What a towering guillotine.

You’d have to be a ghost to dig up my background! With an irritated face, So-and-so glared at Lance. “Aren’t you already aware of everything about me?”

“I am?” Lance pointed to himself in confusion, evidently lost.

“You already know I’m from another realm—isn’t that enough?” So-and-so narrowed her eyes, filled with murderous intent as she stared at Lance, her teeth grinding at his feigned ignorance.

“I only know you came from another space. That doesn’t mean I know who you were back there, nor does it mean I know everything you’ve done since arriving here,” Lance explained, spreading his hands. “It’s like you know I came out of the Beast Forest, but you don’t know exactly what I did there.”

“So how did you figure out I’m not from this world?” So-and-so, true to her inquisitive nature, pressed on.

“Oh, that—” Lance deliberately drew out his words, teasing her, “is a secret!”

“So are you really an orphan who’s always lived on the edge of the Beast Forest?” she continued, undeterred.

“Why don’t you guess?”

“Do you have any information about your birth parents? Even just a little?” she kept questioning.

“What do you think?”

“Fine,” So-and-so pouted, frustrated at getting nothing out of him. “In that case, I’ll be generous. You ask me a question, I’ll ask you one. We’ll trade answers, all right?” As she spoke, her heart began to race, and her head dropped a little, tangled in complicated feelings.

“But I’m not interested in you, you know?” Lance’s lips curled into a prelude of a smile, and he spread his hands in a gesture of refusal.

A moment earlier, So-and-so had been ducking her head out of embarrassment, but at those words, a dozen angry marks practically popped up over her head. Black lines of resentment and a thick cloud of blue gloom instantly enveloped her. With a sinister grin, she suddenly threw a punch at Lance’s face.

It’s said that an angry woman is a devil. Subconsciously, her punch was even enhanced by wind magic to reduce air resistance. Lance, despite pushing his reflexes to the limit to dodge, was still grazed by her blow, unable to fully evade under the force of her wind spell. So-and-so showed no intention of stopping there. When she finally managed to land a hit, she threw her head back and laughed triumphantly, her white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

“Time’s up!” A clear, familiar shout pulled So-and-so out of her swelling sense of accomplishment. She stopped her impending act of violence, curiosity piqued, and looked toward the source of the voice. “Are they about to carry out the execution?”

Lance also paused, abandoning his plan to counterattack, and looked in the same direction. “Looks like it.”

So-and-so excitedly turned back to Lance. “Come on, let’s grab a good spot!”

Lance smiled, stretching out a hand to block her way. As soon as she turned, he snapped his fingers, and a red mark instantly bloomed on her left cheek. Watching her hop around, clutching her face as if suffering from a toothache, Lance’s smile deepened. “If you don’t hurry, you won’t see anything.”

“You knew there wouldn’t be a spot and still wasted time?” So-and-so, wincing through the pain and tearful, squeezed into the crowd, muttering about Lance the whole way. “No manners, no class, no conscience, no loyalty, no sense at all!”

“Even if I lack all those things, at least I’m tall,” Lance replied, seizing her shoulders and pushing her forward. “If you can’t see, I’m not responsible for narrating the scene.”

Glancing at the wall of tall spectators ahead, So-and-so quietly broke into a cold sweat. She could only shut her mouth and press forward.

Finally, they reached a more open area. So-and-so curiously turned her gaze toward the execution platform.

The platform had clearly been refurbished recently. The executioner’s blade, once dull and heavy, now gleamed sharp and bright—a true instrument of death. Soldiers in the official white uniforms of the White Tower Nation escorted two prisoners up the platform step by step.

Both were familiar to So-and-so. The one in front, with ashen face, trembling legs, and vacant eyes, was none other than the Prime Minister who, just days ago, had strutted about, believing everything was under his control. In the blink of an eye, his splendid robes had turned to a gray prison uniform, his hands once commanding power now bound in shackles. His dream of becoming the supreme master of others’ fate had not been realized before he was forced to face death first—a bitter testament to the fickleness of fate.

But in truth, he had only himself to blame.

The one behind him—or rather, the beast behind him—looked nothing like the dejected Prime Minister. His fiery red hair and eyes still blazed, and even the gray prison garb could not diminish his aura. There was no trace of fear on his striking face; the mocking smile at his lips seemed to ridicule everyone present. Naturally, to prevent any mishap during the execution of this formidable and high-ranking prince of the beasts, he was bound with layer upon layer of chains and shackles, so much so that his gait was awkward and clumsy. Yet nothing could erase that proud, victorious air on his face, as if he were on parade rather than on his way to die.

“How strange,” So-and-so whispered into Lance’s ear, her doubts surfacing. “Why does this guy look so familiar? I feel like I’ve seen him before, more than once, even…”

“Oh?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you only just remembered you’re his accomplice?”

“…You’re the one who’s his accomplice!” So-and-so shot Lance a sidelong glance; all the half-formed associations about the Beast Prince in her mind were instantly scattered by Lance’s words. If she couldn’t remember, it probably wasn’t important—she comforted herself. Maybe he just looked like some two-dimensional character she’d seen before.

On the platform, the condemned stood ready. The soldiers led the Prime Minister to the front.

“Any last words?” a soldier asked.

The Prime Minister’s empty eyes stared blankly at the soldier. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. He looked like the living dead.

The soldier waited a moment, then, seeing the man had nothing to say, proceeded. The Prime Minister was forced to kneel before the executioner’s blade. The razor-sharp guillotine was raised high, then fell. Head severed cleanly, swiftly, without hesitation.

So-and-so didn’t even have time to close her eyes; everyone on site seemed to hold their breath.

“Next!” The execution was no show—the soldiers cared nothing for the audience’s nerves. The commander’s cold voice rang out as the Beast Prince was dragged forward.

“Any last words?” the commander asked.

The Beast Prince smiled brilliantly. His eyes swept over the dense crowd, and in a careless, lofty tone that sounded more like a declaration of war than a final statement, he spoke, “I’ve lost this round, and you may kill me, but one day my blood and soul will find victory in the war-torn soil of Akasia. My people will trample every inch of human land!”

“Execute him!” With a single command, the prince’s voice was abruptly cut off.