I, the Female Lead, Ruined the Original Chapter 158

Selleana found herself momentarily taken aback by the children’s innocent rudeness.

 

“A witch’s son, huh…” Even as the children pointed at him and shouted, Rakrensius seemed unfazed, merely rubbing his chin with a nonchalant expression.

 

Upon closer inspection, their eyes held neither wariness nor disgust as they gazed up at him—only wonder and curiosity.

 

“My mother was indeed called a witch,” he acknowledged. “Magic users are rare around here.”

 

“Aah.”

 

[Oh, it seems there’s a story about ‘Silver Witch of the Far East.’ A wizard who was active as a mercenary about 30 years ago, specializing in escorting wealthy individuals and exterminating monsters… In your father’s original story, she was merely depicted as a pilgrim wandering the continent.]

 

“Darling, you said your hair color was inherited from your mother, right? Selleana asked. “Silver hair is rare here too, so they must have recognized it.”

 

“Yes. But…” Rakrensius’s blue eyes swept over the faces of the children, who continued pointing fingers at him.

 

The children, whose heads barely reached his waist, stared back with sparkling interest. His silver hair, his rare and handsome appearance—they were so entranced by Rakrensius that they couldn’t close their gaping mouths, murmuring, “Wow, he really looks like her. It’s amazing.”

 

These children seem really young… They probably weren’t even born when Darling left here.

 

[They look to be around ten years old at most.]

 

So they wouldn’t have ever seen his mother…

 

Selleana silently observed the standoff between Rakrensius and the children while conversing with Di in her mind.

 

Suddenly, one child’s finger, which had been pointing at Rakrensius, began to tremble. “Wa-Wait a minute!” With a determined look, the child clenched their fist and dashed out of the clearing. “Guys, keep watch! Mooooom!”

 

“Okay!”

 

“Be back soon!”

 

The children responded resolutely, shuffling around to form a circle around Rakrensius—just as they’d promised as if to keep him from moving. It was quite a sight: the tall Rakrensius standing in the middle, surrounded by children whose heads barely reached his waist, their eyes fixed with determination.

 

…Adorable! Selleana couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for the children, who looked so serious yet had no malice in their expressions. Rakrensius himself didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

 

A moment later, the boy returned with a middle-aged woman in tow.

 

“Mom, over here!”

 

“Chief, over here!”

 

“Look here!”

 

“See? He really is the witch’s son, right? The hair color matches, and he looks just like her…!”

 

As the children clamored, the woman approached.

 

“Ah…!”

 

“Oh…?”

 

Both Rakrensius and the woman exchanged looks of recognition and delight.

 

“Melda, from the chief’s house…?” Rakrensius’s voice held a note of disbelief.

 

“Collin, it’s really you!” The woman named Melda exclaimed with joy, grasping Rakrensius’s hand.

 

Though taken aback by the sudden contact, Rakrensius didn’t pull away. Not only did he not mind, but his face showed more than just surprise—it was genuine happiness.

 

Selleana discreetly reached for Di at her waist, feeling a sense of relief. So, someone did welcome him back… I’m glad we came, right?

 

[Indeed.]

 

With one of Rakrensius’s worries seemingly resolved, Selleana, who had been acting confident, also felt her tension ease.

 

The woman named Melda was the village chief of the place where Rakrensius had lived with his mother. Until he left over a decade ago, her father had been the chief.

 

“You’ve grown up so well…” Melda said, her voice softening as she gazed at him. “Titi would have been so proud to see you.”

 

The woman, who remembered him by the childhood name his mother used, looked at Rakrensius with eyes full of emotion. After a moment, she mentioned there was somewhere they needed to go and began to lead them away. It was as if she had been waiting for Rakrensius to arrive.

 

They walked along a narrow strip of sandy beach that followed the coastline. The long stretch was dotted with pebbles and sparse patches of grass, making it unsuitable for swimming. Besides, the climate of Arancha wasn’t particularly warm, and the sea’s depth increased sharply just offshore, so swimming was out of the question.

 

“Lea, will you wait here?” Rakrensius asked, concern evident in his voice.

 

“No, I’m fine. I go to the lakeside often, so the beach is okay too,” Selleana replied with quiet determination.

 

Despite his worry about her fear of water, Selleana followed them without hesitation. She couldn’t bear to be separated from Rakrensius even for a moment, not knowing what might await him in Arancha.

 

Melda’s son hopped along ahead while Melda and Rakrensius followed at a measured distance behind. Though their destination remained unspoken, their path seemed predetermined, as if they all knew exactly where they were headed.

 

Collin seems to know where we’re going… doesn’t he?

 

[…]

 

Everything had happened so quickly after their teleportation arrival that she’d barely had time to take in their surroundings, but there was no time for complaints now. Di, too, remained silent. Neither of them wished to burden Rakrensius unnecessarily. Each held their own thoughts close, careful not to speak carelessly.

 

After walking for quite some time, they reached the end of the beach. Pebbles grew more numerous than sand, and a cliff that resembled carved marble rose before them. It was a white cliff, looking from a distance like a meadow hill sliced cleanly in half. Under the grayish-white expanse of sky, the cross-section of white earth gleamed like a painting by an artist obsessed with the interplay of light.

 

As they rounded the corner, an entirely different landscape unfolded. Below the cliff, a rocky terrain stretched, crowded with columnar joints and bizarre rock formations along the beach. Waves crashed against them with tremendous force, shattering into foam before gathering and breaking again. They navigated around this cliff, then another, and yet another, until the beach they had traversed disappeared from view.

 

Splash. Splash— Between two cliffs that jutted out at a narrow-angle, a recessed area appeared. Large and small stones and pebbles had accumulated there, creating a space large enough to accommodate several people. And at the deepest part of it, a small boat bobbed gently with the rhythm of the advancing and retreating waves.

 

Mr. Sword…!

 

[Ah…]

 

The moment they realized someone lay inside, Selleana and Di knew with certainty what destination they had suspected all along.

 

She looks just like Collin…! Though she stood a respectful distance away to avoid disturbing Rakrensius’s contemplation, Selleana could make out the figure of the person lying within the boat. A pale, emaciated woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Her eyes were gently closed, silver hair cascading around her face—the resemblance to Rakrensius was unmistakable.

 

This was the resting place of Rakrensius’s birth mother, Tirtayana.

 

With a dull thud, Rakrensius dropped to his knees before the boat. He leaned against the hull, gazing intently at his mother’s face, preserved as it had been at the moment of her death.

 

Not wishing to intrude on his grief, Melda allowed her son to play outside the cliff’s shelter and approached Selleana instead. Melda’s son seemed familiar with both this place and Tirtayana’s presence—which explained why he had recognized Rakrensius immediately.

 

“You’re Collin’s wife, aren’t you?” Melda asked softly.

 

“Yes, we got married in the spring.”

 

“Oh, congratulations. May the blessings of the sea be with you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

After exchanging polite bows, Melda studied Selleana’s face with careful consideration.

 

“You’re a Nepelsian, right?”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“You seem to be someone important…”

 

“Ah.”

 

“And Collin… he’s the son of someone high-ranking, isn’t he?”

 

At these cautious questions, Selleana lowered her eyebrows and offered a slightly awkward smile. That alone was answer enough, causing Melda’s face to pale slightly.

 

“It’s a poor excuse, but… Arancha is a place without an imperial family, and we’re not well-educated, so my children and I have been quite rude. I’m truly sorry…”

 

How could Melda not know of Rakrensius’s significant status? Thirteen years ago, when a squad of knights bearing the Nepelsian imperial crest suddenly appeared and took Rakrensius away, it had become one of the stories still told among the people of this quiet seaside village. And not just that. Even though Selleana wore plain clothes, the sheen of her hair and her dignified posture exuded nobility, making it impossible to mistake her for anything but highborn.

 

Selleana offered a gentle smile to reassure the woman. “Please don’t worry about it. When Rakrensius came to Arancha, he was terribly nervous that no one would recognize him, but the moment he saw you, Melda—I could see the relief wash over him.”

 

“…Is that so?”

 

“Collin is… Collin.”

 

“Ah…” With those words, Melda’s face softened into a curious smile, the tension visibly easing from her shoulders.

 

Collin is Collin. Even with a remarkable father who commanded imperial knights, he remained the same boy who had once lived with his witch mother, Tirtayana, in this seaside village of Arancha. As if drawn by the same thought, both women turned their gaze toward the man who had once been simply Collin.

 

Rakrensius still clung to the small boat, staring endlessly into its depths. Though his back was turned, making it impossible to see his face, Selleana knew with absolute certainty that he was crying. Whether tears actually fell or remained trapped behind his eyes, she believed he was finally releasing thirteen years of carefully guarded sorrow from the depths of his heart.

 

“One day, Tirtayana came to our house and said something strange to my father.” Melda’s voice was soft, almost reverent in the stillness. “She apologized. She asked that if he ever found Collin, to leave him be. She said Collin might return…”

 

At those words, Rakrensius’s back stiffened, as rigid and unyielding as the marble cliffs surrounding them.