Chapter 163
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 163
Creeak—
The chilling groan of hinges cut through the silence as a man stepped into the room.
Thump.
With his back to the moonlight, his shadow stretched long across the floor. He was a grown man, large and well-muscled, gripping what appeared to be a woodcutter's axe.
Showing up in someone’s room in the middle of the night armed with an axe—even a complete fool could guess his intentions.
‘Someone with a grudge against Roen, then.’
A menacing aura radiated from the man. However, I couldn't sense any powerful mana or the distinct fighting spirit of a seasoned warrior. The intruder before me was neither a mage nor a knight; he was simply a civilian with a bit of physical training.
“Huu... Huu...”
Despite his lack of formal power, the rage vibrating through his trembling shoulders and ragged breathing was palpable.
I asked in a calm, level voice, “What grudge brings you here?”
The man gritted his teeth, his voice shaking with fury. “So… you don’t even remember.”
“I’ve suffered a head injury recently. Is the village chief in on this?”
This was the village chief’s house. An intruder couldn't have slipped in so quietly without the chief’s cooperation.
“In on it? I suppose you could say that.”
Grip—
The man tightened his hold on the axe handle.
“Because you killed my wife, Amy… the village chief’s daughter.”
“…”
So the village chief and this man were father and son-in-law. If that was the case, the situation made perfect sense.
‘I knew Roen had earned his share of grudges, big and small, but I never imagined he’d actually killed someone.’
I didn't know the specifics, but it seemed entirely plausible for the original owner of this body. Roen wasn't the type to crave blood and slaughter for its own sake, but he was certainly villainous enough to harm someone through negligence or for his own selfish ends.
‘Still, this is a bit of a shock.’
I had faced plenty of hatred due to Roen’s notoriety, but this was on a different level. This wasn't just spite; it was a blood feud. Revenge for a murdered wife. Never in my life had I faced such raw, concentrated malice head-on.
It wasn't the most appropriate question for the moment, but out of pure curiosity, I asked, “Could you tell me the details of what happened? As I said, I truly don't remember.”
The man, likely thinking I was mocking him, kicked off the floor and lunged.
“No! Just die!”
Whoosh—
With a furious roar, the axe swung in a sharp arc toward my neck.
Of course, it didn't connect.
Clang!
“...!”
The man’s axe struck the invisible barrier of the Aegis Shield and bounced back with a jarring ring.
“Kuh!”
He clutched his torn palm, the recoil drawing blood, but he swung again with desperate strength.
Clang!
The result was the same. Still, he didn't give up. He swung again and again, a man possessed.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
No matter how many times he struck, the barrier didn't even flicker. If anything, he was only shattering the blade of his own axe.
“Why?!”
The man continued to swing for a long time, his hands slick with blood, crying out in a voice that broke into a sob.
“Why?!”
After hammering at the shield until his strength failed, he threw the ruined, blood-soaked axe to the floor and collapsed.
“Sob... hhhk...”
His body shook with a mixture of rage and utter helplessness as he wept.
“…”
As a complete stranger to his past, I couldn't fully comprehend the depth of his pain, but his sorrow was heavy enough to fill the room. I watched him in silence before sliding off the bed. I knelt on one knee to meet his gaze.
“I’m not trying to provoke you,” I said softly. “I truly have no memory of this. Tell me what happened.”
“…”
The man clenched his blood-stained hands and began to recount that day.
*
There was once a young man in the village named Duron.
Duron was the village’s finest warrior, skilled enough to have become a soldier for House Devalis if he had wished. But he was a simple man, content with the quiet life of the countryside. He preferred living among the neighbors he had known his entire life, however difficult the labor, rather than moving to a bustling city to rub shoulders with strangers.
He stayed in the village, and when he came of age, he married the chief’s daughter, Amy. They had a happy, harmonious life. Tilling the fields and hunting monsters in the mountains was grueling work, but with his beloved wife and young son, every day felt like a blessing to Duron.
But three years ago, tragedy struck.
“Ugh…”
“Amy! Amy, stay with me!”
His lovely wife suddenly fell ill.
“Aaargh!”
On nights when the moon hung full in the sky, Amy would scream and fall into violent seizures. At times, she would stare blankly into the forest or mutter incomprehensible words, as if she were possessed by a ghost.
The herbalists who visited the village, and even the priests and doctors summoned from the city at great expense, eventually gave up. None of them could identify the cause.
It wasn't a fatal illness in the traditional sense. Her energy would wane and she would suffer her fits, but after a few days of rest, she would appear fine again. The cycle simply repeated, over and over. Even so, Duron and the village chief were heartbroken, forced to watch Amy suffer while they remained powerless.
It was during this time of profound worry that the news broke.
“Roen... they say Roen has left the main castle again!”
To make matters worse, the news that Roen was visiting the village threw everyone into a panic. Of all times, he had to come now, when they had exhausted their meager savings on doctors and priests.
The only reason Roen ever visited was to collect his "dues." It was less about taxes and more about confiscating items the villagers relied on for their survival.
The chief consulted with Duron. “We should explain the situation. Even Roen might show mercy if he hears of our circumstances.”
“…I understand, Father-in-law.”
Not long after, Roen arrived. The villagers gathered at the entrance to greet him with bowed heads. As always, Roen was accompanied by his personal maid.
Duron and the chief knelt before him and pleaded their case.
“…”
After listening in silence, Roen ordered them to take him to the bedridden Amy.
“Lead the way.”
Duron and the chief hesitated, but they decided it was better to show Roen the reality of their suffering. They led him to Amy’s bedside.
That choice became the greatest mistake of Duron's life.
Amy was wheezing in her sickbed, having just recovered from a seizure. Roen placed a cold hand on her forehead.
“It seems she’s suffering from seizures,” he remarked.
“Yes, My Lord. She is.”
At that, Roen spoke a single, cryptic phrase. He pulled a vial from his coat and forced the contents down Amy’s throat.
“Then this should do.”
“...!”
Before they could even process what was happening, the liquid was gone. Duron and the chief could only watch in stunned silence.
A moment later, Amy’s labored breathing evened out. The high fever broke, and the dark spots on her skin vanished. Duron and the chief watched with wide eyes as her condition improved instantly. Roen, the man they had expected nothing but cruelty from, had seemingly cured her.
Watching them, Roen said, “Now… everything will be fine. For this woman, and for this village.”
The next day, Amy passed away.
*
“If it weren't for you... if only you hadn't come!”
Duron sobbed, prostrate on the floor with his fists clenched until they turned white.
“…”
Having heard the full story, I fell into deep thought. I couldn't understand Roen’s logic, nor the medical reality of the outcome. Perhaps Amy had died from her illness regardless of Roen’s intervention.
‘But there’s no way to prove that.’
If Roen hadn't visited, it was possible Amy might have recovered or lived for years longer. To these people, Roen was the monster who had poisoned a dying woman. From their perspective, their hatred was perfectly justified.
‘A grudge that has festered for three years.’
They had nursed this sorrow, waiting for the day they could take their revenge. The moment I arrived, they had hatched a plan to kill me. Although it was a clumsy, desperate attempt, the real Roen might have been killed in his sleep without ever knowing why.
My thoughts concluded, I spoke in a quiet voice. “I see. Then what would you have me do, Duron?”
At that, Duron shot to his feet and lunged at me again.
Thud!
Though blocked by the transparent barrier, he pounded on the Aegis Shield with his bare fists, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Death! Only your death can atone for what you did to Amy!”
“Death? I’m afraid I can’t grant that request.”
I had already died once, hit by a truck. I had no desire to repeat the experience here. Besides, I had too much left to do.
“No, you’re already a dead man! You’ll burn to death in this house—the very place where Amy drew her last breath!”
At that exact moment—
Fwoosh!
As if the structure had been doused in oil beforehand, flames erupted instantly, engulfing the chief’s house. Watching the thick, acrid smoke fill the room, I sighed.
“So you were stalling for time.”
Duron had willingly recounted the past just to ensure the fire outside had grown too large to escape.
“That’s right! You’re going to die here with me!” Duron shrieked, glaring at me through the rising inferno.
I understood his pain, but I wasn't about to die for it.
“No.”
Thwack—
I caught Duron with the tip of my shoe. His body convulsed for a second before he went limp and passed out. It was the stun function built into my gear.
I slung the unconscious Duron over my shoulder.
“Neither you, nor I, will be dying today.”
*
The village hall served as the temporary sleeping quarters for the rest of the group. After bathing in warm water, Ciel and Freya had retired to the same room. Soft moonlight streamed through the window.
“Good night.”
“Yes, you too, Miss Ciel.”
After the brief exchange, the two lay down on the coarse straw beds and closed their eyes. An awkward silence filled the room. In the dead-still air, only the sound of their synchronized breathing could be heard.
“…”
It would have been fine if they could have fallen asleep quickly, but for some reason, rest eluded them both. How much time passed? Hours seemed to tick by, yet both remained wide awake. Finally, unable to bear the silence, Freya spoke first.
“Miss Ciel, are you asleep?”
“No.”
“Oh, I see.”
Freya hadn't expected such a quick reply. Since sleep was out of the question, she scratched her cheek and brought up their future plans.
“Um, Miss Ciel. Since we’ve come all this way, would it be all right if I visited the Devalis estate as well?”
From this village, it was only a three-day journey to the Devalis main castle. It would be nice to see Duchess Aslan after so long. Besides, thanks to the Chairman’s magic, they had saved a significant amount of travel time.
Ciel replied, “You don't need my permission for that.”
“Ah, that’s true. But we are traveling together, after all.”
After another moment of silence, Ciel added, “It’s fine with me. I’m sure the Duchess would be delighted by your visit, Lady Freya.”
That was likely true. Aslan was now the head of House Devalis and a Duchess of immense standing, but to Freya, she still felt like a kind older sister. In the past, Freya had often visited the castle, and Aslan had always welcomed her with open arms.
If the previous family head, Kaiser, hadn't died... if she and Roen hadn't broken their engagement... and if Roen hadn't suddenly spiraled into villainy, they would have been family by now.
Ciel continued, “However, your visit to the Devalis estate could be interpreted in other ways, Lady Freya.”
“Ah, you mean because of the engagement?”
Freya, who had cut ties after the broken engagement, suddenly visiting the Devalis stronghold during a break? Combined with her recent friendly interactions with Roen at Union, it was a recipe for rumors. Gossip would spread like wildfire that the engagement was back on.
“Yes. If you are concerned about political interpretations or the wagging tongues of busybodies, choosing not to visit is also a valid option.”
Ciel had a point. If news of her visit got out, people would jump to conclusions. Freya thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.
“No, I don't mind what they think. And perhaps…”
Freya recalled the day’s events in this small village. Roen removing the boulder from the field, unblocking the well, and helping the villagers with their chores. Though it was physically exhausting, it had been strangely rewarding.
‘If Roen continues to change like this…’
If he looked after the weak, fulfilled his duties as a noble, and offered a sincere apology to those he had wronged in the past... being with him again might not be so bad.
“…”
Freya didn't finish her sentence, but Ciel felt she could guess the unspoken words.
As they spoke—
Fwoosh!
Beyond the window, a brilliant orange glow began to spread. Freya shot up in alarm.
“That looks like a fire. And that’s the direction of the house where Roen is staying!”
“...!”
The two immediately bolted from their beds and ran toward the burning cabin—the village chief’s house.