12 O’Clock Marionette

I pressed my lips together tightly, holding back for a moment before finally asking Cruello.

“Am I… weird?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

What kind of vague answer was that?

Was he still holding a grudge over my "I would have gone" comment earlier?

I frowned and reprimanded him out of habit.

“‘I wouldn’t say that’? You need to give a straight answer.”

“But just now, darling said the same thi—”

Cruello’s eyes suddenly widened.

His pupils dilated like those of a nocturnal predator as he stared at me.

…What’s with him?

“…No. Hold on. Hm. I really need to stop doing this.”

He rubbed his face a few times with his large hand, then quickly returned to his usual composed expression, as if nothing had happened.

I had no idea what went through his mind just now.

I gave up trying to figure him out.

“Ah, so this is going to trial. Should I find a lawyer?”

“If it goes to trial, it’s a death sentence.”

“…Huh?”

“If a dark mage is involved, it automatically becomes an ecclesiastical trial. And in an ecclesiastical trial, the defendant’s right to speak is practically nonexistent. You only get one chance to speak.”

Cruello rose from his seat, looming over me with an air of authority.

Then, with solemn formality, he spoke.@@novelbin@@

“Siora Bonetti, do you confess to your crimes?”

So that’s all I’d be allowed to answer—Yes or No?

“Wow. That’s so narrow-minded.”

“Think back to Recanon. You were locked up and interrogated, but did you ever get a single chance to defend yourself?”