The kingdom of Permanent is broke. It survives only by borrowing money from the wealthy merchant house Cordias. The knightly house Hazard has lost its power, and Queen Elzard is desperate. The Cordias family is rising fast, and they plan to save Permanent's finances through a marriage between Prince Telius and Ellilite.
But Ellilite Cordias, 18, carries a secret. Her late mother left her a 'return-from-death' potion. It has brought her back 100 times. Now it is the last dose — the 101st run.
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The 101st Witch Trial - Dungeon Escape Caper: A Tightrope Walk in Underwear, Relying on the Memories of the 100th Time
The underground waiting room smelled of damp stone. A faint night breeze drifted in through a small window set high in the wall. Outside, it was already dark. How much time had passed since the engagement announcement ceremony? Elritte Cordeas sat on the cold stone floor, her back against the wall.
Her white dress was stained with mud and dust. The gold embroidery glimmered dully in the dim cell. The lavish garment was now only heavy and cumbersome.
She looked at her hands.
Her fingertips trembled faintly. Not from fear. No—there was fear too. But beyond that, something welling up from deep within her body manifested as trembling.
(One hour.)
Less than an hour remained before the heresy trial convened. Queen Elzard must be eager to execute Elritte as soon as possible. The false evidence and perjured testimony were already in place. All that remained was a formal trial, and then drowning.
(But I won't let that happen.)
Elritte slowly stood up.
She pinched the hem of her dress and hooked her fingers into the seams. Everything she had learned over a hundred lifetimes was packed into this. How to tear cloth, how to make rope, and every secret passage in this castle.
Riiip.
The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the quiet waiting room. The white dress crumbled at her feet. Gold embroidery tore loose and scattered across the floor. Beneath it, she wore only a thin silk chemise. The cold air touched her shoulders and back, raising goosebumps.
"……Cold."
She murmured softly and quickly began weaving the torn cloth. A task she had done countless times over a hundred lifetimes. Even trembling with fear, her fingers moved precisely. She twisted the fabric, braided it, and fashioned a single long rope.
(I'll tie this to the window grate.)
Elritte stood beneath the small window. She stretched up and grasped the grate. The cold feel of iron. The chill spread from her fingertips through her entire arm.
She tied the rope to the grate and pulled hard. She checked it again and again. If this broke, everything would end.
(It's fine. I still have options. The me of a hundred lifetimes says so.)
She muttered in her mind, as was her habit.
Then, from the pocket of her dress, she took out a small stone. A rounded stone, about the size of a fingertip. She had picked it up in the garden yesterday.
She looked down outside the window.
The water in the deep moat reflected the moonlight, glinting black. The height to the water's surface was about eight meters. If she fell, she wouldn't survive.
Elritte gripped the stone.
(In my hundredth life, I failed here.)
She had dropped the stone in the wrong position. The timing was bad too. She was spotted by a guard, captured, and drowned.
(This time is different.)
She closed her eyes and summoned the memories of a hundred lifetimes. Beneath this small window, there was a narrow stone ledge. About thirty centimeters wide. She would edge along it to the window of the adjacent room. The adjacent room was a storage room for servants. No one would be there at night.
(I drop the stone at that position.)
Elritte opened her eyes.
She had memorized every guard patrol route. Right now, two soldiers would pass beneath this waiting room. At the exact moment they passed directly below the window, she would drop the stone.
The splash would make them look down. In that gap, she would lean out the window.
(Three, two, one……)
Elritte dropped the stone.
Splash.
A small sound of water echoed in the silence of the night.
"What was that!?"
"Did you hear that sound?"
"Yeah, it came from the moat."
"A stone? Did someone drop it?"
The soldiers peered toward the moat. The instant both of their attentions were fully directed downward—
Elritte grabbed the window frame and hoisted herself up.
The cold night wind stung her skin. With only a thin chemise, the chill seeped to her bones. But she had no time to worry about that.
She slid her body out the window.
The soles of her feet touched the stone ledge. Thirty centimeters wide. She hooked her toes onto the seam of the stone. Probing the unevenness of the wall with her fingertips, she slowly shifted her weight.
(Don't look down.)
Elritte told herself.
If she looked down, it was over. Eight meters. A fall meant death. The memories of a hundred deaths made her body go rigid.
(But I won't die.)
She pressed her body flat against the wall. Back pressed to the stone, sideways, little by little, little by little, she moved toward the adjacent window.
The wind blew.
Her body swayed.
"……ngh."
She instinctively grabbed a hollow in the wall with her fingertips. Her heart pounded violently deep in her chest. Cold sweat traced down her back.
(A handrail……)
The castle's floor plan surfaced in her mind. This wall once had a handrail. It had been removed now, but the marks of the metal fittings should remain.
She searched the wall with her fingertips.
There.
A small iron fitting protruded from the wall. Elritte hooked her fingers on it and stabilized her body.
(It's fine. I still have options.)
She steadied her breathing and began moving again.
One step, then another.
Probing the stone seams with her toes, gripping the wall's unevenness with her fingertips. The physical instincts honed through a hundred deaths guided her body precisely.
(Just a little more.)
The adjacent room's window was right there.
Elritte mustered her last strength and grabbed the window frame. Then she pulled herself up in one motion.
She tumbled through the window into the storage room.
"……haa……haa……"
On the cold stone floor, she couldn't move for a while. Her shoulders heaved, and she couldn't stop the trembling throughout her body.
(I'm alive.)
Elritte looked at her hands. Her fingertips were scraped raw against the wall, bleeding. Her knees were skinned from hitting the stone.
(But I'm alive.)
She slowly stood up.
The storage room was dark and smelled of dust. Cleaning supplies and old furniture were piled up. Only the moonlight through the window provided faint illumination.
Elritte searched for scraps of cloth piled in the corner of the room. Old rags the servants used for cleaning. She picked one up and wrapped it around her body.
(This is a little better.)
With only a thin chemise, it was far too cold. Besides, walking through the castle in this state would draw too much attention.
She pressed her ear to the storage room door.
She sensed the corridor.
(No one right now.)
Elritte quietly opened the door.
A red carpet ran down the corridor. The nobles' corridor leading to the upper floors of the royal castle. Silver candelabras lined the walls, their candle flames flickering.
She stepped onto the red carpet, still barefoot.
(Don't make a sound.)
She ran on tiptoe, killing her footsteps. She had run down this corridor countless times over a hundred lifetimes. She knew which stones creaked, where shadows fell—all of it.
She turned the corner of the corridor.
At that moment, she heard footsteps from ahead.
Elritte instinctively hid in the shadow of the wall.
(Guards……)
Two soldiers walked toward her, talking. They hadn't noticed Elritte.
"The heresy trial is soon."
"Yeah. Is that Cordeas girl really a witch?"
"Who knows. Her Majesty says so. It must be true."
"But it's a shame. Such a beautiful lady, to be drowned."
"Idiot, keep your voice down. We just follow orders."
The soldiers' voices faded into the distance.
Elritte bit her lip in the shadow of the wall.
(A shame? Drowned?)
She repeated the soldiers' words in her mind.
(I've experienced that a hundred times already.)
Anger blazed deep in her chest. But she couldn't let it show.
After confirming the soldiers had turned the corner and disappeared, Elritte started running again.
Heading for the entrance to the underground passage.
She had the castle's structure memorized. Using the underground passage, she could reach the stairs leading to the East Tower without being seen by anyone.
(The East Tower……)
Where the Mercurius Empire's military attaché was stationed.
(If I go there, I can meet the Emperor.)
Elritte ran down the corridor, short of breath.
Her bare feet slid on the carpet. She nearly fell countless times, but still she didn't stop.
(If I stop, I die.)
(If I die, I can't come back.)
(Because this time is truly the last.)
That was when it happened.
From the far end of the corridor, she saw a man walking toward her.
A young man. Mid-twenties. Black hair cropped short, with sharp eyes. His clothing was that of a royal castle servant. But his gait carried a quiet intensity—that of someone trained, not a servant.
Elritte stopped.
(This person……)
The man stopped in front of Elritte.
And as he passed her, he whispered into her ear.
"Tonight, at the East Tower."
Elritte's eyes widened.
The man continued whispering.
"We are interested in the interests of the Cordeas family."
Having said only that, the man passed by her side as if nothing had happened.
Elritte stood frozen in place for a moment.
(This voice……)
The comrade of that spy Diver who had rescued her from the bottom of the moat in her hundredth life.
(So they really are inside this castle.)
She turned to look at the man's retreating figure.
The man didn't look back.
Elritte confirmed there was no hostility in the man's eyes.
(Those eyes aren't those of an enemy.)
She started running again.
(I'm not completely isolated.)
That fact lightened her heart, just a little.
(But I can't let my guard down.)
(Those people are only interested in the interests of the Cordeas family.)
(The only one who will save me is myself.)
Elritte reached the entrance to the underground passage.
Part of the wall was a hidden door. She pushed one of the wall's stones.
Grrrr……
With a heavy sound, part of the wall rotated, revealing a dark passage.
Elritte entered the passage without hesitation.
The passage was narrow and dark. The ceiling was low; she had to stoop to walk. Damp air clung to her skin.
She pressed her hand against the wall and advanced through the darkness.
(I found this passage in my hundredth life.)
(If I get through here, it connects to the basement of the East Tower.)
In the darkness, the moments of her death across a hundred lifetimes raced through Elritte's mind like a revolving lantern.
The dinner where she was poisoned.
Her own chamber where she was strangled.
The moat where she was drowned.
The plaza where she was burned at the stake.
The execution platform where she was beheaded.
The back garden where she was stabbed to death.
Again, and again, and again.
She had died a hundred times.
All of it was deeply carved into her body and her heart.
(That time, I knelt to Telius.)
(That time, I begged the Queen for forgiveness.)
(That time, I bribed the minister with gold.)
(But no one protected me.)
Elritte bit her lip in the darkness.
(I won't rely on anyone anymore.)
She screamed in her mind.
(I will survive by my own strength.)
A faint light appeared ahead in the passage.
The stairs leading to the basement of the East Tower.
Elritte dashed up the stairs.
Nearly falling again and again, scraping her palms, banging her knees, she kept her legs moving.
(Just a little more.)
(Just a little more and I'll reach the attaché's chamber.)
When she reached the top of the stairs, she was on the first floor of the East Tower.
The room granted to the Mercurius Empire's military attaché was on the top floor of this tower.
Elritte leaned against the wall and caught her breath.
Her bare feet were covered in scrapes, bleeding. Her body was chilled to the core, and she couldn't stop shivering.
(Even so.)
She mustered her last strength and began climbing the stairs.
One step, one step.
She was out of breath. Her legs were heavy. Her vision blurred.
(Just a little more.)
(Just a little more.)
When she reached the top floor, Elritte nearly collapsed on the spot.
She pressed her hand against the wall, d
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