Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy-Chapter 53: No Fairness, No Perfection, No Righteousness

Count Louis Beallon.

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He had established himself in the Duchy of Demisia, as a head of a noble household and a proud father of a son and a daughter.

Although the Beallon House wasn’t a prestigious household, it had endured the passage of time without any major incidents.

A House that neither begged nor bowed to anyone.

The Count himself had a good reputation among his subjects, being occasionally praised by the common folk.

His only son also had a good reputation.

It was thanks to the teaching he had imparted to him, for a noble should always know how to conceal the truth and make use of falsehoods to achieve his desired goal.

Louis was proud of raising his son into a decent young man.

Due to that virtue, his son received the honor of becoming a Finalist in the Grand Ducal Betrothal, having a high chance of marrying the Third Northern Duchess.

So, the Count harbored a small hope of the Beallon House achieving a prestigious position by standing on the shoulders of giants.

If only things had gone as he hoped, that is.

“...Father!”

Kyle Beallon.

His son, the one on whom he had entrusted his hopes, had returned.

In a shabby and deplorable state.

The boy had returned even though the Betrothal hadn’t reached its conclusion.

And he pleaded to him,

“Ah...! Since there was already a favored competitor...! I just forfeited and came back. I’m sorry for not meeting your expectations, Father...!”

“......”

Count Louis stared at his son’s pale face.

His gaze was filled with scorn, as Kyle couldn’t even muster up the courage to look him in the eyes.

As Louis silently took out a letter from his coat and threw it at Kyle’s face, the young man realized that things were flowing in the opposite direction to his wishes.

“Ah, Father...? What is this...?”

“Read it. And answer. Is everything written here true?”

“What...?”

Kyle hurriedly picked up the letter and began to read.

A moment later,

“It’s, it’s a lie-!! It’s a blatant lie meant to slander me-!”

Kyle had to deny it.

Because the contents of the letter left him with no other choice.

An ugly truth that trampled on his hopes that all would end as long as he fled from the Grand Duchy.

After all, wasn’t that what his father had taught him?

Those who hide the truth and lie will one day rise to the top.

“Lies? Slander? Was that what I taught you, Boy?!”

“Y-yes?”

“You dare to insult me with your flimsy attempt to hide the truth with such crude lies?”

“Ah, Father-! How could I possibly do that-!”

“Shut your mouth-! I thought I had raised you well, but now I realize it was my foolishness to even expect common decency from you. You, do you even understand how grievous your actions were?! Do you even know the consequences this could bring to us-!”

Kyle’s entire body trembled like a terrified puppy.

He was completely frightened by his father’s wrath.

What used to be a safe haven now felt like a fiery pit of hell.

“Let me ask you one last time. The content of this letter. Is it the truth or a lie? You better answer me carefully, Boy.”

Realizing that his father already seemed certain of the letter’s content, Kyle could only remember the old saying - ‘No Rest For the Wicked’.

“It’s... it’s true...”

Then,

“Guards! Break this wretch’s legs and throw him into a prison on horseback. I shall personally deliver him to Winterfell Castle.”

Following the Count’s shout, a terrific sound of bones shattering echoed around the premises, followed by a harrowing scream.

Crush-!

“Aaaargh-!!”

Instead of a warm welcoming party, the only sounds echoing through the Beallon estate were screams of agony.

And the one responsible for these yells of misery was now confined behind iron bars, as his hellish journey began.

Realizing that one cannot escape from one’s past without consequence, the runaway was thus escorted back to where he belonged.

Knowing fully well that no sanctuary could be found in the place he had fled to.

**

At the same time,

Lumia’s wrath continued to burn, as she confronted Gelwood,

A standoff ensued, where one party tried to unearth the brutal past, and another tried to cover the foolish present.

“My Duchess, if you stop now, I shall personally hide these events from the Grand Duke. Please consider this old man’s request.”

Stop?

What’s there to stop?

Why are people always telling me to ‘stop’?

As someone who had vowed to always put Winterfell first, someone who should prioritize me, is that all you can say?

If you knew the truth, if you knew about my suffering, then you should be helping me in punishing them! Not trying to stop me!

“How dare you! How dare you ignore my command! How dare you tell me to stop?! What can you even do Gelwood? What! Can you resolve my grudge-?!”

Once again, Lumia’s resentment overflowed.

Inside her darkened blue eyes, an eternally unresolved grudge swirled.

Her throbbing heart continued to pump waves of frustration through her veins.

This frustration made her blood boil, and as it evaporated, she was left empty.

Adding another unresolved grudge into the ever growing pile.

For three years she had endured endless mockery and torture.

For three long years, she bore that pain.

It wasn’t fair.

Lumia felt utterly wretched at the mere thought of returning to those hellish days.

“My Duchess, please, I shall devise a legal method to resolve your grievances.”

Legal Method?

“Don’t make me laugh, Gelwood! If my grudge could be resolved by such means, I wouldn’t have started this in the first place-!!”

How could a grudge, incurred through lies and deceit be resolved ‘legally’?

How could a rational method adjudicate the irrational violence she had endured?

Even her father, who fought dozens of monster tribes, had a similar belief.

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth.

Lumia still remembered how her Father ruthlessly slaughtered those tribes.

As such, Lumia also learned a lesson,

Some people should be eradicated without mercy!

“I shall also arrange some private measures to appease you, My Duchess. Please, I beg you, should you go any further, you may tarnish your family’s reputation, desecrating a sacred tradition! Should the Grand Duke learn of this, severe sanctions will surely follow.”

Lumia wore a tired face as she heard Gelwood’s desperate plea.

Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to describe it as a hollow expression.

[Tarnish]

Her burning wrath cooled down at his words.

Her clenched fists relaxed.

Was the suffering she was forced to endure not important?

Was the tradition of her family more important than the agony, the desperation, the emptiness that made her entire being shudder?

Truly, to Lumia, Gelwood’s remark was so cruel and painful that even her fierce look softened.

“My Duchess, If I have offended you, I apologize, but please understand my feelings as well. I cannot, in sane conscience, allow yourself to tread a road that will ultimately lead you back to the hell you escaped from.”

Heh-.

Pff-.

Hahaha-.

Hahahahahaha-.

What amusing words.

So, even the serious Gelwood could joke?

Don’t you see I’m trying to leave my hell? Why are you saying my actions are leading me towards it?

Who knew the ‘wise’ Advisor had a knack for saying nonsense?

With a bitter grin, Lumia spoke.

“So, what am I supposed to do now? Should I forgive Elden just because you arbitrarily granted him an ‘official’ pardon?”

“......That is not what I mean, My Duchess. I simply wish for the Grand Ducal Betrothal to conclude safely, in a manner befitting your family’s reputation and traditions.”

“Safely...?”

Lumia mouthed the word as if tasting something new as she chuckled.

‘Safely’ could mean being fair, without any sort of personal bias.

‘Safely’ meant concluding it without any troubles.

‘Safely’ also could refer to pushing away any wicked behavior.1

None of these meanings suited the conclusion of the Grand Ducal Betrothal, nor were they applicable, hence the laughter.

If one wished to associate even one of these meanings with the outcome, there was only one way.

“Bring me, Elden Raphelion.”

“Pardon...?”

“If you truly wish to conclude this event... ‘safely’...Then there is only one way. Bring me Elden. Only then, I will stop.”

“What...?”

Gelwood looked troubled.

He had no choice but to release Elden Raphelion in exchange for keeping the blemishes on the reputation of the Grand Ducal Betrothal a secret, for a testimony of the past, and for handing over all pieces of evidence of those blemishes.

It was inevitable.

The evidence that Elden had brought and the bruises on his face were not merely blemishes to the reputation of the Grand Ducal Betrothal but stains great enough to cause significant damage to their prestige.

Moreover, he had sincerely apologized to the Third Northern Duchess and had pledged to remember that remorse and live by it.

Gelwood could no longer detain him and had thus released him as a bargaining chip.

His head bowed in sorrow.

“...I am sorry, but the pact cannot be nullified. Please consider it a command from the Grand Duke himself.”

And then he lifted his head.

Smirk.

There was Lumia Winterfell, smiling.

Her smile gradually widened into laughter.

Soon, Lumia’s laughter became tinged with lunacy as she clutched her belly, while Gelwood was completely dumbfounded by this display.

“HAHAHAHAHA-!”

“M-My Duchess...Why are you...Laughing...Like this...”

It was frightening.

Even for him, dulled by countless storms and fears, Lumia’s laughter carried an indescribable terrifying quality.

After a moment, Lumia wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes and stopped laughing.

“Gelwood.”

“Yes.”

Lumia Winterfell,

Despite Gelwood witnessing most of her life, today, the woman before him seemed like a completely different person.

Suddenly a memory came to him,

The moment when Lumia furiously tore Elden’s note as she screamed and thrashed.

At that time, Gelwood had believed this had been an exceptional moment of impulsiveness,

A momentary act of rebellion.

But now he knew that it was foolishness on his part to believe that.

Therefore, Gelwood despaired as he realized that there was no hope for this Betrothal to end without an incident.

“You really think I would allow this cursed Betrothal to end peacefully after you let Elden go? He was supposed to be the winner, you know? Who’s going to win now? Do you take me as a fool, Advisor?”

On the night that Elden and Rachel left for their celebration,

Lumia had sent two letters, one for the Caelid Ducal house, and another to the Rosfell Marquisate.

Letters directed to Deron’s Father.

As well as Blund’s father.

Indeed, the same reckoning that had befallen Kyle would now be shared with the other two.

However, Lumia, who wrote these letters, couldn’t help but feel a profound regret.

Because in the Raphelion’s count family, there was no one she could write to.

His parents were already dead, and he was the sole member of the Raphelion house left alive.

Lumia wondered if the world itself had been conspiring against her, facilitating Elden’s escape.

Moreover,

Since Lumia couldn’t accept Elden’s absence from the Contest, the Grand Ducal Betrothal lost all its meaning.

Her revenge,

Her liberation,

They were utterly worthless now.

Later in this dreadful night,

Another letter was written,

This one directed to the Grand Duke himself,

An urgent letter from his Advisor, pleading for the return of Logan Winterfell, the head of the Winterfell Grand Ducal Family.

1. So, in Korean the hangul for safety has a very similar structure and phonetic to the words - Fairness, Perfectly (No trobles), or Justice/Righteousness(No wickedness) So that's why there's this wordplay here