lucianne’s bottled-up sorrow exploded.

Penelope, who had spent what little money the Beanomann family had left trying to find someone—anyone—willing to defend her daughter, could only look on in anguish. No one wanted to take the case.

Just as Ruan had promised, Lucianne’s charge had been changed to treason, and every reputable attorney in the Empire said there was no hope for her.

Still, Penelope believed in the Duke’s word—he had promised that Lucianne would not die.

She had bribed a guard for a few precious minutes with her daughter before the trial. Seeing Lucianne’s face—so pale and thin she was hardly recognizable—broke Penelope’s heart.

She used to be so proud of her daughter. How did it come to this?

And in her pain, Penelope’s thoughts turned bitterly toward Marican, who had entered the Duke’s household and looked down on her ever since.

When she saw Marican stabbed, she had been horrified and worried. But later, Marican looked perfectly fine—healthier, even.

Couldn’t she have forgiven her sister once, after surviving?

As she stroked Lucianne’s frail hand, tears welled in Penelope’s eyes.

“My dear Lucie… don’t worry. No matter the outcome today—you won’t die.”

Lucianne blinked, startled.

Not die?

But every lawyer had told her she’d be executed.

“Mother… really?”

“Yes. The Duke said it himself. You’ll live, Lucie. So don’t cry, and face the court calmly. I’ve already arranged a public defender for you.”

The Duke said that?

Then it must be true. But why would he save her?

Lucianne remembered how Ruan had glared at her that day in the dungeon—how she had confessed everything out of sheer terror. Later, realizing her memories had been warped by hallucinations, she tried to retract her confession.

And now he wants to save me? Did Marican ask him to?

“The time’s up! Visitors out!” the guard barked.

Penelope clutched her daughter’s hand one last time. “It’ll be all right, my dear,” she whispered before hurrying away.

When she was gone, Lucianne exhaled shakily.

If Marican asked him to… why?

Could she really be forgiving me?

She remembered that moment—the knife, the blood, the fury in Marican’s eyes.

No. Marican isn’t the type to let go of a grudge easily.

Then what could it be?

Despite the faint hope of survival, an odd unease twisted in her chest.

Maybe she’s doing it to look virtuous—to make herself seem kind in front of high society. Yes… she’s about to debut socially. Of course she’d want to polish her image.

That thought calmed Lucianne a little.

Marican… you’re so desperate to be loved by others, aren’t you? Well, if your mercy keeps me alive, I’ll thank you for that much.

“Lucianne, prepare for the hearing.”

At the guard’s order, she stood with a composed smile.

“Yes.”

***

Because it was a closed trial, only a few nobles were present—Marquis Jenard Heinev, representing the noble faction, and Marquis Dominic Rephide, representing the imperialists, along with Harmond.

When the defendants, Antwatte and Lucianne, were escorted in, Jenard’s expression stiffened at the sight of their attorney.

Him again?

Dominic noticed his confusion and followed his gaze, frowning.

That public defender? He’s notorious for losing every case. Who on earth hired him?

Even Antwatte, who had already endured one humiliating hearing, sat expressionless, as if she expected nothing.

Lucianne, too, watched her hopeless lawyer in silence. Still, she remembered her mother’s words—you won’t die—and clung to that belief.

The trial that was expected to be fiercely contested instead turned one-sided.

Ruan and Marican’s lawyer dismantled every argument with sharp, confident precision. The defense had no proper rebuttal.

When the questioning ended, the judge looked down from the bench.

“Defense counsel, any final statement?”

“None, Your Honor.”

What?

Lucianne seethed inwardly. Useless fool. Good thing the Duke promised to spare me—if I’d relied on you, I’d be dead already.

“Then we’ll adjourn briefly.”

When the court resumed, the judge’s solemn voice filled the hall.

“Defendants Antwatte and Lucianne—stand.”

Both women rose, Antwatte shrugging off the guards who tried to assist her.

“First, Antwatte,” the judge began. “During the last rebellion, leniency was granted for your status as the former Empress. You were confined to the tower, yet instead of repentance, you plotted vengeance and attempted to assassinate Duke Ruan Canolup.

By Imperial law, any weapon brought into the palace without His Majesty’s permission is considered an act of treason—punishable by death.”

Death?

Lucianne’s eyes widened in shock, while Antwatte remained still, as if she had already accepted it.

“Your crime warrants execution,” the judge continued.

“However, considering your former rank, the Imperial Code allows you to take your own life. You are hereby ordered to do so. Do you have anything to say?”

Antwatte suddenly burst into wild laughter.

“Ha! Execution by my own hand? That’s the grand punishment you devised for me? Tell me, Emperor Viseluk—don’t you have the courage to kill me yourself? I should’ve stabbed you that day, not that Duke!”

“Watch your words, defendant!” the judge warned, but Antwatte only glared up at Dominic.

“Dominic! You—who pushed your sister into the palace as a princess and pretended to be my father’s friend! You took everything—his seat, his wealth, his honor—just because your nephew is crown prince now. You disgust me!”

“What nonsense is this, Your Majesty?” Dominic’s face flushed red.

Antwatte sneered. “You betrayed my father after taking his money! You may think you’ve won, but I know your twisted greed. And as for the Crown Prince—remember this! The throne you sit upon was bought with my son’s blood. I curse you all to dream of him every night for the rest of your wretched lives!”

“Silence her!” the judge ordered.

Guards rushed forward, forcing a gag into her mouth and tying her to the chair as she thrashed and screamed.

When the room finally fell silent, the judge turned to Lucianne.

She swallowed nervously.

“Lucianne Beanomann,” the judge said. “You planned and directed this incident. You smuggled a sword into the palace and placed it into the hands of a deranged former empress. This, too, is treason. Considering how many people you manipulated for your personal vengeance, even death would be a merciful punishment.”

What?

Marican, who had been quietly watching, lifted her gaze at those words.

Even death would be merciful? Then… what are they going to do with her?

Lucianne looked back at her mother, who stood pale and trembling in the audience.

“Therefore,” the judge declared, “this court sentences you, Lucianne Beanomann, to thirty years of labor at the Axtupia Mines.”