CHAPTER 733: CHAPTER 113 - TRIS (8)

From the group of women, one stepped forward.

She moved slowly, almost as if the weight of everything she’d endured was pressing down on her with every step.

Her bare feet made soft, deliberate sounds against the cold, hard ground.

Her expression was empty at first—blank like a mask, but her eyes... her eyes were fixated on the man strung above them.

Earl Prisk, bound tightly, suspended, still alive, still squirming, still barking orders.

"You, woman! Come get me down from here!" he shouted from above, his voice laced with both rage and panic.

The woman remained still.

Her gaze didn’t falter, but she didn’t move.

Her body was frozen, not from fear, but from calculation, like she was weighing a decision she’d waited too long to make.

"What are you doing?! Get me down, right this instance!" he screamed again, louder and more desperate this time.

Still nothing. Not a twitch.

"The hell with you, woman!? Have you forgotten everything I did to you?!" he roared, veins bulging from his neck.

She finally spoke, voice soft but laced with venom.

"No," she said. "But I wished I had forgotten."

Her tone dropped the temperature in the air.

And then she looked at him—not as a victim, not as a broken shell—but as a woman who was reclaiming the fire that had once been crushed.

Her glare was sharp enough to pierce skin.

She was no longer quiet.

Her silence had become strength.

"I wished... every night, and every day, that karma would finally reach you," she said slowly, each word like a blade being driven in. "And it looks like... it finally did."

She exhaled, and her lips twitched into the faintest, twisted smile. "I thought I might feel pity. Or maybe something like regret... but no. Just disgust. And relief. So much relief."

"You woman...! You dare speak to me like that!?" he spat, struggling in his bindings.

"This... this is a joy to witness," she said, almost in awe. "And I’m glad—a fucking wooden pole took me first, before you ever could."

Prisk grunted in disbelief, his face contorting. "Ngh...!"

She kept going. "I couldn’t bear the thought of you... defiling me for my first time. I couldn’t stomach it. So I used a wooden pole—because anything was better than you."

Prisk’s face twisted from red to pale. His eyes flared in rage.

"You’re going to die! I’ll kill your parents too! You’ll regret this!"

But her expression didn’t change.

Her reply came like ice cracking across still water. "How can you do that when you won’t even live to see the day of tomorrow?"

At that moment, Prisk’s body trembled uncontrollably.

His bravado cracked.

The fear was written plainly on his face now.

It was real tangible fear.

"You... You don’t mean that. You can’t kill me! You know my power! You know who I am!"

"Don’t worry, everyone," Johanne’s voice echoed gently from behind the group. "Leon will protect you."

She stepped forward with quiet confidence.

"He is the owner of Leonamon. I think you already understand what that means."

Prisk’s expression turned to pure horror.

Of course he knew.

Leonamon wasn’t just any name—it was the name.

The most powerful enterprise in the world.

Influence, wealth, reach—there was no corner of the world untouched by it.

"T-That’s a lie! There’s no way! No way the owner of Leonamon would be involved in this! I-I can still forgive all this if you put me down right now. I won’t punish anyone, I swear! My wrists—shit—they’re killing me!"

"That’s not to kill you, Lord Prisk," the woman said, voice dripping with scorn.

She had dropped the word husband

. Not Lord Husband. Just Prisk. That title he cherished so much—stripped away without remorse.

"If you want the honor," I said, stepping forward.

I handed her a blade—simple, forged steel, nothing magical.

She wouldn’t have been able to handle Ayuru anyway. It would have drained her dry.

She took the weapon in her hands. Her fingers curled around the grip like it belonged to her.

"W-What are you going to do?!" Prisk cried out, his voice suddenly cracking.

"What I should’ve done a long time ago," she whispered, steady and sure.

Then—

She cut "it".

It didn’t take long.

His screams pierced the early dawn, shrill and feral, echoing off the stone walls.

Blood poured in thick streams down his legs, splashing onto the ground below. He howled, thrashed, and begged.

But no one answered him.

His eyes rolled up, showing only the whites as his voice weakened to hoarse gasps. His body twitched... then went still.

The women stood in silence.

They had watched him die without a word.

No tears.

No reaction.

Just silence.

And when his body finally stopped moving—when the last breath left his lungs—they bowed.

At first, I didn’t understand.

But then I saw it.

They weren’t grieving. They weren’t mourning.

They were thanking me.

Their heads lowered not in sadness, but in quiet gratitude. Not one of them looked at his corpse.

All eyes were on me.

I didn’t know what to say.

Truthfully, I only came here to save Tris. That was all I wanted.

But how could I tell them that?

So instead, I stayed silent and walked into the house. I gathered the bodies of the others who had been part of Prisk’s madness, as well as Prisk himself, and I stacked them together in the courtyard.

Then, with a wave of my hand, I summoned fire.

Bright, hot, engulfing fire.

The flames roared and devoured the corpses, leaving nothing but ash and smoke.

"Leon!"

Johanne’s voice called out behind me.

I turned to her. "What is it?"

Without a word, she stepped close, placed her hands on my cheeks, and pulled me into a kiss.

It was soft, sudden, and lingering.

I was caught off guard.

But I didn’t pull away.

When she finally did, her cheeks were flushed. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just... felt like kissing you right now."

I looked out toward the horizon.

The sun had begun to rise, casting golden rays across the sky. The warm light touched the edges of everything, giving it a surreal glow.

They say it’s romantic to kiss under a rising sun.

Maybe that’s true.

Tris stood nearby, watching us with a wide, stupid grin on her face.

"Uhehehe~..." she let out her weird little chuckle, her eyes squinting mischievously. Then, with exaggerated steps, she marched over and spread her arms wide.

And then she wrapped us both in a tight hug.

"My favorite ship is working really well...~ I’m so glad..." she mumbled happily.

But there was a tremor in her voice.

Even if she smiled, I could feel the heaviness in her.

We rubbed her head gently.

She might have been laughing on the outside...

But we knew.

She was crying.

And right now, we just let her.