Chapter 6
1311words
"You think you're judging them? You're judging your own weak, selfish heart!"
These words branded Claire's soul like poisoned irons. The blood she spat came not just from physical shock but from a decade of suppressed guilt and pain finally finding release.
Her world shattered completely.
Everything around her blurred. William's vigilant stance, Sterling's terrified face—all became meaningless smears of color.
Only two gazes remained clear.
One from Maxwell—cold as ice, deep as an abyss, reflecting her sins like a karmic mirror. Before it, she had nowhere to hide.
The other from Emma. The young constable's once-clear eyes now burned with righteous fire—what she believed was justice. Anger, contempt, judgment against a revenge-driven demon who had slaughtered the innocent.
This gaze broke her completely.
"Yes..."
The broken syllable fell from Claire's bloodied lips.
"It was me..." She seemed to use all her remaining strength for these words. Her body trembled violently, and for the first time, those ancient-pool eyes filled with utter collapse.
"Ten years ago... at the Yuelai Inn in Qinghe... I saw... I saw Sterling hand over gold to the investigating officer..."
Her voice faltered, each word torn from her heart.
"I heard them... saying to ensure the Xu family's rival would never rise again... The next day, the case was closed..."
"I was afraid..." Her voice suddenly became childlike, filled with primal terror. "Afraid they'd kill me to keep me quiet... I couldn't speak... couldn't act... I ran... fled like a beaten dog..."
She raised her head, tears mixing with blood to trace twin paths down her face. She looked at Maxwell and Emma, her eyes filled with bottomless remorse and self-hatred.
"For ten years, I haven't slept one peaceful night! Every time I close my eyes, I see the thirty Xu family members... I see my father's unrestful eyes! He died never knowing he'd judged wrongly! They made him their puppet! An honest man who died branded with 'dereliction of duty'!"
"This guilt... like a viper... bites me daily! Gnaws at my heart!"
She released a wail like a dying animal.
Emma's heart lurched at these words. She never imagined such profound suffering behind the woman's cold exterior—torment that had lasted a decade. The anger in her eyes softened, replaced by something more complex.
But Claire's confession sounded entirely different to the others.
Sterling stared in horror, as if thinking: she knew everything all along!
William's hardened gaze showed his conviction that she was indeed the ruthless killer who would stop at nothing for vengeance.
Her guilt and remorse became perfect evidence of her tacit confession.
"But..." Claire suddenly raised her voice—hoarse and sharp like torn silk. "I didn't kill them! I didn't kill them! I didn't!"
She screamed, using her final strength to protest her innocence.
But no one believed her.
Her cries rang hollow and powerless—like a ruined gambler's desperate final protest.
Maxwell watched her silently. He didn't speak, but his silence was the most powerful denial—as if saying: any defense now is merely a futile struggle.
Claire's gaze swept across everyone—their fear, contempt, pity. She understood it all.
No one would believe her.
In this perfect cage Maxwell had crafted with logic and "evidence," she was already dead.
Despair.
A bottomless despair welled from the depths of her eyes. She had walked alone through darkness for ten years, yet lacked even the courage for revenge. Her only belief had been atonement.
But now, seeking to atone, she found herself already nailed to the cross of sin, denied even the right to defend herself.
Enough.
Everything should end now.
Just as everyone thought judgment had been passed, everything changed!
In Claire's eyes, the deathly darkness suddenly shattered, replaced by absolute determination!
Her body—like a coiled predator—suddenly lunged forward!
Her target: Emma, standing just feet away!
Emma had no time to react. She felt only a blur before her eyes, a blood-scented wind against her face. When she regained her senses, her sword had somehow found its way into Claire's hands.
SHING!
A clear, resonant ring like a dragon's cry.
Emma's sword—symbol of Six Gates authority—now pressed against Claire's own slender neck.
The cold blade had already broken skin, a thin crimson line seeping along its edge—like a desperate plum blossom blooming in snow.
"What are you doing?!" Emma cried out, instinctively stepping forward.
"Stay back!" Claire commanded, her voice trembling with emotion though her hand remained steady as stone.
Everyone froze at this sudden turn.
Claire looked at no one. Her gaze cut through everyone, through all the fear and suspicion, until it fixed upon the man who had remained cold as ice throughout.
Felix Maxwell.
She looked at him.
Her gaze held impossible complexity—desolation, relief, mockery, and even... a barely perceptible trace of sorrowful understanding, as though she'd finally grasped some hidden truth.
She suddenly smiled.
That smile, blooming on her blood-and-tear-stained face, held an indescribable, heartbreaking beauty.
"Felix Maxwell," she uttered his name softly, like savoring bitter tea gone cold, "you were right. All along, I've been judging my own cowardice."
Her gaze drifted from Maxwell's face to the dagger in his hand—the blade that had remained unsheathed throughout.
"This crime..."
Her voice was soft yet reached every ear with perfect clarity.
"I accept it."
The moment she finished speaking, her wrist moved with sudden force.
A flash of tragic, bloody light swept through the hall.
Splurt!
Fresh blood erupted from her carotid artery like a crimson fountain, transforming her plain white clothes into a horrifying red.
Her body, like a felled tree, toppled forward slowly, helplessly.
Those eyes—once pools of endless pain and despair—in their final moment still fixed on Maxwell. Then all light extinguished forever.
Everything happened too quickly.
So quickly that Emma couldn't even cry out.
She stood frozen, staring at the still-warm body in its spreading pool of blood. The thick, metallic scent hung heavy in the air as her mind went completely blank.
Dead.
The woman who had carried ten years of hatred and guilt, the "murderer" of their serial killings, had been... brought to justice.
In a way Emma had never imagined.
"She's dead! She's dead!" Sterling stared at the corpse, momentarily stunned before erupting into hysterical, manic relief. "The killer's dead! We're safe! We're saved!"
The crisis seemed truly over.
Just then, a faint ray of light squeezed through the broken ceiling.
The light was dim, almost pale, but undeniably present.
Emma instinctively looked up.
Outside, the world-devouring snowstorm had begun to subside. A tear had formed in the leaden clouds, allowing a pale ray of sunlight to pierce the gloom for the first time—like a sword slashing down upon the vast white expanse.
The snow reflected a dazzling, cold light.
Emma released a long, deep sigh, as though expelling days of accumulated fear and tension.
The crisis was over.
The killer had been brought to justice.
She turned to look at her boss.
Maxwell still stood there, his silhouette elongated by the first light of day. He gazed silently at the cooling corpse, his face expressionless. Those unfathomable eyes revealed neither joy nor sorrow.
In Emma's heart surged an almost fanatical admiration.
This was her boss, Felix Maxwell.
Faced with bizarre serial murders, he had remained cold as ice, using breathtakingly meticulous logic to peel away layers and uncover the decade-old grudge behind the bloodshed. He had not only found the killer but broken her psychological defenses with mere words, driving her to end her own life in guilt and pain.
Although... the process had been terrifyingly brutal.
But justice had been served.
Emma looked from the corpse to the brightening light outside, thinking silently to herself.
Those who commit evil will eventually pay the price.
Heaven's principles are clear; retribution never fails.
This is why the Six Gates Bureau exists.
The snow had stopped.
