The Trial of Rose

People were right; witches would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.

To that end, they would shamelessly exploit the weaknesses of ordinary folk, corrupting the pure and kind-hearted, and even reveling in the process.

Saranya could foresee the kind of person Paresha would become.

From a blank slate of innocence, Paresha would gradually be molded by Kaelan into a wedge, driven deep into the heart of the Church.

Kaelan was no idealist; she was an ambitious schemer.

Even if her purpose in controlling Vero City seemed “right” and “benevolent” to Saranya, it did not signify an alignment in their fundamental natures.

“Bastard…”

Saranya’s heart constricted with a painful squeeze.

She couldn’t fathom the difference between herself and Paresha, wondering if Kaelan’s treatment of her was merely a matter of utilization, just as it was with Paresha.

Was there a possibility that she and Kaelan weren’t truly walking the same path, but merely found their individual journeys overlapping by chance?

The thought unsettled Saranya profoundly; she lowered her head, her hands clenching tightly at her sides.

“What’s wrong?”

Kaelan, crossing her legs languidly, shifted on the chaise lounge.

“I’m fine…”

“Focus now; the trial is reaching a critical point.”

The trial, in essence, functioned much like a court of law.

The accused would be brought forth to face interrogation by committee representatives, attempting to prove their innocence or employing a lawyer to do so.

Ultimately, the representatives would cast their votes to determine the verdict, which, at first glance, appeared quite fair.

However, as everyone knew, a place like Vero City was essentially a haven for outlaws, a place where even gang bosses could become community leaders.

Did this mean there were no laws or systems in place?

Not at all; they existed, but they were so cumbersome and impractical that a specialized wiping cloth would prove more effective for its intended purpose (TL Note: A humorous, colloquial expression implying something is useless or poorly designed).

During these trials, ordinary people were rarely the plaintiffs; typically, powerful nobles or organizations held that role.

As for the accused, it was exceedingly difficult to shake off their charges when confronted with the assembly-line efficiency of the proceedings.

Paresha, Phillo, and other Church personnel occupied the audience section behind the plaintiff’s bench.

Saranya and Kaelan, meanwhile, were seated in the upper-tier VIP section.

On the same level were a few scattered committee officials and citizen representatives, among whom was a familiar face: Lucius.

Aivy, the noblewoman who had been with Lucius last time, was not by his side on this occasion.

Instead, a prostitute witness, who called himself “Rose,” appeared on stage, inevitably stirring suspicion.

Paresha had told them before entering that Mr. Rose was brought by Lucius, so could Rose be Aivy?

Saranya had intended to find an opportunity to confirm her suspicion, but every time her gaze met Lucius’s, the man would inexplicably offer her a smile.

This felt incredibly strange, as they were not acquainted, leaving her with the unsettling sensation of being watched by a rat from the sewers.

All in all, she felt distinctly uncomfortable and thus refrained from speaking to Lucius.

On the stage, the accused and the witness were being interrogated by the tribunal.

“Mr. Rose, if the culprit intended to commit murder, why would he do it in front of you? He must have known you would identify him, so why didn’t he kill you?”

“Because he loved me! He said he loved my beauty, and if I cooperated, he would elope with me!”

“I was only ever toying with you! Who would ever want to elope with a stinking whore like you!” Keane Grimm roared, his eyes bloodshot with fury.

“It’s all nonsense! I’m innocent!!!”

“You’re heartless! You vile man!!”

Mr. Rose, sniffling and weeping profusely, seemingly for the sake of his reputation, wore an iron mask.

Tears seeped from beneath it, falling one by one to the ground, eliciting gasps of sympathy from the onlookers.

Judging by the prostitute’s performance, one could only conclude that his skill was exceptionally high; it scarcely seemed like an act.

Saranya pursed her lips.

Yet, now that she thought about it, the man’s figure and demeanor did indeed strike her as strangely familiar…

“Then, defendant, how do you explain this murder weapon? Why are your palm prints on it?”

Grimm stared at the dagger presented by the guard, his eyes wide with alarm, and his stubble-covered chin began to tremble.

“I don’t know… I admit I, I took that dagger! But I don’t know how it… how it ended up in my hand!”

The young committee member, who had been asking questions, slammed his hand on the table, abruptly raising his voice.

“So you are admitting that you held this dagger and stabbed your brother to death?”

Faced with the accusation, Grimm trembled, parting his lips to exhale a long plume of white breath.

“Yes, yes… Ah! No, no! I didn’t! I mean, when this dagger was plunged into my brother’s mouth, I was indeed holding it, but I don’t know how that happened! I’m innocent, you must investigate thoroughly!!”

“Defendant, why are you trembling?”

“Cold… I’m cold! It’s so cold, don’t you people feel it?!”

The crowd in the audience section erupted, with over half of them shouting angrily at Grimm.

“He’s exposed!”

“Murderer!”

“He’s just making excuses! He did the deed but won’t admit it; look at that pathetic coward!”

The scene was fervent, yet the guards, who should have been maintaining order, remained conspicuously inactive, almost as if deliberately allowing the crowd to vent their emotions.

Upon closer inspection, one might notice that the pockets of the most vociferous shouters bulged with round, coin-shaped objects.

Kaelan, sensing something amiss, let out a soft “Tsk” and a slight curl of her lips.

Saranya, her curiosity piqued, leaned closer to Kaelan’s ear and whispered, “Master?”

Kaelan reached out, gently stroking Saranya’s head as one might caress a cat, and softly uttered two words:

“Witchcraft.”

The intimacy of their whispered conversation was subtle and potent, and Kaelan’s soft hand seemed imbued with magic.

Saranya felt a tingle at the nape of her neck, an irresistible urge to prolong their exchange.

“Hmm… was it Mr. Rose who did it?”

“Him? Yes, he secretly cast a Frost Witchcraft spell on Grimm from the stage.

He probably orchestrated the entire murder himself.”

“Is that so…”

“Moreover, judging by his methods, he feels like an old acquaintance.

You haven’t forgotten, have you? We encountered him once at the Little Moonpetal Chapel.”

‘Little Moonpetal Chapel… Does that mean Mr. Rose was the wizard hiding in the shadows back then?!’

Saranya swallowed hard, scooting closer to Kaelan.

Kaelan, without ceremony, glanced around, and finding no one paying attention, discreetly reached out and wrapped an arm around Saranya’s waist.

“He didn’t show his face then, likely intending to divert me so you would enter the crypt alone.

You, I presume, had some extraordinary encounter inside?”

“Yes… yes!”

Saranya recalled the black-armored knight in the crypt, her eyes dimming slightly.

“Yes, I suspect this Mr. Rose has some connection to you.

That’s why, that night… I suggested we delve into your background; it would help us expose him.”

‘So that was it: Mr. Rose was a wizard, and he knew her origins… Then Mr. Rose couldn’t be Aivy? Kaelan didn’t seem to suspect Aivy.’

‘Yet, Mr. Rose also seemed to be someone Lucius knew…’

‘Wait, according to Paresha, Lucius apparently knew a mysterious individual.

He had mentioned at the time that this person could cure Westir, using it as leverage to get closer to Paresha… Could it be that person?’

‘Things were getting so convoluted… Who exactly was Mr. Rose?’

‘…’

Saranya’s brain felt overloaded, her thoughts spiraling into a confused mess; she simply didn’t want to think anymore.

“Enough! Silence!”

On the stage, the committee representative called for a halt, issuing an ultimatum to Keane Grimm.

“Keane Grimm, do you have anything else to say in your defense?”

Grimm, trembling uncontrollably from the Frost Witchcraft, couldn’t even articulate a complete sentence.

Framed by a Church deacon, an Imperial Legion Commander, a wizard, and various guild magnates, he was arguably the unluckiest gang leader in all of Vero City.

“First, make, make that wretched wo-woman take off her mask! She, she dares to frame me, but doesn’t dare to show her true fa-face?!”

The young committee member fell silent, seemingly considering Grimm’s request.

‘Surely, granting this unfortunate soul a harmless request wouldn’t matter, would it?’

“Mr. Rose, would you be amenable to the defendant’s request?”

Saranya noticed Mr. Rose on stage let out a soft sigh.

“Alright~ Let’s put this scoundrel out of his misery~”

Rose’s voice was as melodious as a silver bell.

His slender, jade-like fingers traced the mask, slowly lifting it away…

A stir rippled through the crowd.

Beneath the bright lamplight, a face of almost eerie beauty was revealed.

Framed by long, black hair that cascaded like a waterfall with a slight curl, and adorned with a pair of shimmering, swaying wolf-head earrings, he was, in the words of men, a breathtaking paragon of allure.

His eyes, a glacial blue, held a captivating allure, with a faint mole gracing the corner of his right eye, lending him an air of utter enchantment.

“This isn’t right… It can’t be…”

Saranya was utterly stunned, her nose suddenly stinging.

She squinted, tears welling from the corners of her eyes, and leaned helplessly against Kaelan, a whimper like a wounded cub escaping her throat.

“How can that be… my brother…”