When I mentioned that Ira was pretending to be insane, she seemed to double down on her act, becoming even more frenzied. She pounded the bars with her fists and gnashed her teeth against them as if trying to break them. Her eyes were filled with a chilling ferocity, but I trusted the durability of our underground dungeon.
"Ah... Lord Lucius. But if she's left in this prison forever, she'll truly go mad. They say to hate the sin, not the sinner."
"Siri. What's the point of punishment if there's no repentance? If we simply forgive her for feigning madness, why do we pray to God and seek forgiveness for our sins?"
"So, Lord Lucius, do you plan to keep her here indefinitely?"
"No. I'll punish her."
I whispered softly into Siri's ear. I'd been wanting to impose a specific punishment since she started pretending to be insane, and I intended to use this opportunity. Siri's mouth hung open as she listened to my words.
Seeing her small mouth gape open, I thought about sticking my finger in and stirring it around.
"Th-that... such cruelty..."
"Siri. Normally, fraudsters and thieves have their hands cut off. But does such punishment truly serve the purpose of reform? Will she truly repent if her arm is severed? No, Siri. Repentance begins when one recognizes the weight of their sins. Only those who understand shame can repent. Cutting off her arm would only breed hatred."
"Still... but..."
"Siri, I genuinely want to see her repent. If she truly reforms and becomes a new person, I might even offer her a job in this mansion."
Ira, who had been listening to our conversation, suddenly fell silent. Clearly, the mention of her punishment piqued her curiosity more than her feigned madness. Siri seemed gradually swayed by my words.
As a religious figure, the reformation of sinners was of utmost importance to her.
Siri nodded at my words. I patted her head and murmured,
"Yes, Siri. Just follow my lead."
"Yes, Lord Lucius..."
Ira slowly retreated and sat on a bed in the corner. I looked directly at her and said,
"Ira, I'll move you to a new room before the punishment. The formal punishment will take place in three days. Prepare yourself."
Ira's current situation was dire. The underground dungeon was poorly ventilated, lacked sunlight, and saw little human traffic. Pretending to be insane in this horrific environment, with over ten empty cells, was enough to drive anyone mad.
If Ira truly went insane before the punishment, it would complicate matters for me.
I ordered her moved to an empty room on the first floor and commanded that she be treated with the utmost care. According to the servants, Ira had stopped pretending to be insane and was behaving calmly, perhaps wondering if she should adapt to her new situation.
Maybe she feared being sent back to the dungeon if she continued her act? Her true intentions were beyond my understanding.
Later, I summoned a servant to recruit local thugs and misbehaving vagrants from the village. Recently, a tenant farmer had been beaten to death, so the servant quickly rounded up a few individuals with a satisfied look.
Among them were a drunkard who beat his wife, a thug who extorted money from children in alleys, and a gambling-addicted homeless man. Excluding the homeless man, who seemed beyond redemption, only the wife-beater and the thug remained.
They hung their heads low, sweating nervously, aware of their own crimes. I held my mace and calmly observed them.
"P-please forgive us, Lord Lucius! I'll never beat my wife again!"
"P-please forgive me too! I'll never extort money from children again!"
Though I said nothing, the truth spilled from their mouths as I raised my mace. Perhaps I should call it the "Staff of Truth" from now on.
Ira felt uneasy. The food was delicious, her room was spotless, and the servants treated her kindly. As a fraudster, she had never received such good treatment.
What were they planning to do to her?
Ira had been pondering this for the past three days, unable to rest. Every night, she imagined being dragged away, trembling with anxiety. After three days, Ira was dragged out in chains to the front gate of the mansion.
Had Lord Lucius publicized the punishment? Many villagers lined the streets, watching.
Overwhelmed by their stares, Ira lowered her head. A soldier placed a signboard on her head. She read the inscription while still bowed:
*"I stole from Lord Lucius's mansion and tried to flee without repenting for my sins."*
Ira let out a bitter laugh. So, this was a public shaming event. She'd walk down the street, be pelted with stones, and shed tears of repentance.
A fitting idea for a religious man, she thought. Lord Lucius ascended the stage, seemingly to explain the punishment. The crowd, already anticipating it, held stones in their hands.
"Everyone commits sins. We fail to recognize the weight of our actions and repeat the same mistakes. That's how we all become sinners. You, me—we all carry sin in our hearts."
Ira turned her gaze toward Lucius. The crowd followed suit.
"People, Ira here is a shameless sinner. Normally, a thief's hand would be cut off, but I believe such cruelty cannot lead to true repentance. Don't you agree?"
Silence fell. Lucius continued,
"As I said, we are all sinners. We remain alive to repent and atone for our sins. Ira's sins may be greater than most, but she's no different from us. I believe she deserves a second chance. Don't you agree?"
Someone whispered, "Yes." Others nodded, and soon the crowd echoed, "Yes!" The response grew into a roaring chorus.
"Yes! Absolutely!"
Overwhelmed by the voices, Ira shrank back. Lucius nodded, satisfied, and gestured to the soldiers.
"Strip Ira of her clothes."
"What?"
Startled, Ira forgot her act and questioned him. The crowd murmured in surprise. The soldiers hesitated, unsure if they should proceed.
"Ira has already ended this life as a sinner. New wine in new wineskins, a new life in a new body. Today, she'll walk through the village naked, washing away her sins and becoming a new person."
"Wh-what... wait... what are you doing?!"
The soldiers grabbed Ira's clothes, tearing them off despite her resistance, leaving only her underwear. She sat on the ground, exposed to leering gazes.
"People, as she walks, feel free to insult her. Her sins will be washed away with those insults. When she returns to these gates, she'll start anew as a changed person."
A soldier nudged Ira forward, and the crowd parted to let her pass. Lucius spoke,
"Ira, remove your underwear yourself."
"What?!"
"If you refuse, we'll remove it by force. We were born naked into this world. To become new, you must be naked. Remove your clothes."
"Don't spout nonsense!"
Ira screamed, pointing at Lucius.
"That man raped me! Now he's trying to humiliate me here!"
The crowd stirred, but Lucius remained calm, praying,
"God, forgive her for her false accusations."
"You're all being deceived! He's a fraud and a rapist!"
"Remove your clothes."
The soldiers lunged. Ira struggled, hurling insults at Lucius. His expression never changed.
"You piece of trash! Die, you bastard! You son of a bitch! Fuck... you!"
"Despite it all, I forgive you."
"Kyaaaaah!"
Ira felt on the brink of madness. The irrational violence and punishment were infuriating. The soldiers tore off her underwear, leaving her completely naked on the ground. The crowd cautiously picked up stones, staring at her. Lucius spoke,
"Ira, you'll now walk around the village. Endure any humiliation. If you sit or collapse, you'll return to my mansion, and we'll start over."
"Hic... sob... bastard..."
Ira finally sat down, sobbing. Lucius instructed the soldiers,
"Place Ira in front of the gate."
Two soldiers positioned her at the gate, averting their eyes in embarrassment as their hands brushed her bare skin. Ira clung to them, still sobbing. Lucius declared,
"Let the march begin."
"Hic... sob... hic..."
But Ira remained seated, refusing to move. She had a plan. If she stayed seated and kept crying, Lucius would be powerless. He'd called it a march of atonement, so he couldn't kill her now. Forcing her to move would defeat the purpose.
It was Ira's way of thwarting Lucius. She smiled triumphantly through her tears. The crowd murmured, and footsteps approached.
Someone was drawing near.
"Who's... there..."