Chapter 56
“Are you… ready?”
“It’s not enough, but we don’t have time. Before the day is over, Carl will devour you.”
“…Will we be discovered?”
“We’ll have to accept that risk.”
Her hesitation didn’t last long. Brunhilde made her decision and staggered toward the wardrobe. Franz waited in silence as she stripped off her blood-soaked clothes and changed.
Without even wiping away the dried blood on her skin, she pulled a light summer hood over her head and turned back to him. Franz gave a small nod, then spoke as if making one final vow.
“You won’t be able to see Carl again.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be unprepared. Life won’t be easy.”
“…That goes for you as well, doesn’t it?”
“……”
For a moment—utterly out of place in such circumstances—his heart stirred. Franz looked into those violet eyes that seemed to hold light even in the dark. When she mentioned him alongside her own hardships, it could only mean one thing: she had accepted him as someone who would share her future.
It wasn’t a confession of love.
Nor was it forgiveness.
And yet… the mere fact that she envisioned a future with him was enough to fill his chest.
Nothing more needed to be said. Leaving the guarding duties to Heen, he quietly exited the room. After confirming the corridor was empty, he moved swiftly toward the exit.
The stable hand tending to the horses was likely dozing off by now. Franz intended to seize several horses, tie the stable hand to one, and send it running in the opposite direction. If he released the rest as well, the confusion would buy them more time to escape.
‘I moved almost immediately after sending her out. Carl won’t have prepared for this yet.’
Besides, Carlos was not yet the official head of the house. Franz, as acting head, held greater authority—who would dare stop him?
After reviewing his plan once more, Franz left the main building. Encouraging Brunhilde, who followed behind him with soft, intermittent sobs, he led her to the stables.
“Wh—hic! My lord!”
“Bring out Sleipnir.”
The stable hand, startled awake, quickly bowed and hurried to obey, though confusion was written all over his face.
Franz mounted Brunhilde onto the family’s finest warhorse that was renowned for its unmatched speed. Then he subdued the stable hand, slung him like baggage onto the second-best horse, and drew his blade.
Shing—
A flash of white cut through the dim stable. The neck of a tethered warhorse was severed cleanly before it could even cry out.
‘I have to slow any pursuit.’
He meant to leave behind no horse fast enough to chase them. Though his injury hindered his speed, these few minutes could buy them hours. One by one, his blade fell, slaughtering the horses.
And just as he cleanly took the head of the thirteenth—
Hiiihing!
A familiar yet ominous neigh rang out behind him.
Frowning at the sharp sound, Franz turned and was met with a sight he had not anticipated.
The legs of the warhorse he had once ridden into battle buckled. Sleipnir—who had never faltered even under a hail of arrows—tilted unnaturally, its massive body collapsing.
Before it could crash to the ground, Franz lunged forward to catch Brunhilde.
“—Kh!”
A strangled groan tore from his throat.
The full weight of the horse crushed him. Under normal circumstances, he could have avoided it—but now, with a mortal wound in his chest, even catching Brunhilde was beyond his strength.
“Wh… what is—”
Before he could finish, blood surged up his throat.
As he coughed it out, still shielding Brunhilde in his arms, a shadow approached, step by step.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this… but it seems it has.”
The young, almost casual voice was unmistakably familiar.
“Carlos…!”
Their son, whom they thought had returned to his room. The young predator of House Brandt who had forced them into this desperate escape.
Standing with the moonlight at his back, Carlos glanced around. His gaze swept over the stable filled with slaughtered horses—devoid of any emotion—before lowering to them.
Like a god looking down upon fallen mortals beneath a crumbling tower, he spoke,
“You’ve killed thirteen innocent horses, Brother. How cruel.”
“Y-you… how did you—?!”
“These are all fine-blooded steeds. Each one is worth a fortune. Even you won’t escape punishment for this.”
“Ah…”
The smile on her son’s face felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. Even without understanding everything that had happened, a deeper, more certain realization sent a chill racing down Brunhilde’s spine.
Something ominous writhed beneath her skin.
She trembled, just as she had on the night she first welcomed her stepson.
It was ruin.
* * *
The next day.
Franz was imprisoned on charges of attempting to harm Carlos, kidnapping his stepmother, and causing severe damage to the family’s property.
To the outside world, it was said to be a simple underground prison. But it was nothing of the sort.
Carlos, who had inherited the position of head of the house earlier than expected, stood before the cell, smiling like an angel.
“Brother, is the prison to your liking?”
“…Why did you leave me alive?”
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