Episode 1 - Clashing Convictions
The chains clanked sharply as they dragged across the stone floor.
A blood-stained whip landed with a dull thud.
“Still no intention of answering?”
Smack—.
A thick hand in a leather glove cracked across my cheek.
My vision swam for a moment. I winced, struggling to refocus as the interrogator seized a rough handful of my hair.
There. Now I could see him.
The first thing that came into focus was the rage burning in the interrogator’s eyes.
Your breath reeks, you bastard.
“Talk. Who else was part of your plan?”
I swished the blood pooled in my mouth like saliva, then spat.
Ptoo.
The crimson spatter stained his polished glove.
“Fuck off.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Please calm down, Lord Alphonse. It’s late. We can continue tomorrow.”
The frail-looking man in glasses restrained the fuming interrogator.
“Damn persistent bastard.”
“You can say that again.”
“Can’t we just cut off a few fingers?”
“The higher-ups ordered us to keep his limbs intact…”
“Ha, why treat a traitor so nicely? Is his body gilded? Do you know how hard it is to torture someone while leaving their limbs undamaged?”
“You can say that again.”
The door opened and closed. Footsteps faded into the distance.
How many days had it been?
The cold shackles descending from the ceiling tightened around my wrists, forcing me upright.
My wrists burned.
Every inch of my beaten body ached; my ribs throbbed with each breath.
I wanted to collapse, but the taut chains would not allow it.
My throat felt like it was on fire.
Lapping blood from my own wounds brought only fleeting relief before a worse thirst returned.
Should I log out?
Drinking blood had been fine there.
Ah, but that wasn’t an option anymore.
Well, it was all the same anyway.
I wondered what would happen if I died here….
They’d be terribly disappointed, wouldn’t they?
In my hazy mind I stared at the iron bars ahead.
They seemed to be moving.
No—someone was actually entering.
“Matthew.”
“Is it bearable?”
“What is a traitor doing here?”
“Traitor? Strictly speaking, I warned you well in advance.”
“Kuh. True. You and I were never in a position to throw around words like betrayal. It was business. No hard feelings.”
“I’m sorry it came to this.”
“No. I was the one who trusted you too much.”
“Tsk. Leave wounds untreated and you’ll suffer in old age.”
Matthew approached and drew a vial from his robes, pouring it over my injuries.
What was he doing?
“Shouldn’t you be using that on yourself? You must have a nasty gash on your stomach, and you’re already old. The man who put me in this state now playing doctor—what is this?”
“It is not my own will. A certain young lady implored me.”
My mind snapped into focus.
I rolled my eyes, confirming it again.
The greenish liquid in the slender bottle.
The white ointment in Matthew’s hand.
The very medicine Rebecca would prepare and apply whenever I returned injured.
Having watched over Tom’s shoulder for so long, her knowledge of herbs was remarkably deep.
“Rebecca…?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You bastard. You captured Rebecca too? What did you do to her? Fuck, were you this much of a monster?”
Hadn’t Jun protected her?
Or had the rendezvous point been discovered?
I had clearly told her to leave first if I was caught. Had something gone wrong?
Had she been taken? If so, was she here?
The underground prison of Zachsen Castle.
Baron Varenhof, lord of Zachsen, worked closely with the guild.
More accurately, he had been swallowed by them.
This was where the guild locked away and tortured those they captured at whim.
Rebecca had not grown up as roughly as I had.
If someone like her faced the overwhelming violence inflicted under the name of interrogation…
“Matthew—no, Master. I apologize for the insult.”
“Lee Han.”
“Please don’t. I’m begging you. Rebecca is Lilly’s friend. Let her go. I’ll answer everything you want.”
My head was spinning.
“Lee Han!”
“You asked how I undid the spell? I don’t know that myself. But the person who does…”
“Shh, calm yourself. You endured the brutal torture so well until now. Why falter? Miss Rebecca is safe, so watch your tongue.”
“…Really?”
“I would not betray you with something like this.”
Matthew pulled a waterskin from his pocket and offered it.
“Care for a drink?”
“…”
“I make you this one promise. I will value Miss Rebecca’s safety second only to Lilly’s. So do not fall for cheap bluffs. Endure, escape, or meet death—do as you wish. Just do not get caught by me if you break out.”
I glared at Matthew.
It was pathetic, but it eased my mind.
I had always been weak to bearded men.
They all had such silver tongues.
Matthew shook the waterskin, urging me.
“I will ask once more. Will you drink?”
“I cannot move my arms. Pour it.”
In that sweet relief—like rain after drought—came the farewell.
“I will stop by again tomorrow after work. See you then.”
That wretched old man never kept his promise.
One day earlier.
Third day of Lee Han’s imprisonment.
Bang! Bang bang bang!
The door rattled as if it would shatter.
It was the middle of the night—hardly an appropriate hour for visitors.
The Belcard household was no exception, jolted awake by the sudden uproar.
“What an insolent guest.”
Matthew rose, slipping the dagger from his bedside into his robes.
Slightly irritated by the visitor’s relentless pounding, he approached.
Worried the noise might wake his sleeping granddaughter, he stood at an angle beside the door and drew the blade.
“Who is it?”
The frantic knocking stopped at once.
For such forceful banging, the sound was surprisingly light, the point of impact low.
The person outside was likely a small woman.
Only one presence could be felt.
Things had been quiet lately. Had Shylock’s paranoia returned?
“It’s late. Come back at dawn.”
“Mr. Matthew… it’s Rebecca.”
A voice trembling with fear.
The door flew open.
“Miss Rebecca?”
The night air in early December, winter just beginning, was far from warm.
A gust of cold wind rushed in through the open doorway.
Before him stood Rebecca, a large hood pulled over her head, looking as if she might collapse at any moment.
White puffs of breath escaped her lips.
“Why are you still here?! Why have you come here!”
“Uncle, you know where Lee Han is, don’t you?”
“Can’t you read the situation? You should have fled and never looked back!”
“Take me to where Lee Han is.”
Matthew felt a suffocating tightness in his chest.
That blind, hopeless devotion.
For some time now, such single-mindedness had always left him feeling helpless.
Matthew closed the door behind her with a firm thud.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Lee Han has been imprisoned on charges of murdering Shylock…”
“Matthew!!”
Rebecca seized him by the collar.
A bizarre sight: a small girl yanking a tall, robust old man toward her.
The red gleam in her crimson eyes flickered dangerously.
“Stop bullshitting. You were the one who threw Lee Han in there, weren’t you?”
Her fragile hands, which he could brush aside if he chose.
“We both know everything now. Stop pretending.”
“…”
“Pretending to be friendly, pretending to care, pretending to worry—all of it. You stabbed Lee Han with those same hands. There’s no way he would lose to you fairly, so you must have struck him from behind.”
“Miss Rebecca, isn’t this too reckless?”
At some point a dagger had been pressed to Rebecca’s throat.
Matthew’s eyes were devoid of emotion.
The eyes of a jaded old assassin.
“I admit it all. I admit everything. So what will you do about it, Miss Rebecca? The stubbornness of the powerless is nothing but a childish tantrum.”
Matthew laid his scarred hand on her slender neck.
A little pressure and it would snap.
“Do you believe the world bends to spirit alone? Yes, I captured Lee Han. I ambushed the man who spared my life. Even now, in that underground cell, tortured while barely clinging to life, he keeps silent about your whereabouts. Yet here you are, Miss Rebecca. You are a burden. You have already burdened Lee Han enough, and now you offer your life so defenselessly to the enemy.”
Matthew slowly increased the pressure.
Red marks bloomed across her snow-white neck.
“Do you understand now? The convictions of the powerless are mere bravado and folly.”
“Then kill me.”
“What?”
“Kill me. I never planned to survive alone.”
Rebecca gave a small, bitter laugh.
“But I won’t go alone.”
“Sorry about this, Master.”
From deeper within the house, Jun emerged leading a woman.
The woman, held by the scruff with a blade at her throat, trembled so violently her legs could barely hold her.
“Lilly!”
“G-Grandfather.”
“He suddenly…”
“Uncle…?”
“Lilly… that is Jun.”
“Oh my. Jun. L-long time no see.”
Watching the scene in despair, Matthew’s shoulders slumped helplessly.
“Yes, Miss Rebecca. I lose. Let us end this ridiculous play.”
“No, this isn’t an act. I can kill. I will. So…”
“I can tell you where Lee Han is. That is possible. But it is all for your sake. Will you take Lilly hostage there as well?”
“Stop pretending to be worried! Do you think we have even one person left we can trust? When our parents died, everyone pretended not to know. They pointed at my white hair and called me cursed. If I asked for a single piece of firewood because the house was freezing, they chased me away saying I’d bring bad luck. But you… you weren’t like that. I didn’t want to trust you, but somehow I came to trust you a little. I thought that if not everyone in the world was that heartless, then maybe you were someone I could believe in!”
“I am sincere as well.”
“You’re not going to help anyway! So why interfere when I say I’ll handle it myself? If you’re not helping, then stay out of it!”
For a moment Rebecca’s eyes wavered.
Overwhelming emotion had paralyzed reason and planted foolish hope.
Her body, rigid with fury, crumpled. She clutched the hem of Matthew’s trousers.
“But… if you can help, I’ll even kneel like this. I hold no grudge for anything that happened before. So, uncle… please help Lee Han…”
“I’m sorry.”
The face that had burned with passion now drooped heavily.
Drip. Drip.
Only the sound of Rebecca’s tears falling from her collapsed position echoed in the silence.
“Mr. Matthew.”
“Yes.”
“I know helping us isn’t your duty. Just being somewhat close isn’t reason enough to risk danger.”
“…”
“But why?”
Her tear-filled eyes looked up at him.
Tears traced fresh paths down her cheeks.
The cold moonlight seemed to sanctify those trails.
“I wasn’t even asking for help. So why are you standing in our way?”
“Rebecca…”
“Don’t say you were just doing what had to be done. You know what kind of life Lee Han has lived. You’re the one who chose to ignore it all.”
“…”
“If you had ignored it this time too, everything would have ended. So tell me the reason. If there is none, stop the hypocrisy and kill me. That’s what you should do.”
Matthew let out a long sigh.
“Yes, it must be hard to understand. Why I would go to such lengths.”
He turned to look at his granddaughter.
“Lilly. Would you leave us for a moment?”
“G-Grandfather. I want to hear it too. Don’t tell me not to listen today. I know you hide many things from me.”
Though he had no intention of harming Rebecca, Lilly stood trembling, hands raised as if to shield her.
Beside her, Jun awkwardly maintained his grip, knife still at the woman’s neck, unsure whether he should release her.
Matthew surveyed the old house.
A home bearing the traces of his daughter and granddaughter.
A home that sadly preserved memories running along an eternal parallel.
“Lilly, you have become an adult now as well.”
“Sniff… sob… sob.”
The woman quietly shedding tears. His granddaughter sobbing loudly before her. His disciple standing beside them, knife in hand, at a loss.
“Yes, it is a story you deserve to hear too.”
It was something he had to tell someday.
He simply had not expected it to be in the middle of such chaos.
“I have scarcely spoken to you about your mother—my daughter, Victoria.”
Deep furrows etched his wrinkled brow.
“This is… the tale of a stubborn old man’s obstinacy.”
The old man began to speak.