According to international conventions, criminals sentenced by international courts are to be imprisoned in their home countries. However, due to the severity of their crimes, death row prisoners can have their bodies secretly buried in another country according to their own wishes.
The main reason was the deep fear that the criminals' past wrongdoings, as well as the survivors or the victims' families, might lead them to exhume the body and desecrate it once they learned of its burial location after the criminal's death. After all, such incidents had occurred before this law was enacted.
Since death is the end of all things, and for the sake of the living to resolve their grievances, death row prisoners are typically buried according to their last wishes after being executed.
Arabella's request for Ferdinand to take her body for burial is understandable as part of her last wishes. However, her desire for Ferdinand to also take Cyrus's body is an additional request. After all, whether Cyrus's body can be taken depends on Marcellus's approval.
After Taras had a long private conversation with Arabella in the cell, the Faceless Ghost, who had been standing outside, approached and asked, "How did it go?"
Taras's expression was calm, but there was still a trace of urgency in his eyes. "Is Marcellus still at his residence?"
Faceless Ghost nodded and asked, "What is it? Does Arabella want to see him?"
"Give his secretary a call and tell him I need to speak with him. Regarding Arabella's last wishes, he will definitely be willing to meet me."
Taras hurriedly left the prison. Not long after, a prison guard arrived to take over the shift. After the handover, the prison guard seemed to glance inside casually. Sitting on the bed, Arabella gave him a faint smile of relief. After a moment, the guard averted his gaze, silently closing his eyes to conceal the tears welling up in them.
Marcellus indeed stayed at his mansion, from yesterday to today, refusing to do anything. He didn't answer calls, didn't want to see anyone. He just wanted to be alone, swallowing all his sorrow and pain in silence. The kind of pain that felt as though his heart was being torn out, so agonizing that it left him unable to even straighten his back.
His personal secretary whispered through the door, reporting on matters related to Arabella, which finally drew a reaction from him. Blade wanted to see him, regarding Arabella's last wishes.
He didn't want to see him, didn't want to listen. He didn't want to know Arabella's last wishes. The words "last wishes" felt so cold and cruel, but he had no choice but to face the reality—this might be the only and final request Arabella would ever make.
When Taras met Marcellus, he was somewhat surprised. He had expected to find a drunken man, drowning his sorrows, with a face full of despair. But instead, Marcellus, not a drop of alcohol in him, appeared in neat formal attire when he saw him. It was as if the news of Arabella's impending execution hadn't affected him in the slightest. If not for the pain lurking in his eyes, one would almost believe that Marcellus and Arabella had no emotional entanglement whatsoever.
Since Marcellus was hiding his pain, Taras had no intention of exposing it. He decided to get straight to the point: "Arabella requested that after her death, her body be taken by Ferdinand to Scalien and buried elsewhere."
"Ferdinand? The heir of the Leiso family?" Marcellus sneered and continued, "I never thought someone like Arabella would trust anyone."
"We both know Ferdinand's identity. The death sentence handed to him was just a piece of disinformation to lure Arabella into action. His dealings in arms across various countries were, after all, an internationally tolerated business, and we couldn't pin any charges on him. It's only natural for him to take Arabella."
Marcellus stared at Taras, his tone blunt. "If that were all, you wouldn't have come to see me. After all, a death row inmate's request for burial is confidential and unrestricted. You wouldn't need to notify me."
Taras nodded and straightforwardly made his request. "Arabella had one more last wish. She wants Ferdinand to take Cyrus's body as well, so that they can be buried together."
Marcellus's expression turned completely cold, his eyes darkening with unspoken emotions. He almost gritted his teeth as he spat out, "Do you know what you're saying?"
Taras's expression became serious. "The person is dead. What are you guarding the body for?"
With a loud crash, Marcellus kicked the chair beside him, and the calm facade he had been maintaining shattered completely. "Am I guarding a body? I'm guarding the person, guarding hope—does Arabella not even want to leave anything behind, not even in death?"
Taras remained unfazed and continued, "Before I came here, I had a long talk with Arabella. She told me a few things you should hear. She said that before coming to Scalien, she had already manufactured a large batch of arms sent to Jingle, along with a batch of biochemical weapons. However, these weapons have control locks, and she didn't say who has the key. I think you understand what that means."
A flash of deep, blood-red anger flickered in Marcellus's eyes, and he growled, his voice filled with venom, "Is she using the war to threaten me?"
"It's not just that. A few months ago, a large batch of drugs was smuggled into Scalien in batches. They're a new type of drug developed by AE, highly addictive. This batch of drugs was able to enter quietly, which is clearly the result of internal and external coordination. She said that she has a list of officials in Scalien who are involved. If she gets the body, she'll give up the list."
Marcellus nearly laughed out of frustration upon hearing this. "Is she confessing her own crimes?"
Taras fixed his gaze on Marcellus and said decisively, "She's already sentenced to death. Even if you add hundreds of crimes, she'll be executed by a bullet. There's no point in shooting her corpse with hundreds of rounds. But what she's talking about is a real threat to the living. The drugs flooding in, a group of corrupt officials colluding with criminals, and the imminent threat of war between two nations! Marcellus, as the leader of this country, you can't be unsure of how to choose between Cyrus's body and the many people who are still alive."
Marcellus didn't respond, but his eyes were filled with pain and unwillingness. He had used Cyrus's body to trap Arabella all these years, and in the end, he had failed to save the living, and even the body couldn't be kept. How tragic it was for him.
Perhaps seeing the depth of pain in Marcellus's expression, Taras softened his tone, trying to offer comfort: "Although Arabella is beyond redemption, she has spent these years scheming for Cyrus. He's already gone; why can't you grant her this final wish?"
Marcellus seemed to be drained of all energy in an instant. Beneath the facade of composure he had just put on, there was nothing but despair. "She's even thinking of taking Cyrus with her in death?"
Taras sighed silently. "When a person dies, everything fades with the time. Arabella has already been sentenced. She's spent her whole life obsessed with Cyrus. You should let her have this final wish."
Marcellus's eyes reddened, and he stubbornly asked Taras one final question, "Must she really be executed? She doesn't have much time left to live. Can't you give her what little time she has left?"
Taras shook his head firmly. "Then who will give life back to those she's killed? They should've been able to live. Did Arabella ever think of others when she killed them? Just like she said to me, she doesn't care about the suffering she caused. She only uses it as a threat to get what she wants. I'm advising you to give her Cyrus's body, for the sake of the many people who are still alive."
Marcellus fell silent, and after a long pause, he nodded heavily and said, "Notify Ferdinand. Take the body."
After receiving Marcellus's confirmation, Taras didn't stay long. Just before leaving, he hesitated for a moment and asked, "A person like Arabella, who lacks any humanity, could she really have loved Cyrus?"
Marcellus understood exactly what Taras meant. Did Arabella love Cyrus? She probably didn't even know what love was, but how special was Cyrus to her?
Everyone thought the truth was that Arabella believed Cyrus had betrayed her and, in a fit of rage, strangled him. In reality, they had been surrounded by thousands of troops, and if Arabella had taken Cyrus with her, both would have died for sure. Cyrus sacrificed his life to help Arabella escape. He had made every preparation to leave with Arabella—how could he possibly betray her? Arabella was too sharp; how could she still not see the truth by now?
Cyrus, oh Cyrus, his brother—he was the only one in this world who treated Arabella differently.
He would always remember the first time he and Cyrus saw Arabella. Before that, he had already heard rumors about a daughter of the Montfort family—she was a terrifying monster. At a young age, she was gloomy, ruthless, and unsociable, like an animal, disliked and even hated by her own parents..
That day, he followed his brother Cyrus and saw a girl with a chilling expression. Her gaze was cold and indifferent, and she exuded an aura of terror that kept others at a distance, just as the rumors had said—truly formidable.
His brother Cyrus, however, was very calm. He simply reached out his hand and greeted her with a gentle smile. "Hello, my name is Cyrus. What's your name?"
The girl's voice was icy to the extreme, with a mocking retort, "Haven't you heard of me?"
Cyrus still extended his hand, unaware of the oddity, and continued, "Any rumors don't count. It's our first meeting, I'd like to get to know you myself, is that alright?"
Yes—whether Arabella was good or evil, up until now, everyone had only heard of her. The underworld heard of her as a ruthless and heartless figure, following her was not a mistake. The law-abiding heard of her killing spree, committing countless crimes, and capturing her was justified. But there was only one person in this world who insisted on knowing the Arabella in his eyes, whether good or evil, she was the most real Arabella in his view.
Thus, in Cyrus's world, there was the most real Arabella, and in Arabella's world, there was Cyrus. Between them, why bother discussing love or not?
Ferdinand arrived faster than expected, as if he had been waiting at the border, his contact coming at the right moment. Taras and the Faceless Ghost were surprised by how swiftly he arrived.
"Don't be surprised. Arabella told me before she left what the worst outcome could be. If she were captured, it would be a death sentence, and she only thought about having me bury her and Cyrus elsewhere after death."
"Where does she want to be buried?" Faceless Ghost couldn't help but ask.
Ferdinand glanced at him, not recognizing him due to the change of appearance. Faceless Ghost had to introduce himself, "You should have heard of me. My code name is Faceless Ghost."
"So you're the one who impersonated Merrick," Ferdinand scoffed. "A backstabber. Where Arabella wants to be buried is none of your concern."
If a criminal has entrusted someone to bury their body, it is indeed possible for the body to be secretly buried by the entrusted person after death, without the need for public disclosure. Marcellus didn't want to speak about it, and naturally, he couldn't be forced to. However, tracking his whereabouts afterward to learn of Arabella's burial location was a different matter altogether. Taras believed that at the very least, Marcellus and the others would surely track down Ferdinand to the end.
The five days passed quickly, and early this morning, Arabella was once again escorted to the execution ground after the Faceless Ghost confirmed her identity. She had been treated for a period of time, and her complexion had slightly reddened. Along the way, Taras carefully observed her expression, seeing not a trace of despair.
He was very clear on Arabella's personality—ruthless and cruel, yet extremely cautious about her life, she would never give up so easily. He felt something was off, but upon further thought, Arabella's life was indeed nearing its end. Her giving up the struggle seemed to be part of the cleanup, and there was nothing particularly unusual about it.
Though the prison and the execution ground were only a short ten-minute drive apart, Taras still deployed layers of security, ensuring that the entire route was calm and uneventful—absolute safety.
Upon reaching the execution ground, Arabella stood in the middle of the open area, her pant legs tied tightly with law ropes, her entire body bound with tight restraints. Not far away, a row of executioners stood with rifles ready. Ferdinand was stationed outside the prison hospital's morgue, waiting for Arabella's body to be sent for inspection and, once confirmed, to be taken by him.
Everything proceeded smoothly. Faceless Ghost, still uneasy, double-checked and confirmed it was indeed Arabella with no issues. A few accompanying law enforcement officers then took turns verifying her identity to ensure the execution was carried out on the right person.
"There's a countdown of three minutes left," Faceless Ghost checked his watch and reminded Taras.
Taras stood in the control room, looking down at Arabella, feeling a sense of disorientation. It was as if he were looking at Arabella through a glass, their eyes meeting. Her face was soft, and there was even a hint of joy in her expression. After all these years of crossing paths with her, this was the first time he had seen such a serene and peaceful Arabella. Was it true that when one was about to die, they truly let go of everything?
Arabella stood there, facing the row of executioners ready to fire. She slowly tilted her head and gazed at the sky—five years. She had waited for this day, waited for five long years. Finally, the moment had arrived. Her wishes fulfilled, vengeance taken, and it was not in vain, those five years spent hiding in the pitch-black underground.
She shifted her gaze to the console, where Faceless Ghost was likely standing. That kid was always sharp, but too arrogant. He could never learn the art of identification, once doubting his own abilities. Little did he know that the reason he and Caracal had never mastered identification was because they had learned the order incorrectly. If he first learn disguise, he can never learn identification—only by learning identification first can he refine his disguise technique.
That kid, having failed to master identification for so long, had probably forgotten the warning at the last page of the identification manual: full disguise is on a three-year cycle, with five years being the absolute limit. After this time, one's face and body would become unchangeable, causing irreversible internal damage and a short life expectancy.
Three minutes quickly passed. The execution police loaded their guns and aimed at the target. At the command of the officer, a volley of shots rang out, and Arabella fell to the ground. The coroner immediately stepped forward to check for vital signs. After three people took turns inspecting, they signaled that the execution had been carried out.
Throughout the entire process, Taras remained silent, his gaze fixed steadily on Arabella. As he watched her collapse to the ground, his fingers twitched slightly. He felt a wetness on his face, and when he reached up to wipe it away, he realized it was the tearstains he hadn't even noticed. He thought back to that night in Doma, when he returned to find Arabella sitting alone, drinking. The moonlight was beautiful, yet it cast a cold, distant glow on her. He still remembered what he had impulsively said in that moment—it was one of those rare occasions when he allowed himself to be moved, a rare moment of foolishness in all these years.
Faceless Ghost asked him if he had ever developed feelings for Arabella. How could he not? But emotions were one thing, and his duty as a police officer was another. Even if his feelings were hard to bear, they could not overcome the mountain of justice. The words he had spoken to Arabella at that time were the words of a man deeply in love with a woman, without any pretense. His actions in capturing Arabella were the duty of a police officer toward a criminal, without any mercy.
Taking a deep breath, Taras turned to face the Faceless Ghost. His voice was hoarse as he spoke, "Notify the funeral stuff to prepare the body. After they're done, let Ferdinand take them. Has Cyrus's body been transferred?"
Faceless Ghost nodded, curious. "How did you convince Marcellus to hand over the body?"
"Arabella is dead. Keeping Cyrus's body is useless. It's better to let Ferdinand take it away. Marcellus will definitely send people to track him secretly. He knows where Arabella wanted to be buried, so the result will be the same."
Faceless Ghost looked at Taras and asked, "Aren't you going to watch Ferdinand?"
Taras shook his head and declined. "She was caught by me, and executed under my supervision. She's dead, so there's no need to disturb her rest. Besides, we have more important matters to attend to. Once Ferdinand sends the list, we'll have to assist Scalien's police in their operation. This large-scale drug smuggling case involves AE. Who knows, maybe we can follow the trail and catch AE's tail." He had mentioned these two matters to Ferdinand when he saw him. Ferdinand had made it clear that after he took the bodies, the list of officials would be sent to him right away. As for the controllers of the biochemical weapons, Ferdinand would inform Marcellus of their hiding spots once he reached his destination, so that Marcellus could send his troops to destroy them.
"What exactly was Julius here for? It's like he came to verify Arabella's death. He said he wasn't helping her, but he went through so much trouble to smuggle a large amount of drugs into the country. Then, when Arabella was cornered, he did nothing to help and just left early this morning. It's so strange," Faceless Ghost muttered, still puzzled.
Once the funeral stuff received Arabella's body, they prepared it, wrapped it in a body bag, and pushed it out to Ferdinand, who had been waiting outside. Ferdinand's expression was solemn. Earlier, he had already placed Cyrus's body in the back seat of the car, securely tied. Now, with Arabella's body added, the two corpses lay side by side, stiff and cold in their black body bags. The sight carried a faint chill, but Ferdinand was oblivious to it. He slammed his foot on the gas and drove off without a second thought.
Marcellus, dressed in black, had already been waiting in a car in the shadows. He couldn't trust anyone else to track Ferdinand. He was determined to find out where the two people who meant so much to him would be buried. Along the way, Ferdinand didn't deliberately speed up, but Marcellus followed closely behind, remotely controlling his private soldiers to surround Ferdinand's car from the sides, both protecting Arabella's body and tracking Ferdinand's movements.
Halfway through the drive, the State Affairs Office kept calling Marcellus. After hanging up a few times, Marcellus's face grew stern as he answered and took the initiative: "I told you, all arrangements for today are cancelled."
"General, Commander Ackerley is dead!"
"What?" Marcellus was shocked, slamming on the brakes in surprise.
At the same time, Taras, who had already received the list of officials, was preparing for a meeting to discuss the case. Faceless Ghost, with a shocked and suspicious look, grabbed him and pulled him into a corner, whispering, "The old master of the Ackerley family was just killed."
"How is this possible? In broad daylight! I remember after he retired, he always stayed at the secret Manor, which has no elevated points, no sniping positions, and has always been a place for the leaders of the Scalien faction to escape the heat. Besides, because Arabella entered the country recently, Marcellus even stationed heavy guards there. How could he be dead?"
"The terrifying part is this—just when Arabella was executed, the old Ackerley was found silently lying in the bedroom, his head had been severed and placed on the table."
"Silently? To enter without alerting anyone and kill in an instant, that skill must be at least on par with ours."
Faceless Ghost spread his hands, his voice trembling slightly, "I think we've missed something crucial!"
Ferdinand was driving, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. Seeing the car that Marcellus had been tracking turn around and leave, with only a few private soldiers still following him, a slow smile crept across his lips—Arabella was right, sometimes victory or defeat is never as it seems, and there are always unexpected turns.
