The Last Letter (2)
Well then, I’m off to find the letter.
You can sit here and stare into space or waste time however you like.
I’ll be back soon, Bella.
Northern Dragon Kingdom,
A forested area.
In that secluded place, a mournful groan echoed through the trees.
“Ugh…”
A woman lay slumped beside a blood-splattered tree.
The source of the groan, on the verge of collapse, was Bella.
She looked pitiful, like a bird on the brink of death, her entire body covered in dirt. Her gaze was fixed on something—a wing.
The wing, buried in the dirt and stripped of its former shape, fluttered weakly in the wind, as if to signify that there was no returning to her previous life.
Taking in the sight of it once more, Bella clenched her teeth.
To a dragonkin, wings were as vital as a second pair of arms or legs. And hers had been severed—no, ripped away. The pain of it was etched into her entire body, from head to toe, which was now coated in a thick layer of dirt.
The cut surface of the severed wing oozed a thick fluid.
Before she could tend to the wounds, her thrashing on the dirt floor had caused the base of her wings to fester. Even with the durability and regenerative abilities of a half-dragon, a festering wound was beyond repair. If left untreated, even the most advanced magic from the church wouldn’t be able to restore her wings.
A wound too severe for self-recovery, and the agony that came with it.
Was it the pain that drove her to the edge, or was it simply an outlet for her frustration? Bella kept clawing at the ground.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!”
What Bella felt wasn’t just anger or pain.
It was humiliation.
She hadn’t resisted Flan out of a fleeting moment of fear.
When her wings were torn away, she had crumpled to the ground in submission.
She had surrendered to the pain, writhing helplessly. And she had done it all in front of Flan.
She, who was supposed to be a noble hero.
She couldn’t bear it.
That was all there was to it.
Scratch, scratch.
Bella let out ragged breaths as she clawed at the dirt.
Her fingers dragged through the soil, staining it red with blood. Yet she showed no sign of stopping.
Flan had trampled on her severed wings and spoken.
He had said this was only the beginning.
That the pain he had endured, and the pain that still needed to be settled, was far from over.
That she should look forward to it.
Look forward to it.
What exactly was she supposed to look forward to?
What could that vile man have found so amusing to say such a thing?
Bella’s gaze returned to her severed wings.
“……….”
For a moment, silence fell.
Because suddenly, the meaning behind Flan’s words—the ‘enjoyment’ he had spoken of—flashed through her mind.
“…There’s no time.”
There was no time to waste like this.
Having made her decision, Bella slapped her own cheeks twice and began scanning her surroundings.
She needed to figure out an escape plan and map out a route to flee.
No matter how vast or unfamiliar the terrain, this was still Dragon Kingdom territory—specifically, the northern region, with its limited geography.
For Bella, gathering information about her surroundings posed no real challenge.
Perhaps because of that, it didn’t take her long to assess the area.
Her current location was near the base of a mountain. If luck was on her side, escaping wouldn’t be an issue. Even without her legs, if Flan had ventured far to search for the letter, she might have a chance. And even if he came after her, hiding would likely keep her from being discovered.
Still, running away immediately was out of the question.
There was always the possibility that Flan was lying in wait.
Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t go all out searching for her on the first day. He’d likely just narrow down possible locations where the letter might be. But if she tried to escape now and ran into him… the consequences would be unbearable.
So, while Flan was away, Bella needed to think carefully and meticulously. She had to find a way to shake him off and escape.
With that in mind, Bella began to search the area, considering various possibilities.
But—
There was no way.
With her legs gone, there was little she could do. All she could manage was crawling across the ground, smearing dirt all over her body. That was it.
Even with unyielding determination, a broken body could accomplish nothing.
And this was a wild mountain. Though it was quiet for now, there was no telling when a magical beast might appear. If it were just magical beasts, she could handle it, but if a land dragon burst through the ground or a wyvern descended from the sky, her life wouldn’t be guaranteed.
Perhaps it was because of such thoughts that Bella froze at even the sound of insects chirping, her body trembling as she dragged herself across the dirt. Yet her efforts yielded no results.
She repeated these futile actions until the sun began to dip behind the mountain peaks.
There wasn’t much time left before Flan returned.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
What had she done so wrong?
What sin had she committed? She had only done what was expected of her.
No matter how much she thought about it, no answer came. It was like pouring water into a bottomless jar—no matter how much she poured, it would never fill. The answer Bella sought would never come.
And yet, there was one thing she hadn’t realized—one unintended result of her actions.
Step, step.
The ominous sound of approaching footsteps.
“………!”
Flan.
“Well, you’ve made it all the way out here? Were you so curious about whether I found the letter? Unfortunately… I haven’t found it yet. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if it flew all the way outside the Dragon Kingdom.”
The key to her torment had returned once more.
Bella would likely never realize it, but—
“Well then, shall we get started?”
Flan tossed the load slung over his shoulder onto the base of a tree and began to approach her.
Bella shrank back, clutching the tattered remnants of her wings tightly in her hands, as if silently begging for this moment to pass quickly.
Once again, the time for reckoning had come.
* * *
Flan had returned.
It was just as the sun dipped below the ridgeline.
Bella had thought he wouldn’t be back for several hours, at least not until after nightfall. Why had he returned so soon? Could it be… had he found the letter? If he had found it… then her life—
“I guess I wrapped things up a bit too quickly the first time, huh? It’s that awkward time of day now…”
In Flan’s hand was a dagger.
Bella held her breath.
Her wings were gone.
What would be next?
…It wouldn’t be her life. Not yet, at least. Flan wouldn’t swing the blade to kill her. Not now.
Yes, surely that was the case.
He couldn’t have found the letter already.
He must not have.
But… even if he hadn’t found the letter, what else would he take from her if not her life?
“Well then, shall we get started?” Flan said casually.
Fear crept back into Bella, slowly consuming her.
And before she could even brace herself to face it—
“I’ll make it quick, so don’t worry too much.”
Flan was already upon her.
He’s going to kill me.
He’s definitely going to kill me.
“Hmm… Oh, right. What did Troka say again? Something about not gripping a sword? Can’t quite remember.”
Even if it wasn’t death, something terrible was about to happen. That much was clear.
Flan grabbed Bella’s hand.
His grip was rough, unrelenting.
A dreadful sensation crawled up Bella’s spine, a premonition of a future she didn’t want to imagine. She tried to pull her hand back, but Flan’s strength was overwhelming.
“Relax.”
With that single word, the sound of something being sliced—like fruit being cut—filled the air.
Bella’s fingers were struck with an unnatural sensation.
It was like the sharp sting of a paper cut, followed by the searing pain of fire. The agony hit her like a tidal wave.
“Ugh…?!”
The sudden pain allowed her to wrench her hand free from Flan’s grasp.
What she saw next made her stomach turn.
White bone glistened beneath torn flesh, and her index finger dangled loosely, barely attached by a thin strip of tendon and skin.
“You… you bastard…!”
The pain was muted, strangely so.
Even though fingers were dense with nerve endings, Bella’s half-dragon physiology released a flood of chemicals to suppress the overwhelming pain, numbing her senses for a brief moment.
But only for a moment.
“Well, yeah, I guess I am a bastard,” Flan replied nonchalantly, as if her suffering was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
He grabbed the half-severed finger with ease, his expression unchanging.
“You should’ve just done what I said from the start. Then none of this would’ve been necessary.”
And like a predator tearing into its prey, Flan yanked the finger free.
The pain that followed was beyond what any chemical response could suppress.
It was raw, unfiltered agony.
The sensation hit her in waves, each one worse than the last.
And then—darkness.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The sound of flesh being sliced. The grinding of metal against bone, like steel scraping against glass.
When Bella’s consciousness returned, the nightmare continued.
Her fingers were being severed.
Her fingers were being torn away.
Over and over, endlessly, as if it would never stop.
The pain came in relentless waves, each one crashing harder than the last.
And then, fragments of broken teeth swirled around Bella’s mouth before sliding down her throat. That indescribable sensation lingered, sharp and vivid, until finally, the crashing waves of pain began to subside.
Bella looked down at her hand.
Her fingers were gone.
At some point, during the repeated cycle of fainting and regaining consciousness, the fingers on her right hand had been severed. Every single one of them.
Even now, a constant, needle-like sensation stabbed at her hand, refusing to fade.
Her facial muscles twitched uncontrollably.
She wanted to slam her head against a wall, to knock herself unconscious.
Her body, on the verge of collapse, refused to give in. The resilience of her half-dragon physiology made such an escape impossible.
“Why were you crying and whining so much? Didn’t seem like it hurt all that much,” Flan said casually, wiping the blood off his dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. He sounded almost amused, as if the ordeal was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “I told you, didn’t I? Once I find the letter, I’ll let you go. I always keep my word, you know? I might look rough around the edges, but I’m pretty strict about keeping promises.”
The dagger in his hand gleamed faintly, now clean of the blood it had spilled.
How much innocent blood had that blade consumed?
Bella thought about it, but the words never left her lips.
She couldn’t say them.
Blood dripped steadily from her hand.
The unfamiliar pain.
The fear etched into her face.
And most of all, her own helplessness.
This wasn’t the trial of a hero. It was nothing more than… torture. Simple, unrelenting torment.
Her spirit had already broken the moment her wings were torn away. Speaking up now was impossible. Bella didn’t want to admit it, but her body’s involuntary reactions betrayed her. They were too honest, too raw to hide.
“Just… get lost… if you’re done…”
All she could muster was a feeble, barely audible voice, a weak attempt at defiance. Even that was far more subdued than before.
“What was that?”
“I said… if you’re done, get… out.”
“Oh, that’s what you meant.”
Flan’s tone was light, almost mocking, as if her words were nothing more than a passing breeze.
Bella’s breath came in shallow gasps as she desperately tried to think of a way to escape.
If she stayed here any longer, her body would only suffer more irreparable damage. She had to find a way out, no matter how difficult it seemed. Even with her mangled hand, she had to figure out something… anything.
But then, Flan spoke again.
“Did I ever say I was only going to do one side?”
With those words, Flan turned back toward Bella, his steps deliberate and steady.
“……What?”
Bella instinctively clenched her fist, but it changed nothing. What once might have been a gesture of defiance had long since become a futile reflex to endure the pain.
Slice, slice,
Somewhere in the northern reaches of the Dragon Kingdom, the sound of flesh being torn echoed once more, sharp and unrelenting.
