The Flame Relic incident happened in this life too—just two months ago. I was summoned to the palace for two days of questioning. No trial, no verdict. Some nobles spoke in my defense. In the end, the Crown chose to quietly close the matter.
I survived—barely. In my past life, they burned me. In this one, the fire passed me by, but the stain remained.
I didn't return to my room after meeting Caelum.
I went to the East Tower instead—where the academy kept its archive of historical disputes and royal decrees.
The clerk recognized my name and didn't ask questions. He handed over the request form with shaking fingers.
I didn't need everything. Just one decree.
Decree 1098-AR: Regarding the Incident of the Flame Relic Theft.
Filed under "Resolved." Closed. Forgotten.
I signed my name. Walked out with the scroll.
In my room, I read every line.
It was worse than I remembered.
No mention of the inconsistencies. No mention of the magical residue. No indication that I was ever involved or interrogated, as if my name had never touched the case.
But one thing stood out:
This resolution is approved with the tacit acknowledgment of the Crown.
Tacit. Cowardly. Silent.
Caelum didn't condemn me. He just... didn't stop it.
The next morning, I sent a sealed envelope through the private hawk post.
It was addressed to someone who used to believe in me.
If she still does, this time, I won't burn alone.