The Camellia Tattoo - Chapter 117
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
this book is completely translated on luna kofi (advanced chapters for the website will follow)
At that moment, Igmeyer had already spoken to her.
He said he liked her. That they should be more than just friends or colleagues!
“Crying again. What’s so sad, dear?”
Igmeyer teased her with a gentle poke on the cheek. Then he kissed her forehead several times.
Amber tried to stifle her tears, but despite her efforts, they kept escaping.
“Don’t think about running away. I have no intention of letting you go.”
“……”
“I can’t live without you now. Even if I die, I’ll come back to you.”
Igmeyer spoke in a threatening tone, but Amber didn’t want it to be that way.
“Even if you don’t love me, just stay here. Just… stay by my side, Amber.”
“……I will.”
She would.
Her nose was so blocked she could hardly reply properly. But it was so funny that she started laughing again.
What a fool she had been, crying so much over such silly thoughts!
“Dear.”
“Yes?”
“Dear.”
“Yes, dear.”
They both affectionately called each other.
Then Amber suddenly realized she hadn’t responded to him.
“I thought it was enough that we were just friends, that I should be happy with that. I thought I shouldn’t ask for more.”
Igmeyer tensed at her serious confession.
Amber, held in his arms, could feel her husband’s tension in his entire body.
‘Ah, he’s nervous because of me. He’s afraid I might leave. Afraid I might abandon him…’
So she needed to say it.
That he shouldn’t have such foolish thoughts. That this was now her home.
“But Igmeyer, I was wrong. What I’ve learned was wrong.”
“Then?”
“Married couples have to love each other.”
There was a strong conviction in Amber’s voice.
Igmeyer looked at her with an expression of disbelief, raising his eyelids.
Their gazes locked. Their eyes, filled only with each other, were so clear and pure.
In the next moment, Amber felt a sense of fullness in the world and smiled brightly.
“I love you, Igmeyer.”
“!”
“I love you too!”
As the couple, whose hearts finally aligned, caressed each other’s faces, tasted tears, and intertwined their souls with an almost reckless fervor.
Somewhere in the North, a brutal torture was taking place.
“There was a fake… fake pregnancy drugs….”
Raphael, the silver-haired knight, was an expert in this field.
He exhibited little emotional change and felt almost no pain.
Thus, he took on dangerous tasks like ambushes and assassinations, as well as infiltrating risky places for information. Conversely, he was also skilled at inflicting just enough pain to extract the desired information without causing death.
“Explain what the fake pregnancy drug is.”
“A mix of several things… mushrooms, toxic herring skins, and root herbs, causing the stomach to swell….”
“That alone can’t deceive someone into believing they’re pregnant.”
Naturally, Iona had consulted a doctor.
There was no way a doctor who had known Igmeyer for so long would betray him. The drug must be powerful enough to deceive even a doctor.
“It changes the pulse to mimic pregnancy, stops menstruation, and after five months… a mass naturally expels, making it appear as if a miscarriage occurred….”
It was something anyone would be deceived by.
After all, when someone is determined to deceive, how could one not be fooled?
However, Igmeyer was not just ‘someone’ who could be easily fooled. Raphael had never seen him hold a woman’s wrist.
“I’ve confessed everything, so please… spare me.”
“I know it was High Priest Mikael who ordered this.”
Madame Etoile, now disfigured, pleaded, but Raphael didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.
Among the apprentice knights observing the gruesome scene, some turned pale, unable to endure the horror, but none stopped Raphael.
It was only natural. The people Raphael had brought along were candidates to take over his role if he was to die.
“Vixson. Edden. Leave.”
He filtered them out one by one in this manner.
Those who could not endure the sight, who considered torture dishonorable, or those who seemed interested and eager to enjoy the act were dismissed.
In the end, only three remained.
They showed no signs of distress even when witnessing the gruesome sight of Madame Etoile’s nails being twisted and pulled out one by one, nor did they display any interest in the act of violent torture itself.
Raphael was satisfied, knowing that these individuals understood clearly what this act was for and whom they were serving.
“Do you not pity me at all? Isn’t this enough! Why are you so insistent on making me confess… Aaaah!”
Despite having all her fingernails and toenails removed, Madame Etoile’s voice remained strong.
Her hardened nature made it difficult to estimate how many victims she had inflicted suffering upon. Criminals who have long evaded justice often lose awareness of the criminality of their actions.
“Extract the next piece of information without killing her. Can you manage that?”
“I will do my best.”
Raphael handed over the task to the apprentice knights who had been standing by, observing.
