Chapter 37

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 8. Find the True Villain (5)

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"Lady Edelaine, you've arrived?"

Genevieve, wrapped in a cloak and sipping hot tea, greeted her warmly the moment she spotted Edelaine. Edelaine strode over with long, purposeful steps.

"Uh... are you angry?"

Instead of answering, Edelaine scanned Genevieve up and down with an expressionless face.

Thankfully, she didn't appear to be hurt anywhere.

Genevieve had been strolling along the winter lakeside with her husband when the fourth attack struck.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to say she had lured it out. Thanks to being fully prepared, she ended up drenched and freezing after falling into the lakeside, but with the hidden guards and Shane's efforts, they managed to capture the culprit who had been lying in wait.

"No. I'm just glad you're safe."

Edelaine wanted to scold her for volunteering as bait—the most vital Saintess in the world, of all people—but she held her tongue.

Genevieve wasn't the type to recklessly throw herself into danger. She knew better than anyone how extraordinary and precious a 'Saintess' was to humanity, so she simply saw fulfilling her given role, even unto death, as her duty.

But that didn't mean Edelaine could demand she hole up somewhere safe. Genevieve was a person first, before she was a Saintess. She had the freedom to pursue what she wanted.

She hadn't acted rashly or irresponsibly; she had stepped forward because she believed she could handle it. That deserved respect.

Edelaine swallowed her worries and said,

"I was worried. Thank you for being okay."

"...Hehe."

Genevieve's eyes widened for a moment before she bit her lip and smiled. A tangle of emotions welled up, filling her eyes with tears that she hid by bowing her head.

Edelaine pulled Genevieve into a hug, patting her shoulder gently as she spoke.

"Where's your husband? I heard he was attacked alongside you."

"Harrison returned to the Royal Guard. It's a shame. I wanted to introduce you."

"He's not hurt?"

"Of course not. My husband's got toughness in spades."

Genevieve boasted about her husband quite naturally.

It was a relief that he seemed like a good man, since Edelaine had been ready to break them up if he turned out strange.

Shane approached, saw the two women embracing, and pulled Edelaine into his arms by the waist.

"We'll know more after a thorough investigation, but the culprit confessed to being hired by someone inside the Church. He's a warlock who can manipulate people, and after two failures, he got desperate and pulled that reckless stunt summoning a monster at the party."

"He's an imperial citizen?"

"Not sure about that yet. If you want, I can go find out right now."

"No, it's fine..."

Go away a little... Edelaine nudged Shane back slightly. He raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased.

"Why on earth would someone inside the Church want to kill the Saintess?!"

"It's complicated on our end too... The Pope has always doted on me excessively, and that probably rubbed them the wrong way. With His Holiness's time running short, they must be anxious about what he'll leave me. Far more people dislike the idea of the Saintess wielding real power."

"They use her as much as they can while..."

"The Church has its own side to the story. The imperial family and House Blancard hold the reins, so they can't just do whatever they please."

It was heartbreaking to hear Genevieve explain it herself.

"They probably never intended to actually kill me. Just a threat."

"A threat to gain what?"

"They hoped I'd get scared and cut back on public activities. Not to replace His Holiness's position."

"What arrogant bastards."

"Lady Edelaine..."

"We need to strip them bare all the way to the mastermind and give them a taste of hell."

Shane wrapped his arms around Edelaine's waist from behind again, resting his chin on the crown of her head.

"Crown Prince Edwin will handle it that way, Edelaine."

"Right..."

Thinking of Edwin's smiling face sent chills crawling over her skin.

The angelic Crown Prince smiled happiest when tormenting people.

He might not care for Genevieve as much as in the novel, but his standards and methods were arbitrary—he took good care of his own people, so he was sure to exact proper revenge.

So there was no need to worry about the culprit's punishment.

Edelaine gave up trying to peel off the persistently clinging Shane.

Instead, she plopped onto the sofa dragging him along. It ended up more like sitting on Shane's lap, but it was comfortable enough. He adjusted his posture so she could lean fully against him, then tucked her stray locks behind her ear.

Edelaine let out a long breath. The assumption she'd harbored all that time while searching fruitlessly for the warlock.

What if the warlock's life had diverged from the story entirely, just like Shane's and Genevieve's?

The hope that everything might have ended long ago—too favorable to her, she'd doubted and doubted it. No way things could turn out this perfectly.

But.

If it wasn't mere coincidence or illusion that the summoned ogre targeted only Genevieve, then everything fell neatly into place without loose ends.

Is it really over?

She'd thought even if the leads walked different paths, the warlock's existence meant no peace—but with this much evidence piled up.

Maybe she could believe it now.

The 'story' the author had set was a failure, and the characters had broken free from it, each walking their own paths.

Edelaine as Edelaine, Shane as Shane, Genevieve as Genevieve.

Finally escaping whatever force had been dragging their lives along.

Like anyone's life who lived for themselves, free from the story's strings—like any complete human unbound by narrative control.

That was the deepest wish Edelaine had held since age nine.

Finally.

Edelaine's green eyes swelled round with tears.

A sense of liberation washed over her, different from the gritted-teeth flight to avoid the protagonists. Unlike the day she'd seen Genevieve's marriage announcement in the papers.

Back then, freedom meant abandoning her own life.

Everything left behind was precious and beautiful, things she couldn't help but love—yet she'd repeated to herself they weren't hers, unable to fully let go.

Her nightmare-free days were so comfortable that she thought staying away from the protagonists was the answer.

Yet she'd stubbornly shut out news from Delmuse, closing her eyes and ears.

Why did she have to abandon everything just to survive...?

She'd forced herself to brush it off lightly, gnawing away at the suffocating loss just to endure.

"Eung..."

As Edelaine began to cry, Shane drew a sharp breath and enveloped her completely.

She felt the tension in his thick arms around her shoulders and back. Yet without squeezing too tight, he simply held her firmly in his embrace.

She had arrived at the 'end' she'd longed for.

Edelaine wept for a long while.

In Shane's arms, holding Genevieve's hand.

"No, Keith!"

The woman rushed to the man collapsing and vomiting blood.

Hot blood gushed out, soaking her chest and stomach. Keith, as he was called, twitched his limbs violently, eyes rolled back, endlessly spewing blood.

"No, no... No, don't die!"

"Gurk, keh."

Keith was still moving, but his life had already fled.

The woman knew it too.

Keith, her twin brother, was no longer of this world.

Her other half, with whom she'd been together even before birth, had been slain by the Saintess. The woman panted raggedly as she clutched his corpse. This couldn't be happening. Something was wrong.

"Step away, miss. There's no more time. The master will return soon; you must go now."

"You want me to leave my brother like this?"

"He is no longer your brother. Just a lump of meat."

"Shut up!"

"You said yourself there's no need to pity the end of an inept caster. Keith was inept, and that's why he died. I'll handle the cleanup, so please step back."

"I said shut up! Keith is my other half—don't you dare touch him!"

Blood and tears washed over the woman's face. She glared ferociously at those approaching her, growling.

Killing that woman would have been plenty with Keith alone.

This couldn't be happening.

Five years ago, it wasn't like this. That woman had no power to save lives—no way she could overcome Keith.

From the moment the Saintess candidate first appeared, the twins had watched her closely.

Her abilities were laughably inferior to past Saintesses—a half-baked one with only purification and healing. She posed no threat, so they'd spared her. They hadn't attempted a second assassination after the first failure due to that judgment.

But recently, word came that the Saintess had revived someone.

The twins decided to test her power. If she proved a threat, they'd eliminate her then and there.

A Saintess's abilities peaked right after awakening.

Over time, they degraded, eventually losing even purification before death—that was the norm.

Keith was a warlock adept at manipulating people to attack targets. Even if the puppet was caught, harm shouldn't reach the hidden caster.

Yet the Saintess had struck Keith through his puppet. Curses rebound on the caster.

Keith couldn't withstand the backlash and died vomiting blood before her eyes.

I should have done it. Me. I wouldn't have died. If it were me...

But Keith had always stopped her from cursing. He'd insisted on handling the dirty work himself, the hard and unpleasant tasks. Her entire life, her other half had protected her.

"This isn't your kind of thing."

"Says who? I'm better at it than you."

"Exactly why I have to do it. You can handle greater things."

But if he was just going to die like this, I should have done it.

The woman clawed at her chest. Her heart clenched in agony she couldn't bear—like someone ripping out her guts and crushing them.

"My other half, my brother..."

She stroked Keith's cheek, now cold as ice.

How much pain must he have endured for every vessel in his limbs to burst, mottled red and purple? His eyes bulged wide, unclosed in death. The woman could never forgive the culprit who killed her brother.

"I'll avenge you for sure..."

That woman who killed you—I'll make her die the most agonizing death in the world.