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Chapter 62: Confession
The four waited for sothing to happen.
They strained their ears to catch any sound in the cave, darting their eyes between the torch-lit areas and the patches of sunlight.
Nothing happened, even after a long ti.
Ram’s keen hearing detected no sound other than the chatter of soldiers sharing als outside the cave.
“Is it over?”
Damion stepped away from the stone table and let out a hollow laugh.
“It’s a good thing Aikob isn’t here. If he were, he’d definitely be bragging, ‘Nothing happened thanks to ! It’s proof that only our god exists!’”
“You don’t seem particularly pious, Prince Damion.”
“It’s not about lacking faith. I just don’t follow Aikob. You’ve seen the man. Who would want to follow soone like that?”
Jedrick gave a faint smile.
“I think I understand what you an.”
“Shall we head out, then? If Aikob asks, we’ll say it was too boring inside, so we burned so powder, got tired of waiting, and ca back out. Sound good...?”
Damion trailed off as he looked at Charlon.
She was staring intently upward, her head tilted back.
Damion followed her gaze.
Reddish smoke from the burned powder continued to rise through the hole in the ceiling, floating skyward.
“What is it, Charlon?”
“Just a mont.”
Charlon closed her eyes and spoke again.
“Let’s stay here for a little longer.”
She swayed her head slowly, as though listening to an inaudible lody.
Her erald hair seed to sway as if caught in a breeze, though there was none.
It was a breathtaking sight.
Ram had never found noblewon beautiful, no matter how extravagantly dressed.
He could judge the quality and fit of their clothing and muster polite praise when asked, but he had never felt genuine admiration.
Charlon, however, inspired an effortless awe.
Even Ram, typically reserved, was captivated.
The two n, by contrast, seed completely entranced.
Charlon, her eyes still closed, began to speak.
“I feel like we didn’t just co here by chance. Sure, Aikob forced us here—dragged us against our will. But, honestly, I wanted to co here. From the mont Olga ntioned it, I felt drawn to this place. No, maybe I ca to the North just to end up here. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? That couldn’t be true.”
The three n listened in silence.
“We just threw powder into the fire, burned red powder, and drank blood. Why did we do that? We wanted to confirm it was aningless, that’s why. But why should it be aningless? There’s no one here to accuse us of practicing so evil heresy.”
Charlon opened her eyes and continued,
“What if it’s okay for this to an sothing?”
Damion, dazed, snapped to attention and asked,
“an sothing? Are you saying we should give so significance to drinking blood just now?”
Charlon took Damion’s hand.
Then she took Jedrick’s.
“Look. When we get married, we exchange rings. When a child is born, we kiss their cheek. To seal a union, we kiss on the lips. To show respect, we kiss the back of the hand. When knights swear loyalty, they kneel before their lord, who touches a sword to their shoulder. What does any of that an? Is it so kind of spectacle to say, ‘Look! I could have killed you, but I didn’t—be grateful!’? In so places, knights even kiss their lord’s feet in complete submission. Strictly speaking, these are all just rituals, aren’t they? Yet knights who swear loyalty often betray their lords. And knights who were once enemies in battle can beco comrades who protect each other in the next.”
Charlon looked at each of the n in turn, her voice growing firr.
“We assign aning to these insignificant acts. Just now, we drank blood together. Is that really insignificant? Why should drinking blood be such a big deal?”
“Sure, yesterday we ate sausages made with pig’s blood. Sa thing. Once it’s in your stomach, it’s all the sa.”
Jedrick’s comnt made Charlon laugh.
“You’re right. It’s nothing. And at the sa ti, it’s everything. If we decide it’s aningful, it becos aningful. We said we wouldn’t harm each other, but words are just words. A knight who swears loyalty can still kill their king. But if we believe in each other and decide this ritual has aning, then it becos real.”
Charlon pulled the n’s hands closer to her face and spoke with conviction.
“Let’s make this ritual real.”
Her voice held them spellbound.
“In Born’s tradition, when people share secrets in a private, sacred place like this, their souls are said to beco connected. Why don’t we share our secrets here? The ones we want to hide the most. What do you think?”
Jedrick broke the silence first.
“What does that accomplish? Bowing during a loyalty oath is at least...”
“That’s a good idea,”
Damion interrupted.
“That would build more trust in our promise not to harm each other, wouldn’t it? Don’t you agree, Jedrick?”
Jedrick frowned, clearly annoyed, but Damion silenced him with a sharp glance.
With a sigh, Jedrick relented.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Damion then turned to Ram, who hesitated.
“I’m not sure I should hear secrets from people like you.”
“Stop hedging. Yes or no, that’s all I want to hear.”
Damion gave Ram the sa stern look he’d given Jedrick, holding out his hand.
Ram hesitated, unsure without a direct order.
But Charlon waited with a smile, and Jedrick didn’t object, though he seed exasperated.
“All right,”
Ram finally said, taking Damion’s hand, then Jedrick’s.
The four stood in a circle around the table, holding hands.
The lingering scent of burned powder, oil, and wood smoke filled the air.
“I’ll start.”
Damion cleared his throat and began.
“I once set fire to a sanctuary under Aikob’s care.”
Charlon gasped.
“I asked for secrets, not confessions of cris!”
“Let explain. I was ten years old. I wanted to make the solar cross shine brighter, so I set candles beneath it. I thought it’d look beautiful to line up a hundred candles. I even made sure they wouldn’t tip over. But... I put them too close to the cross.”
“A wooden cross?”
Jedrick asked.
“An old one, brought from sacred ground. Completely dry. It caught fire instantly, and the flas spread to the mural on the wall. I’d gone to fetch more candles, so no one saw . By the ti I returned, the cross was ablaze, and people were throwing water on it. I ran away as soon as I saw it.”
“Did you confess?”
Jedrick asked.
Damion shook his head.
“Even now, Aikob curses that ‘arsonist’ to hell whenever it cos up. How could I confess? This is the first ti I’ve ever spoken about it.”
“That’s truly a secret to take to your grave,”
Charlon said with wide eyes.
“Please do.”
“With pleasure.”
Charlon began her story next.
"My turn, then. I actually once had a man I promised to marry."
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Damion was startled.
"You had a fiancé?"
"It was when I was ten."
Damion visibly relaxed.
Charlon laughed, though her expression turned slightly bitter as she continued.
"He was the son of the man who tended the castle gardens. That day, he looked so handso planting roses with his gloves on that I couldn’t help myself—I proposed to him. I said, ‘Marry !’ just like that. I must have been overly direct because he ran away. Who wouldn’t be scared? The eldest daughter of House Vormont suddenly rushing at him with a proposal—anyone would have been terrified. But the next day, the boy must have changed his mind. He ca to holding flowers and said he’d accept my proposal. But I was so embarrassed that I denied ever saying such a thing. My father was furious. I smoothed it over by claiming it was all a joke, but it almost turned into a disaster. The boy was nearly executed for insulting . Luckily, he’s living well now. I heard his wife is expecting, and he’s officially inherited the gardening duties. My thoughtless joke almost ruined an ordinary man’s life."
"Please, don’t play such pranks on ,"
Damion said with mock seriousness, making everyone laugh.
Except for Ram.
He couldn’t laugh.
[PR/N: Cursed with knowledge 💀]
Jedrick then shared his story.
"I’ve never been in a duel. I’ve never killed anyone."
Damion waited for him to continue, but when Jedrick didn’t say more, he grew indignant.
"That’s it?"
"That’s it. Why?"
"That’s all? We’ve shared genuinely embarrassing and dangerous secrets, and that’s what you’ve got?"
Jedrick replied with emphasis.
"For a Geronian man, this is a big secret. To have reached my age without killing even a single wolf is deeply shaful. In my village, the only person who knows this is my brother, Ikarum. Even my father assus I’ve killed at least one man in battle. Telling you all, especially as outsiders, is a massive blow to my pride."
"We’re no longer outsiders! What’s that word Charlon used? It’s like our souls are connected now!"
Damion raised his voice.
Charlon shook the hands of the two n she held.
"Wonderful. I feel like we’re growing closer and closer. Now, Stuga, it’s your turn."
Three pairs of eyes turned to Ram.
At that mont, all three of them widened in shock.
Ram didn’t imdiately realize why they were looking at him like that.
"Why... why are you crying?"
Damion asked in a surprised voice.
Only then did Ram notice the tears streaming down his cheeks.
But he didn’t wipe them away.
He couldn’t.
His hands were holding Damion and Jedrick’s hands, and he couldn’t lift them.
He could have let go for a mont to wipe his tears, but he didn’t.
He couldn’t bear to let go of these hands he might never hold again.
He could have wiped his tears and then rejoined their grasp, but he didn’t want to break the connection.
Charlon had called it the connection of souls.
‘I can’t escape my past.’
That thought had lingered ever since Aikob sent him a warning by leveraging his weaknesses.
‘General Terdin said I could leave my past behind, but that’s easier said than done.’
He had always known this.
Still, he had hoped Terdin’s words would be true.
That didn’t an he was disappointed in Terdin.
Nor was he disappointed in his current circumstances.
Not long ago, he had been a slave.
Now, he served as a steward to the Prince of Triton.
The eldest daughter of Vormont, the Elhorn of Geron—they were under his protection.
And now he was holding hands with the three of them, sharing secrets.
How could he feel disappointed?
Even if only for a fleeting mont... he could imagine living in a world without status or class.
That fleeting illusion was enough.
He wished this mont could last forever. But he knew it wouldn’t.
‘The mont my blade pierced Claive’s eye, it beca impossible.’
Ram knew this bond wouldn’t last.
He shed tears for the happiness brought by that brief illusion and for the sadness of losing it so quickly.
He knew he had to confess everything in this mont.
"My na is Ram. I was a slave of Baron Selken..."
The others had already been shocked when he said his na, so they didn’t react further.
Even the word "slave" didn’t bring contempt to their eyes—only curiosity as they awaited the rest of his story.
That made him even more nervous.
‘Our souls are being connected.’
It didn’t matter if this ritual was real or fake.
It didn’t matter if it was a superstition or just a ga Charlon had made up on the spot.
Ram approached it with sincerity.
If he gave his all, it felt like he could truly connect with them.
Even if it was only his own illusion, it didn’t change how he felt.
This illusion of connection was precious to him.
Ram confessed.
"...I’m the one who killed Adian Mantum."
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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