Chapter 69: Trishel and the White Goddess

"...I'll ask again. What are you doing?"

Anger seeped from every word she spoke. It wasn’t just her expression—her whole body radiated fury.
But what was that anger directed at?

Before I could even ask, I was pushed back and landed hard on my rear.

"Welcome, Princess! You really came!"

The only one here who seemed completely unfazed by the situation cheerfully addressed her.
They didn’t realize that was the worst possible move.

"I saw Riven lying collapsed just a moment ago."

"Yeah, that’s right."

"Was that you, Salem?"

"Yes, I did it."

"...I see."

She let out a long, long exhale.

Salem didn’t notice. Blinded by the joy of being close to her goal.

This wasn’t her usual atmosphere. This Charlotte—this was the terrifying side of her.

"I’ll ask anyway. Why did you deliberately hurt him like that?"

"Huh? That’s because... he’s done nothing but wreak havoc! Listen, Princess! He threatened to ruin the order of this town, can you believe it?"

The air grew heavier. Salem still didn’t notice. With every word she spoke, the weight thickened.

What is this? Since when could Charlotte radiate such pressure?

Suddenly, her face turned toward me. Her expression was... regretful, sorrowful, angry—indescribably complicated.

"I told you, didn’t I? That I’d handle it."

"Ahaha. Sorry."

"—Since he’s alive, I’ll forgive you."

That was all.
But somehow, that small exchange brought relief.

Not because she was a so-called goddess of fortune, but because she really was... a symbol.

"Salem, step aside. Then heal Riven’s eyes and ears."

"Yes, our Princess... is what I’d like to say, but that’s something I can’t do."

"Why not?"

"Because he is our sworn enemy—the Clan of Black."

A shadow fell across Charlotte’s face.

Salem didn’t notice, and continued speaking with satisfaction.
Not realizing that the more she explained, the further her goal slipped away.

"If you wish, I’ll tell you everything. Their crimes, our grudges—"

"...I see. Understood."

"I’m glad you underst—"

Charlotte quietly rolled up her left sleeve, revealing her arm.

I looked—and my blood ran cold.
Salem also flinched, stumbling back one, two steps.

There, engraved into her arm, was a crimson curse mark. One I only knew of from old knowledge, but whose shape was unmistakable.

Impossible. I thought she’d been strangely quiet these past few days...

Could it be, she spent that time etching this into her own body?
If so, what thoughts, what resolve led her to that conclusion?

"Ah, judging by your reaction, you recognize what this is."

"Y-Your Highness... this is a joke, right?"

"Does it look like a joke to you?"

"But that’s... the Bloodletting Curse《Shikketsuju》, isn’t it!?"

The Bloodletting Curse. An ancient slave mark once used to force obedience.

When activated, its scarlet glow darkened, like blood drained of life. Thus it became known as the curse of bloodletting.

Its effect—death of the bearer. Once activated, the victim was fated to die. In all recorded history, not a single person marked by it ever died of anything else.

Clear and absolute. Which is why it was forbidden—abused far too often.

"I’m not very smart, you know."

The pressure around her was completely different now.
Salem recoiled another step.

"But even an idiot can understand some things."

Charlotte stepped forward.

Salem stepped back.

"You can’t afford for me to die, right? Then do as I say."

Her eyes were hollow. It wasn’t the dim lighting—there was simply no life in them.

This... this was Charlotte?

This wasn’t the girl I knew. When I first met her in this town, she’d already softened a little.
But surely, there was a time when she had to sell her very life just to survive.

Because she wore that face of inevitability far too naturally.

Ordinary people, when their life is truly at stake, tremble. Even trained soldiers, when they stare death in the face, beg for their lives. That’s how hard it is to overcome fear of death.

But she showed no fear at all.

She was utterly convinced she wouldn’t be killed. And even if that were true—!

The sheer willpower to carry it out... was something no ordinary person could ever possess.

"Is something wrong? Did you forget your reply back in your mother’s womb?"

"B-but…"

"But what?"

The weight of her voice crushed down—something unthinkable from her usual self.

Salem, startled, stepped back yet again.

Charlotte let out a heavy sigh.

"There was so much I didn’t understand. Why does Trishel keep so many things from me? Why don’t you ever press me forcefully? Why did you spare Riven once?"

Her words pressed in, leaving no escape. She held the reins of this exchange completely. After all, she had secured the one victory condition everyone desperately wanted.

"It all made sense once I thought of it this way. I must have some kind of secret, and you all want it. If I assume everything comes from that, it fits."

Her gaze was razor-sharp. Could even a hardened soldier glare at someone with such raw hatred? That’s how much she had bottled up inside her—something she couldn’t bear.

"The master setting of the Bloodletting Curse is bound to me. Which means, with my own will, I can snuff out this life at any time, Salem."

Ah. I understood.

If it were a physical mechanism, it could be overpowered. Charlotte wouldn’t be able to stop that. If it were magical, it might be disrupted—she knew skilled magicians could do that. But if it was a curse carved directly into her body, bound by the chains of a contract… then outside interference was almost impossible.

No one could stop her. She had secured the power to die whenever she chose. She spent time ensuring that right, so the scales couldn’t be tipped or swapped. A substitute to fulfill someone else’s goal was too uncertain. She chose the absolute path.

It’s easy to assume no one would ever actually take their own life. But looking at her now, who could say with certainty that she wouldn’t cut her own throat? I couldn’t.

She would do it. Without a doubt. She stood here with that kind of presence, that kind of resolve. Salem had gone too far—pushed her into a corner, without truly understanding Charlotte’s nature.

…No, I was the same. I can’t laugh at Salem. I hadn’t expected this either.

"Submit. Or else steel yourself to kill me. Those are your only two choices."

A forced binary—no compromises allowed. No middle ground. Do it or don’t. Stripped to the absolute. In reality, only one path existed, because we couldn’t afford to lose her.

"B-but the Black Clan…"

"Choose! Submit or rebel! Choose, here and now!"

"…!"

This was no different from the negotiation Riven had attempted. He too found what the other side could not yield, and set it on the scales. What divided success and failure was whether the other could compromise. His proposal allowed a compromise of casualties. Hers did not.

The outcome was decided. Once she placed herself on the scales, there was no other choice left for us. I thought it was over. I felt relief.

—Until that moment.

"…No."

"Huh?"

"No—I won’t accept this!"

Her eyes, half-closed in shock, flew wide open.

This girl—she still intends to keep talking even now? No matter what she says, no matter if we pin her down by force, it won’t change anything. How does she plan to get out of this?

Salem’s face shifted slightly, and I realized she had glanced toward something behind Charlotte.

In that direction—no!

"Charlo—"

"Don’t move!"

Of course, she moved first. Much faster than we could.

Damn it, I can’t believe she’d stoop to that. What a hopelessly stubborn one… though maybe that’s exactly why she’s still alive.

"Stay right there. Princess, I’ll trade this life you treasure so much."

"……"

From where I stood, the darkness kept me from seeing clearly. I rose to my feet and moved to Charlotte’s side, ready to spring if anything happened. In the meantime, I had managed to recover quite a bit of my strength.

And sure enough—just as I suspected. Salem stood there, her face desperate, pressing a spearpoint against Riven’s throat.

"Please, Princess. If you die, I’ll kill him. And then I’ll kill Trishel too."

"…You’d go that far?"

In this dire state, she had turned to hostage-taking, exploiting Charlotte’s reasons for action. As far as desperate measures go, it was the logical choice.

But it was the wrong one. A blunder, Salem. You’re only straying further from your true goal. Can’t you see that anymore?

"Salem. If you go that far… what will you have left?"

"Left? I’ve got nothing left in my hands. Ever since that day, when I lost her right before my eyes, I’ve lived for nothing else. So I’ll do whatever it takes!"

"And in that ‘whatever it takes,’ why—"

"Don’t you dare act like you understand! You weren’t there! You didn’t live through that war!"

That was no argument. That was a cry of grief. She’d run from an unbearable reality until it carried her all the way here.

…God, I hated her. Always had. But for the first time, I felt like I finally understood. She was bound to the past. And Riven had forced her to remember it. Now she couldn’t turn back.

At this point, the only way was to wait for an opening and snatch Riven back myself. Even if she’d lost her sanity, it was still Salem. Would that even work? Maybe not. But I had to try.

I had just steeled myself when—

"…Looks like I’m the problem here."

A spray of red burst out.

Riven’s lips were curved in a smile.

"…What?"

I understood what had happened. But not why. My mind lagged behind. I wasn’t stupid, I’d trained myself—but I was nowhere near as sharp as Riven. I couldn’t follow the chain of thought that led him there.

In the end, the conclusion was simple: Riven had deliberately driven himself forward into the spearpoint pressed against his throat.

The next instant, the atmosphere changed so drastically it stopped my breath. A crushing weight, as if I’d been shoved down into the depths of the earth.

"Eek! N-no, this isn’t—he did it on his own!"

Panicked, Salem dropped Riven where he was and stumbled back several steps.

I too wanted to back away from the girl beside me. To run.

"P-Princess, please…"

"…Be silent."

Heavy. That single word weighed like a mountain. Flat, without intonation, without emotion. And yet it allowed no reply.

Softly, light shimmered into being. I noticed it only because she stepped forward—moved out from beside me, into the front.

It was an uncanny sight.

Her hair, once dyed another color, turned white and began to glow faintly. Tiny motes of light drifted around her like fireflies, scattering as if to bear witness.

Even seen from behind, she was beautiful. Divine. So much so that I forgot my fear, forgot the crushing pressure pressing me down.

"Salem. I will not forgive you."

The White Princess had awakened.