Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy – Chapter 43

Swish

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Swish.

Thud.

Right after slapping her, the heroine collapsed to the floor.

She clutched her face, stunned by the shock of the violence, her face filled with despair.

Just like Erinssia back in the days at the Royal Academy, she had collapsed.

How did it come to this?

All the character who was suddenly possessed wanted was to find peace and romance, to avoid the brothel.

Why did the heroine have to kneel before me and lament?

Why do I feel the unpleasant delusion that I led her to despair?

Why can’t I let go of even one bystander, ruining everything?

I can’t understand.

I can’t accept it.

In the original, the character was depicted with great insight, cold judgment, and rational thinking, showing only cool-headed control and command until the free episodes ended.

Scrub scrub.

I rubbed my stinging cheek.

Having been slapped countless times in my previous life, it didn’t have much impact.

It’s truly absurd and ironic.

And truly unfair and uncomfortable.

Like Quachizu in the American drama ROST, who jumps up and down the vast prairie shouting to the sky.

“No one understands me!”

“I just want to be happy even once!”

“Why can’t I be happy!”

I feel like crying out in frustration.

Remian’s despair was neither intended nor desired.

I don’t have a nasty hobby of enjoying someone else’s despair.

I don’t have such a mean heart to ignore and disdain someone in despair.

But still, I couldn’t extend a helping hand to her.

It wasn’t to avoid the bait she threw.

It was to break the chains and run freely, not a refusal to return to the barn like a fool.

Just.

At least I needed to convey that there was no malice.

“…Believe it or not, the Elden Raphelion of the past is no more. The Elden Raphelion who cruelly tormented Erinsyia is forever trapped in darkness by personality erasure. He will probably never see the light of day again.”

Possession.

I didn’t bring it up, fearing it would be dismissed as nonsense to evade responsibility or misunderstood as mocking the marriage duel.

Now that I brought it up, there was no reason for the ending to change.

Remian lowered her hands from her face and looked up.

Her pale face made me feel needlessly guilty, as it reminded me of Deron and Blund.

“So don’t let Elden, the villain, make you miserable anymore.”

I hoped she wouldn’t let vengeance lead her to repeated misery.

“Don’t trample on the bold statement you made to the world.”

I hoped she wouldn’t tarnish the name that had begun to see the light after being overshadowed by curses all her life.

“I just hope you can be happy, Your Highness.”

And.

I conveyed my sincerity.

That was the last of it.

Even after declaring my withdrawal, the only reason I stayed and showed my face at the marriage duel was to not disregard the minimum courtesy.

It was out of hope that the heroine’s revenge wouldn’t be disrupted because of me.

Also, I hoped that my food journey would remain unmarred.

I had done my duty, fulfilled my hopes, and had enough reason to leave.

Above all.

‘I should disappear.’

Like oil and water can’t mix, Remian and I were a relationship that shouldn’t be together.

My presence would be like oil poured on the flames of Remian.

If our encounters only led to unnecessary friction, and that friction only caused unilateral harm, then the right thing to do was for one side to step back.

“Well, I’ll be leaving now.”

I bowed my head deeply towards her as she sat on the floor.

Even though she slapped me and suppressed my freedom, I had no intention of condemning her or looking at her with disdain.

She was also a victim of this contradictory plot.

So I bid her a sincere, respectful farewell.

I raised my head.

Remian’s face, now less despairing and angry, showed an indecipherable expression.

What was she thinking?

Was she letting go of her obsession with the bystander?

Was she moving a little away from her vengeful thoughts?

Hoping for that, I turned to leave.

But then.

“Why did you help the fallen maid? You’re not the type of person to do that.”

Remian’s voice came from behind.

The question seemed out of context, and I had to spend a moment to grasp it.

Since my possession, I had only helped a fallen maid once.

The maid who twisted her ankle after bumping into me around a corner.

The maid who screamed for help when I offered a hand.

And there was only one maid who served the heroine, Remian, in the original story.

I thought she looked familiar….

“That maid was Your Highness’s maid.”

And she must have broken our promise with me.

Well, it’s not something I care about now.

“…I really didn’t know.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you help Marien? You’re someone who stands by and mocks others’ misfortune.”

“I helped her because she got hurt because of me.”

For a modern person possessed in the medieval world, it was a natural logic.

Of course, it would be a miracle logic hard to believe for the heroine.

“….”

No voice came, as if to confirm that.

I tried to walk again, but her voice stopped me once more.

“What about my wounds?”

“…?”

“Why don’t you help with the wounds you left on me? Why do you ignore them…!”

Her angry voice, almost like a complaint, stopped me.

Unfortunately, Elden Raphelion, who should listen to that complaint, had exited, trapped in eternal darkness.

“If you need ointment, I can bring it to you. If you need support, I can help. But I cannot accept Your Highness’s marriage proposal.”

I firmly conveyed that and shook off her complaint as I walked away.

No more voice came.

No more voice stopped me.

I didn’t know what expression Remian had, but I hoped she would focus on those remaining.

At the end, I hoped she would hold a grand wedding with one person and be forever free from the wounds of the past.

So I walked out of the duel hall.

By the way.

‘Hmph, that guy at least got some rice grains after being slapped.’

I walked out of the duel hall, regretting not grabbing at least one of the Monster dishes, like the Wyvern fin roast, that was probably getting cold.

**

I left the duel hall.

I only bid Remian farewell; it was too early to leave on my food journey.

This morning, Old Randler had said.

In place of the Duke who went to the capital, and in place of the successor who went to subdue the remnants of the northern barbarians, the central aide Gelwood had received all the decision-making power of the marriage duel.

Since there was a need to use the cards I had been gathering, I intended to head to the annex to collect those cards first.

“Let’s go. Rachel.”

However, Rachel, who was waiting outside the hall, looked surprised to see me.

“Why?”

“…Did you get hit?”

“Oh.”

I thought the slap was ordinary enough that it wouldn’t show, but it seems it did.

I rubbed my cheek, feeling a little embarrassed.

“It happened. It’s nothing.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“What?”

I spread out the hand I had been using to rub my cheek.

…There was blood.

I must have been scratched by a nail.

Of course, for the sake of escaping, such a minor bleeding was nothing.

“Hmm, it seems the Duke’s nails were quite long.”

I joked lightly and was about to head to the annex when Rachel took something out of her coat pocket and handed it to me.

It was a thin metal cylinder.

“?”

“Apply this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an ointment that’s very effective for healing wounds. It won’t even leave a scar.”

Oh.

Though I had lived a rough life, it had always been strange to me that I had no noticeable scars on my face, but it seems she had this special ointment.

I accepted it and immediately opened the lid.

It was a white, semi-solid ointment.

I scooped some with my index finger and applied it to my cheek.

Scrub scrub.

However, Rachel’s gaze seemed dissatisfied.

“Why?”

“You’re applying it in the wrong place. A bit higher.”

Hmm.

I scooped more ointment with my index finger and applied it a bit higher.

Rachel’s gaze was still dissatisfied.

“Why?”

“A bit more to the top.”

Scoop!

I scooped more ointment and applied it a bit more to the top.

Rachel’s gaze remained the same.

“…It’s too high now.”

“Oh.”

I was about to scoop more when Rachel quickly took the ointment from me.

My index finger, which was heading down, had to settle for my palm.

“Give it to me.”

She already had it.

“…Is it expensive?”

“I’ll apply it for you.”

It must be expensive.

Indeed, in the medieval period, an ointment that left no scars must be quite costly.

I wiped the ointment from my finger onto my clothes and slightly lowered my head.

Rachel came closer.

And she began to apply the ointment to my cheek.

It was the first time I felt a woman’s touch, a warmth that Lee Jun-woo in my previous life had longed for.

Maybe that’s why.

I found myself staring at Rachel.

Unconsciously, I looked at Rachel, who was applying the ointment like an older sister.

“…Why, why are you looking at me like that?”

Ah.

I had done it unconsciously.

Rachel hurriedly stepped back, and I awkwardly rubbed the ointment applied area.

“By the way, if I remember correctly, there were times when I was beaten to the point of bleeding. Were you using this good stuff alone, my stingy master?”

It was a casual joke.

In the original, Elden was a battle maniac with big scars on his fists and a thin scar on his chin.

Recalling, I had even fought to the point of bleeding just before participating in the marriage duel.

Rachel was there then too, but she never gave me any ointment.

She hadn’t even mentioned the wound.

What wind had blown that made my usually stern master personally apply ointment now was beyond me.

“….”

But.

Rachel hesitated to respond to my joke, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

“L-let’s go.”

Rachel, stuttering, walked ahead.

But.