Chapter 102
***
The knights galloping through the heart of the Seichel Forest tilted their heads upward. The deafening rain that had pounded down on them for hours had finally stopped.
What a monster of a man, one of them thought in awe.
Those who had followed Claudio could barely believe the man’s endurance.
He hasn’t rested a single day since returning from the west… and now he’s ridden all this way again. Even riding alone demands incredible stamina.
The knights, who had set off well-rested, now felt as if their bodies were made of soaked wool—heavy, sluggish, and aching from the cold.
Claudio raised his gaze toward the clearing sky, the wet sunlight gleaming faintly through the mist. He estimated the distance. Two more hours… and we’ll reach the Revan Port.
That bastard must have already gone ahead.
Without a doubt, Lucas’s goal was to flee Stravine—to escape Claudio’s grasp once and for all.
Since Lucas had departed more than a full day before him, there was a chance he had already set sail the night before.
Claudio’s jaw tightened until his teeth ground together.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll chase him down.
What mattered now was getting to Revan Port even a second faster. If Lucas had already left, then at least Claudio could gather precise information before the trail went cold.
Then—something caught his eye.
Wheel tracks.
They had appeared faintly at the edge of the forest—imprints pressed deep into the softened mud. The rain had left the earth slick, and so the marks were unmistakable. But strangely… instead of turning onto the main road, the carriage had veered into a narrow side path.
This road… it’s hardly ever used—except by those who know where it leads.
There were no villages here. At most, a few scattered huts where lonely woodsmen might live—like the small house where Marsha once hid in the Tora Forest.
Except… There was one exception.
A mansion.
A large estate hidden near the outskirts of Seichel Forest—the same one that had drawn Claudio here in the first place.
That mansion was supposed to be a temporary stopover.
If things had gone according to plan, Lucas should have left it by last night at the latest.
But if the rain had slowed his travel…
Even then, staying the night would’ve been a poor choice. Anyone with sense would’ve pushed through toward the harbor.
Driving a carriage through mud is difficult enough. If the person inside was important—someone kidnapped—he wouldn’t risk it.
So perhaps Lucas had chosen to wait out the storm. To stay hidden until the skies cleared.
If that’s the case… Marsha could still be there.
Claudio gripped the reins tightly. He had to reach that mansion—now.
***
The revolver shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window, and Marsha’s wide eyes caught the glint of it.
“What… what are you doing?” Lucas asked, his voice trembling.
Rosanna exhaled shakily, forcing herself to ignore the tremor in her throat.
“Lucas. I’ll give you a choice.”
Her lips curved into a distorted smile.
“Let’s kill her.”
“!”
Lucas’s eyes widened.
What did she just say? Kill… me?
Marsha prayed she’d misheard. But Rosanna’s next words shattered that hope.
“She knows you killed the Count! What’s the point of letting her live? End it—end her, before she ruins everything!”
Lucas’s mouth fell open, but Rosanna steadied her grip on the gun.
“If you start babbling about locking her up or sparing her, I’ll shoot you instead.”
Her eyes glistened, wild and desperate.
“Choose, Lucas. The woman who’d kill for you—or the one who only blames you!”
Marsha felt the ground fall away beneath her.
She had spoken out of desperation, believing—stupidly—that if she told the truth, Rosanna might pity her, might side with her against Lucas.
But now she saw the truth.
Rosanna didn’t care about right or wrong. She hated her enough to kill her—and loved Lucas enough to do it with her own hands.
I made the worst possible choice.
Foolish Marsha Emelide… you’ve brought your own death upon yourself.
Meanwhile, Lucas’s mind was in chaos.
She’s lost her damn mind!
Kill someone? With what—that tiny revolver she can barely hold straight?
His eyes darted toward his jacket, soaked from the rain and draped over a chair nearby. His own gun was tucked into the inner pocket. He could reach it easily—but drawing it out without getting shot was another matter entirely.
I need her to lower the gun.
If he could just get her to point it away for a second, he could take control.
Raising both hands, Lucas spoke in a calm, gentle tone.
“Rosanna. I understand why you’re angry. I’ve been cruel to you—terribly cruel.”
The expression on his face was flawless—guilt and sincerity so perfect that even someone who had known his deceitful ways for years could’ve been fooled.
Rosanna’s expression wavered.
Seeing that, Lucas slowly began to lower his hands.
“I know it’s too late for words, but I don’t want you to become a murderer because of me.”
Her eyes shimmered. “Then… will you do it? Will you kill her for me?”
She wanted—no, needed—him to choose her.
But Lucas hesitated. Just for a moment.
And in that single moment, Rosanna saw the truth.
Even now, even in this moment, he couldn’t choose her.
Her trembling eyes hardened into venom.
“Rosanna, wait—” Lucas began, realizing his mistake too late. “All right. I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.”
It was the answer she’d wanted—but far too late.
“Rosanna, listen—”
He took a careful step toward her.
“D-Don’t move,” she warned, clutching the revolver tighter.
Her hand trembled, her breathing ragged. Fear and fury battled inside her. She was terrified Lucas might try to stop her—but she also hated him for making her feel this way.
Why won’t you ever choose me? Why do you always look at her?!
Lucas saw her wavering and thought he could still talk her down.
“Rosanna. You know I’d never hurt you—”
The moment he moved his foot—
“Don’t move!”
Bang!
The gunshot ripped through the air.
For a heartbeat, Marsha forgot how to breathe.
“Wh–what…?”
Rosanna’s hand shook violently.
“Lucas…?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor—where Lucas lay sprawled, blood blooming beneath him like dark roses.
“Ugh…!”
Crimson pooled across the wet floor, mingling with the last traces of rainwater.
“N–no… no!”
Rosanna clutched her face, screaming.
She had pulled the trigger—but only as a warning. She had never meant to hit him.
“Lucas, please! Don’t die—please, I’ll fix it, I’ll do anything!”
Her desperate voice filled the room.
Lucas tried to speak—but his mouth filled with blood.
That damn woman…
He wanted to curse her, to shove her away, but he couldn’t even draw breath.
“Cough—!”
The agony was blinding.
He had never felt pain like this before. Why now—when everything had been within his grasp?
I was so close…
He had come all this way, only to lose Marsha—not to the Duke, not to fate, but to Rosanna.
So this is how I die…?
If he died, would he see the Countess again? The gentle woman who had once looked at him with such kindness?
No—her eyes would be filled with nothing but hatred now. Hatred for the man who murdered her husband and destroyed her daughter’s life.
No… I won’t see her. She’s in heaven. I don’t belong there.
And Marsha—she would go there too, one day. Somewhere he could never reach.
With the last of his strength, he reached out his trembling hand.
Rosanna tried to take it—but before she could, Lucas rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“M… Marsha…”
“!”
Her eyes snapped wide.
And in the next breath, Lucas’s body went limp.
His hand fell lifelessly to the floor.
Rosanna’s outstretched hand hovered in the air for a moment—then dropped, empty.
“Haha… ha…”
A strangled laugh tore from her throat—half sob, half scream.
“Marsha…”
Her ruined face, streaked with tears and smeared makeup, turned toward her.
“If it weren’t for you… none of this would’ve happened.”
Rosanna slowly rose to her feet.
The revolver gleamed once more in her shaking hand.
“Rosanna…”
Marsha spoke softly—wanting to tell her to stop, to calm down—but she knew words would only make things worse.
“If it weren’t for you—!”
Rosanna pulled the trigger again.
