Chapter 16: The Way He Repays Kindness

Hahaha!

Hohoho!

Even though Esil didn’t want to hear the laughter, it was impossible to block it out.

The laughter pierced through, like water slipping through the cracks of a dam plugged with fingers, gnawing away at Esil’s heart.

It felt like they were mocking her.

Mocking the one who had saved the kingdom.

Those who had been saved were laughing, while the savior was left to cry.

It was as if fate was playing a cruel trick on her.

Esil struggled to suppress her tears.

She wanted to keep the promise she had made to her master.

Not to cry. To only cry in her master’s arms when she needed to.

Thus, even in fear, Esil no longer allowed herself to weep.

No.

At this point, even crying felt unjust.

The bitterness and misery were too overwhelming, and she no longer wanted to cry.

Esil, unable to understand why she had to be the one crying, recalled the resentment she had left behind in the underground prison, holding on and enduring.

“It will pass… It’s just a passing wind…”

She had endured worse torture.

This level of misery was nothing but a fleeting moment.

Esil lowered the hands she had used to block her ears.

The laughter of the nobles, echoing with their chatter and amusement, stabbed at her heart.

But Esil leaned her head against the wall with a detached expression.

She then grasped the small green glass bottle in her hand.

It was a bottle filled with her master’s affection.

It felt like a talisman.

Like a sturdy shield obtained in the midst of a battlefield when one was unarmed.

If not for this small bottle, she might have already succumbed to greater fear and chaos.

Esil clutched the bottle tightly to her chest.

“Master…”

But just then, a knock sounded.

The spark of fear she had tried so hard to extinguish reignited into a blazing flame of despair.

Knock, knock.

Two concise knocks.

It was unmistakably the sound of the butler, Gellion.

In the quiet corridor of the night, two sets of footsteps echoed.

Just as she had done when she first arrived here, Esil followed closely behind Gellion.

Her despair-filled eyes trembled faintly, and her tightly clasped hands reflected the turmoil in her heart.

It felt as if she were livestock being dragged to the slaughterhouse.

A new kind of fear, unlike anything she had ever known, seemed to have descended upon her.

In a low voice, Gellion spoke to her.

“…Out of caution, I’ll say this—Master is offering you a path to redemption. Please, do not do anything that would harm him.”

Understanding the meaning of his words, Esil nodded.

She had no intention of doing such a thing in the first place.

She knew full well that if she expressed her frustration, her master, Rosell, would bear the consequences entirely.

“…Yes.”

“Good, it will be over soon.”

They arrived at the front entrance.

As if giving her a moment to prepare herself, Gellion paused and glanced at Esil before opening the door.

As the door opened, silence fell over the garden, and Esil lowered her head.

How could a sinner dare to hold her head high?

Even if told to raise her head, she couldn’t.

The moment she appeared, the gazes would be filled with mockery, oppression, and scorn.

She knew that all too well, and those looks terrified her so much that she couldn’t lift her head.

Step by step.

Even the sound of her footsteps on the garden grass felt overwhelmingly loud in the chilling stillness.

Esil trembled, focusing solely on following Gellion’s steps.

“Ah, there she is, the traitor herself. Hahaha!”

At the sound of Briccal’s voice, Esil felt her legs weaken in terror.

The unforgettable voice seemed to rip apart and expose the hidden fears within her.

Briccal’s voice was so terrifying that she wanted to flee immediately.

As Esil drew closer to the podium, so near that she could feel his breath, her trembling throat tightened, and her clenched teeth felt like they might shatter at any moment.

Tears, soaked in fear, began to well up in her eyes, and the terror imprinted on every cell of her body twisted her insides.

“Hahaha! Yes, yes, you’re afraid. That’s a perfect stance for a traitor. Excellent.”

What allowed her to endure in the underground prison was the ability to suppress her humiliation in solitude.

But now, she was in a place teeming with the kingdom’s nobles.

The humiliation she faced in their presence was on an entirely different level from what she endured in the prison, and it drove her to overwhelming fear.

“Ahaha! Wonderful. As expected of Sregon’s craftsmanship. Now, lift your head and show your wretched face to the distinguished nobles gathered here. Quickly now.”

Her slender neck strained as she suppressed her fear, veins popping under the pressure.

When Esil continued trembling without lifting her head, Briccal shouted again.

“Hey! I said, lift your head!”

At his enraged command, Esil had no choice but to comply.

The moment she did, her gaze met Sregon’s, who stood beside Briccal, looking down at her with a menacing grin.

At that moment, Esil felt her trembling legs give out beneath her.

The fear she had endured for 65 days, which she thought had finally subsided, surged back with Sregon’s chilling smile.

Frozen in shock, Esil ultimately wet herself in front of the gathered crowd.

It wasn’t mere humiliation or shame but extreme terror that drove her to that point.

“Hahahaha! Truly remarkable, Sregon! Your work is fantastic. The moment she sees you, she pisses herself like a scared mutt! Hahaha!”

Plop… Plop…

Briccal and Sregon, heavily drunk, laughed hysterically as if watching an absurd play.

In the garden, now shrouded in silence, their laughter was the only sound.

Some male nobles observed the former hero’s humiliation with curiosity, but none of them laughed.

Though she was branded a traitor, she had once been the hero who saved the kingdom.

Witnessing such a hero being disgraced so miserably was far from a pleasant sight for anyone.

“Ahaha! This party is truly entertaining! I spared your life because they said killing a saint would bring misfortune to the royal family, and it’s proven worthwhile! Hahaha!”

Briccal, swaying drunkenly, laughed uncontrollably.

Sregon, on the other hand, observed Esil as though admiring his masterpiece, staring at the puddle beneath her.

Briccal, waving around a wine bottle, slumped into a chair that his assistant had brought.

“Puhaha… Emilia—no, Esil, was it? Now, recite your sins to the noble lords gathered here.”

In his drunken state, Briccal failed to notice the chilling atmosphere that had overtaken the garden.

His amusement and entertainment took precedence over everything else.

He downed the wine in one gulp and then carelessly threw the bottle toward Esil.

Crash!

The wine bottle shattered, and shards cut into Esil’s thin ankles, drawing blood.

Though blood seeped from the wound, Esil only swallowed her sobs.

“Now! Are you defying my command? Sregon! Is your masterpiece broken or what?!”

When Briccal angrily scolded him, Sregon glared and began descending the podium.

At that moment, Esil, holding back tears, turned herself around.

“Sniff… Sob…”

Through her tear-stained vision, she saw the countless faces staring at her.

Among them was her master, Rosell.

He stood there with a somber expression, seemingly swallowing his anger in her stead.

Unlike the countless cold gazes in the garden, his eyes alone were filled with sorrow.

Rosell, the owner of those sorrowful eyes, clenched his teeth tightly as he glared at Briccal.

Esil’s heartbeat quickened.

And in Rosell’s sharp gaze, a murderous aura began to flicker.

At the same time, a dark power began to rise slowly from his clenched hand.

But he knew it was not yet time to bare his fangs.

A revolution cannot succeed simply by removing the head of the snake.

But to him, who has staked every plan and all of his future for Esil, she is the most important.

That’s why, if Briccal or Sregon were to lay a hand on Esil’s body, he was prepared to kill them on the spot.

If he couldn’t protect Esil, all his plans would be meaningless.

Rosell maintained a state of high tension, ready to release his magic at any moment, his gaze fierce like that of a predator.

“Sniff… I… I am a traitor…”

At that moment, Esil pitifully hiccupped as she confessed her status before the crowd.

Rosell felt his stomach churn with disgust, but he still held back, hoping this would end here and now.

However, it seemed Briccal, who had lost his sense of reason, had no intention of letting it end at that.

Briccal got up from his seat, rushed to the podium, and attempted to kick Esil’s back.

“Can’t you speak louder!?”

In that critical moment, as Rosell condensed the magic at his fingertips to attack Briccal, a sudden scream erupted from one corner of the garden.

“Ahhh!”

The scream echoed through the dimly lit garden, breaking the tense silence.

Briccal, who had been about to kick Esil, and Rosell, who had been about to unleash his magic, both froze in their tracks.

Their eyes turned toward the source of the scream.

It came from the eastern side of the garden, where the noblewomen were gathered.

“Who dares to scream?”

Briccal, annoyed, refrained from kicking Esil and slumped back into his chair.

At his words, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, revealing the source of the commotion.

“Ah… T-that is… This wretched boy spilled wine on me… I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

At the center of it all stood a young boy and a noblewoman.

The noblewoman, none other than the wife of Count Lubran, was drenched in wine.

Seeing her soaked state, Lubran’s face turned pale.

He couldn’t fathom what price might be exacted for disrupting the tyrant Briccal’s amusement.

Sobered instantly, Lubran froze in place.

“I’m s-so sorry! I tripped, and… It’s all my fault!”

The young boy, who had been sprawled on the ground, quickly leapt up and bowed his head to Briccal.

It was Deloden Roden, a boy who had slicked his unruly hair with oil and had been generously tipped by the noblewoman earlier.

Briccal gestured at Roden to come closer.

At the commanding gesture, Roden, trembling in fear, rushed up to the podium.

“So, you’re the one who ruined my entertainment?”

“I-I’m so sorry!”

Roden began sweating profusely.

Even though he had deliberately caused the incident to protect Silia, facing such absolute terror made his legs tremble uncontrollably.

For a 13-year-old, it was an unbearably harsh fear.

“Hmmm…”

Briccal let out a low hum, staggered to his feet, and sat on the edge of the podium. He then stroked Roden’s head.

“If you’ve been serving here, you must’ve worked well at the mansion…”

“I-I’m so sorry…”

“Well, shouldn’t you be punished for your crime? For ruining my entertainment, that is.”

“I-I will accept any punishment…”

Roden bowed his head deeply.

In Briccal’s right hand was an empty wine bottle.

In the tense silence, Briccal suddenly grabbed the bottle by the neck, flipping it upside down.

He raised it as if to strike Roden on the head.

“Puhaha… Fine, then take the punishment in place of that s*ave.”

Swish!

The bottle cut through the air with a sharp sound as it rapidly descended.

Its thick neck ensured that if it didn’t shatter, the frail boy’s skull would break first.

Several noblewomen shrieked and shut their eyes to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight.

Yet, strangely, the sound of impact never came.

When they opened their eyes again in confusion, the wine bottle, which had been rapidly descending toward Roden’s head, was frozen in mid-air.

The hand that had been about to strike Roden was caught.

Rosell, who had approached unnoticed, now gripped Briccal’s wrist, halting the blow.

Not even the royal guards had noticed Rosell’s swift movement.

“…You’ve had too much to drink, Your Majesty.”