Reviewing Responses

 Chapter 33

The world is steeped in death. No, perhaps it is more accurate to say we mistakenly perceive death as distant because we are surrounded by life. But death does not discriminate.

A healthy person may perish in a sudden accident before someone plagued by illness. A hunched, frail elder may outlive a newborn clinging stubbornly to life.

Caught in the daily rhythm of existence, we bury the inevitability of death in the recesses of our minds, pretending to forget that our final moment will one day come.

Partings are always sudden. Our hearts, unprepared, are left behind to mourn in sorrow.

We forget the fragility of life, deluded by the illusion that it will last forever, and postpone words meant for today—until tomorrow, and then another.

I do not harbor the arrogant desire to live eternally.

I only wish to live in peace alongside those I love, free of great misfortune.

So that, in their final moments, they might look at me and think, “I lived a good life.”

And in my final moments, I might look at them and feel, “It was a wonderful life.”

※　※　※　※　※

“In the name of God and the Saintess, we offer boundless gratitude to the warriors who defended our nation. May their souls find peace. May those they left behind be blessed with fortune.”

The Saintess’s requiem prayer for the fallen rings out clearly, carried into the open sky.

As I listen in solemn silence to the words shaped by her lips, my thoughts drift to the departed.

If I focus, I can faintly hear the muffled sobs of mourning scattered through the crowd.

Without raising my gaze, I turn toward the sound and see an elderly woman in mourning dress, a child clutching their mother’s hand with anxious eyes, and a young girl shedding silent tears.

Each has lost someone dear.

The Saintess’s prayer and the quiet sobs of grief blend together, forming a haunting funeral hymn.

This memorial is held jointly with neighboring territories, drawing a large number of attendees.

To be honest, my initial intent was to find a legitimate reason to meet Olivia. But the Bartfort territory, thanks to Leon’s efforts, suffered far fewer casualties than neighboring lands.

Inviting a Saintess from the capital to conduct a ceremony for only a few dozen fallen might have seemed excessive.

Thus, we extended invitations to the lords and nobles of nearby regions. News of the Saintess’s arrival spread quickly, and many eagerly proposed a joint ceremony or offered financial support.

As a result, hundreds gathered for a chance to witness the Saintess’s presence, and a grand memorial was held in Bartfort territory.

Calculating the potential economic benefits and the boost to our territory’s reputation, I find myself thinking like the person I once was—someone who saw commoners as mere numbers.

That thought makes me glance beside me—at the family on my lap.

My beloved husband and our child.

Leon continues his prayer, his expression solemn.

These people may not be personally connected to me, but to Leon, they were comrades—subordinates who shared both hardships and victories.

A twinge of guilt stirs in my chest, along with a faint, irrational envy toward the dead for whom Leon offers his prayers.

Who would have thought I could envy the fallen spirits of war, while I remained behind, clinging to hope and praying for his return?

The fact that I view this ceremony with such detached calm is likely because Leon came back alive.

I am not one of those left in mourning—only by chance.

Leon is no immortal hero of legend. He is a man—flesh and blood—who could have vanished from this world like dew upon a battlefield.

Yet people focus solely on his glory, refusing to see his vulnerability.

Those who send him to fight, and I—who seek his love and protection—are equally selfish.

“May their pure souls, through God’s mercy, return once more to this world. I pray in the name of Saintess Olivia.”

A gentle light radiates from Olivia, prompting soft gasps of awe from the crowd.

Even my child, nestled on our laps, gazes in wide-eyed wonder.

I glance at Leon, but his expression remains unchanged, immersed in silent reflection.

He must have his own thoughts for the fallen.

That Leon is here now—alive and beside me—

I gently place a hand over my belly, feeling the quiet presence of life within.

This child would not exist if Leon had perished.

Making sure no one is watching, I slip off my glove and place my bare hand atop Leon’s.

The warmth that meets me is real and grounding.

That simple gesture alone fills my heart with love, wrapping me in happiness.

As the Saintess’s prayer ends, the officiant begins reading formal messages from various dignitaries, though most attendees remain fixated on Olivia.

As always, Olivia holds people’s hearts without even trying.

Whether that is her strength or flaw, I still cannot say.

But it’s her path to walk.

And I will walk mine.

To say I’ve no attachment to the capital would be a lie, but I’m beginning to think it wouldn’t be so bad—to live and one day be buried in this land.

For now, what’s important is the work that lies ahead—the gradual growth of Bartfort territory.

The ancient custom dictates that a banquet follow a mourning ceremony, to help soothe the living.

After all, funerals are more for the living than the dead.

This is a chance—to raise the territory’s standing, and Leon’s as well.

It seems I’m more calculating than I let on.

Let’s get started and finish swiftly.

After all, the true purpose comes afterward.

※　※　※　※　※

Though it feels like ages have passed, in truth, it hasn’t been long.

I move through the banquet, exchanging greetings with noble guests, engaging in light conversation, and subtly promoting the Bartfort territory.

Although we are the hosts, the guest of honor is undoubtedly Saintess Olivia.

She moves among the nobles with practiced ease and a fearless smile—far stronger than she once was.

If she weren’t like this, the real conversations to come wouldn’t have any weight.

“Angelica-sama! Angelica-sama!”

I turn at the sound of a familiar voice and see a young woman calling to me, her expression pleading.

At her feet are the twins—my own children—clinging tightly to her legs.

“It’s been a while, Marie-san. Have you been well?”

“It has! I’m sorry to ask this so suddenly, but could you please do something about the young master and young miss?”

She’s trying to pry the twins off, but they’re surprisingly stubborn, and she looks flustered—clearly worried their fussing might disturb the banquet.

Though they’re usually shy with strangers, for some reason, they’ve taken quite the liking to Marie-san.

For a moment, I consider hiring her as a nanny to ease our daily burden, gently stroking Lionel and Ariel’s heads.

Even through my thin dress gloves, the soft, fluffy texture of their toddler hair is a soothing comfort.

“So, did you complete the task I gave you properly?”

“Well, I worked hard on it, but I can’t promise it’ll meet your expectations, Angelica-sama,” Marie replies with a carefree air as she heaps food onto her plate, though a flicker of unease lingers in her expression.

I could swear I just saw her devour an entire piece of meat in one bite—far more than I’d eat in a single sitting—before reaching immediately for another. But I’d prefer to believe I imagined it.

“Olivia-sama hardly slept as she pushed forward with her research. We assisted, of course, but none of us could keep up with her in the end. Where does that slender body of hers find the strength and stamina? Honestly, I’m beginning to think Saintesses are built differently from the rest of us—like they’re another species entirely.”

Perhaps that’s precisely what defines someone extraordinary—those who steer the course of history or shape the destiny of nations.

If that’s the case, was it inevitable that I could never surpass Olivia?

Shaking off the creeping doubt in my heart, I gently hug Lionel and Ariel closer.

“Angie, there you are.”

Leon approaches, his face subtly showing signs of fatigue.

He’s grown used to dealing with nobles to some extent, but entertaining such a large gathering still wears him down.

I wish I could stay by his side to help, but since the Bartfort family is hosting, it's more effective for us to split up and work the crowd separately.

More importantly, this arrangement lets me keep watch from a distance—especially on those who try to approach Leon when I, his wife, am not present.

I must be cautious of lords and nobles introducing their daughters or sisters, or young ladies looking to cozy up to him.

Are they drawn to the wealth of the Bartfort territory, or is it Leon himself they’re after?

If it’s the latter, that’s far more concerning.

Leon is my husband. I have no intention of letting some scheming woman worm her way into his heart while I, carrying our child, am absent.

This isn’t jealousy—this is the duty of a noble’s wife.

Absolutely, positively not because we’ve had less time together as a couple since the children were born, or because our moments of intimacy have decreased during my pregnancy.

“We’ll be closing the banquet soon. Afterward, we’ll host Saintess-sama at the estate.”

“Understood. Most of the preparations are already complete. Marie-san, please go and inform Olivia-san.”

“Fwaa—hai!”

Don’t talk with your mouth full! You’re not a squirrel!

Swallowing hastily, Marie scurries away into the crowd.

“Who was that girl?” Leon asks.

“She’s one of Olivia-san’s attendants. She once visited our estate personally, asking for an audience with Olivia. Today’s event is largely thanks to her initiative.”

“I see.”

Leon glances in the direction Marie disappeared, and before I realize it, my foot lands firmly atop his.

“Angie…”

“What?”

“That hurts.”

“Oh, does it?”

Let me revise my earlier thought.

At the end of the day, I dislike every woman who gets too close to Leon. It’s simply how I am—incurably, unapologetically so. The least I can do is make sure Leon understands.

“She may not look it, but Marie-san is the same age as us.”

“Seriously?”

I hand the children over to a slightly stunned Leon. From here on, I need to take over the final arrangements.

“Once the banquet ends, Olivia-san and her party will travel to our estate. They’ll rest there for a few hours under that pretense, stay in the guest wing, and depart by noon tomorrow.”

“Is that enough time?”

“This is her proposal. We’re simply the ones judging it. If we deem collaboration impossible, we’ll ask her to leave without hesitation.”

Even if the ducal house were to seize the throne, it wouldn’t directly harm us.

It might increase Leon’s political burdens, but if that happens, I’ll support him—his political weaknesses are mine to cover. It’s not a concern.

Unless Olivia brings forth something undeniably persuasive, her plan is destined to fail.

I know I’m being spiteful—but that’s politics. That’s negotiation.

I leave the venue without looking back.

I didn’t want Leon to see the jealousy and bitterness stirring in my heart any longer.

※　※　※　※　※

“We have been awaiting your arrival, Saintess Olivia-sama. Welcome to the Bartfort estate.”

I offer a formal greeting at the estate gates, voice calm, expression composed.

Hiding one’s true emotions behind a practiced smile—even when facing someone I dislike, someone whose family is in conflict with mine—is a vital skill for any noblewoman.

To outsiders, this scene might appear humiliating: a former rival bowing her head as she welcomes her into her own home.

Even if Olivia is a kind person, I can’t help the flood of resentment that rises inside me.

To be honest, if Leon weren’t by my side, I don’t think I could endure this.

“I am Viscount Leon Fou Bartfort, head of the household. It is a pleasure to welcome you, Saintess Olivia-sama. We are honored by your visit.”

“I am Angelica Fou Bartfort, his wife. Thank you for taking the time to grace our home with your presence, despite your busy schedule.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Lord Bartfort. On behalf of the temple, I express my heartfelt gratitude.”

With polite formalities exchanged, I lift my head and see Olivia smiling warmly, while Leon responds with equal sincerity.

Leon begins introducing each member of the Bartfort household to her.

It’s unbearable. Absolutely unbearable.

I may be keeping up appearances for now, but watching Leon speak to Olivia with such respect twists something inside me.

Has there ever been a time he treated me like a lady with that much courtesy?

I know I’m not the most charming woman, but I want Leon to look at me the same way—just once—with that kind of warmth.

It feels like the polite, measured words he offers Olivia take more effort than the passionate whispers he shares with me during our rare private moments.

“I will escort you through the estate,” I say, cutting short their exchange with a tight-lipped smile.

I can’t take anoth

er second of this.

Olivia’s entourage consists of a single female attendant—different from Marie-san—and one elf servant. Temple knights discreetly station themselves around the estate perimeter.

It appears she’s never allowed to travel without guards from the temple.

I had often wondered what kind of strategy they employed to slip away unnoticed when Mylene-sama had come to see me before.

Was it due to Marie’s competence, or were the other attendants equally skilled?

As I stood at the door to my study, I turned back. Olivia and her three attendants showed no intention of leaving.

I gave Olivia a questioning look.

“These are all people who have helped me,” she said. “Please allow them to stay.”

It was clear that refusing them would be pointless.

Letting out a sigh, I opened the study door.

The room had been specially arranged for Olivia’s visit today, noticeably different from its usual layout. I had gone to the trouble of acquiring a guest table and sofa, meticulously cleaning the space, and preparing high-quality tea and sweets from renowned neighboring brands. Even if I didn’t care for the visitor personally, any lapse in hospitality in noble society would be swiftly criticized. That was simply the reality of our world.

Unconcerned with my internal frustrations, Leon motioned for the four to take their seats.

Olivia settled into a single-seater sofa, while Leon and I sat on another. Marie, another maid, and the elven servant took the larger multi-seat sofa.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Olivia,” she began.

“I’m Marie, Olivia-sama’s maid. I’m in charge of her protection, personal care, and various other duties,” Marie said.

“I’m Carla, also a maid. I primarily assist Olivia-sama with her daily needs and work,” Carla added.

“I’m Kyle, a servant. Olivia-sama personally hired me for tasks like carrying luggage, offering protection, and other physical labor,” said Kyle.

After their introductions, I studied the four. They each had their own quirks, but all seemed ready to stay silent and let the conversation proceed.

“I’m Leon Fou Bartfort. A pleasure to meet you,” Leon said.

“Thank you, Viscount Bartfort,” Olivia replied politely.

“No need to be so formal. I’m merely a pseudo-noble—just a commoner who was granted a title a few years ago,” Leon replied with a casual grin.

“I was born a commoner as well, so please don’t worry,” Olivia-san responded gently.

“…Angelica Fou Bartfort. Pleased to meet you,” I said, offering my introduction.

Leon and Olivia soon began chatting comfortably, but I quickly cut in. What was with this overly friendly atmosphere? They didn’t come all this way just to enjoy tea and sweets.

Unwilling to let my irritation build, I decided to steer the conversation back on track.

“So, Saintess-sama, have you finished your assignment and prepared an answer that might actually satisfy me?” I asked, my tone deliberately arrogant and laced with irritation, observing Olivia’s response closely.

This was a test. If she faltered in fear or failed to handle negotiations under pressure, then she wasn’t suited for what lay ahead.

“With the help of many people, I’ve thought things through to the very last moment,” Olivia replied. “Though I can’t say for certain whether it will satisfy you, Angelica-sama.”

“I never expected you to visit Bartfort territory in less than two months. On our end, it's been a challenge just trying to invite the neighboring lords and nobles,” I said coolly.

“My apologies. I had to drastically rearrange my schedule and force this visit,” she said. “Otherwise, I feared it would already be too late.”

“Just because you hurried doesn’t mean I’ll show you any leniency,” I replied firmly.

At my words, Olivia-san glanced at Kyle, who opened the bag he had brought and began placing several items on the table—documents, a map, writing tools, and colored processed stones. He spread the map across the table and began setting the stones on top. On closer inspection, the map was densely annotated, and the documents were marked with sticky notes.

Once the preparations were complete, Olivia-san turned to me with a steady, unwavering gaze. She was nothing like the timid student I’d once known at the academy—this was the Olivia who had stood on the battlefield, the one hailed as the Saintess.

“There are signs of impending civil war and widespread conflict,” she said. “If the Holfort royal family and the Redgrave ducal house clash now, the kingdom will fall.”

The ominous tone in her voice was unexpected coming from her.

No—this wasn’t the quiet, scholarly Olivia I had known. This was someone who had seen the harshness of war and returned changed.

“I first noticed the signs during my visit to the Alzer Republic,” she continued. “Though the Republic is rebuilding, frequent disputes continue to erupt.”

She pointed to the Alzer Republic on the map. The marked spots showed locations where riots had broken out—by a quick count, over twenty incidents.

Carla picked up a document from the stack and handed it to Olivia, who flipped to a page marked with a sticky note and placed it in front of us.

“The Republic fell due to civil war,” Olivia explained. “Now it’s so depleted it can’t survive without aid from other countries. The tension between nobles and citizens is so extreme that any issue can spark a riot.”

“And what does that have to do with our kingdom?” I asked.

“The Holfort Kingdom is still reeling from its war with the Fanoss Principality. There are forces exploiting that weakness—sowing chaos from within to further destabilize the nation,” she replied.

“Such as?” I pressed.

“The Holy Kingdom of Rachel. Or the Holy Magic Empire of Vordenoit. Possibly both,” she answered.

I clicked my tongue in frustration.

From what I had heard, the Alzer Republic had grown weak after losing the protection of its Sacred Tree. Neighboring countries had long desired its territory, but the priestess of the Tree had managed to hold them at bay. The Republic’s magic stones—its lifeblood—were no longer being produced. Without them, the Republic held little diplomatic value.

While others waited to intervene, the Holfort Kingdom moved first—gaining influence in exchange for supporting the emergence of a new Sacred Tree. In return for future priority access to the magic stones the Tree would one day produce, the kingdom provided aid and helped bring the civil war to a close. This move angered surrounding nations, who had hoped to step in once the Republic collapsed further.

Diplomatically, there was little those nations could do—the kingdom had acted within acceptable bounds. Only the Fanoss Principality dared to oppose the kingdom openly, resulting in their recent war and subsequent annexation.

Yet it was hard to believe that the Principality, which had signed a peace treaty five years ago, would take such drastic action alone. It wouldn’t be surprising if the Holy Kingdom of Rachel or the Holy Magic Empire of Vordenoit had been involved behind the scenes.

“But isn’t it premature to claim that the Holy Kingdom or the Empire are meddling in the Republic’s internal conflicts?” I challenged. “People often point to external threats to avoid facing their own failings.”

“I’ve collected evidence to support my claims,” Olivia replied.

Marie handed her another document, this one filled with notes and underlined passages.

“These records detail the rise in disturbances within the Republic,” Olivia said. “The number of incidents has multiplied since the kingdom entered war with the Principality.”

“It’s not impossible that the unrest is being caused by people fleeing from the kingdom or the principality to the Republic,” I said. “Whenever war breaks out, the surrounding regions inevitably see a decline in security.”

“That’s true,” Olivia replied. “There have indeed been disturbances caused by those escaping the conflict. However, the riots initiated by the Republic’s own citizens are far more numerous. And disturbingly, many rioters claim they’re reacting to ‘oppression by the kingdom.’”

“Oppression by the kingdom?” I scoffed. “That’s absurd. While the kingdom may be involved in certain diplomatic matters, all internal governance has been left entirely in the Republic’s hands.”

Granted, under the pretense of providing aid, we had sent personnel to observe the Republic’s situation and had requested that our associates be placed in diplomatic roles. But direct interference in their domestic affairs was impossible. If we crossed that line, it wouldn’t just provoke the Holy Kingdom of Rachel or the Holy Magic Empire of Vordenoit— even our allies, like the Lepard United Kingdom, might accuse the Holfort Kingdom of imperialism.

So why, then, were we being unilaterally vilified? It made no sense.

“What’s more troubling,” Olivia continued, “is that the ringleaders behind these riots always seem to vanish. Even when the riots are subdued and arrests are made, the masterminds are never identified.”

“And can we trust the documents you’ve presented?” I asked. “There’s a chance the Republic is manipulating these reports.”

“The documents were handed to me by a reliable source within the Republic,” Olivia replied. “We collaborated with the kingdom’s archives to cross-verify them and conducted interviews with local officials. I’m confident the information is accurate.”

So, she hadn’t accepted the documents at face value—she had taken the time to thoroughly confirm their legitimacy. Olivia’s intellect, once nurtured through scholarship despite her commoner origins, had now been sharpened by her experience and resolve as the Saintess. She appeared gentle on the surface, but her foresight was formidable. As a negotiation partner, she was frustratingly hard to pin down.

“Leon,” I turned to him, “if the kingdom were to go to war with the Holy Kingdom or the Empire now, could we win?”

“Not a chance,” Leon answered immediately.

He didn’t hesitate.

“We lost too many people in the war with the Principality,” he said. “Even if we conscripted every able-bodied young man, noble or not, it would take too long to train them to be of any use. If I didn’t have responsibilities here, I’d be looking to get my family out of the country.”

“I share Viscount Bartfort’s view,” Olivia said. “The royal family’s airship is barely operational. They might be able to get it in the air, but restoring its full combat capabilities is nearly impossible.”

“Last time, we only won thanks to Saintess-sama’s miracle,” Leon added. “If you asked me to repeat that feat, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“You can just call me Olivia, Viscount Bartfort,” she said gently. “Being called ‘Saintess-sama’ all the time is a little too formal.”

“Then stop calling me Viscount Bartfort,” Leon countered. “It’s weirdly stiff when you use my title and family name.”

As a wife and a negotiation partner, I couldn’t help but deduct points. It had taken months after our engagement for Leon to finally call me “Angie,” yet here he was, getting cozy with Olivia on their first real meeting?

“I understand my husband’s perspective,” I said, purposefully emphasizing my husband. “And I’ve reviewed the Saintess’s materials. Still, I don’t believe the current information is enough to convince either the royal family or the ducal house to back down.”

“We’re not finished yet,” Olivia said. “There’s strong reason to believe foreign interference has already infiltrated the kingdom itself.”

Despite my pointed tone, the conversation surged forward, ignoring my implications. I glanced at Leon beside me, but he was too absorbed to notice. Slightly irritated, I pinched his side. He looked at me with a startled expression, as if to protest, but I ignored him.

Olivia passed me another file—this one containing photographs.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“I believe the contents will speak for themselves, Angelica-sama,” she replied calmly.

What a bold statement. I flipped through the pages and found photographs of several women. I recognized more than a few of them. Judging by their attire and backgrounds, they were all from noble lineages—though their families had likely fallen from grace.

“They’re all noblewomen,” I observed, “from houses that have declined or been stripped of status.”

“Correct,” Olivia affirmed. “More specifically, they’re the wives or daughters of nobles who either betrayed the kingdom or fled during the war with the Principality.”

“What exactly did they do?” I asked.

“I’ll explain,” Carla interjected.

She stepped forward, interrupting the exchange between Olivia and me.

“Angelica-sama,” Carla said, “do you remember my face?”

I studied her more closely. Even during the earlier introductions, I’d felt a vague familiarity. Her distinct navy-blue hair, refined features, and poised posture helped jog my memory.

“I think I saw you a few times at the academy,” I said. “But we never spoke, did we?”

“No, we didn’t. My real name is Carla Fou Wayne, from a quasi-baronet household.”

Thanks to the queen’s lessons, I had memorized all the noble houses of the Holfort Kingdom. Still, those lessons were from before my engagement was annulled, and the political landscape had shifted drastically after two wars. I hadn’t memorized every quasi-baronet lineage—families ranked between commoners and barons.

“About a month ago, there was a string of kidnappings targeting nobles in the capital,” Carla said. “The perpetrators demanded exorbitant ransoms, food supplies, weapons, and even the victims’ resignations from official posts.”

“What kind of imbeciles make demands like that?” I muttered.

“What idiots,” Leon echoed. “That’s way too much.”

The words slipped out before either of us could stop them. Anyone with noble blood is trained in subterfuge from an early age. The higher your rank, the more adept you’re expected to be at defending against political scheming. Leon was an exception—his skills had been forged on the battlefield through prisoner exchanges and diplomatic negotiations during retreat.

The fewer the demands, the more likely they are to succeed. Overreach only invites disaster.

“As you might expect, the targeted nobles requested aid from the kingdom,” Carla said. “They stalled by pretending to meet the kidnappers’ demands while military forces conducted an investigation. Eventually, the perpetrators were tracked down and arrested.”

“So the culprits were those fallen nobles?” Leon said. “What a disgrace. Born into privilege, reduced to common criminals. The world really is falling apart.”

“That’s a rather narrow view, Bartfort-sama,” Marie countered coolly.

Leon didn’t know Marie’s past—unlike me. Their different backgrounds shaped how they perceived such situations.

“When people are starving, they’ll do anything,” Marie said. “Theft, prostitution, betrayal—even murder. Carla and I were both daughters of nobles who abandoned us. With no means of survival, the only paths left were crime or selling our bodies.”

“…My bad,” Leon said quietly, clearly shaken by the weight of Marie’s words.

“Let’s return to the topic,” Carla said. “The kidnappers were composed of sky pirates, dismissed soldiers, and men from fallen noble families. But the ones pulling the strings were women.”

“One of them is someone we know well,” Olivia added. “And I believe you do too, Angelica-sama.”

Carla’s face turned pale. Her body trembled, and she clutched herself as though trying to suppress a wave of dread. The room fell into an uneasy silence at her reaction.

“Carla, I can finish the report if—” Olivia began.

“No, Olivia-sama. This is my responsibility,” Carla said, cutting her off.

She steadied herself and turned a page in the dossier.

The name listed made my stomach sink.

I’d seen that face countless times back at the academy—shameless, shallow, detestable.

Stephanie Fou Offrey, daughter of an earl’s house.

Of course I remembered her.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

From this chapter on, the story will primarily follow Angelica and Leon’s perspectives.

The Kingdom's political situation mirrors that of Volume 8 of the original novel.

The academy is closed (the timeline has been shifted forward by several years), so Milyaris, Finn, and Brave will not appear.

Stephanie, who appears at the end, has already been arrested. Her role ends here (how pitiful).

Postscript:

At the client’s request,

 an illustration was drawn by Noa. Thank you very much!

Noa’s Pixiv: Pixiv (R18 content & voice actor references—caution)

Feedback and comments are welcome to help improve future chapters!