I was so scared that I could not remember anything from that day.
Even after the expedition was over and we returned to our daily life, I was still preoccupied. I did not want to think of anything. I did not know when Kaisar would accuse me of everything that day and destroy the family when I would be imprisoned, sent to the church, or worse, sentenced to death. They all seem possible.
I always had a strong sense of justice, and the thought of what my own family might be doing behind my back caused me a lot of stress. To protect myself, I subconsciously stopped trying to think about anything.
Even so, spending the day of absolution, which could come at any time, was a living h**l every day, and it was understandable that I wished to be relieved of the burden as soon as possible.
One day, I called Kaisar to a wooded area at the edge of the school where people don’t usually go and told him that I wanted him to press charges as soon as possible.
“Is that why you called me here?”
“Yes, I do. It is gut-wrenching and infuriating to ask you to do this, but I would rather get condemned than spend the rest of my life in a living h**l.”
And thus, I bow down to Kaisar, forsaking my pride.
Kaisar probably enjoyed watching me suffer, but that will end today.
If this makes things better, it’s a small price to pay.
“Does Bridgette know that I know about the Modell family’s misdeeds?”
“Yes. In truth, I probably should be the one to accuse the Modell family of the crimes, but I can’t just get the words out of my mouth at the thought of causing misery at my hands, even to my young brother and sister…”
So I want Kaisar to do that act, which I cannot do and have him get his hands dirty, not my own.
I am sure that if I tried to explain to the person I was not so long ago, she would not believe me that I am now more of a waste than Kaisar, whom I used to look down on as trash.
Tears that I thought had long since dried up streamed down my cheeks.
When the time comes to press charges, the inability to move my body, frustration, anger, guilt, sadness and various negative emotions swirl violently in my chest.
“And what proof do you have?”
“… Ha?”
“Proof, it’s proof. You said that I was the one who defeated the ruffians hired by the Modell family? Who would believe such a lie if I told them that it was I somehow rescued Sufia from some ruffians who had a wyvern? It’s impossible without proof strong enough to be refused. I ask you, do you have the evidence to prove it?”