Inside the House of Justice, the second phase of the trial commenced. As Charlotte made her way back to her seat, she unexpectedly crossed paths with Silas in the hallway.
“….”
She paused, her eyes locking onto him as a wave of conflicting emotions rose within her.
“You know it’s over for you, right?” she began. “You might not be indicted, but your family will lose everything. You’ll probably lose your noble title, too.”
Silas stood with his arms crossed, remaining silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t see why that would be a problem for you. You should be happy, shouldn’t you?”
Charlotte frowned. “I just don’t understand… Why did you help me?”
Even before Silas had learned of Vanitas’s survival, he had gone out of his way to assist her, providing official Ainsley documents, the locations of several hideouts, information about the movements of Ainsley men, even conversations he had overheard between his father and his subordinates.
He had nothing to gain from it.
So why did he do it?
“Just focus on yourself,” Silas said, turning slightly away. “Don’t bother with the specifics. Just like I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me either. And for what I did to you back then… consider us even.”
“….”
Charlotte stood still, trying to process his words as he began to walk away. But the moment she arrived at a conclusion, her voice cut through the air.
“Do you like me? Is that it?”
Silas halted mid-step. Slowly, he turned back, his brows furrowed in disbelief. “What…?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, her gaze locked on him. “Because I can’t think of any other reason.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.
“So I’m wrong?” she said with an innocent tilt of her head, blinking at him like she hadn’t just uttered something outrageous.
Silas let out a dry scoff. “I’d rather die than like you.”
Charlotte raised a brow.
“In fact,” Silas added under his breath, “I probably would die if that ever happened—”
His eyes flicked instinctively around the hallway, feeling a phantom chill run down his spine, as though Vanitas himself was looking back at him with a sharp glare—a glare sharp enough to stab his back tenfold.
“Is that so?” Charlotte said, casually pinching her chin in contemplation. Then, tilting her head slightly, she added, “Am I not pretty or something? You sound oddly disgusted. I’m starting to feel a little offended.”
Silas nearly choked on his own breath. “W-What? That’s not what I meant—”
“So you do think I’m pretty?”
“Stop twisting my words,” he grumbled, clearly flustered now as he avoided her gaze.
Charlotte chuckled, watching him squirm and walk away. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing this bastard Silas so rattled.
A sudden thought crept into her mind after that exchange. Silas clearly had contingencies in place to protect himself from the fallout of his father’s actions. More than that, he seemed to have deliberately avoided the topic entirely, as if he were hiding something.
Did he have a benefactor shielding him from behind the scenes?
And if so….
“Is it you, Vanitas?” she murmured. “Are you actually….”
But she shook her head quickly, brushing the thought aside. Entertaining that possibility felt dangerous, as if it could destroy everything she’d built to protect herself.
Everything that had happened so far was like a stage.
And her life, as it was now… was nothing more than a role.
This was all just an act.
….An act to keep herself from falling apart.
* * *
“Disregard for human rights. Corruption. Embezzlement. Abuse of authority. The list goes on…” The prosecutor’s voice echoed through the solemn chamber of the House of Justice. “Shall I continue, or do you wish to take accountability for these, Marquess Ainsley?”
Simon Ainsley sat silently, his gaze cast downward amidst the harsh scrutiny of the courtroom.
Beside him, his attorney cleared his throat. “Your Honor, my client reserves the right to a comprehensive review of all allegations before delivering an official statement.”
The presiding judge nodded once, expression stern. “Very well.”
Simon had already prepared several contingencies to salvage whatever he could from the accumulating pile of allegations upon him. Discreet financial diversions, favors owed by sympathetic nobles, drafted documents awaiting release at the right moment.
But even he knew those measures were merely delaying the inevitable.
Outside the courtroom, a crowd had gathered. Commoners who had suffered his injustice, journalists, and protestors alike.
Inside, the proceedings resumed. Witnesses were called. Documents were presented. And testimonies were brought to light.
But everything reached a boiling point the moment the most damning allegation was raised.
——Do you take accountability for the alleged orchestration of the murders of Astrid Barielle Aetherion and Vanitas Astrea, as well as the destruction of human property and the endangerment of human lives?”
Murmur rippled through the courtroom. The audience, press, and panel members all turned toward Simon Ainsley.
“….”
His shoulders tensed. His hands curled tightly into fists beneath the desk.
Even his attorney faltered, glancing nervously at him, uncertain of whether to object or stay silent.
Simon didn’t respond. His lips pressed into a tight line as his gaze remained fixed on the surface of the courtroom desk.
——Marquess Ainsley?
“….”
Still, no answer.
It was then when the prosecutor stepped forward. It had to be noted that it was a prosecutor under Irene’s payroll.
——Your Honor, the silence of the accused speaks louder than any plea. We have eyewitness accounts confirming skirmishes at multiple locations, the co-conspirator, the Duchy of Esmeralda, has vanished, and there exists documented evidence of a personal feud with Vanitas Astrea. We also have official records that clearly implicate the accused in orchestrated, coordinated assaults.
——Enough. This court will now enter the next phase. The tribunal will deliberate upon the presented evidence. The accused may submit a final defense statement before the ruling is passed.
The judge raised a hand, his tone stern.
Suddenly, Simon Ainsley stood abruptly.
As calmly as he could, he said, “I had no involvement in the train explosion that day. My wife, who has no connection to any of this, can confirm my alibi.”
It was a last-ditch effort he had thoroughly discussed with Dianna beforehand. If the situation ever escalated beyond recovery, if escape from conviction became impossible, then this would be their final card.
And right on cue, from among the audience, his wife stood from her seat.
Heads turned, and the murmurs across the courtroom grew louder.
The judge raised a hand to restore order.
——State your name and relation to the accused.
The woman stepped forward. Her demeanor was composed, but her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her shawl.
“My name is Dianna Ainsley,” she said. “Wife of the accused, Marquess Simon Ainsley.”
——And what is it you wish to submit to this court?
Without hesitation, Dianna held out a sealed folder to the court officer, who passed it forward to the tribunal.
“As requested, I am here to submit supplemental evidence concerning the train explosion incident. These documents outline financial transactions, correspondences, and meeting logs that may provide additional clarity to the investigation.”
As previously discussed, Dianna would submit fabricated evidence designed to divert the blame away from Simon Ainsley and his involvement in the train explosion case.
However, this maneuver came at a heavy price—her own father, Dante Esmeralda, would be the one to bear the full brunt of the accusation.
The documents were deliberately made to implicate the Esmeralda Duchy, painting Dante as the primary orchestrator behind the incident.
And as her statement concluded, her brothers, seated among the audience, stared at her in disbelief, their expressions frozen in shock at her betrayal.
They had expected her to protect the family, not condemn it.
Her eldest brother shot up from his seat.
——Dianna! What the hell are you doing?!
However, a bailiff stepped in quickly. The courtroom regained its order, but the damage had been done. The sins of the Esmeralda household were now laid bare before all.
In a way, this was the only means by which Simon Ainsley’s punishment could be alleviated.
Yet, there was no way to salvage the other allegations. Irene had ensured that, curating the narrative in a meticulous way, leaving no gaps for Simon to maneuver through.
The final gavel struck.
The judge, an official high-ranking member of the parliament who served as the voice of both the working-class commoners and the nobility, turned to Emperor Decadien Aetherion, awaiting his decree.
According to Irene, whose network of informants stretched wide, there was no doubt—Simon Ainsley had orchestrated the entire incident.
Yet, the rules of politics and the cunning manipulations of fabricated evidence had tipped the scales.
A seasoned man like Simon knew how the system worked, and he had maneuvered just enough to dodge the full judgment of the law.
But Decadien knew better.
He had watched the proceedings unfold in silence. Watched the man who had taken his daughter from him evade justice through treachery and manipulation.
His sins against the Empire… and sins against a grieving father.
It was infuriating. It was humiliating.
And it left him with a bitter choice, to uphold the law as an Emperor, or to avenge his daughter as a father.
He may not have been present during Astrid’s upbringing, may not have offered her the affection she needed, but he would not allow her memory to be defiled, nor her death to be mocked by politics and loopholes.
Even if what he was about to do next would be considered tyranny in its purest form… so be it.
At that moment, Decadien finally rose from his seat.
“I have listened. I have witnessed,” he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber. “And though this court has fulfilled its due process, I, Decadien Aetherion, Emperor of this Empire—”
But before he could finish, the grand doors of the chamber burst open with a thunderous bang.
A sudden, heavy pressure filled the air, a gravity so heavy it brought the entire courtroom to silence. All eyes turned toward the entrance as a lone figure stepped forward, her golden eyes gleaming as she extended a hand forward.
——….
Collective gasps rippled through the room.
Decadien, Franz, and even Irene froze, breath caught in their throats.
Because the one who had just entered the House of Justice….
Was Astrid herself.
* * *
Vanitas, seated discreetly among the audience with a black fedora casting a shadow over his eyes, watched the entire proceeding in silence.
“….”
His gaze lingered on Astrid, who stood before the court with full confidence as she deliberately fabricated lies to shift the entirety of the blame onto Simon Ainsley.
Simon, who couldn’t dare refute the words of the supposed deceased victim, the central figure in the case, sat frozen, his mouth trembling as he struggled to maintain composure.
“Professor Vanitas Astrea saved me that day,” Astrid declared. “Out of fear, we both went into hiding, unsure of what the Ainsleys would do to silence us!”
“T-That’s… a lie,” Simon muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible and laced with disbelief.
“The attack was a deliberate attempt to kill me. And it was Professor Vanitas, who had already been targeted by his family, who risked his life to protect mine.”
“….”
Simon’s composure cracked. His fingers clenched into fists as he rose abruptly from his seat.
“This is blasphemy!” he shouted. “With all due respect, Your Highness, apologies for my outburst, but the Ainsleys have served the Empire loyally for generations. Never have I once harbored thoughts of harming you!”
“Then explain the attack, Marquess Ainsley,” Astrid replied coldly. “Will you deny the words of the very victim standing before you? Will you call me a liar in front of this court? I am the princess. The victim. The one who was forced into hiding out of fear of you!”
Simon’s breath hitched. “Why do you claim it was me, Princess?!”
“Because several people present in this very court know the truth. Princess Irene has testified. Prince Franz has testified. Multiple eyewitnesses have come forward. And still, you dare deny your involvement?”
The courtroom descended into chaos as Dianna Ainsley rose from her seat, desperately trying to defend her husband. Yet, each attempt was effortlessly dismantled by Astrid’s pointed refutations.
“….”
Franz sat silently, watching with a mixture of surprise and awe. His little sister, who had once shown no interest in politics, now stood at the center of the courtroom, speaking with absolute confidence before nobles, ministers, and even the parliament.
Perhaps he had misjudged her.
Astrid definitely possessed the talent for politics. Anyone in the room could see that.
“Then who, Marquess Ainsley?” Astrid pressed. “Who were you so desperate to kill that you were willing to blow up a train and endanger dozens of lives including mine?”
“….”
Simon Ainsley’s hands trembled. His lips parted, but no words came out.
The silence was deafening.
Astrid stepped forward. “Was it Vanitas Astrea? Is that it? Was he the true target all along?”
“Enough!” Simon exploded, his composure finally shattering. “You speak as if you know everything, but you don’t! You don’t know anything!”
He turned toward the audience with wide, frantic eyes.
“If he saved you… If Vanitas Astrea truly survived… then where is he now?! Where is he?! Bring him out, now! He’s alive, isn’t he?! So are you! Then that should dissolve my case, right?! Right?!”
However, there was only silence. And that silence only served to frustrate the Marquess even more.
“You are delusional, Marquess Ainsley….”
Simon’s eyes darted wildly, filled with growing panic. Then, suddenly, he turned toward his wife and pointed his finger at her like an accusation.
“You! Woman!” he shouted. “It was you! This is all your fault to begin with! If you had just kept put. None of this would’ve happened!”
Dianna recoiled, visibly shaken. “S-Simon… what are you saying…?”
“You were the one who tried to kill that Vanitas Astrea in the first place!”
The courtroom fell into stunned silence.
Not a whisper, nor a single breath, as Simon Ainsley practically announced the motive behind everything.
“….”
A sly smirk curved across Vanitas’s lips where he sat quietly among the audience.
“Heh.”
It was a checkmate.