He was right—it was only the first of many.

Once they had me secure in the very deepest dungeon, they made it a daily mission to get as many on my back as possible. Each one was very small, but they all hurt the same. The one who branded me would change every day, but they always seemed very concentrated, very adamant that each little brand was in the right place. They were only the size of fingernails, each one placed right besides the next.

It was supposed to be torture.

It was the highlight of my day.

I tried to keep count, but after they passed two-hundred brands on the fifth day, I stopped counting. And still, they kept coming. Each one filled me with warmth.

They were kind enough to let me know the date of my execution—the twenty-eighth of Fire. Thirteen days following my initial capture. It was perfect. Hearing it made me so happy it made the emperor storm out.

On the seventh day, they told me Simel wouldn’t be attending, nor would the queen of Ret-inn. A bit of a bummer; I was looking forward to seeing Simel again, but if he doesn’t want to see me, I understand. Not that there’s much left to see, haha!

Ahh, this is the best. I’m so happy. Isn’t this delightful? Things are finally going the way they were always meant to!

My life has become circular, and I can’t help but appreciate the irony of it.

Everyone is going to be so happy when they find out. Moleman most of all. And then Simel, too.

Hum… Gecko will probably be a bit bummed out, but it’s not like we knew each other that closely. I’m sure she’ll come to recognize that this was a necessity. I mean, if someone is wanted dead by this many people, there has to be a good reason, right? At least, in my case, there’s a very good reason. God of Hope or not, I’m still a serial-killing, mass-murdering, child-eating cannibal. If I’m left alive, who knows how many more will die? This is absolutely the right choice.

Oh, I just love to see justice done right!

I’ve been feeling giddy for ten days straight. Isn’t it great? Isn’t it wonderful? Three more days, and it’s finally over! Three days, and I won’t have to try so damn hard anymore! I’ll just be dead, instead of being bad!

I hear footsteps approaching.

Ah! Looks like it’s time for the daily branding—how exciting! Last time, they were branding my lower left back—I sure hope they’ll continue down there! I just love the warm, searing pain spreading up my spine. It’s delightful. Delicious. De-love—

I spot her.

…What the heck is she doing here?

She notices me, smiles, and only barely restrains herself from skipping down the stairs. The person on her left—a judge of some sort—speaks in mild tones about something or other.

Once they’re right next to my cell, I can’t pretend it isn’t her anymore.

Rice, of BeatriceTheAngel, smiles down at me. I blink up at her, in sheer confusion.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She turns again, speaks some more to the judge, and with a few simple words, he leaves, making sure to bow first. And now, it’s just her, and me. She grabs the bars and squats down in front of me, grinning from below her wide-brimmed cowboy hat. “Hello, Prince! Pleasant to meeting again!”

S—Swedish?

“Um… Hi?”

“Been many year, no? Oh, what I have had for me? One bit! But not similar as much as you. What have you for on this mystical place?”

Her Swedish sucks. B—but that doesn’t matter!

I try to draw back closer to the wall, but the literal dozens of chains keeping me stuck doesn’t exactly help. “Uh… Rice? What are you doing here?”

She grins, and not caring to check if anyone hears her, she says, “I have coming for to saving you!”

I blanch, raising to sit straighter, the familiar pain of the brands caging in my chest with pangs of fire, restraining my ability to shout at full volume. “You—you—you what?! I don’t want to be—” I hunch down, taking deep sniffs, ensuring that no one’s close by. Then, keeping myself low, I inch closer to the bars, where I whisper-shout, “What the heck are you saying? What are you even trying to do?!”

She smiles at me blankly. “I have coming for to saving you. It was right just that I of saying?”

I glance to the left and right, even though I know nobody’s there. Pressing my face against the opening between the bars, I scowl at her. “I don’t want to be rescued.”

Her brows furrow. In one move, she takes off her hat, scratches her big bob of curly hair, and then puts the hat back on. “What is it you saying?”

“I’m saying,” I hiss, “that I don’t want you here. Why did you even come? How did you even get in here?!”

“I is apostle of hunt!” she says, with a straight, eager face. “I of letting in everywhere. No one say no to me. Much impressing, not true?”

“I’ve seen too many apostles and gods to care,” I growl back. “Besides, what the heck do you care? We met, like, once two years ago! And that was before I started actually trying not to be a horrible person. You barely know me!”

“I feel you enough,” she says, “for to know to you not are worth this.”

“What’s that? You think I don’t deserve this? Oh, that’s hilarious! Yeah, I remember. You didn’t speak the language, so you had no idea why everyone wanted me killed. Haven’t you heard yet? I’m a horrible person! If anyone deserves getting executed, it’s me. Or are you one of those bleeding-heart sentimentalists who doesn’t believe in capital punishment?”

She makes a confused face. “Ah, I am sad, I understand not… Them there words were too large…”

“Too complicated for you? Well, let me make it simple…” I lean in closer.

“Y—yes?” Smiling oddly, she leans in closer as well, presenting the right side of her face.

“I DESERVE THIS!!” I shout into her ear.

She falls back, her hat rolling over to the side, her hand pressed against her ear in pain and surprise. Her eyebrows twist up in grief.

I sit back down, successfully crossing my arms despite the chains. “Yeah. Exactly. So, if you don’t want to join me up on the execution scaffold, I recommend you leave me to my fate. Get out of here, Rice. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

For a long moment, she simply lies there in the dust and dirt. Then, biting her lip, she draws herself to her feet, grabbing her hat as she does. She dusts it off before placing it back on her head. Then, swiftly, she spins on her heel and takes two steps before freezing in place, hands balled at her side—trembling.

“F—farewell, Prince,” she says, her voice strange and choked. “It was pleasant to meet again, if only for one eye-blink. I have always…” She stops herself. Shaking her head, taking a deep breath, she collects herself. Then, turning her head partway, she looks at me from over her shoulder, her smile trembling. “Good-night, sweet Prince.”

And then, she leaves.

I draw my knees to my chest.

What the heck was that…?

Why was she here? I don’t get it.

Why would she want to rescue me? Is she crazy? I barely know her! How did she even get here? I mean, sure, it’s been ten days since I was captured, but are the news really that big? Either way, even if she heard it from somewhere, I doubt she’d just instantly get on her drake named Grandma, ride for ten days and ten nights, all to come here and rescue me. Why would she even care? Again—I hardly know her! She was a minor feature in the tutournament with a strange ability to annoy me. Who cares? I don’t! So why does she care about me, who mattered about as little to her?

…Who should have mattered as little to her?

It doesn’t make sense. I don’t get it.

But… But it doesn’t matter! I don’t matter to her, not really, so it won’t matter when I die. Everything is still going as planned. I’ll die, as I was always supposed to, as everything and everyone wants me to, and that’s that.

While I resolve myself, the door opens again, and a pair of footsteps approach—the familiar, long awaited ones.

I smile at the torturer. Oh, how I’ve missed him!