I Ran Away And The Reverse Harem Started Chapter 139

“So this was what you and Matilda plotted together.”

After passing Rumiz, Yvette naturally linked arms with me as she spoke. I looked at her profile for a moment, then rested my cheek on her shoulder.

“I did well, right?”

“……”

“The truth is, I never actually intended to go after Mina even after Rumiz dies. I only lied because I didn’t want Rumiz to be able to die in peace.”

“……”

“I just couldn’t bear to see her go with relief. And she shouldn’t. Father even fell ill because of her. She left us with wounds that will never heal.”

Yvette looked at me briefly, then slowly ran her fingers through my hair as if combing it—like she understood me completely.

Her gesture put me at ease, and I continued murmuring.

“…Wilhelmina and Matilda will keep helping. They’ll drag the trial out until the very end, forcing her to struggle until she dies. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I had no time since I only prepared this yesterday.”

“It’s fine. If this brings you relief, then so be it.”

I raised my head slightly to meet Yvette’s eyes.

The person who was always unreadable, always detached, was now looking at me with warmth. Someone who once only ever tried to hide herself…

Yvette, as though reading me through and through, gently patted me.

“Our family has regained you. We have nothing more to wish for. But if you truly want revenge on Rumiz, then in whatever way you choose, our family will accept it. Your will is our family’s will.”

“……”

“Do you feel a little better now?”

“…Yeah.”

At last, a single tear slipped from my eye. Yvette gave me a helpless smile, then lifted my chin slightly.

“But you know what?”

“Hm?”

“Wounds… they heal, eventually.”

“……”

“It’s what Mother used to say. That no matter the wound, in the end, it always heals.”

“…Yeah. I know.”

Yvette wrapped her arms around me, holding me close for a long time. After that long embrace, we finally returned to the courtroom.

 

 

****

 

 

 

 

As scheduled, Kazan Louis was sentenced to life imprisonment.

Every major newspaper in the capital splashed the downfall of Kazan Louis across their front pages. Articles about Rumiz appeared as well, but naturally, the fall of a baron carried greater weight.

He was convicted of orchestrating the kidnapping of a noble girl, of arson at the orphanage, of manipulating the matter of the saint. Most likely, it was Kazan who had struck me when I was discovered at the orphanage, too.

Even if he filed an appeal, there was no chance his sentence would be reduced.

The following day, the trial summoned the High Priest and the temple itself.

During the years of war, the temple had chosen a saint merely to rally public sentiment. Beyond appointing her, they bore no responsibility. In fact, when our family grieved the loss of a daughter, they had even gone so far as to threaten us, warning that it would be disastrous if we publicly blamed the temple for what had happened.

Naturally, the temple tried to shirk any responsibility for my kidnapping by Rumiz. The presiding judge that day was a devout believer himself.

The trial, tilted so heavily in the temple’s favor, seemed bound to end with only a slap on the wrist.

Until—

“His Majesty the King enters!”

“T—the King?”

“The King!”

Leonid III, the King of this realm, who had not shown himself yesterday, now appeared in court. The High Priest’s face drained of color at once.

Leonid III seated himself in a velvet chair trimmed with gold, watching the proceedings with regal arrogance. No matter how biased the presiding judge was toward the temple, he could hardly protect them openly under the King’s very gaze.

More testimonies were heard.

“The date of the saint’s selection? Of course it was whenever the High Priest decided. There was no divine lot. It wasn’t exactly drawing straws, but close enough.”

So the so-called divine oracle was a lie. They simply chose a convenient date and announced it. Selecting a saint had been nothing more than theater, meant to stir faith—not for the good of the kingdom.

Thanks to this, public opinion toward Deborah softened somewhat. She had become a woman who had wasted twenty years serving the temple simply because of their empty showmanship.

Of course, both the Bulosen family and the Holdens had pushed to ensure favorable coverage for Deborah in the press as well.

Since Deborah had not known about my kidnapping by Kazan Louis, she was not held responsible.

The first trial against the temple ended. Its downfall was clear for all to see.

“Ha! To think, the mighty temple brought so low. Well done, Count Drunia. And you as well, Lady Bulosen.”

Naturally, the one who rejoiced most at the temple’s humiliation was the King himself. Not long ago, he had stormed into Roan’s townhouse in fury, and now he looked at us as if we were his darlings.

“With this, the people must realize: the greatest power in this world is not faith, but the crown.”

He gazed lazily out the window like a beast heavy with satisfaction. Outside the court, where many could not get seats inside, crowds of citizens awaited the verdict.

I frowned and spoke.

“With respect, Your Majesty, you haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you? That in exchange for me refusing the saint’s seat, you would not use me for political ends.”

“Yes, yes. I remember.”

Did he, though? His dismissive tone suggested otherwise.

I was about to press him further when Daniel interjected.

“Your Majesty, as both your man and your friend, may I say a word?”

“What is it, Count Drunia?”

In his good mood, the King gave him a nod. Daniel smiled with practiced ease and spoke.

“There is nothing in this world that is eternal.”

“……”

“Values change, the people’s hearts change. Even the temple’s faith, entrenched for centuries, now crumbles. What, then, could ever be everlasting?”

The King narrowed his eyes.

“What are you getting at? Speak plainly.”

“Every day new railways are laid, inventions reshape the world. New fortunes rise, and politics shifts with new winds.”

“……”

“In such times of rapid change, Your Majesty must consider carefully what the crown ought truly to stand for—and for whom.”

Daniel bowed his head politely. But when he raised it again, a fleeting, unmistakable smirk crossed his face—the same look he often wore when teasing me.

The King scowled. He had understood the insult. Lose your footing, and you’ll share the temple’s fate.

‘Wow. Saying that right to the King’s face. He’s got guts—reckless guts.’

The King seemed to think destroying the temple would be enough to restore the crown’s old glory. But it was hardly so simple.

His expression soured as he looked Daniel up and down. He was no doubt cursing him inwardly as an insolent brat.

But before he could retort, his gaze drifted again to the window.

The crowd outside was overwhelming—more commoners than journalists. Most wore shabby robes or workers’ shirts. The capital, jewel of the kingdom, showed stark inequality, worsened by the war’s aftermath.

At length, the King clenched his teeth and replied,

“…I shall take my friend’s counsel under consideration.”

He bit back harsher words. After all, Daniel had not spoken untruth.

“Thank you.”

Daniel’s face brightened, as though he had never sneered at all.

After Kazan Louis was sentenced and taken away, the vacant barony of Louis passed to its new heir—Deborah.

“From saint to baroness? Quite the leap,” Lucas muttered, whether in jest or admiration.

Though illegitimate, she was Kazan’s only blood. It was only natural she inherit the title.

Lucas thought it might even serve her well. But I was not so sure.

I approached Deborah with concern.

“Will you be alright? People will spit at the name of House Louis now. Wouldn’t it be better to pass it all to a cadet branch?”

Thanks to Kazan, the family’s honor lay in ruins. If Deborah kept the name, she would share its stigma.

But she shook her head.

“No. This is a burden I must bear.”

And she smiled faintly, as though relieved.

“I don’t see this seat as an honor. But I want to keep the Louis barony to remind myself never to forget the past. I plan to return the wealth to society as well.”

“I see…”

“Yes. Becoming baroness is sudden, but as a noble I can do more than I ever could as a commoner. Perhaps I could even sell or lease the townhouse in the capital….”

“The townhouse?”

At once, a familiar face leapt to mind. A noble townhouse could easily house a dozen children.

After the temple trial, as we discussed how best to use the Louis townhouse, a carriage suddenly rolled up before the court.

“Lady Deborah!”

The door burst open, and out leapt a man, his face flushed red to match the flowers he clutched.

“Mikhail?!”

It was Mikhail Tezeb—whom we had all but forgotten.

Why was he here?

Flustered, Mikhail clambered down from the carriage, spotted Deborah, and approached awkwardly. She, too, widened her eyes in surprise.

“Viscount, what brings you here?”

“What else? A trial concerning you. I only came late because I was abroad.”

He stammered, his face still burning, explaining how while he was away the kingdom had been turned upside down over the false saint.

“I heard you are no longer the saint. And I learned how much you suffered. I regret deeply that I was not here by your side in such times….”

“No, don’t apologize.”

Deborah smiled gently at his careful words. Her smile only made his shoulders stiffen further.

“I also heard the trial ended well. So this is a token of congratulations….”

“Flowers.”

“Yes. I know you like them.”

Deborah inclined her head and accepted the bouquet of lilies. While she breathed in their fragrance, Mikhail fumbled for words, then finally spoke.

“You must feel… relieved.”

“Pardon?”

“Freedom… was that not what you wanted?”

At that, Deborah flinched.

She recalled what she had once said to him, almost in passing, at the royal palace party.

“One day, I want to be free of the temple, to live as I choose. Service is good, people are good—but I want time for myself.”

“Time for yourself?”

“Yes. People call that freedom. I never had any, since childhood.”

He remembered that?

It had been a mere lament, murmured while others drank and danced. Yet he had kept it in his heart.

Deborah’s face, usually reserved, now bloomed faintly pink like a flower petal. Mikhail, after a brief hesitation, smiled warmly, sincerely.