The Warden of The Witches

Chapter 11:

Chapter 11:

Love Letter

"That..." Veronica was momentarily stunned, then she shook her head. "that's impossible!"

"Why are you so certain?"

"The person who was on duty at the vault that day was a new recruit I had trained before. We got along fairly well, and in the past when he messed up, I helped clean up his mess. He knew I'm a werewolf, yet he still respected me, he—"

"If that's the case, then you are really the murderer," Aiden couldn't help but chuckle.

"I told you, I didn't kill anyone!" Veronica emphasized, slightly irritated.

"If you wasn't the murder, then he commited perjury. If he didn't commit perjury, then you are the murderer.

You're literally helping someone count their money after being sold out." Aiden spoke with unapologetic sarcasm.

"Don't you know why the court sentenced you to death?"

"Isn't it because I'm a werewolf?" Veronica asked.

"Perhaps they do have a slight bias against you for being a werewolf, but to sentence someone to death, how could they do it without concrete evidence?

I've reviewed your case file. The pivotal evidence the court used to convict you was that man's testimony and the pistol presented as evidence.

He claimed during the trial that you hastily handed over your assigned weapon at half past twelve, and he didn't inspect your weapon at the time. Is that true?"

"Well... that part is true. It was rained heavily at midnight that day, and I was in a rush to get back to my apartment to retrieve some clothes.

Bruce... that new recruit, he let me go ahead and didn't check my weapon on the spot."

"Alright, perhaps the testimony could be seen as an unfortunate coincidence. The real issue lies with the gun presented as evidence.

Think about it, the firearm you handed over to the vault was missing bullets. If someone tampered with it, regardless of who, they couldn't have done it without getting past the person on duty at the vault.

It's as clear as day, how could you overlook something so blatant?" Aiden asserted. "You're a police officer yourself, set aside personal feelings and use your head."

Veronica want to refute back, but after a moment's reflection, she was surprised to find that She seemed to have been too caught up in the situation like Aiden said.

She had worked in the vault before and was very familiar with the tight security of the police department's vault.

Instead of entertaining the fantastical idea of someone stealthily bypassing the person on duty at the vault to tamper with the gun, it was more plausible that the person on duty might have been involved in the act.

"My experience working in the prison tells me that anyone, even an ordinary person, can become a criminal in the blink of an eye.

Anyone can make mistakes, and many criminals don't look like they'd do anything wrong based on their words and actions.

If you truly believe in your innocence, then you should be suspicious of anyone," Aiden reminded her.

"But, why would he do this?" Veronica couldn't help but raise her voice in agitation. "I once owed him a favor, he had no reason to falsely accuse me!"

Aiden pondered for a moment. "Well, perhaps we should first consider who the real culprit might be."

"The real culprit?"

"Of course, if it wasn't you who committed the murder, then there must be another culprit out there.

I read in the case file that the investigation team narrowed down the suspect to the Mounted Police after studying the shell casings found at the scene.

Are the firearms in your Mounted Police department particularly unique?"

"Yes, the Mounted Police sometimes form honor guards for events like festivals, so our equipment, including the firearms, is customized and different from other departments.

We just recently switched to a new model of Mauser..." Veronica was in the middle of her explanation when she suddenly grasped the implication. "You mean—"

"If the real culprit isn't you, then it's highly likely to be another member of the Mounted Police," Aiden smoothly continued.

"With this premise, since a rookie named Bruce was in charge of guarding the vault that day, the murderer should have been another Mounted Police officer.

If he's providing false testimony, it might not necessarily be to frame you, but rather to protect the real culprit. That real culprit and the rookie on duty found a way to make you a scapegoat."

"....."

Veronica was completely dumbfounded.

Since birth, she had faced discrimination because of her identity as a werewolf. She had cursed her werewolf blood countless times, and now, when unjustly imprisoned, she instinctively attributed it all to the curse that had haunted her since birth.

It was this habitual way of thinking that had limited her perspective.

From initial anger to enduring blows, and eventually giving up on herself, she had spent each day in prison cursing the unfairness of fate, but had never deeply considered who might have framed her.

Aiden's hint couldn't be described as complex reasoning. As a police officer, she should have grasped something this simple long ago.

If others treated her differently because she was a werewolf, wasn't it also a bias to attribute everything to that?

"I..." After a long silence, Veronica hesitated and spoke, "I want to see that person."

"It's not possible," Aiden replied decisively. "Your current status is that of a prisoner. Prisoners don't get to decide who they meet. They have no freedom."

Veronica clenched her teeth upon hearing this.

At this point, Aiden changed his tone. "However, I can go see him on your behalf."

Veronica suddenly stood up, grabbing onto the bars of the iron door.

"You... can try..." she choked up, her throat dry from excitement. "Can you try... to clear my name? Can you... try?"

Veronica pressed her face against the bars, staring at Aiden with an intensity he hadn't seen from her before - a fervent desire to live.

"I can't give you a definite promise, but I can try to help you investigate. If you truly aren't the murderer, I'll do my best to clear your name."

After a long pause, Veronica asked, "Why?"

"Why?" Aiden countered. "In my prison, I only detain criminals. If you're not a criminal, I have no reason to keep you here."

"I mean, why would you be willing to believe me?" Veronica asked earnestly. "Most of the people I've met view me like a criminal just because I'm a werewolf."

"I said I haven't actually believed you, I was just listening to what you had to say," Aiden shrugged.

"Alright, I admit, I'm not one to give every prisoner this kind of chance. I'm helping you because there's a bit of personal bias involved... Hey, hey, don't give me that strange look all of a sudden. What I meant by personal bias isn't what you're thinking!"

Aiden sighed, and took out a neatly arranged stack of letters from his pocket, and handed them through the meal slot. "You'll understand after reading these."

"What are these?"

"They're love letter. On the day you were imprisoned, quite a few of these came to my mailbox from residents in your jurisdiction," Aiden explained calmly.

"Each letter is signed with real names and sent by people in your area. They're pleading for you, and some of them don't believe you committed the crime at all."

Suddenly, Veronica felt moved. There would always be someone touched by your kindness, someone who supports and stands by you.

Veronica stared wide-eyed for a moment, then she reached out, carefully taking the letters. They seemed to have been written a long time ago; the paper was already yellowed and fragile, as if it would crumble with the slightest touch.

"All these people firmly believe you're a good police officer. I guess they might have sent some to the court as well. Well, I can't claim to be completely impartial either.

Honestly, these letters gave me the first impression that you might actually be wronged, so that's why I paid attention to your case." Aiden put on his hat and stood up.

"Please remember, perhaps some people do harbor prejudices against you, but there are also those who remember your efforts."

"Well, it's about time for a shift change," Aiden said, then walked towards the other end of the corridor, leaving Veronica alone staring at the letters in her hand, unable to find words to say.