Chapter 20: Death Penalty

Vote.

Dewitt Nair found himself in a difficult position.

He had already discussed it with Bev Hardy earlier; they would vote out the mad Jesse Holmes first.

But now…

His gaze surreptitiously slid over to Rosie Moulton, who was sitting in the first seat to the left of the head of the table, feeling quite apprehensive in his heart.

This woman was the most dangerous element present.

Rosie, however, showed no hesitation.

The quill pen landed on the parchment, and with a few quick strokes, she finished writing.

Then, she put down the pen and laid her palm flat on her left shoulder.

“Truth above all, Mr. Bobby’s blood cannot have been shed in vain.”

“The guilty will receive the punishment they deserve.”

“I propose that we vote for Hermann Rhys today and leave this murderer here.”

“Does anyone have any differing opinions?”

Dewitt glanced at the pistol still gripped in the young lady’s hand, smiled, and played along, “I agree with Miss Moulton’s words.”

Rosie’s gaze swept over everyone in turn.

Seeing no one object, she nodded in satisfaction.

Then, as if remembering something, she picked up the parchment and walked over to Hermann, who had been moved and tied to a chair.

She waved the parchment with his name written on it back and forth in front of the man, politely inquiring.

“Mr. Rhys, do you mind if we write your name?”

“Heh—cough, cough!!”

Hermann stared deadly at Rosie’s face, his eyes bloodshot and filled with venomous resentment.

Rosie nodded.

“You’re not talking, so that means you agree.”

As if he could no longer bear it, Hermann began to struggle desperately.

He even threw himself forward, chair and all, knocking Rosie to the ground.

With his limbs bound, he opened his mouth and, without hesitation, bit down towards the young lady’s fair neck.

Dewitt was the closest, yet he had no intention of intervening.

He cheered jubilantly in his heart.

‘Go on, go on! You’d best bite this madwoman to death!’

Unfortunately, Rosie’s reaction was not slow.

Although there was a significant difference in physical strength between a man and a woman, Hermann was, after all, bound hand and foot to the chair.

He could only rely on his body weight to temporarily pin down the young lady beneath him.

Rosie tensed her calves, her knees slightly bent.

At the same time, she raised the hand holding the pistol and smashed the butt of the gun viciously against the man’s cheek, neutralizing his attack.

Then, she pressed her arm against the ground to create a fulcrum, pushed hard, and quickly extricated herself.

Rosie stood up from the floor.

Her face was cold.

First, she kicked Hermann in the back, then she raised her hand and pointed the gun at the man.

“Ah—!”

A woman’s scream came from beside her, making her finger pause on the trigger for a moment.

Rosie stared at Hermann for a while longer, then closed her eyes, lowered the pistol, and turned her head to smile at the middle-aged gentleman beside her.

“Mr. Nair, could I trouble you to help me move Mr. Rhys back?”

The young lady’s smile was sweet, but her eyes were frosty, devoid of any warmth.

‘Is she blaming me for being so close yet not immediately stepping in to help?’

‘The person she wanted to kill just now was Rhys, so who will be next? Will it be me?’

A chill ran down Dewitt’s spine, but under the pressure, he still nodded and walked forward to help the fallen Hermann up.

Rosie walked to the head of the table and picked up the cloche from the center.

She held it with the inside facing her, covering her left hand which was placed on her lower abdomen, like a polite server.

“It’s getting late.”

“After the vote, everyone should go rest.”

Hermann Rhys was mercilessly sentenced to death by the young lady.

…

In the spacious dining room, everyone had long since left.

Only a headless female corpse and a man tightly bound to a chair remained sitting at the table.

Time ticked by, second by second.

Hermann Rhys was awaiting his salvation.

Creeak—.

The door was pushed open.

“Someone” walked in.

Tap, tap, tap.

The unfamiliar footsteps grew closer, heralding the man’s death.

Perhaps soon, another headless corpse would be added to the dining room.

As Dennis Sandek walked, he pulled a weapon from the open collar of his black greatcoat.

He gripped the edge of the cane, twisted it lightly, and drew out the slender blade hidden within its body.

Hermann raised his head, his face, somewhat狰狞 from the burns, filled with shock.

“Heh—, heh—?!”

Dennis’s eyes were indifferent, his gaze towards the man like that of someone appraising a corpse.

He walked up to Hermann, reached out a hand, and was about to hold Hermann’s head to cut it off when suddenly, he seemed to sense something.

Dennis took a step back.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and a silver light flashed.

An arc-shaped crescent moon slashed through his greatcoat, and a splash of crimson leaped out.

The pain did not delay Dennis’s movements.

He steadied his body, twisted his waist, and used the power of his hips and legs to swiftly deliver a kick.

Crash.

The sound of the chair falling to the ground echoed.

Hermann bent over to dodge it, and at the same time, used the strength in his forearm to grip the dagger and swing it upwards.

Unfortunately, he was a step too slow.

Dennis didn’t get entangled in the fight.

After his spinning kick missed, he quickly pulled his leg back, simultaneously stepping sideways to the left.

He bent his right knee into a half-squat, brought the cane-sword down in a chop to the left, relaxed his arms, and sank his shoulders.

Faced with this powerful chop, Hermann didn’t use his dagger to block it head-on.

Instead, he dodged back to a safe distance, keeping his right arm down, his right hand gripping the knife by his lower right arm, waiting for an opportunity.

Hermann stared at Dennis for a moment, then suddenly said.

“Mr. Sanbek is truly formidable, to be able to react to even such a sneak attack.”

Dennis didn’t react much to his name being mispronounced.

He placed one hand on his waist.

Although he had dodged in time, he was still injured.

Fortunately, his internal organs were not damaged, so the impact was not significant.

He had personally searched Hermann’s body.

Now, not only had the other party escaped, but he also had an extra dagger.

A thousand thoughts flashed through Dennis’s mind.

He recalled the scene of Hermann Rhys pouncing on Rosie Moulton.

The two had been very close at that time, close enough to make some discreet little movements.

The superhuman hearing ability that his Covenanter path as a Pugilist gave him now came into play.

He ignored Hermann, who had suddenly launched an attack, blocked the stabbing dagger with his left arm, and instead of counterattacking, immediately withdrew his arm and rolled to the side.

The expected gunshot did not ring out.

Dennis frowned, looking towards the dining room entrance.

In the half-open doorway stood a figure.

The young lady had long, slightly curled, cool-toned tea-brown hair and a pair of misty-blue eyes brimming with moisture.

Who else could it be but Rosie Moulton?

Rosie looked at the bodyguard with a complex expression.

She didn’t speak, only raised her pistol as she approached Hermann.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to just shoot him directly.

It was that she knew her own marksmanship.

After shooting, all she’d probably hear was a bang.

It was better to use it as a means of deterrence, just like when they were playing along in the dining room earlier.

Hermann placed his left hand on his cheek, rubbed it back and forth a couple of times, then pulled hard, tearing off the scorched, leather-like skin from his face.

He let out a light chuckle.

“How will you grant me salvation?”

“My dear Lord.”