Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy-Chapter 46: Night Of the Ultimatum (2)

The hall had turned so cold that it seemed it could freeze death itself.

Elden Raphelion had left the Grand Hall, leaving Lumia Winterfell, Deron Caelid, and Blund Rosfell behind.

Lumia, sitting miserably on the floor, struggled to her feet.

Wobble-.

She staggered greatly and had to quickly grasp the round table to prevent herself from collapsing again.

“......”

With her right hand still pressed against the table, she stretched out her left hand and looked down at her palm.

It was the hand that had slapped Elden.

The heat from the slap still lingered.

The tingling pain was still present.

And the horrible feelings still haunted her.

The hand that had never tasted violence, was now stained.

A part of her body had committed the same sin she so abhorred as it performed the same act of violence she had been subjected to.

Clench-.

Her nails dug deep into her flesh as she clenched her fist.

The pain from having her flesh pierced was there, but strangely enough, Lumia didn’t mind it at all.

Her eyes were bloodshot as the veins around her neck bulged.

As if punishing herself, Lumia clenched her left hand around her right one, allowing all of her nails to dig into her palm.

Then, after a moment, she opened her hand.

A crimson liquid flowed from the injured flesh.

“...Blood.”

Lumia muttered blankly.

The same thing had dripped from Elden’s cheek where she had slapped him.

Not only had she slapped him, but she had also seen his blood.

Of course, compared to what Erenscia had endured, it was nothing, but the despair of a shattered belief left a scar that not even a single scratch could erase.

She lowered her hand.

Her head hung listlessly.

The chandelier on the ceiling was emitting a bright and splendid light.

Heh-.

A chuckle escaped her.

She should have been reveling in something brighter than this chandelier’s light.

She should be wearing a triumphant smile, not this hollow smile with only her regrets as a company.

How did it come to this?

Where did it all go wrong?

Why would he wish for her happiness?

Why would he wish for no further misery on anyone?

How could he, that wastrel, harbor such lavish hopes?

And why, oh why, did his words sound so sincere?

“Happiness....huh...”

With a dull expression, Lumia mulled over Elden’s wishes as she gazed down at Deron Caelid and Blund Rosfell.

Ha-.

Looking at their pitiful faces, matching the ones Erenscia would have, another mirthless chuckle escaped her.

She couldn’t help it, their current state was the epitome of misery.

It was completely absurd to obsess over a single flea only to burn down the entire house because of it, expecting that someone would understand her the way Marien did.

Also,

Lumia’s twisted sincerity permeating the proposal made to Elden was so comical that she almost laughed hysterically.

Click-Clack.

Wiping her bloodied hand on the round table, Lumia approached Deron and Blund.

“You two are indeed very fortunate.”

Her soft tone echoed in the deathly silent Grand Hall, further encasing the cold atmosphere into a perennial frost as the faces of both Deron and Blund paled in despair oh so familiar to Erenscia.

“Y-Yes...?”

“It must be nice. Now the chances of you two being pardoned have doubled.”

Lumia stood in front of the two, who were kneeling.

Her once bright gem-like blue eyes were now dark and clouded, and a myriad of emotions swirled in those blue orbs like a sailor drifting aimlessly into the immense ocean.

The light that once shone in her eyes was replaced by the dark shadows of loss and regret.

Like a dense fog spreading over the sea, the shadows swirling inside her eyes made it impossible to understand her thoughts.

The eyes of someone who had lost everything gazed down at the hands of the two men who were still kneeling on the floor.

Their hands, soiled from eating the food like animals,

Were as ugly as their characters.

Now that she thought about it,

It had always been like this.

Hadn’t she begged for them to spare her hands all the time?

Because she needed them to study,

Needed them to conduct her research,

They were a necessity if she wanted to note down her findings,

Yet, her pleas were always ignored.

Click-Clack.

“Shall we have an endurance contest then? The one who endures it best shall be the winner of today’s event.”

Lumia took a step closer and mercilessly crushed Blund’s hand with her heel.

The sharp heel brutally dug into the back of his hand.

“Aaaagh...!”

Blund contorted his body in agony, twisting like a wet rag being wrung out harshly.

However, the more he squirmed, the more Lumia pressed her heel.

“Ahhhh! P-Please....It hurts—Aaagh!”

She lifted her heel.

There was a clear mark on the back of his hand.

Then, Lumia moved to the side.

Deron’s face, the mastermind of her torture, was filled with terror.

Lumia walked towards him, mustering all the resentment she had felt since Elden rejected her, fleeing from the Grand Ducal Betrothal.

Then, she mercilessly stomped on Deron’s hand.

“AAARGGHHH...!!”

She would break that hand of his.

Shatter it completely.

Lumia once believed that she was different from them.

That she would never resort to violence like those villains.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

But now, those innocent beliefs were crushed with a single slap and now, Lumia proceeded to mercilessly crush Deron’s hand.

And while she did so, a thought came to her.

Indeed,

Didn’t he want me to be happy?

Don’t worry.

By the end of my revenge...I’ll be very happy.

When I make a complete mockery of your hope....I’ll be the happiest person in the world.

Run,

Run while you can.

I want to see if your so-called ‘hope’ awaits you in the place you flee to.

“Augh...!!”

You can run all you want.

But did you think I would let you escape?

**

Wasn’t there a saying about how history is often made at night?

The Night, safeguarded from the light of the day, had its own rules to follow.

The Night, where deeds undone by the day are carried out in secret, was also a time for violence and plunder, and for the superstitious ones, a time of fear.

That is why in some places, curfews were enforced to protect the people from the perils of the darkness.

A time for both rest and fear.

And such time was being used by Gelwood to concoct plans for the disastrous Grand Ducal Betrothal.

Then,

When Elden arrived at his office during such a night, it seemed as though Gelwood’s worries had become a reality.

The items in his hand and the marks on his cheek seemed to carry a worrying ominousness.

Eventually,

The young man placed the items he held on the table one by one.

The note was unfolded.

A note that was supposed to contain only some words of support had rule-breaking details about the Second Evaluation.

Gelwood was at a loss for words.

Then, a Mana Recorder was placed.

The contents recorded in the device contained a clear violation where three candidates threatened the wellbeing of another candidate.

Gelwood was speechless.

Another Recorder was placed next to the first one.

That recorder showed that a long tail was indeed bound to be stepped on.

It contained incriminating footage of the responsible for the Grand Ducal Betrothal carrying out secret surveillance.

Gelwood’s silence was unnerving.

And finally.

“These wounds were inflicted by the Third Northern Duchess herself.”

With such numerous ethical violations and even acts of violence made against a single individual, a finalist no less, reported, Gelwood had no choice but to bow his head on behalf of the Grand Duchy of Winterfell.

Of course, a single instance of physical assault was not a major issue in itself.

However, the circumstances he was involved in were sufficient to disrupt the traditions of the household and the biggest festival in the northern territories.

Thus, necessitating a quick response on Gelwood’s part.

Furthermore,

This man officially declared his withdrawal from the Grand Ducal Betrothal before the final evaluations began.

Despite having no legal grounds for forcefully detaining a withdrawer, the Duchess’ stubbornness held him captive, and if that led to significant harm, bowing was the only recourse.

And that was.

An official acknowledgement that the remaining three candidates were now two.

“...What do you desire?”

“There is only one thing I desire.”

Elden pulled a document from his coat.

The document contained several clauses, ending with a space for a seal.

“What would this be?”

With a faint smile, Elden glanced at the Winterfell’s seal placed on Gelwood’s desk.

“It’s an agreement that will be beneficial for both parties.”

Amnesty for a sin ‘he’ didn’t commit.

Apology for an unwarranted sin.

Freedom from unjust detention and oppression.

An agreement to fulfill certain promises.

And beyond all,

Something an innocent man who found himself Transmigrated into a Villain’s body needed.

The right to live a free life.

The freedom to pursue his dreams in peace.

And,

A guarantee of an escape from his captivity.

This document encapsulated all of it.

It was the fulfillment of a long-awaited wish.

The next morning,

With 7 days remaining before the Grand Ducal Betrothal conclusion, the public schedule was switched to a strictly private one, for personal reasons.