One minute earlier, Marcel had suddenly stopped in his tracks.
His ears caught the sound of his real name—it seemed to be the voice of a young girl calling out to him.
The crowd exchanged confused glances.
The You Tian Mirror's perspective shifted to Marcel's first-person view.
After pleading with Neuvillette and receiving permission, he began calling out Vigneire's name.
Soon, he pinpointed the source of the voice—the Fountain of Lucine!
Torn between shock and joy, Marcel rushed toward the fountain. The moment he stepped into its waters, his vision darkened, and he collapsed to his knees.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
Before him stretched a vast, empty space filled with white light.
A young girl stood in front of him.
"Vigneire… is that you? It's me, Vacher… Vigneire…"
Tears streamed down Marcel's aged face. After so many years, he was finally seeing his beloved, who had dissolved into the waters so long ago.
"Vacher… why are you here? I told you… you didn't need to come…" The girl's voice was soft, tinged with sorrow. "You… look so much older now. How long has it been?"
Marcel hurriedly replied, "Over twenty years… Twenty years of torment since the day you left. For all these years, I've lived only to bring you back. Nothing else mattered to me. Ah… Am I dreaming? To have this chance to tell you everything in my heart…"
His expression softened with emotion. "Vigneire, you are my everything. Without you, I don't know how I could go on living."
"And I think, Vacher… that it would have been better if you had never existed."
Vigneire's sudden words struck Marcel like a bolt of lightning.
"W-What did you say?"
Vigneire's face began to shift.
Before Marcel's disbelieving eyes, her features morphed into those of another girl.
"If not for you, I could have finished my law degree. Maybe I would have become a top attorney…"
The girl's appearance changed again.
"If not for you, I could have pursued my dream of painting. One day, my works might have hung in the Palais Mermonia…"
"If not for you… at least I could have stayed with my mother, so she wouldn't have died alone, weeping until her last breath…"
One face after another.
Marcel's eyes widened in horror. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, trembling.
Each of those faces belonged to a girl who had dissolved in his hands.
"You—you're not Vigneire!"
"No, I'm not Vigneire! I am… one of your victims. A sacrifice in your experiments to bring her back!"
"Every girl who died by your hand had her consciousness return to the Primordial Sea as her body dissolved. Our souls drifted through the waters, no longer separate, until we merged together like converging streams."
"I am Clérisse. I am Limone. I am Azena… But I am not Vigneire."
"Then… where is Vigneire?!"
If their consciousnesses still existed, then Vigneire's must still be here too!
A desperate hope flared in Marcel's chest.
"She doesn't want to see you. Every trace of her consciousness avoids you."
"This is the consequence of your selfishness. You stole our lives, spouting nonsense about how you'd do anything for her… yet you never stopped to consider whether she would want this, whether she would be disappointed in the monster you've become."
"You're a liar! A murderer! A self-deluded coward!"
"The only thing you are not… is Vigneire's beloved."
"From the moment the first girl you killed merged with Vigneire's consciousness… she hated you."
"No…" Marcel staggered, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. "Vigneire… hates me? No, let me see her—please, I beg you—!"
"Still don't understand?"
A mocking laugh echoed around him.
"Her refusal to see you is her answer. And the only reason she hides from you… is out of the tiniest shred of pity."
"Because… she knows that if you came here, we would never let you leave."
"Vacher… Vacher… Vacher…"
Her face kept shifting.
One after another, familiar faces flashed before Marcel's eyes.
The hatred in those girls' expressions was palpable—each one looked as though they wanted to tear him apart with their bare hands.
"No… No…!"
Marcel scrambled backward in terror.
In the real world, his body suddenly convulsed, his eyes bulging with horror.
But it wasn't over yet.
From the You Tian Mirror's perspective—
His soul was being dismantled by the girls, piece by piece.
Agonized screams filled the void, reverberating endlessly.
Every ounce of suffering he had inflicted upon them was now being returned to him tenfold.
"Good!"
Someone in the crowd couldn't hold back a cheer, clapping loudly.
Instantly, applause erupted around the Fountain of Lucine.
Fontaine had no death penalty—but Marcel's fate was deeply satisfying.
"He deserved it!"
Watching Marcel's soul being torn apart, his screams of agony echoing, Navia felt a fierce vindication.
This was exactly the end he should have had!
Lu Heng observed Marcel's fate with calm detachment.
In the original timeline, his punishment had been left undescribed. Now, seeing it firsthand, it was clear—justice had been served.
Unlike the body, the soul had no protective mechanisms to numb pain. Every second of torment was felt in excruciating clarity.
In mere moments, his soul had endured what felt like decades of suffering.
"May the innocent souls lost to Vacher's cruelty finally rest in peace," Furina murmured softly.
"They will."
Lu Heng nodded firmly.
The Fountain of Lucine bubbled gently, its waters now silent.
Neuvillette confirmed Marcel's death. Though he was a heinous criminal, his body still had to be dealt with properly.
The Gardes carried his remains away.
Though the Oratrice Mécanique d'Analyse Cardinale had not delivered its final verdict, the people of Fontaine were more than satisfied with the outcome.
Reporters like Charlotte scribbled furiously in their notebooks, cameras flashing nonstop.
With Marcel gone, the crowd's attention quickly shifted to the phenomenon of dissolution.
The ancient prophecy of Fontaine's doom resurfaced in everyone's minds.
Many had dismissed it before—after all, the prophecy had loomed for so long without coming to pass.
But now, the very "dissolution" foretold in the prophecy had been proven real.
A sword that had hung overhead for centuries, unseen and unfelt, had finally revealed its edge—and the people panicked.
"Lady Furina… regarding the prophecy, what preparations have you made?" someone dared to ask.
"Uh—"
Furina was caught off guard.
She stood at the edge of a cliff, the abyss behind her, the crowd pressing forward.
How was she supposed to answer?
Her role didn't allow her to make any real preparations. All she could do was keep playing her part—to see this opera through to its final act.
The ending remained shrouded in uncertainty, and fear gnawed at her heart.
But now was not the time to falter!
"Rest assured, I have a plan!"
Furina laughed breezily, her expression radiating the unshakable confidence of a god.
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T/N:
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