Dear Scarlett, The afternoon sun isn’t so hot these days, and there’s a refreshing breeze over the golden fields. Harvest season has arrived. How have you been lately? It’s hard to believe two months have already passed since you left. I know I ought to be happy that you were able to move on to the land of the goddesses. But our parting was so sudden, I hope you will forgive a mere human like me for feeling a tiny bit resentful (although the point of this letter isn’t to complain, it’s to tell you what happened after you left, so no need to worry). First, I’ll tell you about the day I was supposed to be executed. Crown Princess Cecilia passed away. I heard she was shot down because she set Lucia and Prince Ulysses free. Nobody knows why she did such a thing despite being one of them. Out of consideration for the domestic and international repercussions of publicizing her true cause of death, they’re saying she died of an unexpected heart attack. For better or worse, no one has questioned this—publicly, at least. After Cecilia’s funeral, Prince Enrique formally relinquished his succession rights. Someday soon, he plans to leave the palace for the domain given to him by His Majesty. The prince says it’s a beautiful, lush place with lots of good memories, because it’s where he first met you, Scarlett, and Lady Lily. Lots of people have been arrested. The man calling himself Rufus May has been locked up in the First Royal Prison for his role as ringleader in the kidnapping of Prince Ulysses. Not only his accomplices but also many nobles with a connection to Daeg Gallus have been arrested. Jeorg Gaina is among them, and some of the families have had their titles and domains stripped. All sorts of other crimes have come to light, and society has been buzzing with gossip nonstop. The events of ten years ago have finally been dragged into the light as well. We’ve learned that many of the nobles who lent a hand to Daeg Gallus back then have already been punished for a variety of crimes. Bribery, gambling, human trafficking… Don’t you think it’s a bit much for pure coincidence? I suspect you’re smart enough to guess who was behind those prosecutions. I’m certain His Majesty and Duke Castiel were battling their invisible enemies secretly all along. My hunch is they’ve been at it since the day they realized they would have to sacrifice you to their cause. But on to happier news. Scarlett, your name has finally been cleared. Unfortunately, not all the facts from ten years ago have been made public. (If they were, Princess Cecilia and Prince Enrique would be implicated, which makes things difficult.) Daeg Gallus has been blamed for engineering the plot—with a little dramatization and revision of the facts for public consumption. Aldous was kind enough to write up the whole story, including testimony from Aisha Huxley before her death, so I’ll include a copy of that with this letter. All the same, you’re much in demand these days as the subject of songs and stories featuring the tragic young duke’s daughter tossed about on the wild sea of fate. Whenever I hear another glamorized version of your story, I feel like telling everyone that, in fact, you threw red wine on Cecilia when she was still a viscount’s daughter and slapped her across the face in public. You always had such a knack for— Oh dear, if I don’t stop myself now, who knows what I’ll say, so I’d better move on to another topic. I hear Miss Alexandra ascended to the throne without further trouble and has been keeping everyone, especially Miss Eularia and Mr. Levine, on their toes. For now, the revitalization of Faris is her main concern, but everyone says that one day she will surely rebuild Faris’s relationship with Adelbide. On the other hand, some people have been saying we must take our neighbor’s recent actions seriously and immediately cut off diplomatic relations. Politics are so difficult! But I feel certain things will turn out all right. In time. Prince Ulysses will study abroad next year in Soldita, his mother’s homeland. Lucia said she plans to go see him there in summer. Walter’s company is providing the ship, and they even invited me to go along. I haven’t given them an answer yet, since it’s still a long way off, but just the other day, I heard from someone that Duke Castiel entrusted them with Lady Aliénore’s ashes. He said it was because he never once let her visit her family home after they married. Lately, I’ve been trying to learn the language of Soldita, though it’s not easy. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—thanks to her work reporting on my execution, Mylene has been hired by the Mayflower Company! She’s working around the clock and says she’s determined to become a role model for little girls who want to be journalists. This may come as a surprise, but Kate has been working as something like Miss Kimberly’s private secretary. I’m afraid before long she’ll be walking around with a pistol in place of a pie! As you can see, some things have changed, and others haven’t. (By the way, Hamsworth is as debauched as ever, and lately he’s even put on a few more pounds.) As for me, my life is nearly the same as it was before we met. I’m still a plain, unremarkable viscount’s daughter, but I’m enjoying myself well enough. Life without Scarlett Castiel is peaceful, calm, quiet—and a little boring. So, in conclusion, let me say one final thing. Scarlett, you’re an idiot. Shortly after Scarlett’s innocence was recognized, her remains were transferred to the graveyard where members of the Castiel family had been interred for generations. Her name was carved into elaborately decorated white marble. Duke Castiel oversaw the gravestone’s creation directly, making sure it was fittingly beautiful for Scarlett Castiel. Connie squatted down and gently placed the envelope containing her letter in front of the grave. She had barely mentioned recent events in her own life. She hoped that maybe if she didn’t write about them, Scarlett would get curious and come visit her again. But her life really hadn’t changed that much. What had changed were her surroundings. Although she was still the daughter of the House of Grail, she not only had broken off two engagements, but had been taken into custody by the Royal Security Force, and to top it all off, she had nearly had her head chopped off. She was a living legend in the worst sense. No one in their right mind would want their name associated with hers. Maybe that was why there wasn’t exactly a queue forming outside her door of applicants for the position of fiancé number three. Except for one individual, that is. Connie stood up slowly. Cautiously, a voice behind her asked, “Are you ready?” She glanced over her shoulder. There was Randolph, as tall and manly as ever, dressed all in black even though today was his day off. “What?” Randolph asked as she stared at him. Oddly enough, this man didn’t seem to care one bit what other people thought of him. Connie couldn’t help smiling. “It’s a secret.” “A secret?” “Yes.” Connie and Randolph still hadn’t renewed their engagement. Apparently, once you formally got the church to cancel an engagement, it wasn’t so easy to reinstate it. Probably, if they asked Hamsworth, he would take care of it all right away, but Connie had been the center of public attention ever since her near-execution, and Randolph was occupied with wrapping up the related investigations. They had decided together that they would wait until things calmed down to do it. Which meant that right now they were merely close friends—no, they loved each other, which made them proper sweethearts. For some reason, Randolph’s colleague Kyle Hughes was at his wit’s end over the situation. Incidentally, Connie had decided that she would be the one to propose this time. To make sure Randolph didn’t accidentally do it first, she had informed him of her decision (about which he seemed dissatisfied—or was he anxious?). Connie wondered what Scarlett would say if she knew all this. She would probably just laugh scornfully. Suddenly, a playful mood came over Connie. “Randolph?” “What?” When she said his name, he answered as if it was completely natural. That alone made her happy enough to grin. “I just wanted to say your name.” “Is that so?” “Yes.” There was a silence. Randolph coughed, then glanced away and said in a low voice, “Connie.” “Yes, what is it?” “…I just wanted to say your name.” Connie blinked in surprise, then laughed out loud. Randolph lowered his brow and held out his hand. Wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, Connie wrapped her fingers around his large palm. Shortly after, she received an invitation from Hamsworth. Surprisingly, it wasn’t for a ball. Instead, he was holding an exhibition of paintings by an artist whose work he had been collecting for a while. It was to be held at the Grand Merillian. Connie gazed up at the splendid building with mixed feelings. Before, on another evening, her life had been at a dead end. Her family had been heavily in debt, and the fiancé who was supposed to save them had cheated on her. She had been wailing like some tragic heroine about how no one would save her. She had been in despair, but when she looked back on it now, it all seemed so insignificant. “What’s wrong?” Randolph asked, peering at her as she stood frozen in the doorway of the palace. She shook her head, flustered. “Nothing. I was just thinking how long ago it all feels, even though only a few months have passed… I feel nostalgic, but for some reason, it hurts, too.” She smiled wryly. “I see,” Randolph answered, placing his hand on her head. They walked to the reception area in the grand hall, where Viscount Hamsworth was soothing a distressed noblewoman. The woman disappeared into a back room, leaning on the arm of her companion. Connie blinked. “…Viscount Hamsworth?” He tilted his flabby neck to the side. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Grail. My goodness, how nice of you to come.” “Thank you for inviting me. Um, was that lady all right?” “Ah, she’s one of my guests. She seems to have encountered a stray dog in the garden. She says she’s too frightened to go home, so I was just on my way to call a guard.” “A stray dog, you say?” Randolph murmured. “…What are your watchmen doing?” “Ah, she may have been mistaken. Anyhow, although the Grand Merillian is on the castle grounds, it’s quite a bit more open than the palace where His Majesty lives. Perhaps the watchmen were slacking after all.” Randolph sighed and grimaced. “I suppose I’d better go check. Constance, please wait here.” “B-but wait…!” Before she could stop him, the admitted workaholic had vanished. Sulking a little, she sat down on a sofa in the hall. “Connie?” someone said. She looked up. It was Mylene Reese. “I knew it was you! So you came, too! Have you looked at the paintings?” she rambled at her usual lightning-fast tempo. “If you ask me, renting out the Grand Merillian to show off your private collection smacks a bit of new money. But what else can one expect from Viscount Hamsworth?” She paused, peering around as if she’d just noticed her surroundings. “You’re here alone?” “No, I came with Randolph…” Connie explained that he’d abandoned her to chase some stray dog. She suddenly felt sullen, but for some reason, Mylene was sniggering. What on earth was so funny? They chatted about this and that for a few minutes, and then Mylene lowered her voice and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Did you hear about Pamela?” Connie’s chest instantly tightened. Pamela had been pilloried after Brenda Harris spoke out against her, and for a second time diagnosed as mentally unsound. Connie had heard that her symptoms were so severe, she could no longer go about ordinary life, let alone take part in the social scene. “…What happened to Pamela?” “I heard she was admitted to a hospital in the suburbs, but very recently, she passed away. People said she was quite unstable and may have taken her own life.” “…I see.” Connie looked down. There was something else she hadn’t included in her letter to Scarlett. The storm had passed, but that didn’t mean all the loose ends were neatly tied up. True, Daeg Gallus had been routed from Adelbide, but the enormous organization was far from destroyed. Several of the perpetrators were still on the run. The whereabouts of the brother and sister who had kidnapped Ulysses were still unknown. After a few more minutes, Mylene said she needed to head home. Randolph hadn’t yet returned and was nowhere to be seen. Connie stood up. She’d waited long enough. He could hardly blame her for needing a change of scenery. She walked through the grand hall to the conservatory. The glassed-in room with its white-painted window frames was just as it had been on that other evening. And just as then, the door to the garden was open. Connie gazed up at the sky, a cool breeze caressing her cheek. It was a little colder than it had been in summer, but the sun was still strong. Clouds like fish scales covered the sky, softening the bright sunlight. The sound of someone walking through grass brought her back to reality. She looked up, wondering who was there—and gasped. “…Pame…la?” Her pale golden hair was disheveled, and her clothes were as ragged as a beggar’s, but it was unmistakably Pamela Francis. She was glaring unblinking at the ground, muttering something. “…Only…” “What?” Connie asked, her shoulders suddenly tensing. Pamela was gripping a sharply pointed knife. As Connie stepped back, Pamela looked up. Her bloodshot eyes took the other woman in. Before Connie could say anything, Pamela raised the knife over her head and lunged at her. “If only you never existed…!” The knife descended slowly through the air, its blade glittering with reflected sunlight. Somebody! Connie gasped. Somebody, save me! She was frozen with fear. Her throat tightened, trapping her voice. Trembling, she looked around, but the conservatory was empty. No one was coming to save her. She closed her eyes in despair. And then— “Fine.” An unexpected voice sounded in Connie’s ear. “I’ll help you.” Connie slowly opened her eyes. There was a flash like lightning. Pamela collapsed to the ground with a crackling sound. A voice like a tinkling bell descended onto Connie as she stood in a daze. “I see you’re as idiotic as always.” The voice was haughty and insolent. Yet somehow magnetic. “But how…?” Connie sputtered. It was none other than the coldhearted woman who had vanished into thin air without so much as a proper good-bye. Scarlett Castiel looked down on Connie opening and closing her mouth like an oxygen-starved goldfish and snorted. “Come now. If you stop to think about it, I didn’t get revenge on a single person.” “Huh…?” Connie blinked in shock. Then she shook her head vehemently. “A single person” wasn’t quite accurate. She had at least slapped Duke Castiel. Hard, too. She even did a windup. “All right, leaving aside my father, I haven’t yet shown any of those other fools a living hell.” “And…?” “When I thought about it, I got so angry…! I saw the white light, but then I turned around to come back and get my proper revenge!” Scarlett planted her hand on her hip and tilted back her chin as if that had been the obvious decision. Connie gaped at her. “But aside from the revenge…,” she mumbled. She’d practically passed on! “Honestly! How rude of everyone, to refuse to wait for my revenge!” This was quite the outrageous accusation. “I thought about it, and I had a flash of inspiration.” Scarlett’s amethyst eyes glittered with pleasure. “Why not just spend the remaining eighty-four years of my life here, without regrets?” What kind of bizarre logic was that? Connie turned down her mouth. And who decided Scarlett got to live to one hundred? She was so arrogant and self-centered and absurd—but Connie couldn’t say any of that. Her chest was burning with something she couldn’t put into words. “I saved you, so you’d better not complain.” Through her tear-blurred vision, Connie could see Scarlett smiling happily and just a little shyly. “Constance Grail, prepare yourself.” The clouds were gone now, leaving behind a clear blue sky. The wind sang in the trees. The sky seemed to go on forever. The birds were chirping, and the sun was mild. Scarlett continued. “From here on out, I demand that you devote your life to making sure I get my revenge!” This is the story of a plain young woman, the sort you can find anywhere, who gets sucked into helping a notorious vixen exact revenge for the rest of her life.
Chapter 54
15 min read