Collateral Kiss のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

The morning light slanted weakly through the barred window, pale and cold. Emilia sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her hands curled around the frayed hem of her sleeve. The candle had long guttered out, leaving behind only hardened wax and the faint acrid scent of smoke.The silence pressed in like a shroud. No footsteps pacing outside, no knock at the door. The only sound came from hammers in the courtyard. Men were rebuilding what was broken, as if the house could ignore the decay inside.She had expected him.Even after the council chamber, after his question that had cut her deeper than any blade, she had thought Dante would come. He always came. Sometimes with fury, sometimes with gentleness masked as command. But he always appeared, as if bound to her by the strange thread neither of them could sever.Not this morning.When the lock rattled at last, her heart leapt despite itself. But it wasn’t him.A guard entered, his boots heavy against the stone. He carried a tray of bread

The courtyard reeked of iron and smoke.The gates that had been shattered during the last attack were only half-mended, their hinges sagging like broken bones. Black scorch marks marred the stone walls, scars from torches hurled in the night. Soldiers clustered in the yard, boots crunching on gravel. Their swords flashed in the thin winter light as they practised.For days, Emilia had been confined to her chamber. Today, Marcello had insisted she take air. Two guards flanked her closely, their hands never far from the hilts of their weapons. But their presence wasn’t for her protection — it was to make certain she could not vanish.The air tasted of ash. The rhythm of swords clashing and men grunting was usually background noise, but today it stopped when she stepped into the open.Dozens of heads turned.She felt the weight of their stares immediately. Some cold, some burning, some sharp with contempt. Whispers rippled through the ranks like a poisoned tide.“There she is…”“Coin of

The great hall reeked of smoke and steel.Dawn light bled pale through the tall windows, slicing across the long table where maps and ledgers lay scattered. Dante still bore the night’s violence on his skin. Emilia noticed the faint crimson stains on his cuffs and the dark shadows under his eyes. He stood at the head of the room, broad-shouldered and unyielding, every inch the Don.And yet, the men before him did not cheer.They had been summoned at first light: captains, lieutenants, foot soldiers. A hundred pairs of boots thudded across the stone as they took their places, forming ranks before the throne-like chair. Their heads bowed low, but the air hummed with something unspoken. Not triumph. Not loyalty.Fear.Emilia stood near the wall, flanked by two guards. Her palms were cold, though the torches hissed hot above her head. She had expected jeers, as before. Instead, she found something worse: silence so heavy it pressed into her bones.Dante’s gaze swept the hall, black and sh

The morning air reeked of smoke.Emilia pressed her handkerchief to her nose as the carriage jolted down the narrow street. Outside, the world was a skeleton of itself. Charred beams leaned like broken ribs, smoke still curling from the ashes of what had once been shops and homes. Children clung to their mothers in doorways, their eyes wide and hollow as Dante’s soldiers marched past.Dante rode at the head of the column, astride a black horse that seemed carved from the same darkness as its master. His coat billowed behind him, streaked with soot and blood from the night before. He didn’t glance back at Emilia’s carriage. He didn’t need to. His presence filled every street, every silence.The soldiers dragged men from their homes, rough hands clutching collars and arms, pulling them into the cold morning light. Some were old, stooped by years. Others were hardly more than boys.“These,” Dante said, his voice carrying over the cobblestones, “are the ones who whispered Valenti loyalty

The sky was still dark when the engines started.The courtyard shook with the growl of black cars lined in rows, headlights cutting through the fog. Soldiers loaded weapons in silence. No one spoke. No one dared to.Dante stood at the front, wearing his black gloves, his jaw set hard. He didn’t look like the man Emilia once knew. The warmth in his eyes was gone — replaced by cold steel.Marcello approached slowly, leaning on his cane. “You don’t have to do this before dawn.”“I’m already late,” Dante said without turning. His voice was quiet but sharp. “Every second she’s with them, she’s in danger.”Marcello sighed. “You don’t even know if she’s alive.”Dante’s eyes flicked up. “That’s why I can’t stop.”He turned toward his men. “Load the trucks. Every bullet, every blade. If it breathes Valenti air, I want it gone.”The men nodded. Orders like this didn’t need repeating.Marcello’s hand tightened on his cane. “And when this ends? When you’ve buried half the city? What will you have