Well Done, Canna
Silvian had finally seized a credible thread.
Erdel Iris—the false identity Argon had crafted for her. As he traced the name, genuine testimonies that could only belong to Canna began to surface.
“Yes, I saw her. Her face was hidden under a hood, but I definitely noticed the black hair.”
At that moment, Silvian let out a soft laugh.
Canna. It really is you.
He followed every trace she had left behind.
Restaurants, inns, night markets. She had moved constantly, almost frantically.
The more traces of her he uncovered, the more pleasure he felt.
Only then did he realize the truth.
He must have been far more devastated by Canna’s death than he had admitted to himself.
That was why every new piece of evidence that she was still alive filled him with such delight.
As he pursued her, Silvian allowed himself a pleasant fantasy. She would be utterly shocked to see him. And without question, she would recoil in disgust.
So the first step was to reassure her. He would make it clear he had no intention of dragging her back to the Addis family.
If he then offered to help her escape, to support her new life…
Silvian suddenly halted. He yanked the reins so hard the horse tossed its head.
Why?
Why should he do any of that?
Reality crashed over him like cold water. What exactly was he doing right now?
Why was he chasing after a woman who had left to build a new life? He had confirmed she was alive; wasn’t that enough?
Did he really need to follow her just to watch her face twist with revulsion?
Yet he did not turn his horse around. He wanted to see the living Canna with his own eyes. And—
I have to tell her I’m sorry.
A conversation that had existed only in his imagination.
The chance to speak those words had arrived like a miracle.
There was so much he needed to say.
“Erdel Iris?”
Silvian had finally reached the inn where she was staying.
“Yes, she’s in her room at the moment. May I ask who’s calling?”
When Silvian slipped the employee a gold coin, the man promptly led him to her door.
At last Silvian stood before it. He could sense movement on the other side.
He lifted his hand to knock, then lowered it again. Ridiculous as it was, he had begun to feel nervous, like some clumsy boy.
Silvian straightened his rumpled clothes and swept back his disheveled hair. Then he rapped firmly on the door.
The next instant, it flew open.
“Who… ah?”
His eyes met the woman’s.
A black-eyed woman stared up at him in blank astonishment. The look of someone seeing an illusion she could not possibly believe. Then color flooded her cheeks.
“A-are you… an angel…?”
An unfamiliar voice. An unfamiliar face. A woman he had never seen before—yet one with black eyes and black hair.
It was not Canna.
“…Miss Erdel Iris?”
The woman flinched violently, shoulders trembling.
“W-who are you? How do you know that name?”
“Forgive the intrusion.”
Silvian grasped her shoulder and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
“You are Miss Erdel Iris, correct?”
“Y-yes, I am.”
“The owner of a forged identity tag, in other words.”
At his quiet accusation, the woman’s face drained of all color.
“T-that is…”
“Do not bother lying. I already know everything.”
After a few more veiled threats, the woman poured out the entire story.
She was a commoner. A flower peddler from the slums of the imperial capital. Born with black hair and black eyes, she had never been able to find decent work.
Then, not long ago, another woman had appeared before her.
She claimed to be a maid in service to a noble house. Her mistress—a noblewoman with the same black hair and black eyes—had pitied someone in identical circumstances and decided to give her a new life.
The gift was an identity tag from the Yalden Kingdom and a generous amount of gold.
The Yalden Kingdom was a land free of such prejudice. Even with black hair and black eyes, one could find proper employment there.
“…She said she understood my heart. Because she had the same black hair and black eyes, she had suffered persecution herself.”
The woman’s eyes glistened with tears.
“She told me to live happily.”
“…”
“Do you know who she was?”
Silvian could not answer. He could not believe what he was hearing.
Why?
Why had Canna handed over the identity tag she had obtained with such difficulty to someone else? Had she fled somewhere else entirely? Perhaps she had deliberately sown confusion to obstruct any pursuit.
It was a plausible theory, yet an even more plausible explanation waited in the wings.
Escaping the Addis family in secret was impossible.
Canna must have realized that and fallen into despair.
So, as a form of vicarious comfort, she had given the identity tag to a woman in similar straits and then taken her own life.
Which meant…
Which meant Canna was truly dead.
Silvian leaned back against the wall with a dull thud.
“A-are you all right?”
The woman reached out in concern, but Silvian felt nothing at all.
He had thought he would see her again.
He had thought the chance to say the words he had never spoken had finally come…
That hope had lifted him high into the sky only to slam him straight into the mud.
Perhaps that was why the shock that ran through him now was even greater than when he had first seen her corpse. There were words he had desperately wanted to say to Canna.
A sincere apology. And…
“I am curious about you.”
“Those blazing eyes of yours, that confident face, even your thorny, venomous tongue—I don’t dislike any of it.”
“In fact, I find it rather amusing. I might even like it.”
“Well… I’m not entirely sure.”
“We never had the chance to truly know each other. I threw every opportunity away.”
“Please give me the chance to know you now.”
The countless sentences that had circled in his mouth lodged in his throat like thorns.
Silvian pressed both hands to his forehead. He faced the reality that was as cold and hard as iron. The truth was so frigid it raised gooseflesh across his skin.
It was too late.
The chance to apologize, the chance to begin again—neither would ever come in this lifetime.
Because Canna no longer existed in this world.
The day after the funeral, Alexandro Addis returned.
The moment he arrived, he summoned Claude.
“It happened exactly as the newspapers reported. The young lady took her own life. Right in front of me…”
Claude could not finish; the pain seemed to choke him.
“It might as well have been Lord Kallen who killed her. He desired the young lady.”
“I see.”
“Did you know of Lord Kallen’s feelings?”
Alexandro gave no answer.
Instead, for the first time in a long while, he reached for a cigarette. The moment he placed one between his lips, Claude lit it with a match.
He exhaled a long stream of smoke and muttered, “I suspected as much. That’s why I stationed you there.”
At those words, Claude dropped to his knees.
“Forgive me. I failed to protect her.”
“The body?”
“It is currently resting in the chapel.”
“Get out.”
Once Claude had withdrawn, Alexandro sank deep into the sofa.
He smoked five more cigarettes after that. The drifting white smoke filled his vision completely.
Then he rose abruptly. He strode forward with purpose.
“Your Grace?”
The servants guarding the coffin in the chapel jumped in surprise. Alexandro dismissed them all with a curt gesture.
When they were gone, only he and Canna remained inside the silent chapel.
Alexandro stood before the black coffin. He stared down at it for a long moment, then shoved the lid aside in one powerful motion.
Moonlight poured in, spilling across Canna’s pale face.
Death.
Was there any face to which that word suited so perfectly?
Her skin was white as a wax doll, her lips bloodless. The two hands neatly folded over her chest looked like the final afterimage life had left behind.
A preservative had been applied to slow decay, so for now she remained a beautiful corpse. In a few days, however, rot would set in.
“Canna.”
He murmured her name.
There was no reply.
Alexandro reached out. He stroked hair that was still smooth, then slowly trailed downward to caress her cheek.
He ran his fingers over the face that fit entirely in one hand, as if confirming its shape, before moving lower.
Lower. Lower still.
In the next instant, his hand plunged straight through the left side of her chest.
A sickening crunch of bone and tearing flesh echoed. Dark crimson blood surged upward, splattering across his cheek.
Yet Alexandro’s expression remained blank as he rummaged inside her. He seized her heart, yanked it free, and crushed it in his grip.
The organ crumbled at once into a handful of sand.
It poured down in a soft rustle. Even the blood droplets on his hand scattered away as tiny grains.
Alexandro gave a low chuckle.
When he looked back into the coffin, the place where a body had lain moments earlier was now nothing but sand.
Only the lace dress and the blue roses remained, discarded like empty shells atop the pile.
“Hah.”
A smile curved Alexandro’s lips. Then the laughter he could no longer contain burst free.
“Hahaha!”
His shoulders shook with mirth. He pressed a hand to his forehead, sweeping back crimson hair to reveal eyes bright with genuine delight.
“Not bad at all, Canna.”
Alexandro reached into the coffin and gently stroked one of the blue roses.
“Well done.”
His voice was almost tender.
“Absolutely splendid.”
A short while later, when he stepped outside, the servants who had been waiting were still there.
They looked terrified. It was the first time in their lives they had ever heard Alexandro Addis laugh.
“I-is something the matter, Your Grace?”
Yet Alexandro’s face had returned to its usual blank indifference. Not a trace remained of the ecstasy that had overtaken him moments before.
“Nothing at all. Bury the coffin immediately.”
He turned away, red cloak snapping behind him.
This truth would never escape. No one but him would ever know that the corpse had been nothing more than sand.
That was why Alexandro intended to give Canna a grave at once.
So that she could die perfectly.