The Forgotten Field - Chapter 195

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 195
“Is that the truth?”
Talia, who had worn a dazed expression as though hearing some foreign tongue, nodded her head.
“…Yes. It’s true.”
A hollow laugh escaped between Barcas’s lips. Only upon hearing her confirmation did he realize that deep down, he had been hoping she would deny it.
Even a transparent lie would have sufficed. Had she simply claimed it never happened, he would have gladly accepted the deception.
The moment he confronted that pathetic reality, something budding within him withered and cracked.
He gazed at her with eyes in which all emotion had died.
“Did you wish for my death?”
To his hollow question, a faint ripple stirred across her eyes, which had grown clouded like faded stained glass. The woman, staring at him with a bloodless face, suddenly began to tremble, her shoulders convulsing.
“…No. I never thought such a thing. Not for a moment.”
Barcas let out a dry, bitter laugh.
“Then what possessed you to poison me?”
“I didn’t know it was poison…”
A voice so faint it was nearly inaudible escaped between her lips, where dried blood had crusted.
“I didn’t know it was poison. I thought it was just… something harmless… a medicine that wouldn’t hurt the body…”
At such a pathetic excuse, Barcas’s lips froze with cold disdain.
“Then what medicine did you think you were giving me?”
The woman’s shoulders shrank as though struck by a whip. Barcas waited for her to offer a more convincing explanation. But all that returned was chilling silence.
Her blue eyes, drenched in violet twilight, slowly descended toward the floor. When it became clear she had no intention of speaking further, he pressed her with an even harsher tone.
“Heretic symbols were discovered in your sleeping chamber, I’m told. The High Priest has even raised suspicions that you attended a Heretic Gathering. So speak truthfully—did you poison me to obstruct the subjugation operation?”
She flinched and looked up. Her face showed she could not comprehend his words at all. Simultaneously, she appeared gripped by extreme anxiety.
He clutched his throbbing head as though a spike had been driven through it, pressing her with agitation.
“Please, say something. Anything.”
“…If I say it wasn’t me, could you believe that?”
She uttered the words weakly.
“Believe whatever you wish to believe. But the fact that you poisoned me doesn’t change, regardless of the reason.”
Then, bowing his head deeply, he added with the composure of a martyr.
“…I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide.”
In that instant, a violent urge seized him—to seize her by the nape of the neck and throttle the breath from her. He wanted to force himself into those eyes that seemed resigned to everything, to make her plead desperately. His fingertips trembled as he suppressed that intense impulse.
He gripped the sheet tightly, his voice emerging strained and suffocated.
“Do you even understand what you’re saying right now?”
She kept her mouth shut, staring fixedly at her own shadow pooling on the floor.
At last, Barcas’s patience exhausted, he rose unsteadily from the bed.
He felt his muscles, weakened to an absurd degree, twitch with subtle convulsions. His joints felt as though rusted through, and from his ravaged insides, something still churned like molten lava. Ignoring every danger signal his body sent, he walked heavily toward her.
“Do you think this matter will pass as lightly as when you tampered with Aila’s cup?”
As he seized her shoulders and spoke through gritted teeth, stark fear flickered across her widened eyes. Looking directly down at it, he spoke each word as though chewing it.
“You’re not only charged with attempted poisoning—you’re also under suspicion of heresy. Do you understand what that means?”
Lowering his voice, Barcas continued grimly.
“If you’re fortunate, you’ll merely rot in prison for life. In the worst case, you could face execution. And if you’re excommunicated through the Religious Inquisition, the method of your execution will be all the more cruel. You will die stripped of every right as a human being, as something less than a beast.”
By now, her face had turned ashen, drained of all color. Barcas gripped her shoulders firmly, his voice dropping to a grave whisper as he imprinted his words upon her mind.
“So stop spouting nonsense about accepting any punishment. From now on, you will say only one thing: that you know nothing of this, that it has nothing to do with you, and you will deny it to the very end.”
She looked up at him with a dazed expression, still half-lost in shock. The sight of her like this made his stomach twist.
He shook her shoulders back and forth, emphasizing his words repeatedly.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? You never set foot in any Heretic Gathering, and someone else put the poison in the drink. You have nothing to do with this matter.”
“But… but….”
She moved her lips in confusion.
“I… I put the drug in your drink. I tried to….”
Suddenly, a cry of pain escaped her lips. Only then did Barcas realize he was gripping her shoulders so hard he might crush them.
He released her hastily. Clenching his fists, he spoke in a strained voice.
“You said it yourself—you never intended to harm me….”
She nodded mechanically. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them.
“That’s all that matters. We will bury this matter and move past it.”
“You… trust me?”
She asked in a trembling voice. Barcas looked down at her with clouded eyes.
The sudden change in her since their reunion flashed through his mind. The sweet words she had whispered echoed in his ears.
‘You’re my husband, aren’t you? Why would it be strange for me to care?’
‘Actually… I’ve been worried about you all this time.’
Were all those words truly sincere? Could I believe them without doubt?
As Barcas questioned himself, a bitter smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
“Whether I trust you or not is irrelevant.”
That was it.
Even if all of this had been an act to lower his guard, what did it matter? He could not bear the thought of this woman becoming a prisoner, standing before a tribunal.
Whether she was a fanatic who tried to poison him made no difference to the outcome.
Then the truth itself was unimportant.
He continued mechanically.
“For now, containing this situation is the priority. Remain confined to your chamber until matters have settled.”
Then he turned back toward the bed. He felt his legs growing increasingly weak.
To avoid collapsing ungracefully, he gripped the bedpost tightly, and ice-cold fingers clung to his shirt sleeve.
“I don’t understand at all. If you don’t even trust me, why are you covering up my mistake? Why….”
He reflexively pulled his hand away. Talia looked up at him with bewildered eyes. For a moment, he froze in shock at his own action, and as he gazed at her wounded face, Barcas felt something within him snap.
In that instant, an inexplicable, cruel impulse swept over him.
“I have felt indebted to you all this time.”
He lowered his gaze to her legs. And added flatly.
“But now I owe you nothing.”
Through the haze that clouded his vision, her ashen face came into focus. Turning away from that sight, he pulled the bell cord beside the bed. Almost simultaneously, soldiers opened the door and entered the chamber.
He gestured without so much as glancing at her.
“Take her to the Third Floor Women’s Quarters. The Grand Duchess will remain confined there for the time being.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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