Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy – Chapter 42

Tap

Erinysia POV

“…Miss?”

After finishing the first face-to-face meeting and seeing off her father who was leaving for official duties in the capital, Remian was sitting in the dressing room, her face devoid of spirit.

Concerned by her appearance, Marien, placing a red dress beside her, called out to her.

“Yes.”

“How was it…?”

Marien, who had been looking forward to the face-to-face meeting more than anyone, hoped it would be a grand event that would reveal Miss’s existence to the world, and expose Erinysia’s true identity to the candidates.

And she had hoped it would be flawlessly perfect.

And that it would mark the beginning of her lady’s liberation.

“How was it?” she asked, laden with many implications, as she adjusted the lady’s hair in the mirror, scrutinizing her complexion.

For some reason, Marien felt anxious that the answer might be contrary to her hopes.

And soon, that anxiety turned into reality.

“It was a mess.”

“What…? Why?”

Marien had watched the face-to-face meeting from the side of the stage.

She had felt a thrill when she saw Sir Kyle flip his eyes and faint.

The downfall of the despicable man who had driven her beloved lady to near death had provided Marien with vicarious satisfaction.

Thus, she had believed the face-to-face meeting would conclude grandly and perfectly.

Of course.

The moment she saw the confident face of Sir Elden Raphelion, who had been frequently mentioned by her lady these past few days, her expectations had wavered.

Even with Erinysia in front of him, his face remained calm.

Unlike the other candidates, who were stained with stark horror, he only showed a moment of awe before regaining his composure.

Furthermore, since encountering Sir Elden, her lady’s expressions seemed displeased, foreboding something ominous, and that premonition had now come to pass.

Remian looked at herself in the mirror.

In response to Elden’s question, she saw herself who had fled.

“I feel ashamed.”

“What is it…?”

“The way I forced cuteness on Elden, obsessing over him. How I stupidly ran away after being asked if my confession was sincere… It’s not just shameful; it’s so repulsive I disgust myself.”

Marien stopped unbuttoning the dress.

Back to square one.

Despite the grand face-to-face meeting ending amid all kinds of praise, her lady was still stuck in a past no different from yesterday.

Marien wanted to accept the withdrawal, send Sir Elden away, and advise focusing on the remaining candidates.

Otherwise, it seemed a new isolation might start, not just a liberation from occasional violent pain.

If she couldn’t accept the withdrawal, Marien hoped she would accept the changes he was showing.

If not accepting, at least ignore them.

And if she couldn’t even ignore, then she hoped her lady would just give up.

Marien knew her lady to be a tenacious researcher who clung to a problem until she found a solution, but she hoped that just this once, she would let go.

“Why am I like this? Why did I beg someone like Elden to admire my beauty? Why do I have to cling to the perpetrator in such a disgraceful manner?”

To Remian’s self-deprecating questions, Marien cautiously began to unbutton again, hoping if not for giving up, then for reflection on the error in belief.

Reminding her of the old adage that even monkeys fall from trees.

Hoping she would realize that sometimes a miracle can change absolute truths, Marien cautiously broached the subject.

“…I’m not sure, but maybe you’re acknowledging something subconsciously…?”

“What acknowledgment?”

“You said before, Miss. That innate nature is an unchangeable absolute law.”

“Did I say that…?”

“Maybe… you’re acknowledging that even Sir Elden has been making efforts strong enough to defy that absolute law?”

“What…? Me?”

“It takes a heartbreaking effort to make the impossible possible.”

A newly introduced hypothesis.

Or rather, a hypothesis that had been ignored until now, and Marien was discussing its possibility of being proven, causing Remian’s eyes to widen.

Frankly, there were no more hypotheses to propose.

Tired of repeatedly failing hypotheses, her brain’s flow had stagnated, and her thinking had become inflexible.

And because of that, she was more prone to emotional impulses than rational coolness.

Was she denying the truth?

Because it was the truth, was that why he had been so confident?

Maybe…

Had Elden already been walking the path of repentance through regrets and reflections he had achieved on his own?

Was he making heartbreaking efforts even in unseen places to change his evil nature?

Prompted by Marien’s casually thrown words, numerous doubts that had settled below the surface began to bubble up.

Of course, these were still far from being resolved.

“Even if that’s true… it doesn’t justify obsession. Being a victim doesn’t mean you have to cling to the perpetrator. If recognized, that should be the end of it.”

Miss had been unable to accept Sir Elden’s changes due to denial and stubbornness.

She had set up watchers to find the truth but closed her ears and refused to believe their reports.

Claiming not to be captured by vengeance, yet she had withered away, trapped by it immediately after Sir Elden’s withdrawal.

Now, Miss had finally raised doubts about another possibility, and it felt as if a tightly locked gate was opening, prompting Marien to respond with a tender smile.

“You said that too.”

“What?”

“That you would marry either one who truly repents or one who does not.”

“What…?”

“Perhaps, by choosing Sir Elden, who has stepped onto the path of repentance, as a marriage partner…?”

Remian’s eyes widened incredulously.

Caught up in indignation and resentment, something else flickered through her blue pupils.

It was still unnamed, uninterpretable, and somewhat tinged with contempt.

“Me, marrying someone like Elden? That’s absurd. That can’t be true.”

Marien thought her lady was too good for him a hundred times over, but among the candidates with lesser crimes, Elden Raphelion was the least worst.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Marien, who thought Sir Elden was ‘relatively’ the better choice because he had once reached out to a fallen maid, now boldly revealed her cleaner ankle.

“In fact, this ankle, I tripped over Sir Elden.”

“What?”

“And Sir Elden helped me, so I was able to get treated safely.”

“What?”

Disbelieving the story, Remian furrowed her brows and looked at Marien’s ankle reflected in the mirror.

“What does that mean?”

“Sir Elden reached out to me when I fell. But he said if he reveals his help, he dies… so I couldn’t tell you.”

“Not to reveal… Why?”

“He said he wanted to stay quiet until the withdrawal was approved. I didn’t understand then, but looking back now, I think I do.”

“What is it…?”

“Maybe because the withdrawal and the changes were sincere, he acted that way?”

The sudden revelation of Sir Elden Raphelion’s good deeds.

This came from the person she cherished the most, and it contained an undeniable truth.

Ears that had been closed slowly opened.

Eyes that had been shut slowly widened.

Tap.

The last button on the constricting dress was undone.

**

“Ugh!”

“Ew!”

In the tranquil grand hall, a sound as melodious as a breeze rang out.

During the first meal torture, it was meant to give a hint, so the intensity of disgust was mild.

As such, the reaction was weak.

It was regrettable, but she had to be content with the small backlash for the sake of the main event.

And.

“Ugh!”

“Ewack!”

The dish with increased intensity of disgust was now showing a significant backlash.

Certainly, it was a satisfying backlash, the reaction she had long awaited.

Deron and Blund, just like she had been forced to eat bugs and vomit in the past, were retching just the same.

Pretending to be noble and pure, those who had been full of arrogance were now swallowing contempt as they licked the grand hall’s floor like dogs.

Those steeped in vanity and power were now obeying like slaves.

Just as she had been, and just as they had been, watching their miserable state should have made her hold her sides with laughter.

But.

“…”

The laughter did not come.

It was because of Elden, sitting quietly as always with a peaceful face.

Her gaze seemed directed at Deron and Blund, but all other senses seemed focused on Elden.

Even that gaze felt as if it was avoiding him for some reason.

Although liberation had just begun, although she had long awaited this moment, resentment and irritation surged more than a sense of freedom.

It all seemed caused by Elden Raphelion.

“…The one who eats the fastest and cleanest will be rewarded, so everyone try hard.”

Without caring if her own mouth got dirty, she spat out mockery over the heads of those greedily licking the floor.

And she approached Elden.

With steps not quite steady, with an uneasy expression.

Thus, she stood before him.

Things had to change now.

Elden had to be the pitiable weakling, she the great and mighty—roles had to be reversed.

Yet, it was no different from those days.

Elden was confident, and she felt diminished.

It was an utterly absurd, bewildering moment.

I shall overcome.

I shall subdue him.

With that resolve, Remian opened her mouth.

But again, words different from her intention slipped out.

“You asked me once, didn’t you? Whether the confession I sent by letter was sincere.”

“Why did I do this again?” The thought raced through Remian’s mind as she found herself repeating the words she had blurted out once before.

“Yes, it was sincere,” she continued, the words flowing almost against her will. “I truly supported you, and my love for you was genuine.”

She had been unable to respond during the first face-to-face meeting, strangely enough, but now the words came out naturally. Despite her desire to flee from responding, her mouth moved on its own.

Her heart was trembling.

Her lips felt as if they were burning.

And eventually,

“So, will you marry me?”

The confession she had wanted to avoid, the one that made her feel nauseous enough to replace words with letters, spilled out without restraint as if defying the suppression she had intended.

“I promise to give you everything you desire. The revival of your house, honor, power, forgiveness, love, whatever it may be, I promise it all, in the name of Winterfell.”

It had been intended to encourage participation, merely a facade, and thus she had not promised in the name of Winterfell.

She had not wanted to pledge that sacred name to a villain.

But despite that resolve, the promise using that name had come out too easily.

She had hoped.

She had longed.

She had yearned.

For acceptance.

For him not to refuse.

It was a temptation bearing the name of Winterfell, a promise not false, and ultimately, an ultimatum.

But then,

Elden bowed his head.

His body bent forward.

Soon,

“I’m sorry, Grand Duchess.”

He had refused again.

Just like the past days, he had dismissed her abruptly.

All the blame for the upheaval that brought more resentment than liberation seemed to fall on him without a moment’s hesitation.

Tears welled up.

All the frustrations she had held back exploded in tears.

The anxiety about plans going awry, the shivers of torment from nights filled with agony—it all seemed unfair, and tears flowed.

The days she had been pushed into a pit of hell, bleeding tears on iron thorns, seemed pathetic now that she had expected liberation, and tears welled up.

It wasn’t the dampness that had risen during the first face-to-face meeting, but tears that blurred her vision, soon streaming down her cheeks.

Her entire body shook as violently as her heart throbbed.

Elden lifted his head.

Ever since the declaration of withdrawal, his innocently annoying face had irked her.

The way he seemed to mock her for clinging to him, discarding all pride, had been infuriating.

Perhaps that was why.

Unknowingly, her hand had risen, and in a movement that chastised herself for her failed confession, proposal, and revenge, she had slapped his cheek.

A torrent of resentment and injustice, not knowing how else to express it, had led her to commit violence against his innocent face.

Snap!

She had sworn countless times.

Not to become like them.

Not to resemble them.

Yet, in that moment, her resolutions crumbled.

There was no time to hold back.

No moment to intervene.

It was a backlash of all that she had repressed, unstoppable and uncontrollable.

In an instant, her tears dried.

Her trembling hands stilled, and her legs felt weak.

“…Ah…”

Her mouth, losing all direction, uttered a dull moan.

There was nothing else she could do.

Having resorted to violence, all she could do now was shrink in front of him in infinite diminishment.

Ultimately,

Thud.

She collapsed, hands covering her face.

It was cursed.

It was desperate.

The impulse she couldn’t restrain, and him, who had never helped her, whether then or now, were too detestable, too hateful.

Thus, Remian, like during her academy days, found herself kneeling before Elden, doomed to repeat a past she had vowed not to revisit.

“…”

And Elden, who had been standing dumbfounded, simply stroked his stinging cheek and then turned to open the lid of his dish placed nearby.