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Join the ServerPierre’s blindfold was removed. The dungeon corridor of the Divine Wrath Iron Prison was shrouded in such dimness that he quickly adapted to the meager light. Standing directly before him was Eve, her face obscured by an iron mask.
Being in such close proximity to the black-robed Senior Inquisitor made him distinctly uneasy. Whispers claimed that these particular Inquisitors, having purged countless heretics, were shrouded in an aura of misfortune, capable of afflicting anyone who dared approach them.
“Aren’t you here to visit?” Eve said with palpable impatience. “Hurry up, see what you need to, then get out.”
Her crude manner of speaking exacerbated Pierre’s discomfort. It was, unmistakably, the sort of vulgar tone one would expect only from the lowliest commoners.
However, constrained by her formidable identity, he held his tongue. Instead, he moved to the iron bars of the cell, his gaze sweeping the darkness in search of Jeanne Decker.
The cell was impossibly dark; at first glance, he saw nothing. It wasn’t until Jeanne Decker herself spoke that her presence was revealed.
“Is there something you need?”
She offered no honorific, no greeting. At this point, there was no longer any need for her to maintain even a pretense of civility with this contemptible man.
Only then did Pierre faintly discern Jeanne Decker’s silhouette, seated on the iron cot.
“Jeanne Decker.” Pierre squinted intently, striving to make out her face. He then loudly scoffed, “Are you enjoying your stay in the cell, Jeanne Decker?”
Jeanne Decker remained silent.
“You never imagined, did you, that you’d ultimately fall by my hand!” Pierre laughed with arrogant delight, attempting to provoke Jeanne Decker with his words. “This is the price of your overreach! A mere commoner, yet you dared to scheme your way up through my family? Haha, did you truly believe no one could rein you in?”
Jeanne Decker maintained her silence.
Her quietude made Pierre feel a flicker of unease. To dispel this unsettling sensation, he redoubled his efforts to mock her.
“Do you know? I’ve detested you for a long time! If my father hadn’t been so foolishly indulgent, you would never have been allowed to strut around our home with such entitlement.”
“A commoner, who should only cower before me, dared to imagine herself my equal? This is your just desserts. Here, you can savor the despair of impending death!”
Jeanne Decker still did not speak.
“Hey, why aren’t you speaking?” Pierre frowned deeply. It had taken him a considerable amount of time to finally distinguish Jeanne Decker’s face.
Jeanne Decker remained utterly expressionless. His taunts were like punches striking cotton, eliciting no reaction whatsoever.
“What is this attitude? You must realize your life is in my hands now, don’t you? Your only path to survival is for me to change my testimony!
“If you were to kneel and beg me, I might just consider it!” Pierre began to babble nonsense.
Of course, he had no intention of recanting his statement. He merely wished to witness Jeanne Decker’s despair, perhaps even her tears, to find some twisted balance within himself.
After a prolonged moment, Jeanne Decker finally spoke. “If you’re finished, please leave. I no longer have the energy to despise you.”
Pierre froze in place, utterly petrified.
Having delivered her words, Jeanne Decker simply leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes, and began to meditate.
Jeanne Decker understood Pierre’s delusion. He must have believed that the only reason he couldn’t obtain such ‘evidence’ to frame her was because his father’s political rivals were manipulating him.
In other words, the fool had, with his own hands, betrayed the very family that served as the foundation of his arrogance.
There was no possibility of Pierre recanting, nor would it hold any meaning. His stubborn foolishness failed to even stir a strong hatred within her; for Pierre, Jeanne Decker felt only pity.
“You…” Pierre felt a rush of blood surge to his head.
He had, time and again, imagined Jeanne Decker’s subtle contempt for him. Yet, this time, she had revealed that emotion so openly, so unreservedly.
An unprecedented surge of fury stripped him of his reason. He whirled to face the Inquisitor. “This wretched prisoner shows no remorse! Should you not punish her properly?”
“Huh?” Eve frowned beneath her mask. “Are you speaking to me?”
“I am Duke Alençon’s son! I am the heir to the Alençon family!” Pierre shouted. Since the news of his disinheritance had likely not yet spread, he decided to use his former title to intimidate.
“I demand you teach this insolent—咿呀呀呀啊啊啊!”
His shouts devolved into a shriek mid-sentence as Eve suddenly snapped her fingers, conjuring flames that licked past his face, nearly igniting his sideburns.
Pierre clutched his ears, howling in agony. His ears had been scorched.
“So noisy. If you’re done visiting, scram. You dare order me around? Do you want me to burn you?” Eve snarled impatiently.
“You already burned me!” Pierre shrieked, beside himself. “How dare you do such a thing to me? I am—”
“Who cares who you are?” Eve cut him off dismissively.
Pierre’s eyes widened in shock.
The Inquisition was a formidable institution, but that did not mean a single Inquisitor held a high status. To suddenly harm the son of a Duke—this was not something an ordinary Inquisitor could easily get away with. Yet, this female officer had acted without the slightest hesitation!
“What’s all this commotion?” A deep, muffled male voice suddenly echoed down the corridor.
Pierre turned his head to see another Inquisitor slowly approaching from the direction of the stairs.
“Took you long enough. Where were you?” Eve called out to him.
“Don’t speak to your superior in that tone,” the male Inquisitor chided with a hint of exasperation. He then glanced at Pierre. “Hm? Aren’t you Duke Alençon’s son?”
“You recognize me?” Pierre was momentarily stunned, then realized he had found someone to complain to. “That makes things easier! Esteemed sir, your subordinate just inexplicably burned me, the Holy Son!”
“So what?” Eve interjected with an indifferent tone.
“Is that so? My apologies,” the man offered Pierre an apologetic smile. “Eve can be a bit impulsive in her actions. For my sake, perhaps we can just let it go, and pretend nothing happened? How about that?”
Was such blatant favoritism not a little excessive? Pierre was momentarily dumbfounded.
“Let it go? You know perfectly well who my father is, and you still dare to say ‘let it go’!?” Pierre’s voice rose in pitch.
However, he felt a tremor of apprehension deep down. He suspected these Inquisitors already knew about his disinheritance. But it made no sense; how could such news travel so quickly?
“Oh, is this a ‘my daddy is better than your daddy’ contest?” The male Inquisitor chuckled. “It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but I’ve never seemed to lose one of those.”
With that, the man raised a hand and removed his iron mask.
In that instant, Pierre felt his legs turn to jelly, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground.
His eyes widened, doubting what he saw, but the face before him repeatedly confirmed the reality. Finally, he bowed his head, trembling uncontrollably.
“Your—Your Highness… please forgive my disrespect.”
Indeed, it was highly improbable that anyone could outdo this man in a ‘daddy’ contest, for his father was… the Emperor of the Empire!
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