Night of the Ultimatum (E)
The grand hall had grown so cold that it felt like it could freeze death itself.
Elden had left the hall, leaving Remian, Deron, and Blund behind.
Or rather, they had been left behind.
Remian, who had collapsed to the floor with a miserable expression, struggled to get up.
Once, she staggered heavily and had to grab the round table to prevent herself from falling again.
“….”
With her right hand on the table, she opened her left hand and looked down at her palm.
It was the hand that had slapped Elden.
The heat still lingered.
The stinging pain was still there.
The wretched feeling remained unchanged.
The once clean hand, which had never inflicted violence on anyone, now conveyed an alien and filthy sensation.
The hand that had become like the ones she despised, the hand that had done to others what had been done to her, felt repulsive and hateful.
She clenched her fist tightly.
Her nails dug into her palm, drawing blood as she squeezed her fist with all her strength.
She felt the pain of the nails digging into her flesh, but strangely, it didn’t hurt.
She bit her molars.
The veins in her neck stood out.
She squeezed her fist so tightly, clutching her left hand with her right as if whipping herself.
She opened her hand.
Red juice oozed from the crushed skin.
“…Blood.”
Remian muttered absentmindedly.
The same had beaded on Elden’s cheek where she had scratched him.
Not only had she slapped him, but she had also drawn his blood.
Of course, compared to what she had suffered as Erinssia, it was a mere scratch and a few drops of blood, but the despair of a broken conviction could leave an indelible scar even from a single cut.
She lowered her hand.
She lifted her head weakly.
The chandelier on the ceiling shone brightly and splendidly.
A wry smile escaped her lips.
By now, she should be basking in a moment that shone brighter than the chandelier’s light, smiling triumphantly instead of letting out a hollow laugh and reveling in this bitter regret.
How did it come to this?
Where did it all go wrong?
Why did he wish for her to be happy?
Why did he say he hoped she wouldn’t be miserable because of him?
Without any qualifications, how could he have such an extravagant wish?
And why, why did those wishes seem sincere?
“Happiness….”
Remian, chewing over Elden’s wish with a vacant expression, looked down at Deron and Blund.
A sneer.
Seeing their pitiful faces, similar to Erinssia’s, made her laugh in vain.
Their wretched state mirrored her own miserable situation, and it was laughable.
It was laughable how she, who had obsessed over a single annoying flea and burned down the entire stable, was now expecting her own wounds to be acknowledged like Marien’s.
And.
It was absurd how there was a faint sincerity in her proposal to Elden, which made her laugh hollowly.
Clack, clack.
Remian, brushing the blood from her left hand on the round table, approached Deron and Blund.
“You two are really lucky.”
Remian’s voice, low and reverberating in the deadly silence.
As that voice drew closer, Deron and Blund’s faces filled with the same despair as Erinssia’s.
“Yes, yes…?”
“You’re lucky because your chances of being forgiven have doubled now.”
Remian stood in front of the two kneeling.
Her blue eyes, once as brilliant as the sunlit sea, had lost their light, turning dark and aimless, drifting without direction in the vast ocean.
In place of the lost light, there was a dark cloud of loss and regret.
On the lost path, a thick sea fog made it impossible to see ahead.
Her eyes, having lost everything, looked down at their hands, resting on the floor.
The hands dirty from greedily eating.
The hands made as ugly as their vile personalities.
Always, they had done that.
Begged not to step on their hands.
Because they had to study.
Because they had to research.
Because they had to record.
They had begged not to step on their hands, yet these two had only mocked those pleas.
Clack.
“Let’s see how well you can endure. The one who endures best will be today’s winner.”
Remian took a step closer and stomped on Blund’s hand with the heel of her shoe.
The pointed heel mercilessly dug into his hand.
“Gaaahhhh!”
Blund writhed in agony, twisting his body like a squid.
As if whipping herself for having turned a clear pond into a mud pit to catch a loach, she pressed down even harder.
“P-please…! It hurts so much!”
She lifted her foot.
The deeply indented hand came into view.
She moved to the side.
The terror-stricken face of the instigator, the origin of all this chaos, Deron, came into view.
Harboring resentment for Elden, who had rejected a desperate hand extended in the academy and fled despite a desperate hand extended in the marriage duel, she stomped hard on Deron’s hand.
“Mmmmph!”
To the point of breaking.
To the point of crushing.
The belief that she was different from them.
The conviction not to wield violence like them.
A conviction shattered with a single slap, she stomped on Deron’s hand as if trampling on her own broken conviction.
And she thought.
Yeah.
You wish for me to be happy?
Don’t worry.
At the end of this revenge, I will be happy.
I will be happier than anyone, as if mocking your wish.
Let’s see you try to escape.
I’ll watch with my own eyes to see if hope awaits where you arrive, or if regret does.
“Mmmmph…!”
Let’s see you try to run until the end.
Do you think I will let you go?
**
There is a saying that all history is made at night.
The night, distinct from day with its light and darkness, ends today and begins tomorrow according to its own rules.
The night, when things not done during the day are clandestinely accomplished, was also a time of violence and plunder, and a time of fear for those who followed superstitions.
Therefore, in some regions, curfews were enforced to protect their people from the dangerous darkness.
Rest and unrest.
Through the double-edged night, tomorrow is planned, and Gelwood feared tomorrow through unrest.
The tomorrow of the marriage duel, heading for disaster, made even an old man, dulled to crises from many battles, feel uneasy.
And.
When Elden arrived at his office that night, Gelwood felt as if his fears had become reality.
What was held in Elden’s hands and etched on his cheek seemed to carry not just unease but ominousness.
Eventually.
The things in Elden’s hands began to be placed one by one on the desk.
The note was opened.
A note, which supposedly only contained supportive sentiments for the intended candidate, had violated the rules by including secret details of the second evaluation.
There were no words to be found.
A mana record was placed.
It contained a violation where three candidates had threatened one candidate’s safety.
There were no words to be said.
Another mana record was placed.
The overseer, who had expressed concern about leaving a long tail, had indeed left a long tail and got caught.
It contained an ethical violation of conducting secret surveillance unofficially after officially removing the shackle of being a judge.
There were no words.
And finally.
“This is the mark left by the Grand Duchess.”
When the ethical violation of physical violence against a final candidate, an individual, was conveyed, Gelwood had to bow his head on behalf of the Winterfell Ducal family.
Though a single slap on someone suspected of harming Erinssia was not a major issue, the evidence Elden held was enough to pose problems for the family’s tradition and the largest festival in the northern territories, forcing him to bow.
Moreover.
He was an officially declared withdrawer before the final evaluation began.
Despite having no clauses to detain a withdrawer, the Grand Duchess’s stubbornness had detained him, and if he had suffered significant harm due to that, Gelwood had no choice but to bow his head.
And that meant.
They had no choice but to officially recognize that the three remaining candidates were now down to two.
“…What is it that you want?”
“I have only one wish.”
Elden pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.
It was a paper with a few clauses and a seal area at the end.
“What is this…?”
With a faint smile, Elden looked at the Winterfell Ducal seal on Gelwood’s desk.
“It is an ideal that both sides wish for.”
A pardon for the original sin not committed.
An apology for the original sin despite not committing it.
Freedom from unjust detention and wrongful suppression.
The obligation to fulfill what was promised in exchange.
The duty Elden had carried out to the best of his ability.
The right for a human to live as a human.
The will of a free person to chase after peace and romance.
And.
A rightful escape from the brothel.
It was a paper that encapsulated all of that, the achievement of a long-awaited wish.
The next day.
The public schedule of the marriage duel, with seven days remaining, was switched to a completely private one due to personal reasons.
I hope he will be free and start his gourmet tour
Puts 🤣🤣🤣🤣 começou a obsessão kkkkkk