traitor chapter 18

With an agitated flick of his wrist, Leonhardt refilled the syringe. Frustration at the lack of answers fueled his actions. He jabbed the needle into Ruby’s neck. A third dose.

The scribe’s vacant eyes rolled back as blood trickled from his nose. The ruthless, unsympathetic hand tightened in his silver hair, yanking his head back further. The blood flowed back into his throat, choking him. He coughed, a violent, spasmodic eruption.

Leonhardt ripped the needle from his neck.

“Do you have feelings for His Majesty?”

Ruby’s half-lidded eyes slowly focused. A crimson stream flowed down his pale, strained neck.

“…I cannot answer.”

An impossible response from someone under the influence of a truth serum.

“Then let me rephrase.”

Leonhardt tightened his grip, threatening to break Ruby’s neck. He stared down at him.

“Have you ever fantasized about His Majesty while pleasuring yourself?”

The vulgarity of the question, coming from a man who embodied chivalry, was shocking. Diana’s eyes widened in surprise. Why would he ask such a thing? The glint in his golden eyes made him appear even more deranged.

“I don’t, know…”

“You don’t know?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a possible answer!” Leonhardt roared, another impossible response echoing in the chamber.

“This isn’t abstract! It’s an action! An action you would have performed! You can’t not know!”

He was right. There could be no “I don’t know” when it came to a specific action. The truth serum should have forced a confession, regardless of any attempts to conceal it.

But Ruby, once again, whispered, “……I don’t know.”

A mixture of bewilderment and rage sparked a harsh laugh from Leonhardt.

“‘I don’t know’ again… Ha, haha.”

Diana watched Ruby’s deteriorating condition with a growing sense of dread. His ravaged state was beyond any pretense. Some instinctive defense mechanism was clearly at play, but to what end? What was he hiding? Was he a traitor or not? The truth serum offered no clarity.

“It seems you’ve employed some dirty tricks.”

Leonhardt retrieved a fourth vial, filling the syringe. His anger at the lack of progress was palpable. He forcefully plunged the needle into Ruby’s neck.

Ruby’s eyes rolled completely back as he vomited a torrent of blood. The crimson fluid stained his chin and cheeks. His tilted head prevented him from expelling it fully, the blood gurgling in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to answer anything in this state.

Leonhardt grabbed the back of his head, forcing it forward. Ruby’s arched back bent, the pooled blood spilling from his mouth. A fit of coughing followed.

He’s going to die.

Diana finally lost her composure, her brow furrowing. Her clasped hands trembled, forcing her to clench her fingers. Despite her deep breaths, she couldn’t maintain her calm.

“Leonhardt!!!”

Her voice, rarely raised, boomed through the chamber.

Leonhardt reflexively froze.

Diana, no longer composed, stood close to the bars of the cage. She knew displaying her distress was unwise, yet the surge of emotion overwhelmed her. She pressed her forehead against her hands, gripping the bars, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Why are you so upset?” Leonhardt asked, setting down the syringe, his voice laced with accusation. “This isn’t like you! You, who values honor and power above life itself, who prioritizes the mission even when injured, who offers praise before concern! How can you!”

He sounded betrayed, his face a mask of reproach. His questions struck her as absurd.

He flung the empty vial aside in a fit of pique and stalked towards the cage.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” he snarled, slamming his gloved hand against the bars.