Chapter 20: Misunderstanding and Truth (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 20: Misunderstanding and Truth (2)
Mirabelle stood frozen, staring blankly at the scene before her.
Her lips were parched.
Her mind had gone completely white.
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Her eyes remained fixed on the skeleton.
That man… is him?
That skeleton is my father?
A traitor?
He tried to hide a witch?
It can’t be.
There must be some kind of misunderstanding.
Mirabelle remembered that day as if it were yesterday. Just a few months ago, right here, he had cast her out so coldly. She couldn’t believe that same man had died a criminal.
She had never doubted for a moment that he had sold her to save his own skin.
Her head spun.
The whole situation was just… confusing.
Just then, Karami, who had been watching from the side, stroked his chin and offered his thoughts in a serious tone.
“Hmm, if I were to piece the story together, I’d say he got caught. The Knight Order must have found out about you, Miss Mirabelle.”
Witches passed their bloodline through the mother.
Once the knights and clergy learned the couple had a daughter, they must have tracked them to this city.
“Thinking he might be killed for associating with a witch, the man sold you to a slave trader. A convenient way to get you away and make some money on the side.”
He had gotten rid of the witch, but his history of being with her remained. So the Knight Order came for him.
“The knights found him and promised to spare his life if he handed you over, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Because by that point, you had already been sold as a slave and had left the city.”
Karami’s voice flowed into her ears like water.
“But the knights assumed he was hiding you on purpose. You’re his daughter, after all. Who would ever imagine a man would sell his own daughter into slavery?”
Is… that it?
“In the end, he couldn’t prove his innocence and was executed. Hoist by his own petard. He was caught in his own trap. Isn’t it all so amusing?”
Yes, that’s it. Karami’s analysis had to be right. The man had abandoned her, only to die because of it.
“Haha…”
A smile formed on Mirabelle’s lips.
But it was an awkward, unnatural smile.
It looked less like a laugh and more like a twitch.
The man who sold her had been executed and turned into a public spectacle. It was a satisfying story. She should feel a sense of cathartic release.
But for some reason, she felt no relief.
Was it the emptiness of her target for revenge being gone, just as Colton had once warned?
No, this was subtly different.
Her chest felt tight.
Why do I feel this way?
It felt like she was missing something important.
‘What did Father look like, at the end?’
A pale complexion, like a man haunted by ghosts.
He had handed her over to the slave trader with rough hands.
But the look in his eyes…
“…”
She couldn’t quite remember.
“After all the hell you went through for revenge, he just had to go and die on his own. What a selfish man, right to the very end. But that’s all right. We have that magic we learned, don’t we?”
Magic that could interfere with the soul.
With that, she could still have her revenge.
If she could finish it with her own hands, this tight knot in her chest would surely loosen. It had to.
“Let’s start with the girl next to him. She died unjustly, so it would be good to at least resolve her lingering regrets, don’t you think?”
Mirabelle slowly nodded, her head as heavy as a stone, and directed the Heavenly Covenant toward the skeleton. She channeled her mana and cast the spell.
But nothing happened.
“Perhaps her soul has worn away with time. Or maybe she had no lingering attachments to this world and has already moved on.”
Normally, Mirabelle would have wondered how her master knew such things in such detail, but her thoughts didn’t stray in that direction now.
Because next, it was the man’s turn.
A wave of anxiety echoed in her chest—what if, like the girl, the man’s soul didn’t appear?
“Miss Mirabelle. Let’s hear it from his own mouth. Why he abandoned you.”
Mirabelle’s staff trembled as she moved it to the side.
And once more, she cast the spell.
Swaaaa…
This time, there was a change.
A white halo of light filled the dawn plaza.
The skeleton began to glow.
A white haze shimmered above it before pouring down to the ground like smoke.
The smoke gathered and swirled.
A blurry shape gradually sharpened until…
“Ah…”
Mingling with Mirabelle’s gasp, it took on a solid form.
A man had appeared.
A middle-aged man with a gentle face.
As he slowly turned his head to look around, Mirabelle called out to him in a low voice.
“Father…?”
The man’s name was Harold.
Reacting to the sound, Harold’s gaze fell upon Mirabelle. The moment their eyes met, a look of horror filled his.
“Mi-Mirabelle…? Is that really you? N-No, it can’t be. I’m sure I handed you over to the slave trader…?”
Flustered, Harold looked around. The moment he realized where he was, his face turned pale—so pale it was noticeable even on his faintly glowing, ghostly form.
“You… you…!”
Harold strode forward, his steps so heavy it was as if she could hear phantom footfalls.
“What are you doing here?! Go! Get out of here, now!”
Harold tried to push Mirabelle away, but his hands merely passed through her body, having no effect.
After trying several more times, Harold realized it was useless and looked down at his translucent hands.
“Wh-What is this…?”
Karami interjected.
“You are dead, Mr. Harold. What you see now is merely an illusion crafted from your soul.”
“Wh-Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“I am Karami, a slave trader. And I am Miss Mirabelle’s master.”
“A slave trader? Mirabelle’s master? And I’m… dead?”
Harold struggled to process the sudden flood of information, but only for a moment. He didn’t have time to dwell on such trivialities.
“That’s not important. You’re different from the slave trader I remember, but as long as you’re not one of the clergy, it doesn’t matter. Mr. Karami, please, will you take Mirabelle and leave this city?”
“May I ask why?”
“That’s…”
“Is it because Miss Mirabelle is a witch?”
“H-How did you know?!”
Karami simply shrugged.
Looking utterly lost, Harold didn’t hesitate. He fell prostrate before Karami.
“P-Please, I’m begging you. Please don’t tell anyone that this child is a witch! I’ll do anything…”
Harold started to say, but he was already dead. The only thing he could do for the living was wish them well and tell them not to join him anytime soon.
Slave traders were beings who cared only for profit.
He had nothing to offer.
All that washed over him was endless despair.
The plaza fell silent. But the silence was filled with an indescribable pressure, an atmosphere so heavy it felt like a reaper might appear at any moment.
A flippant laugh shattered the tension.
“Haha, you needn’t worry about that. I take exceptionally good care of my slaves. Especially one as excellent as Miss Mirabelle.”
“…”
“But this is strange. I was told you sold Miss Mirabelle to a slave trader, Mr. Harold, yet you now look no different from any other father worried about his daughter. Isn’t that right, Miss Mirabelle?”
Mirabelle flinched.
She had been feeling it too.
A sense of dissonance that pricked at her heart.
Caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, all she could do was grip her staff tightly. It usually helped calm her, if only a little. But right now, it wasn't working.
“I had no choice… There was no other option!”
Harold let out a desperate cry, confessing the misery of that day as he lay collapsed on the ground.
“I had to send her as far away as possible. To a place the rumors of a witch wouldn’t reach. But the Knight Order was closing in, and someone had to buy time…”
“And you took on that role, Mr. Harold.”
“…Yes. I had to save Mirabelle, even if it meant my own death. But I couldn’t just send her off alone. The lands outside the city are teeming with demonic beasts; she would never have survived. I had to find someone who could protect her, who would look after her. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find anyone suitable.”
“So you chose a slave trader?”
Harold nodded heavily.
“A cute and pretty girl like Mirabelle has value as a commodity. They wouldn’t treat her poorly. I was certain that, at the very least, her life would be guaranteed.”
Harold’s judgment had been correct.
Mirabelle, with the blood of a witch, exuded a mysterious aura that couldn’t be hidden by her status. It blended harmoniously with her lovely features, creating a captivating charm that stole one’s gaze.
Thanks to that, Mirabelle survived.
She was taken all the way to Kalia, the capital of the Traul Kingdom, a journey that took weeks by carriage from Fracture.
She was put up for auction at the kingdom’s largest slave market, and her appearance was as neat and clean as a nobleman’s child.
His initial goal had been completely achieved.
Even if, by the time she got there, the girl’s heart had been torn to shreds.
A sneer touched Karami’s lips.
“Handing your daughter over to a slave trader to protect her. Talk about a contradiction. Even for a slave trader like myself, that’s a ridiculous idea.”
At those words, Harold snapped his head up.
“You don’t know a parent’s heart! Do you have any idea what it feels like for a parent to hand their child over to a slave trader? Do you know what it’s like to know you’re sending them to their death, but to pray that they just, somehow, stay alive?!”
Harold roared, spewing his indignation.
Karami’s reaction, however, was lukewarm.
“A needlessly touching story. This rather ruins the taste of revenge. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Mirabelle?”
Mirabelle didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
She was frozen in place, like a statue.
This can’t be happening.
Something is wrong.
Father sacrificed himself for me?
She had to confirm it.
She wouldn’t believe it until she saw it with her own eyes.
Once again, Mirabelle worked her magic in the plaza. A spell that read the memories of a soul.
Harold’s memories played out like a film.
The scene was from that day.
Harold coldly pushing her toward the slave trader as a crying Mirabelle reached for him. But her small hand only flailed, never reaching him.
The vision continued.
The rest of the story, the part she never knew.
Harold, captured by the knights.
Thrown into a dark dungeon.
His fingernails pulled out.
His fingers broken.
Branded with a hot iron.
Thrown into a pit full of snakes.
After enduring every torture imaginable, he was sentenced to be hanged, still barely conscious as they—
Thud.
Karami covered Mirabelle’s eyes with his hand.
“Let’s stop there. This isn’t good for your emotional health.”
It was the first time she had ever heard such a serious, low tone from him. Mirabelle’s arm, holding the staff, dropped limply to her side, and soon after, the vision vanished.
A hot liquid pooled in Karami’s hand.
Mirabelle had seen it.
She had seen Harold watching her go, a familiar smile on his face, the same one she had seen every day.
She had seen him endure brutal torture without ever saying a word.
Mirabelle finally understood.
She understood the hidden story.