When That Door Opens - Chapter 33
“Heok! How… how did you…!”
“I have eyes and ears all over Schultz! Do you think you can insult me to the people of Schultz and hope to live?”
I roared.
“Even if the shattered statue were reassembled, you are already dead! Guards! What are you doing? Bind this insolent man hand and foot! I will personally rip out his entrails!”
To prove my words, I approached a nearby guard and snatched his spear. The sculptor, pale as a ghost, prostrated himself on the ground.
“Lady Astel! Please, spare me! If you save my life, I’ll do anything!”
“I’m not interested in your pathetic pleas for mercy!”
“I’ll never set foot in Schultz again! I’ll return all the money I received! No, I’ll give you everything I own!”
“What? You’ll give me everything you own?”
I asked curtly, barely suppressing a smile. With the goal so close, I had to be careful to maintain my composure. Seeing my reaction, the sculptor begged even more desperately, as if he would offer his liver and gallbladder. Finally, I stepped back slightly, pretending to relent.
“I can sense a glimmer of sincerity in your words. Fine. I will spare your life. But! As you promised, give up everything you have. Do you think I covet your pathetic possessions? I am enforcing the principles of Schultz! You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
“Of course!”
The sculptor was stripped of everything from his turban to his crescent-shaped shoes adorned with large jewels. He left wearing the clothes of my attendants, having returned more than double the amount of money he received from Roman.
“Lady Astel, what should we do with these? Should we store them?”
“Who am I to chastise a man for coveting the riches of such a lowly creature? Divide them among yourselves, or burn them, I don’t care.”
“About the promissory notes and the slaves…”
“The promissory notes should be returned to their owner. Let the Grand Duke Roman know when he returns. He must be quite disheartened that the sculpting work failed. Hopefully, this will be some compensation. As for the slaves…”
I swallowed dryly.
The reason I made all this fuss from the early hours was because of the slave I met two days ago.
The House of Gracion. That was the name.
That slave, or rather his family.
The House of Gracion was one of the greatest houses in the Empire, torn apart by political strife. The Duke and Duchess were executed for treason, and only the heir survived, reduced to a lowly slave. This information came to light while I was doing a background check, under the pretext of tracking down the sculptor.
After learning about his past, I couldn’t shake the image of his eyes from my mind.
Eyes that were not at all like those of a slave, appearing emotionless but with a serene flame flickering in their blue depths.
To me, his gaze seemed to be evidence of his struggle to preserve his spirit amidst horrific suffering.
How difficult must that have been?
I can’t really know.
Unlike him, I was never noble. Like a snail hiding in its shell, I simply survived day by day. I didn’t even have the courage to escape my wretched life.
So I could only imagine.
He too must have once lived a happy life as the heir of a ducal house. That brilliant life must have shattered in an instant.
When someone who was taught to have pride became a plaything for noblewomen and was treated worse than an animal, how painful must that have been?
Even in such a situation, he must have struggled to protect himself…
As my thoughts reached this point, I couldn’t ignore his plight any longer.
“…What’s the point of keeping foreign slaves? The temple isn’t short of slaves. Just looking at them will only remind me of that unpleasant sculptor.”
I pretended to be indifferent, as if I had no interest in slaves.
“Give them some money and release them from the temple.”
“Do you mean to grant them freedom? There’s no need to be so generous…”
“Must I repeat myself? I’m tired. I’ll rest now.”
“I’ll assist you.”
* * *
As soon as I returned to my room, I locked the door from the inside and crawled into bed. Pulling the blanket over my head like a cocoon, I closed my eyes. The tension drained from my body.
I blinked slowly.
‘This should settle the debt, right?’
It was, in truth, a common story. How many lofty beings had been thrown into the mire? There was no need to look far. My sister was originally supposed to live her life as Astel, receiving the respect and love of the people of Schultz. Yet, overnight, she lost her parents, her life, and everything she had.
Even so, or perhaps because of this, he weighed on my mind. Whenever I thought of him, I remembered my deceased sister. And alongside her, the image of myself, who could do nothing but live as a puppet, also came to mind.
