Please Forget Me - Chapter 355

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It was obvious that the Marquis had used his influence over the military prison to keep him in solitary confinement and deny him access to newspapers. Still, with the entire nation watching, they wouldn’t dare threaten or retaliate against Killian directly.

In any case, what mattered was that I had succeeded both in destroying the honor he had tried to protect, and in saving Killian’s life.

As the truth came to light, the truth that was so different from the sensational fiction the press had been spinning, public sympathy began to shift in Killian’s favor.

If what Priest Ackroyd did is treason, then the farmer who sold a sack of wheat to the occupying army is a traitor too.

If a man is not meant to protect the women of his own country, then why does he carry a gun at all? Punish not the man who protected her, but the ones who conquered taverns and women’s skirts in enemy territory.

Citizens began sending letters to newspapers defending Killian.

Do not disgrace Father Ackroyd’s noble sacrifice by branding it treason.

Because of his heroic devotion, countless young men of our homeland are still alive today. We demand a wise and impartial investigation and judgment from the military judicial authorities.

Soldiers whose lives had been saved by Killian published formal statements of support. After that, letters poured in, people asking for their names to be added to those statements. The volume only grew by the day.

As public opinion reversed, the outlets that had once branded Killian a traitor fell silent. Some pretended the issue had never existed, focusing instead on other stories. Only a handful of papers still clung to the Marquis’s side, dismissing my exposé as fabrication.

Even they, seeing the lack of response, retreated to the argument that treason is treason, regardless of motive.

“That argument isn’t entirely wrong. No matter the intent, the military prosecutor will insist that the Father’s actions constitute treason, and the court won’t declare him innocent. He may still be convicted, but given the mitigating circumstances and the favorable public opinion, he will almost certainly avoid execution or life imprisonment.”

Kathleen and I both let out long breaths of relief.

Immediate acquittal would be ideal, of course, but if he simply walked out of that prison alive, I would wait decades if I had to.

The problem was the military investigators themselves. Internally, the Marquis’s pressure still outweighed public opinion. They continued to ignore my testimony.

When I was told that statements published in the press didn’t count as official testimony, I said I was ready to testify at any time, but they remained evasive.

“The suspect’s statement must come first. ”

They told the lawyer. Their excuse was that Killian, the accused, was still refusing to speak.

“It seems that once the trial begins, Miss Loveridge will have no choice but to testify as a defense witness.”

So I was bracing myself for a long court battle and the long wait that would follow even if we won. Then one day, unexpected news arrived.

“The military has asked to see Miss Loveridge.”

An officer had visited the Ackroyd family’s lawyer, requesting to meet me.

“Are they finally going to hear my testimony?”

“I don’t know. He said he would explain once he met you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It could be someone Rupert sent—to kidnap you or worse.”

Kathleen’s concern was reasonable. Still, refusing outright wasn’t an option. A few days later, I spoke with the officer by phone.

“Which unit are you with?”

—Army Operations Command.

“Operations Command?”

I had expected someone from the military police or the prosecution. Why would Operations Command, who were completely unrelated to Killian’s case, be looking for me?

After a brief introduction, the officer recited Killian’s charges in detail, then said,

—Even taking circumstances into account, Father Ackroyd’s actions cannot be deemed innocent.

It was nothing I hadn’t already heard, no different from the parroted accusations of the hostile press. My anger flared.

“Did you ask to meet me just to harass me?”

—Of course not.

“Then state your purpose.”

—We will make the priest innocent.

No one had ever said those words before. My heart began to pound.

“…How?”

—That is for us to handle. You only need to give us what we require.

What I had to give? I had nothing.

“What do you need from me?”

—Information that only you possess.

“Only I would know…”

—The bunker.

The bunker’s location. Its internal layout. The names of those hiding there. The location of the prime minister’s command center.

In other words, Operations Command was offering to exonerate Killian—if I gave them everything I knew about the enemy government and command structures hidden underground.