No matter what... I won't die again.

Delilah looked down upon her elder sister, bewilderedly holding Penelope's distressed, half-mad, teary clear blue gaze.

She had never in her life seen Penelope look so desperate.

Delilah had not known one could feel so horrified and pleased simultaneously.

Indeed, she did come here to make her despicable, monster of a sister beg, but… She didn't actually think it would work so easily...?

My speech… She thought. I stayed up all night rehearsing it… This reflection left a bitter taste in her mouth.

But none of that mattered now. What did matter was that she needed to find a way out of this chamber before this crazed sister of hers dragged her into deeper waters. Penelope hadn’t yet made her proposal, but what she would ask of Delilah was all too obvious.

“I am NOT going to break you out of this place.” She declared, trying to shake Penelope’s hands off.

“No, not that…” Penelope clasped Delilah’s hands tighter, making Penelope’s sleeve fall a tad, revealing the skin of her wrists.

Delilah’s eyebrow twitched as she caught a glimpse of deep red liquid in an oval shape on it, emerging from what seemed to be a morsel wound.

This wench really is insane… She couldn’t help but sneer.

Penelope scanned the opulent bathroom with a glance before leaning closer towards Delilah. “Listen, I need you to lend me cash.” She murmured.

Cash?

“What?”

“COIN!” Penelope hissed, frantically looking over to the door at the sound of a light knock on it.

“My lady," Alice, Penelope's lady-in-waiting, spoke out behind the door. "The guards are ready. We must depart shortly.” She said in that monotone voice of hers.

“We shall be there in a moment," Delilah sighed as an answer.

What a mess.

Delilah couldn’t help but scoff, shaking off her sister’s dry hands and fixing the skirt of her beige, haute couture Marbret gown that she had sewn especially for this trial hearing.

“I cannot help you.” She expressed, solemn. “One,” she held up her index. “It is hopeless; you cannot buy your way out of a sentence from the Crown Prince. Do not be ridiculous.”

Delilah walked to the sink, letting her arms drop back down.

“Two,” she said, clicking the metal tap, letting it activate and let the water out. “I simply won't throw my life and reputation at risk for you... I know we may be sisters in name,” she tapped it close and turned around. “But are we?” She faked a wince.

Penelope stood back up and brushed her clothes.

“And most importantly,” Delilah met Penelope’s gaze with an amused stare. “You must surely understand, dear sister, that I would never entertain so ruinous an investment. What earthly purpose could any fortune possibly serve you now? No wealth, however great, could deliver you from the consequences of falling afoul of His Highness, as you have done so unceremoniously and with such lamentable lack of grace.”

Penelope did not deserve Delilah's help. A part of her, a very infinitesimal one, wanted to help her out of the sheer pity she felt towards her idiotic, good-for-nothing sister. But not even Delilah's gracious heart could muster up the generosity needed to accomplish the great feat of standing up to a member of the royal family.

“What I use it for is none of your concern. The effects of its use are unlikely ever to touch you."

"You say that now, but oh, dear sister, why should I believe a single word that comes out of your lips?"

"You will give me what I need. You are indebted to me," Penelope declared, her sapphire gaze unusually fiery.

Delilah arched a brow.

"Indebted?" Delilah could not stand the word. "Pray, what nonsense is this you speak?" She sneered.

“Since I saved your life,” Penelope articulated ever so daringly, staring right into Delilah’s soul with an empty, freezing gaze. “I, your good-for-nothing, idiotic sister, am the reason you stand here now, free to preen and posture with such arrogance..” Delilah stiffened. “Thousands of Keps could barely repay me for the secrets I shield on your behalf, dear sister.”

A nerve bulged on the corner of Delilah’s forehead, staring at her sister in fury-induced awe.

This woman’s audacity never failed to surprise her.

“You insolent little wench…” Delilah grinned through gritted teeth. "That was years ago. And you dare to use it against me now?"

Penelope extended her palm with a faint grin. “Yes. Pay me.”

~

Outside the bathroom where two ladies chatted ever so gently. Alice was living one of those days where time felt like a lie.

Her thoughts were a prison to her soul, and though she was used to such a feeling, it was especially torturous today.

All she did and everything she saw felt passive and unremarkable, even to herself. She could not recall her breakfast or whom she spoke to and of what.

Yet Alice couldn’t help it. All of it was eating at her conscience; a compound of regret, despair, and utter, unfiltered rage. Why did her luck constantly betray her this way?

She slid in between the dozens of guards and people clouding the corridor leading up to the bathroom where she needed to be.

“Have you heard?” She recognized a maid’s whisper. “About Alice!”

“No, what about her?”

“You are aware, are you not, that she has served as Lady Ashdown's lady-in-waiting for essentially, an eternity.” Hannah, a maid from the left haul and Alice’s loudest colleague spoke in whispers. “I heard she is to accompany the lady!”

Good heavens! To prison?"

“Yes!”

“But how could that be—she is not implicated in the affair, is she?”

“No, no, not in the slightest. But you know how it is…... Ladies-in-waiting are Korpa's blessing upon the noble women, so it must—”

Useless gossipers. She thought, redirecting her mind to the worrying dialogue she heard beyond the bathroom door.

“I said stop moving!” Lady Delilah hissed.

“I am fucking trying.” Lady Penelope retorted through gritted teeth. “But my arm is not a damned stick. How about you be more gentle!”

Alice had walked out of hearing range for that useless gossip and into the bathroom, forgetting to knock.

Having already swung the door open, she sheepishly knocked and made her way in.

"My lady,” she looked up at the two, a part of her still surprised by the sight she was witnessing. “Would you like me to help?”

In the middle of the bathroom, Penelope was on her knees, her right arm held up. Delilah was standing in front of her face, red and out of breath. The fabric on the sleeves of her Ladyship was pushed down to her shoulders, leaving her right arm bare. Lady Delilah had one hand on Lady Penelope’s left shoulder, and the second on her arm, pushing down a golden bracelet so it would join the four others sitting on her upper arm.

Lady Penelope's arms were whitened by the tight golden bracelets they carried. Her left upper arm carried seven total, while the right one held four for the moment.

Both women were looking at Alice now.

“Her nonchalance worries me.” Lady Penelope said to her sister, without turning around to look at her. "And what to do, she knows now."

“It is nothing new. That maid of yours had always been a source of dreadful sentiments for me. But no need to worry, her lips are sealed. She is your maid, you idiot."

“My maid?” Lady Penelope asked, she paused for a second, then turned back to look up at Delilah. “Matterless. Continue. Alice, or whatever, come help us. We have no time.”

Alice stepped forward to join in and help her ladyship complete their peculiar mission, but a certain realization fell upon her suddenly, making her stop in her tracks.

A long line of shivers climbed up her spine as she locked eyes upon Penelope Ashdown’s body.

“Argh, can you be less of a cow while you do this?!” Lady Penelope shut her eyes, her head lowered as she muffled her pain.

“Be quiet, I am focusing.” Lady Delilah pushed another bracelet down her arm, teeth gritted.

Something was missing in the space Alice was in.

She could tell, even through the immense noise in which she was imprisoned.

A certain voice was absent. No, it was no longer existent.

Her eyes widened the more she felt that absence, the longer it lasted. How could she not notice all this time?

That woman...

“Argh!” Both women grunted, parting from one another.

Penelope let her arm drop and fell back to sit, out of breath. “Finally.” She looked up at her sister, smirking. “The transaction is done.”

... Who in the world was that woman?

~

Outside the Royal Court of Justice, the waist-high, silver metal barriers were barely enough to suppress the people’s outrage; in fact, the commander in charge of Area Management had to send over three Central Forces squadrons to help suppress the people’s outrage while they stood in mass alongside the roads leading out of the Capital; the same roads today’s criminal, Penelope Ashdown, would be taking on her way to Suttone.

It had taken fifteen minutes for the news of the prince’s sentence to spread, and even less time for the roads leading to the city’s exit to spawn all residents with a single thought in mind: Our first Life Sentence in quite a while. Let us see her off properly.

Jonathan, a man in his thirties with a receding hairline who had left his flower shop unsupervised to attend the event, snickered, eager for the small pleasure of watching another fool brought low by his country’s justice system.

The sun blazed high in a clear blue sky as the heavy wooden doors of the Royal Court of Justice swung open.

The few dozen spectators, including Jonathan, who had managed to squeeze into the court’s gardens and along the exit path, jostled against the knights' panicked efforts to hold them back. They craned their necks and jumped to catch a glimpse of those making their way out.

The attorneys emerged first, cloaked in the Royal Court's signature brown, their arms laden with files. Following them were familiar faces: the Pureheart family, Countess Vielle and her bruised son—both looking grim—and finally, a cluster of guards in bronze armor, escorting a peculiar carriage.

"That’s her!" Jonathan shouted, gripping a knight’s arm.

"Stand back!" barked another knight, his teeth clenched as he and his comrades struggled to hold the crowd at bay.

"Penelope Ashdown!" The crowd roared. "There she is!"

Jonathan caught sight of her over a knight’s shoulder—a golden-haired woman in a tattered grey dress, flanked by guards. Her wrists were bound in heavy shackles, her bare feet scraping against the stone path.

“What a sight!” Jonathan grinned in satisfaction.

“You vile crone!” A woman behind him shrieked, catching the prisoner’s attention as she was led toward the waiting carriage.

“May you rot in prison!” The crowd shouted, fighting the overwhelming knights’ power as they successfully pushed them off the roads.

Jonathan wanted to sneak a look at the criminal’s expression. Was she crying? Was she angry? Just how satisfying could a caught criminal’s expression be?

His eyes widened, having caught a sight that sent chills down his spine. A pair of chillingly clear blue eyes stared right into his soul. “Lifeless fuckers.” The woman mouthed.

“Why…” He stepped back, releasing the knight he had been shoving against. “Why does she smile?” His voice faltered. “Madwoman!” Jonathan spat, throwing himself at the knight in front of him to try and get past his siege.

That cursed bloodline of hers must be the origin of her arrogance! How infuriating!!

The knight before him pushed back with a light arm motion, his strength enough to send Jonathan tumbling backward to the ground. Disoriented, Jonathan's eyes met an unwavering glare from the redheaded knight he had tried to tackle.

Once his eyes met the crimson color of the knights’ eyes, it finally dawned upon Jonathan.

The knight, unlike his colleagues, was not clad in armor. How could he miss this?

“S-Sir Yonge—” Jonathan stammered, his face draining of color. "I—!"