Second Life, I’m Dying Soon Chapter 57

Chapter 57

 

Fate was truly a cruel thing. No matter how desperately one tried to avoid it, it always repeated itself in a similar way in the end.

Cecil leaned his head against the damp stone wall. Each time he let out a weary breath, white vapor spilled from his lips—the underground dungeon was still as cold as he remembered.

The complete isolation was the same, too. The reality that repeated itself without the slightest deviation was so absurd that Cecil laughed like a madman.

Half a day had already passed since he’d been thrown into the dungeon. There was no sign of an investigation beginning, and not a single person came to see him.

He should be punished properly, or perhaps forgiven because he’s royalty. Outside, they were surely locked in a fierce debate over the matter.

Whatever the case, it seemed clear Alexis had taken a firm dislike to him. Cecil didn’t care what became of his own reputation, but the fact that the trust he had painstakingly built had collapsed left him in despair.

He had been staring blankly at the sky beyond the small window when he heard movement in the distance. Shadows carrying torches flickered closer.

Cecil turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps.

As if mocking his wish that it be anyone but one person, Alexis stepped into the dark dungeon.

Cecil covered his face with both hands. Facing Alexis was agonizing for him as well. Lying to him, deceiving him, being wounded by that sharp gaze—he wanted it all to stop.

At some point, Alexis had come to stand before Cecil, who was crouched in the corner. He bent down to meet Cecil at eye level.

“There’s no one here. So tell me the truth.”

“…….”

“There’s no way you did it. Are you planning to take the blame just to save a few attendants?”

Cecil laughed weakly. Even now, Alexis was trying to believe him. He really had changed.

“What’s the difference? Even if the attendants did it, I’d be the one who ordered them.”

“Look me in the eyes and say that.”

“…….”

“Did you really do it?”

Cecil lowered the hands covering his face and met Alexis’s gaze. Hearing that coaxing voice made his eyes sting. Alexis was doing everything he could to believe him.

“Say it wasn’t you. Even now.”

“…….”

But Cecil stubbornly held his tongue. When he avoided his gaze, Alexis ground his teeth and glared at him fiercely.

“Was the oath you swore to me a lie too? You fooled me like you’d give me anything, and now you stab me in the back?”

“…….”

“You were talking just fine earlier—why can’t you say anything now!”

Alexis grabbed Cecil by the collar and slammed him back. With a heavy thud, mud and moisture rained down from the stone wall they struck.

Not only Cecil, but also Alexis’s hand—veins standing out sharply—was smeared with filth. Even after the noble crown prince had come all the way down to this filthy dungeon, lowering himself and offering him a chance, Cecil showed not the slightest sign of wavering.

At that sight, the faith Alexis had clung to until the very end shattered completely.

Alexis found Cecil’s betrayal of him far more unbearable than the fact that Cecil had tried to harm Yuria.

He hurled the dagger he’d carried with him into the stone wall. The jewels that had once adorned it beautifully shattered on impact. No matter how precious something was, once broken, it could never be restored—and its value was lost.

“Someone like you never belonged at my side. I shouldn’t have cared at all.”

“…….”

“I’m disgusted with myself for ever trusting you, even for a moment.”

Alexis straightened and stood. He left in an instant. Before long, even the sound of his footsteps vanished, and silence once again settled over the dungeon.

Only then did Cecil finally unclench his tightly balled fist. Four deep nail marks were carved into his soft palm.

It had been worth enduring. He’d thought he would cry if he faced Alexis, but he was holding up better than expected.

Cecil wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, then leaned his head weakly against the stone wall.

 

***

 

The rumors spread quickly.

With the evidence and the confession alone, there was no longer any need for an investigation. It was confirmed that the one who had tried to harm Yuria was Cecil Adrian.

Thanks to the Empress’s active efforts to save him, Cecil was released earlier than expected. However, since his crime couldn’t simply be ignored, he was sentenced to confinement in the chapel’s confessional for one week.

It was meant as a period of constant repentance. No one attended to him, and his meals consisted only of dry bread, a handful of salt, and water.

Days of sleeping and waking in the cramped confessional repeated endlessly.

With no light, he couldn’t tell how time passed, and the only way to gauge it was when food was brought in.

Cecil restricted water and food to the bare minimum, unwilling to use the makeshift toilet made from a wooden barrel. Naturally, his strength dwindled.

Since he had committed no sin, there was nothing to seek forgiveness from God for. He sat slumped there, endlessly waiting for the tormenting punishment to end. As the days went by, the suffocating confinement became harder to endure.

Outwardly, it seemed an elegant punishment, but in truth, it was nothing short of shattering one’s spirit and stripping away human dignity.

Pushed to his mental limit, Cecil pounded on the tightly sealed wooden walls, shouting to be let out. Of course, in the empty chapel, no one answered him.

By the fourth day, Cecil was visibly exhausted. His cognitive ability had deteriorated to the point where it was hard to distinguish dream from reality. At dawn, someone secretly came to him.

The confessional door opened, and a white robe worn by priests shimmered before Cecil’s eyes. Without realizing it, he spoke to the figure before him.

“…Please, get me out of here.”

“Not yet. You must pay for your sins.”

“What did I do that was so wrong?”

Cecil weakly tilted his head back. Whether the priest’s blunt refusal hurt him or not, tears streamed down from his closed eyes.

“Do you feel wronged?”

“…Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

But Cecil didn’t answer. Perhaps he’d spoken half-asleep, because his head soon drooped, and he slipped back into slumber. It seemed he was having a bad dream. Even his breathing was ragged, mixed with sobs.

A large hand reached out and wiped the tears from Cecil’s face. Alexis pushed back the hood of his robe and looked down at the sleeping Cecil.

“Reflect properly. Then come and beg me sincerely. I won’t take you back—but still.”

On the day the promised week ended, the Peridot Palace attendants gathered in front of the chapel early in the morning, waiting for the doors to open.

The last few minutes dragged on mercilessly.

Though a little flexibility wouldn’t have hurt, the strict overseers insisted on following the rules to the letter, leaving the attendants pacing anxiously.

At last, the doors opened. Supported by the overseers, Cecil emerged slowly. His already slender frame had grown alarmingly thin, and his once smooth skin, lips, and hair were all in disarray.

The attendants burst into tears the moment they saw him and rushed forward. The group clung together like a family reunited after being torn apart by war, sharing both joy and sorrow.

“…It’s all over now. It’s okay.”

Cecil soothed them with mature words. His faint smile made him look almost enlightened.

He had to spend several days resting in bed. After restricting his meals so extremely, his body couldn’t handle normal food right away.

At every meal, the attendants brought thin porridge made with honey and milk, trying to get even one more spoonful into him. They carefully massaged his stiff limbs, tending to him with utmost devotion.

Perhaps thanks to that care, Cecil regained his strength quickly. His food intake gradually increased. His pale, lifeless complexion remained, but that was something time would fix.

Johannes came to see Cecil again two days later. Unable to bring himself to enter the bedchamber, he lingered awkwardly until Cecil gave a small nod of permission.

“…Are you okay?”

“As you can see. Not bad, not good.”

“I… I didn’t think you’d suffer this much.”

“I’m really sorry.” 

Johannes bowed his head deeply, apologizing in earnest. He didn’t even have the courage to face Cecil properly.

He had assumed that Cecil, being royalty, would be absolved immediately. Johannes, too, had spent a guilt-ridden week after seeing Cecil endure far greater suffering than expected.

No matter how shameless he tried to be, facing Cecil and his attendants made the weight of guilt tighten painfully around his heart.

“Johan, it’s all in the past. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Cecil.”

“If you’re done saying what you came to say, could you leave now? I want to rest.”

Cecil waved his hand tiredly. At least they’d been able to speak at all—that alone was something. Faced with Cecil’s cold response, Johannes nodded and turned away.

The day he would return to the Kingdom of Themion was not far off. Johannes now stood at a crossroads.

Would he finally gather his courage, even now? Or would he remain a coward and flee back to his homeland? The choice rested entirely with Johannes.