I Ran Away And The Reverse Harem Started Chapter 137

Next, Rumiz was seated at the defendant’s bench.

In just a few days, her face had clearly grown sickly. Yet her expression showed not the slightest sign of nervousness or fear. Unlike Kazan Louis, who had caused a scene in court earlier, she appeared calm—prompting a murmur from the crowd.

An evil woman who sold off another’s daughter to feed her own children. Among the reporters, that label was already being passed around.

“Will you begin cross-examination?”

At the judge’s question, Wilhelmina smiled faintly.

“Before that, Your Honor, may I reveal something to the court and the audience? There’s one crucial fact about the defendant that only we know.”

A puzzled look spread across the judge’s face, and the others in the courtroom looked equally surprised.

Rumiz glanced blankly at Wilhelmina but seemed to sense what she was about to say.

Wilhelmina produced a medical report she had received from the family doctor back when Rumiz worked for House Büllosen.

“This is the defendant’s medical report. It states that her tuberculosis has worsened severely. At most, she has six months to live. At the least, three.”

The entire courtroom stirred at her words—except, of course, the Büllosen family and the people of Holden, who already knew.

The judge lifted his glasses and examined the report, then asked Rumiz,

“Is this true?”

Rumiz looked a little flustered as she glanced between the judge and Wilhelmina, then nodded slowly.

“…Yes, it’s true.”

“Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

Her gaze shifted to Yvette in the gallery. Yvette, with a blank face, gave her a slight nod—telling her to speak honestly.

“I thought if I revealed I was terminally ill, I might get a lighter sentence. So I chose not to say anything.”

The judge widened his eyes in surprise. Perhaps to him, she appeared as someone ready to pay for her sins with her life, even now.

Yvette, sensing his thoughts, let a thin smile flicker across her face.

But Wilhelmina pressed on with another odd question.

“May I ask how you came to contract tuberculosis?”

“What? Why…?”

“I’m curious. You were paid by Kazan Louis for the kidnapping, yet you still ended up with such a chronic illness. It must have been difficult.”

Rumiz looked confused, then her eyes drifted naturally to the gallery.

In the front row sat a man and woman in their thirties, the woman holding a child in her arms. Their faces bore a striking resemblance to Rumiz.

Seeing them, Rumiz swallowed the lump in her throat and answered.

“The money the baron promised was enough for my family to live in comfort for ten years. But as I said earlier, I only received half.”

“I see.”

“With that, I could feed and raise my children properly for only five years. After that, I had to work at a factory as the sole breadwinner.”

“A factory in the capital?”

“Yes. For ten years.”

“My, then you must have worked a long time in a place full of smoke and wastewater.”

The courtroom suddenly grew solemn. Unlike Kazan Louis, a nobleman who had grown fat on indulgence, Rumiz looked worn, aged beyond her years. The judge seemed unsure whether to scorn her for her crimes or pity her for her suffering.

She wasn’t living in luxury—she had kidnapped a girl to keep her own two children fed, only to work herself to sickness in a factory. It was the kind of story that easily drew sympathy.

Some reporters were already drafting pieces that mixed her sordid and pitiable sides to dramatic effect.

If Kazan Louis was clearly a villain—detestable and brutish—Rumiz inspired both pity and resentment at once.

“They say she only kidnapped the girl because her husband ran off, leaving her with debts. Cruel as it sounds, maybe she just did her best to survive.”

“Even so, to kidnap another family’s daughter who was living happily… that’s a bit much.”

“But what else could she have done? They say the baron seduced her into it on purpose. The baron’s the real villain here.”

Gradually, voices of sympathy for her began to spread among the audience. This was hardly in House Büllosen’s favor. Yvette, who had foreseen this, sighed softly.

Rumiz herself noticed the shift in the room. Hearing people pity her and praise her ‘great motherly devotion’ made her shoulders rise just slightly.

Meanwhile, Wilhelmina swept her cool gaze over the gallery before continuing with her questions.

“Then you must feel considerable pride as a mother. After all, you worked tirelessly and raised two fine children.”

“…”

“I hear your son is currently employed at a bank, and your daughter was once praised as a prodigy at school.”

At those words, Rumiz looked a little smug. No matter what anyone said, she had raised two children alone after her husband fled. And to have even the prosecutor—an enemy—acknowledge it made her glow with pride.

She smiled faintly, her pale face softening.

“…My children are my pride. My daughter Mina learned to read earlier than most and kept a daily journal from the age of four without fail. Hermann excelled at mathematics.”

Wilhelmina nodded knowingly, as if she had already been aware. A curious smile spread across her face.

“You mean those two there, don’t you?”

Wilhelmina suddenly pointed toward the front row of the gallery. Mina, her daughter holding a child, jumped in surprise, while Hermann clicked his tongue and covered his face. Reporters quickly captured their reactions, scribbling furiously.

Rumiz gazed at her two children with a face full of love, but the two avoided her eyes.

The judge, who had been listening quietly, asked,

“But what does that have to do with the prosecutor’s argument? That the defendant’s son and daughter are clever… Shouldn’t you keep your words to matters related to the case?”

“It does relate to the case.”

Up until now, Wilhelmina had been praising Rumiz with gentle words, but suddenly her face hardened.

“When the defendant was caught by Deborah Louis using the guild, she confessed to her crimes from twenty years ago and promised to accept punishment. But that was shortly after she was diagnosed as terminally ill. She already knew she was doomed to die of tuberculosis.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying all of her cooperation was a deception. She only agreed to pay for her sins because she wanted to clear her conscience and rest peacefully during her final months.”

The courtroom stirred again. Even those who had pitied Rumiz now looked unsettled.

Rumiz said nothing. The judge glanced at her cautiously.

“Defendant, is this true?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

Rumiz nodded. The judge let out a low sigh, seemingly exasperated.

“To admit so easily to such deceit… It matters little to her whether her sentence is heavier or not. In six months, she’ll be gone from this world anyway.”

At Wilhelmina’s sharp words, Rumiz lowered her gaze, her face as calm as ever. It radiated the firm belief that nothing would change.

After all, her terminal illness was an unchangeable fact.

The judge also clicked his tongue as he looked at her face.

“So, Prosecutor, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“Have you heard of the practice of collective punishment?”

“Collective punishment?”

The people in the gallery widened their eyes and stared at Wilhelmina. Even the Büllosen family and the people of Holden looked baffled. This was not something they had discussed beforehand.

Wilhelmina nodded.

“Only a few centuries ago, our nation had a system of collective punishment. If someone committed treason or a crime harmful to society, their relatives and associates were held accountable too.”

Her words set off murmurs. As people whispered and exchanged thoughts about the idea of collective punishment, the courtroom grew noisy. It calmed down only after the judge called for order.

The judge gave Wilhelmina a troubled look.

“Prosecutor, as you yourself said, collective punishment has been obsolete for centuries. Are you suggesting that since the mother will not live long enough to pay fully for her crimes, her children should bear the punishment instead?”

At the judge’s explanation, Rumiz and her two children sitting in the gallery both turned pale.

A few centuries ago, before the nation’s progress, families of traitors or assassins of royalty would be purged or sentenced to forced labor.

Unable to hold back, Hermann—his face drained of blood—suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Why should we pay for our mother’s crimes? When she kidnapped Irene Büllosen, we knew nothing! We didn’t know how she got the money to feed and house us! Just because we grew up on dishonorably earned money, does that mean we must repay her sins?”

Hermann’s face turned red with anger. He had just begun working at a bank, ready to start his life, and the unfairness burned too much to bear.

He pointed at his mother and shouted furiously.

“We never asked her to raise us that way! This isn’t fair! Who ever asked her to go that far to raise us?! You think I wanted to be the son of a criminal? Collective punishment? Don’t make me laugh! Why should I pay for my mother’s sins?!”

Seeing her son shouting with veins bulging in his neck, Rumiz flinched in shock. At last, she lowered her head, at a loss for words.

The judge sighed at the sight.

“Calm yourself. As I said, collective punishment has long been abolished. There is no legal basis for passing a mother’s sins down to her children. Sit down.”

The prosecutor quickly seized on the judge’s annoyed tone.

“Yes, that’s right. Unless the children actively participated in the defendant’s crimes, they cannot be punished for them.”

“Then why bring this up at all…?”

“But what if the children did participate?”

The judge glanced at Wilhelmina, puzzled. Rumiz also looked confused.

Wilhelmina strode up to the defendant’s bench and asked,

“Just now, the defendant said her daughter, praised as a prodigy since childhood, had been keeping a daily journal since the age of four.”

“Yes… but why…?”

“Among the letters submitted as evidence, there is one you wrote to Baron Louis. In it, you said, ‘I have successfully kidnapped Irene Büllosen, but since I was worried about my child at home, I stopped briefly at my residence in the capital.’ Is this correct?”

“…”

Rumiz pressed her lips tightly together. She had no idea why Wilhelmina was circling around like this, but a sense of dread crept over her.

Wilhelmina smiled faintly, seeing the wariness in Rumiz’s eyes.

“At the time, your daughter was ten years old. She could already speak fluently and was known at school for being clever. Ten is old enough to understand the ways of the world, don’t you think?”

“…”

“Are you telling me your daughter truly didn’t know you had kidnapped Irene Büllosen then?”

“What…?”

“Are you certain there’s no chance she was an accomplice?”