I Saved the Villainess's Neck
Stopping the execution was simpler than I had expected.
The real problem came afterward.
“Condemnation Recorder Lucia Bennett.”
Bishop Hadrian called my name. His voice was calm. Almost too calm, which made it all the more ominous.
“You are simultaneously casting doubt on both the White Crown Sect’s official verdict and the imperial evidence protocol.”
“I am not doubting the protocol. I am simply confirming the blanks in the record.”
I clutched the record tablet tightly to my chest.
My fingers were ice-cold. Only moments ago the execution ground had been stifling with the heat of the crowd, yet now it felt as though every breath of air was being sucked into the stigma on the inside of my left wrist.
Hadrian smiled.
“Very well. How very like a recorder. Then tell me—what exactly is blank?”
If I wanted to survive, I could not speak the original novel’s knowledge outright.
Evelyn is innocent. I saw it in the hidden route of the original story.
The moment those words left my lips, I would either be dragged away as a madwoman or, far more dangerously, the sect would begin digging into the source of that knowledge. The stigma backlash was already tightening around my throat. Whenever I tried to speak the truth directly, my left wrist burned with frost and my voice choked off.
So I had to speak through the record.
Only what Lucia Bennett could possibly know.
“The silver cup was designated as the third piece of evidence from the banquet hall. However, the evidence collector was the imperial chamberlain, while the person who brought it into the sect’s warehouse was a priest of the White Crown Sect. The interval between those two points is missing.”
“Transport records are sometimes organized after the fact.”
“This is core evidence in a condemnation trial. Post-facto organization is impossible.”
The moment I finished speaking, a low murmur rippled through the spectator seats. Nobles exchanged glances. Some priests glared at me.
Hadrian’s smile thinned just a fraction.
“The recorder has studied procedure well.”
“Thank you.”
“However, it is difficult to consider that blank significant enough to halt an execution.”
“There is one more.”
This time I spoke first.
Hadrian’s eyes narrowed faintly.
I pulled out the thin supplementary record sheet tucked beneath the main tablet. My hand trembled, causing the paper to flutter slightly. But the tremor was small enough that only I could feel it.
“The reaction color of the stigma poison detected in the silver cup is recorded as blue-white.”
“That is correct.”
“However, the emergency record left by the on-site priest immediately after His Highness the Crown Prince collapsed states that the silver cup’s reaction color was ‘silver-gray.’”
The noise inside the execution ground cut off a beat late.
Silver-gray and blue-white.
To someone who did not know the original story, it might seem like a trivial difference in shade. But in this world, stigma poison was classified by reaction color. Silver-gray indicated an unfinished reagent. Blue-white indicated a sect-refined poison.
They could not be the same.
“The on-site record may have been mistaken.”
Hadrian said.
“It is possible. That is why a re-examination is necessary.”
“Recorder.”
“Yes.”
“Are you trying to postpone this execution?”
The question was gentle, but it was a trap.
If I said I wanted to save Evelyn, it would be considered personal interference. If I said she was innocent, it would be an unfounded certainty. I kept my lips sealed for a moment.
The chains on the execution platform rattled faintly.
Evelyn had turned her head to look at me. Her red eyes were still cold, yet behind that coldness a tiny crack had formed.
A person who would not beg to be spared.
Yet a person who must not die.
I set down the record tablet and clasped both hands together. It was the formal posture taken by Saintess Candidates during official proceedings.
“I was taught that condemnation must stand upon the record.”
My throat tightened. The inside of my left wrist burned as if on fire. Still, the words came out.
“If the record wavers, so does the condemnation.”
Somewhere in the spectator seats, someone swallowed hard.
Hadrian stared at me for a long time.
His eyes were as clean as his white gloves. Because of that, nothing at all could be read from them.
“Very well.”
He lowered his hand.
“The execution of the criminal Evelyn Rochard is temporarily postponed. The evidence—the silver cup—and all related records will be re-examined in the White Crown Sect’s record vault. Recorder Lucia Bennett, you are to assist in the re-examination procedure.”
Only then did my knees nearly give out.
But I held firm.
On the execution platform, the chains that had bound Evelyn were released. The sound of metal clattering to the floor echoed throughout the entire execution ground.
She looked down at her freed wrists. Red marks from the shackles stood out sharply against her pale skin. The left wrist in particular bore a deep bruise.
Noticing that I was staring at the mark, Evelyn lifted her head.
Our eyes met.
This time, she was the one who approached first.
Her steps down the execution platform stairs were slow. Everyone made way for her. Even the people who had been cursing her as a villainess only moments ago held their breath as she drew near.
I should have stepped back.
I needed to.
Yet my legs refused to move.
Evelyn stopped right in front of me. Her posture was so straight it was hard to believe she had just stood on the execution platform. Up close, I could see that the sleeves of her dress were torn, and the metallic scent of chains still clung to her wrists.
“Lucia Bennett.”
She spoke my name.
A formal, cold address.
Yet strangely, hearing my name from her lips made my heart skip a beat.
“Yes, Lady Rochard.”
“Why did you do it?”
I could not answer.
I could not say it was because of my knowledge of the original story. I could not say I knew she was innocent. And saying she must not die would be far too personal.
So I chose the safest words possible.
“The record seemed strange.”
Evelyn simply looked at me.
That short silence somehow felt unbearably long.
“You really can’t lie.”
“It is not a lie.”
“But it’s not the whole truth, is it?”
Her hand rose.
I reflexively tried to pull away. But Evelyn was not fast. She moved slowly, gracefully. That very slowness left no room to escape.
She took hold of my left wrist.
The place where the stigma had frozen solid only moments ago.
Her hand was warm—unbelievably warm for someone who had just stood upon the execution platform.
“You saved me, and now you’re trying to run away?”
Her voice was low.
The entire execution ground was still watching us.
I felt my face burning.
“I am not running. I am simply participating in the re-examination procedure…”
“Good.”
Evelyn cut me off.
“Then you will carry out that re-examination procedure to the very end.”
“Me?”
“You’re the one who stopped it.”
Her fingers wrapped a little more tightly around my wrist. It did not hurt. Yet I had the distinct feeling that I could not pull away.
“So take responsibility.”
I had thought I had only saved one life.
But it seemed Evelyn Rochard intended to demand far more from me than that.
It took more courage than expected to pull her hand away.
“Lady Rochard.”
“Evelyn.”
“We are still in the middle of official proceedings.”
“Then record it.”
Evelyn spoke without releasing my wrist.
“The postponed convict Evelyn Rochard has seized the wrist of Saintess Candidate Lucia Bennett so that she cannot run away.”
“I will not record that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
I could not lift my pen.
Because it was true, I could not record it. Records had to be clear. Yet this situation was anything but. A Saintess Candidate who had stopped an execution and the villainess who had descended from the platform. A supervisor and the one under supervision. The savior and the saved.
No matter which label I applied, none of them could explain the sensation of Evelyn’s fingers pressing directly over my stigma.
Hadrian’s gaze lingered on us.
He was smiling.
Smiling, yet I knew there was nothing at all amusing to him.
“Lady Rochard.”
Hadrian spoke gently.
“Please do not trouble the Saintess Candidate.”
“Since she is the one who saved my life, should she not be prepared to endure at least this much trouble?”
Evelyn answered without even turning her head.
The spectator seats stirred once more.
Cold sweat broke out across my back.
This woman was creating a public scandal in the middle of a public execution—right after her own neck had barely been spared. Yet her attitude was so utterly confident that those around her did not know how to react.
Hadrian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Candidate Lucia. The re-examination requires independence.”
“I am aware.”
“If you give the impression of being swayed by either side, the entire re-examination will be compromised.”
It was a warning.
And it was correct.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Please release my hand.”
Her red eyes turned toward me.
A brief silence.
She let go.
Far too obediently.
Which only made me more uneasy.
“Fine.”
She said.
“But you were the one who said it first. Re-examination procedure.”
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose I will be seeing you until the procedure is over.”
I could not think of a proper retort.
Hadrian was no longer smiling. He gave a low order to the priest beside him, and the priest hurriedly picked up the record tablet and withdrew. No doubt everything—my statement and Evelyn’s behavior—would be reported.
There was a high chance I had already become a target of the sect’s surveillance.
But it was too late for regret.
No—I did not even have time to regret.
In the original story, Evelyn’s innocence was only revealed long after her head had fallen. This time, I had to finish everything before that happened. Before the silver cup disappeared. Before the on-site record was altered. Before every trace of the evidence tampering was erased.
The order of events had changed.
In return, my enemies would move faster as well.
“Recorder.”
A young priest approached me cautiously.
“I will guide you to the temporary viewing room prepared for the evidence re-examination.”
I nodded.
As I began to walk, the gazes of the entire execution ground stabbed into my back. Some might think me brave. Others might think me foolish. Still others might think I had been bewitched by the villainess.
The last one was far too quick.
Truly far too quick.
Yet from behind me, Evelyn’s voice rang out.
“Lucia.”
I tried not to stop.
But my body halted first.
“When you examine the record, check the innermost edge of the silver cup.”
She spoke quietly.
“The Crown Prince always held his cup with his left hand. If the poison was real, the reaction should have concentrated on the inner right side. Yet the record states it was a full reaction.”
I turned around.
Evelyn was not smiling.
“If you want to prove my innocence, do it properly.”
My heart sank.
She knew as well.
She knew exactly where the false charge against her had gone wrong. She simply had not been given the chance to speak while standing on the execution platform.
I nodded.
“I will confirm it.”
“And Lucia.”
“Yes.”
“You just saved my neck.”
Evelyn’s voice dropped a little lower.
“So from now on, watch your own neck as well.”
Only then did I realize it.
The moment I stopped the execution, the neck placed beneath the axe was no longer just one.