The Final Verdict
Terria spoke like a judge pronouncing a death sentence on a criminal. And in truth, he was that judge. I was the would-be murderer.
Of course, the nonsense lay in the fact that the judge himself was a killer. Who in a courtroom would ever suspect a judge of having murder on his record?
And the defendant—me—could only utter a single word, as if gripped by cognitive dissonance.
"Ah... aaah..."
Why? How? No, this can't be real. It's a dream, right? No way. This has to be a dream.
A feeble moan, laced with that very intent, repeated endlessly in rhythm with the dripping water drops: plink, plink.
I lacked the capacity to even grasp the situation. It felt almost like my brain was deliberately denying reality.
This moment felt like a dream. But that wasn't the point.
This wasn't some trivial tale of a man pouring wine over a woman's head in a hotel restaurant. It wasn't just wine soaking my hair, drenching my clothes, and pooling on the floor.
This was my life.
It was life itself, because what had been poured was the potion that could resurrect the dead.
I'd calculated the possibility from the start—that the drug mixed into the wine might have been something else entirely, leaving my one remaining body swap potion intact.
But I quickly realized that wasn't the case. If it hadn't been the body swap potion, Terria would have had no reason to commit such an atrocity right now.
He wasn't the type to lie about something like this. Even now, I could faintly hear him explaining the situation to the other two—the drug in the wine, the insolent slave trying to steal her master's body.
At the same time, my damp, chilled scalp hammered the brutal truth into my brain.
Gone.
My last chance was gone.
The chance to return everything to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. It was gone.
"Aaah... ah..."
I kept emitting that single moan, like a broken music box stuck on one note. The humiliation of a woman doused with wine over her head? It didn't matter a speck.
That wasn't what counted.
Six months. At least six months.
The time it would take to brew the potion again: six months. And that was the minimum—not exactly six, but the barest estimate. It might take years.
I'd have to live like this for at least six months.
And from the start... would it even end after six months?
Terria wouldn't just let me brew the potion willingly. So, did that mean I'd have to live indefinitely like this?
In this body, at the very bottom of the social ladder?
At that thought, my mind endlessly murmured to itself.
What... what should I do? What can I do now? Do I have any moves left? No. Nothing.
A pain like my insides and outsides were being churned together surged through me. Those facts exploded like bombs in my heart, shattering my inner world to pieces.
Cain and Clechia, hearing his explanation, gasped in shock. Their disappointment, anger, contempt—it all flew at me like blades, mercilessly shredding my limbs.
They demanded I say it. The words you say when you've done wrong. The act of admitting your mistakes or sins and begging forgiveness.
A sudden silence pressed down on the air, heavy and thick. Passersby glanced our way, then spotted the Blue Tower Lord and hastily looked away.
How much time passed like that? Finally, my red lips parted.
"I... I'm sorry..."
My dazed pupils refused to focus. Without knowing where to look or what exactly to apologize for, I stammered it out.
"I'm sorry... please forgive me..."
I hadn't done anything wrong, but I had no choice but to meet their demand. If there was any sin, maybe it was devising a plan that failed.
And then Terria spoke.
"This is partly my fault, too."
He placed a hand on my head.
"I should have trained her more thoroughly to prevent something like this. I've shown you all an embarrassing display."
"I'll retrain this insolent slave who dared to stab her master in the back. Cain, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave first. Clechia, see you later."
Terria gave a slight bow of greeting, then yanked my wrist. I followed powerlessly, like a cow being led to slaughter—not bellowing in instinctive dread like one sensing death, just blankly trailing behind him without resistance.
We returned to the room. Terria looked down at me.
I hadn't even dried my hair, trembling in terror like a puppy before a tiger. Just the sight of him raising his hand made my body shrink back automatically.
Violence. This body was so utterly helpless against violence.
He must be furious, too. He'd even said he would "educate" me. Yeah, I'd be the same in his shoes.
Would he punish me like last time? Would I just have to take it, helpless?
Everything was meaningless in the face of violence. The shock of losing my last chance would fade quickly, overshadowed by physical pain.
I simply hung my head, waiting for his next move.
But after a long pause, Terria finally spoke.
"That's it? That's all you've got?"
"...?"
I lifted my head to look at him.
"Just this much?"
Terria seemed disappointed somehow.
"Wh-what...?"
I couldn't fathom the reason. Why? Shouldn't he be thrilled that my plan had failed?
What reason did he have to be disappointed?
"Slave brand."
Reading my expression, he explained kindly—yet passionately.
"Why do you think I didn't use it? One command, and I could've stopped you from doing anything. I just let it slide, and this is all you managed? This pathetic little scheme was the best you could prepare?"
"..."
"Ariel, honestly, I'm disappointed. You think I swapped bodies just to see this? Prepare properly next time. You're smart, aren't you? Better than those other idiots. Come at me with something more meticulous, more perfect—try to take me down for real!"
Terria shouted flatly. All I felt was bewilderment. Had there been some giveaway?
"...How... how did you know?"
It was almost evasion. I hoped it was coincidence, some unpredictable variable I could blame to excuse myself. Otherwise, I couldn't bear it.
"Simple."
His tone dripped with pity.
"Simple...?"
"Don't tell me Dekir betrayed—"
"Dekir didn't betray you. You were just stupid. Think about it. Why would I hang my coat in plain sight with the potion vial right there in the pocket?"
"...From the start, you wanted me to take it...?"
"Exactly. I knew everything."
He explained step by step.
"I knew you went to Cain's room yesterday, too. You said you were going for a walk, but you were gone for ages. And the slave brand flickered. Your location was secondary—what the hell were you talking about for so long?"
"..."
"Not small talk, right? Something heavy enough you wanted to pour your heart out. So, pointless as it was, you tried revealing your identity, and the slave brand flickered. Going to Cain of all people meant you were pretty desperate mentally. Right?"
He pressed for an answer.
"Yeah..."
"So I figured I'd give you a shot, just once."
"A shot...?"
"At least while you had the potion, you'd have some spine. Honestly, I hoped you'd hold onto it a bit longer. But I didn't expect you'd use it in less than a day."
Terria shrugged.
"What could I do? Once you'd used the potion, I had to stop you. I didn't give it to you so you could win. Now, let's break it down. Could you really entrust a waiter at the restaurant with a job like that? Not just any mage, but slipping something into the Blue Tower Lord's drink?"
"...How did you know I'd already used the potion?"
"You left the room this afternoon, claiming you had business. Suspicious as hell. You probably watched for me following, but I didn't need to tail you. I knew where you were going."
I listened blankly.
"Who else would you ask for help? Only one option: the Gray Tower Lord. I knew about the scene you caused at his lecture. No one else would listen to you."
"..."
"So you went to Dekir. Too bad—he'd already handed the potion to the waiter. No way to retrieve it. So I just waited for dinner."
I'd been played completely in the palm of his hand.
"Then why... you didn't have to humiliate me like that. Not in front of everyone, pouring it on my head. You could've just not drunk the wine."
I acted aggrieved, though there was no real grievance. It was close to whining.
"Why should I?"
Terria tilted his head.
"Why go easy on you? Why spare you? You're the slave, I'm the master. Give me one reason."
"..."
"Ha, Ariel. You're too disappointing. That was me giving you a chance. I expected something impressive from you. But this obvious ploy..."
Still—he continued.
"No way back now, huh? I didn't throw away the potion or sell it. You used it. Right?"
Terria wore a cruel smile. He looked truly demonic.
He burned into my brain the fact I'd refused to accept—that the plan's failure wasn't coincidence, but my fault.
"I did nothing. I even gave you an opportunity. But you threw it away yourself. No one to blame but you."
With that, he turned and left the room.
I collapsed onto the floor. My legs gave out; I couldn't stand anymore.
It was as good as tossing away a chance I'd stumbled upon with my own hands.
I should have been more cautious. More meticulous.
The situation was so absurd, so unfair, I'd acted on impulse. That was wrong.
I knew his personality, his ironclad preparedness for every contingency. I shouldn't have done it.
It was something even a little thought would have revealed: too obvious for him to fall for.
Terria had prepared for over a year. Maybe sharpened his blade for three full years.
I couldn't even catch up to his heel.
He wouldn't drink the potion willingly. Falling for it knowingly made no sense.
Thus, the last potion—it was as good as gone by my hand.
The shock of that truth was crystal clear. I was utterly incompetent, with no pride left to throw in his face.
The conference ended just like that.