The Last Letter (3)
In a blood-soaked space, a woman lay collapsed.
Around her were bloodstained objects scattered.
Bandages, scraps of clothing, pieces of flesh, and hardened pools of blood. The scene was grotesque, almost as if torture had been carried out there. At the center of this chaos, the woman was discarded like garbage, thrown carelessly into the midst of it all.
Bella.
Her state was nothing short of horrific.
At a glance, one might mistake her for a corpse. Her appearance was that wretched.
The air around her seemed to reek of blood, as if the very atmosphere had been tainted. Even the mountain’s scavengers hesitated to approach her, only to flee in terror from the overwhelming stench of blood.
And so, Bella’s life was spared.
But was a life that couldn’t even scream properly through endless pain truly a blessing, or was it a curse?
Even the hellish passage of time was destined to move forward.
And because of that, Bella was able to seize a chance to change her circumstances.
After a week of torment, a single moment arrived.
Her first and last opportunity.
Several days had passed since all of Bella’s fingers were severed.
Though time had crawled on, Bella’s condition remained abysmal.
Her face, covered with blood, tears, bodily fluids, and layers of dirt, resembled that of a corpse.
Her horns—symbols of her half-dragon heritage, which she had secretly taken pride in—had been ground down to their very bases, leaving only stumps.
And that wasn’t all.
The one remaining wing she had clung to was now gone as well.
Slowly, ever so slowly.
Flan had waited until her struggles became meaningless, until the pain had dulled just enough to give her a fleeting sense of relief.
And then, the torture began anew.
The so-called ‘reckoning’ continued, under the guise of justice.
Her vision blurred from blood loss. Her mind felt like it had melted into soup. Her ears rang incessantly, and her teeth chattered unconsciously. The phantom pain she should have felt in her severed limbs was replaced by the numbing cold of blood and bodily fluids freezing over her skin.
Bella’s body was so broken that there wasn’t a single part of her left intact.
And the unrelenting torture, even in such a state, had begun to erode her mind.
Escape.
Flee.
Flan.
Hero.
No matter what thoughts crossed her mind, none of them led to coherent conclusions.
Every time she managed to regain some semblance of consciousness, Flan would return. And the moment he did, the excruciating pain would devour her thoughts, leaving her mind blank once again.
It had started with her wings.
When her wings were first severed, the pain had been unbearable. But afterward, it became something she could endure. She had thought, Is this some pathetic method he picked up somewhere? With that thought, she had managed to hold on.
It’s just one wing.
If this is the price I have to pay, I can endure it. If I can seize a greater opportunity, then losing a wing… it’s regrettable, but… I can bear it.
Even when her fingers were being severed, Bella had thought the same.
If I can survive another day by giving up a single hand, I’ll gladly offer it. As long as I don’t die, fingers are something I can heal without much difficulty.
But when the rest of her fingers were taken, something began to feel off.
A hand without fingers couldn’t even resist…
…But then again, what other option did she have?
Acting recklessly without any way to change her situation wouldn’t help.
So she endured. She held on.
If she could persevere with unyielding determination, surely an opportunity would come someday.
And so, Bella’s days dragged on.
After all her fingers were severed, her horns were next.
She endured that too.
Her horns were precious, yes, but compared to her life, they were a small price to pay. Of course, regrowing them would be troublesome, and she’d surely face disdain from her kin for their absence. But then again, as a half-dragon, she had always been the subject of such looks. It wasn’t anything new.
The next day, it was her face.
The day after, her torso.
On some indistinct day, she was tortured with water droplets.
And just yesterday, she was forced to eat dirt over and over again.
She endured all of it. Somehow, she clung on, hoping to seize a chance.
But today, Bella broke.
She couldn’t do it anymore. If her body sustained any more damage, even if an opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t be able to take it.
By the time she realized this, far too much time had already passed.
Her body was now incapable of doing anything.
Her mind and spirit, too, were in shambles.
And yet, she had endured.
She had clung to the delusion that a perfect opportunity would come, someday. But now, she realized the truth: even the faintest chance she had hoped for would never come.
“……”
All that remained for her now was resignation.
To think she had met such an end for the crime of criticizing an unworthy hero.
If she were to die, she had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.
But instead, she was doomed to die under Flan’s torture, at the hands of someone who only returned in the evening after wandering who-knows-where. And there was nothing she could do to change that cruel fate.
As she sank deeper into despair, a single question suddenly surfaced in her mind.
Where does Flan get his food?
Every time he returned from searching for the letter, he brought back plenty of food.
Even through the hellish week she had endured, she had never gone hungry. Flan had always thrown her just enough food to stave off starvation. Yet, when she had looked around the area, she hadn’t found any signs of food or provisions.
So where was the food coming from?
Flan’s bag couldn’t possibly hold more than a week’s worth of supplies.
Which meant there had to be a place nearby—a village or some other source where he was getting his food.
From this sudden question, a faint glimmer of hope began to emerge.
It was possible that Flan had a hidden stash of food somewhere and was retrieving it as needed. But Bella, in her current state, couldn’t afford to consider such details.
She had no choice but to bet everything on this fragile hope. If she didn’t, there wouldn’t be another chance.
And so, with her mind feeling like it was melting into mush, she pieced together her thoughts over and over again. The conclusion she reached was—
There was a village nearby.
Close enough to reach within five minutes, yet far enough that her screams wouldn’t carry.
This was the invaluable information Bella had managed to piece together during Flan’s absence. If she could somehow escape this place, she would reach the village soon enough.
Flan would surely come after her, but if she could make it to the villagers, she might have a chance. No matter how ruthless Flan was, he wouldn’t harm innocent bystanders. His goal was singular—her.
The villagers would undoubtedly side with her.
A sinister-looking man versus a woman battered and broken, in a state of utter ruin.
Who would a stranger believe?
This was the opportunity Bella had been waiting for—a chance so slim, it felt like a gift from the goddess of fortune herself.
But every opportunity comes with its own risks.
Chance and danger are inseparable companions.
And in Bella’s case, the risk was clear.
“Looks like I’m close to finding it. I’ve pinpointed where the letter landed.”
Her life.
—
For the first time in days, Flan returned unusually early.
Normally, he would show up around sunset, but today, he appeared under the blazing midday sun.
“…Hello.”
Flan greeted her with a curt word, tossing his bag carelessly onto the ground.
He didn’t seem interested in making small talk anymore.
All he wanted now was to torture her. That was all.
There was no longer any need for him to hide his depravity. The pretense, the meaningless facade—it was all gone.
Bella clenched her loose, aching teeth.
Whenever Flan returned, torture always followed.
As always, he would drop his bag, select his preferred tool for the day, and approach her.
That was what Flan should have done.
But instead, he ignored Bella entirely and slumped against a tree stump.
“Looks like I’m close to finding it. I’ve pinpointed where the letter landed.”
He tilted his head back, gazing at the sky as he took a long drink from his canteen.
What did he mean by that?
Bella couldn’t make sense of his words, but Flan, looking as though he had done enough for now, continued drinking at a leisurely pace.
Only after draining the last drop from his canteen did he seem to notice Bella’s gaze. Scratching his head a few times, he took a deep breath before speaking again.
“Oh, I think I’ll find the letter by tomorrow. Looks like you’ll be free soon. Congratulations. So, let’s take it easy today, alright? Tomorrow’s going to be the most important day. Probably the busiest too. There’s a lot to prepare since it’ll be the last day, don’t you think?”
Tomorrow, he would bring the letter.
And he would end everything.
After a week of ‘fun,’ he would finally kill her.
That was how Bella interpreted Flan’s words.
“……”
So she didn’t respond.
She simply held her breath and waited for tomorrow to come.
The day of reckoning arrived swiftly.
Flan would likely kill her tomorrow, whether or not he found the letter. Perhaps he was simply growing bored, or maybe he was genuinely on the verge of finding it and had decided to end things. Whatever the reason, it would be something as simple and trivial as that.
And so, Bella resolved to escape the next day.
She would flee while Flan was away.
She had no hands to crawl with, no legs to walk with… but if she could roll her body, she could still move.
Her path would follow Flan’s footprints. If she traced his tracks, they would surely lead to the village. And even if they didn’t, if there was a village nearby, she could rely on her instincts to find it. It wouldn’t be impossible.
If she didn’t even try, the only thing awaiting her was a meaningless death.
A pointless, humiliating death at the hands of that bastard.
Bella clenched her teeth once again.
She glared at Flan for a long time before finally closing her eyes.
To succeed tomorrow, she needed to conserve her strength.
So, she forced herself to rest.
Flan, meanwhile, watched Bella with an empty expression.
What could he possibly be thinking?
With an expression that revealed nothing, Flan tucked his canteen into his belt and pulled a letter from the inner pocket of his coat. He flipped through the letters briskly, scanning them for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. Without care, he shoved the letters back into his pocket and turned his gaze toward Bella.
Bella’s faint smile, barely visible as she drifted into sleep, began to deepen.
A baseless confidence in her impending success.
The joy of imagining her revenge against Flan.
And the relief of finally ending this nightmare.
It was a smile that looked genuinely refreshing, almost serene.
“…As I thought. This won’t do.”
But whose smile was it, really?
Flan adjusted the corners of his lips, smoothing out his expression, before leaning back against the tree stump.
The day of reckoning was tomorrow.
Flan, too, decided to conserve his strength.
And so, the final night in the Dragon Kingdom deepened, shrouded in silence and tension.
