Resetting Lady-Chapter 281

“Thanks to Isella, we’ve seized a great opportunity.”

“Of course. A capable daughter is far better than hoping to climb the social ladder through a son-in-law. Elevating one’s glory directly is much better than just seeking good lineage.”

Verdic couldn’t stop smiling whether he was sitting or standing.

His greatest concern, revenge, was no longer an issue with Crown Prince Gueuze’s downfall. Having failed in his attempt to wash his hands off of the king’s murder, Gueuze was no longer a prince but a traitor. His abdication was swiftly decided due to his crimes.

All the nobles supported it, as did the masses. Merchants like Verdic Evans were practically humming with delight since the authority of the nobles had been greatly diminished.

“The new king is now directly tied to us thanks to our help. It doesn’t get better than this, especially since we saved him at the most critical moment.”

“Exactly. And Sir Zion Electra played a significant role as well.”

“Isella certainly knows how to pick men.”

Verdic held back the thought that he’d initially dismissed Zion as a smooth-talking charmer. His wife, Selena, was already doting on her son-in-law. When Raymond had been engaged to Isella, she had found him so awkward that even dining together felt burdensome. But Zion, who was deferential and charming, had clearly won her over.

And now, having played a key role in recent events, Zion was no longer just a pretty ornament in the Evans household but a solid gold asset. Neither Isella nor Selena even mentioned Raymond’s name anymore.

“Speaking of which, Sir Raymond… No, never mind.”

“Hmph.”

Though deeply involved, Verdic had heard of Raymond’s contributions—mostly from Zion.

However, Raymond had declined all rewards. In fact, Raymond had personally requested Prince Lewis to refrain from mentioning his contributions. He insisted that he had merely done his duty and wished to return quietly to his hometown.

While a few nobles who knew the full story praised Raymond’s nobility, Verdic felt a profound sense of relief.

“It’s a good thing Isella didn’t marry someone like him.”

The Evans family’s creed was to take threefold of whatever they gave. If they couldn’t receive money or land, they would accept honor worth ten times more. That was the natural way of the world.

What meaning did unacknowledged morality hold? What honor was there in being the only one aware of it? Such things were illusions. Anyone who pursued those values was a misfit that had no place in the Evans family.

“When is the coronation scheduled?”

“Next week. We’ll be seated in the royal section, so everything must be of the highest quality.”

“Next week? That’s too soon.”

No matter how long the king had been bedridden, his corpse wouldn’t even have cooled yet.

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep things understated?”

“Verdic, what are you saying to me right now?”

Selena’s eyes narrowed into triangles at the suggestion that she should tone down her attire. Verdic quickly waved his hands in surrender.

“I just mean… if the state funeral is to be held after the coronation, you might attract some criticism if your outfit is too extravagant.”

Selena clicked her tongue, her expression softening somewhat.

“Verdic, you still don’t understand? His Majesty is still alive.”

“What?”

* * *

The elderly man with white hair lay surrounded by white chrysanthemums, his eyes closed in the coffin.

“He has stopped breathing.”

“I know.”

“It might be better if you rested, Your Highness.”

“I’m more comfortable staying here. Leave me.”

“Understood.”

The royal physician bowed and retreated.

Prince Lewis had spent the night beside the coffin. His under-eyes were darkened with tears and fatigue. He had thought Gueuze would find it burdensome to kill their father, the reigning king. But he underestimated Gueuze’s ruthlessness—if he could kill his own younger brother without hesitation, he wouldn’t spare his father given the opportunity.

“…Hiic.”

Though tied by blood, Gueuze never felt like true family. Lewis had realized from the moment he learned to speak and walk that Gueuze’s gaze toward him was never kind. From that point on, he knew that Gueuze was someone who would kill him when the time came.

When Lewis looked at him, the emotions he felt were fear and pity. He had been born to take Gueuze’s place. And Lewis anticipated that, if he survived, it would inevitably be he who would one day bring Gueuze down.

Lewis knew that Marquis Penceir cared deeply for him, but as a powerful noble responsible for defending the border, their meetings were limited to only a few times a year.

The woman rumored to be his mother wouldn’t even meet his gaze. If she were indeed his real mother, her reaction was understandable, as preserving her life was likely her priority. Lewis didn’t seek her out either. His lessons with his tutors had matured his mind far too quickly for him to indulge in childish whims.

“Your Majesty.”

The only true family Lewis had was his ‘grandfather’, the reigning king. Lewis stroked the old king’s face. It was cold. When people die, they all become like this—cold pieces of flesh. He, too, would end up like this someday. And today, Gueuze had tried to make him just like this.

“…Father.”

Lewis whispered softly.

Just once, he wanted to call him that. Of course, as royalty, their relationship couldn’t resemble that of other nobles and their children. Even Marquis Penceir, though gentle with Lewis, was stern with his own young children.

The aged king had demanded too much from Lewis, but still, the king was the only person Lewis could consider family. Only other royals could understand the burden of being royalty.

Their time together had been too brief. The king had his duties, and Lewis had his. Every time they met, the king worried about whether Lewis would be ready by the time he died. In the end, he died with that concern unfulfilled.

Look, Your Majesty. Look, Father. I will ascend to the throne after all.

“…Your Majesty?”

Lewis, touching the king’s face, recoiled in shock. It couldn’t be. The king had clearly stopped breathing. But just now, Lewis thought he felt the faintest brush of breath against his fingers. It had to be an illusion, a wishful hallucination. There was no way Gueuze could have made such a mistake.

“Could it be…?”

Lewis touched him again, but there was no breath this time. Disappointed, Lewis was about to rise when—

Cough, cough, cough!

“…Your Majesty?”

“…Water. Bring me water. Is there no one here? I am parched.”

The king spoke in a rough yet steady voice. Lewis fell to his knees before rising and throwing his arms around the king.

“…Lewis? What is this? Where am I? Did I collapse?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That is correct.”

“Well then… It’s all right.”

The king patted Lewis on the back before realizing he was lying in a coffin surrounded by chrysanthemums.

“…What is this? I am not even dead, and yet this…”

“Your Majesty?”

“Aaahhhhhhh!”

Before the king could finish speaking, a maid entering the room screamed.

“The corpse—no, His Majesty is alive!”

* * *

Gueuze slumped into a chair in his chambers.

Where had it gone wrong? Where had things stopped working? The plan had been well-devised, or so he thought. Yet not a single part of it had succeeded.

“Why… why me…”

Gueuze had no idea how many of the nobles’ secrets Verdic knew. Even if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared. A moneylender like Verdic deserved to wallow in the dirt, as far as he was concerned.

What Gueuze failed to realize was how weak the support from his supposed allies truly was.

Loyalty bought with gold always follows the whims of profit and loss. And those around Gueuze, witnessing his raw displays of violence, knew they could easily become his next victims.

Although they shared various perverse tendencies, they trusted each other even less for that reason. The more corrupt and exploitative someone is, the more they hope the world and others will act differently.

An evil person expects their opponent to be virtuous and foolish. This was why Lewis’s young age made him a more appealing choice for them than Gueuze, though Gueuze was oblivious to this fact.

“Your Highness Gueuze, the king has come back to life.”

“…What?”

“Congratulations. It seems you’ve been spared. His Majesty has declared that he cannot bring himself to kill his own child.”

Marquis Penceir delivered the news with a sneer. Gueuze was so stunned by the unexpected development that he was left speechless. No matter how badly things had gone for him, how could they have unraveled to this extent? How?

“…That’s impossible. I made absolutely sure with my own hands…”

“It would be best if you said no more, Your Highness Gueuze.”

“I confirmed he had stopped breathing!”

“Perhaps the poison was faulty.”

The marquis ignored Gueuze’s enraged outburst and left. With this, Gueuze was utterly finished.

The countless people who remained silent were accustomed to the current king. He had been on the throne for over 70 years, and the thought of anyone else as king was difficult for most to imagine.

There was no opposition to Gueuze being disqualified from inheriting the throne, nor was there overwhelming support for young Lewis ascending to it.

The majority of people, resistant to change, could not tolerate Gueuze’s attempt to kill the king. In contrast, this resistance led them to place absolute trust in any decision made by the king.

“Gueuze will be exiled to the borders, and Lewis’s coronation will proceed. I had delayed it, thinking him too young, but now I believe no one will object.”

At the king’s declaration, everyone bowed their heads in agreement.

“Your Majesty’s words are wise.”

A peaceful coronation without opposition was now foretold.

* * *

“So it was Reverend Dullan who made the poison, as expected.”

Raymond sat with Carynne behind the palace garden. The garden appeared peaceful and serene, as if the earlier chaos had never happened. Yet walls were crumbled, and the remnants of battle littered the surroundings. Carynne picked up a stray bullet casing, turning it over in her hands as she asked.

“Did you anticipate that Dullan would create a fake poison?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because the king isn’t dead.”

Raymond stroked the massive dog wagging its tail at him as he answered. The creature looked monstrous but was surprisingly affectionate. However, when Carynne reached out to touch it, it growled, prompting her to withdraw her hand immediately.

“It’s likely still unfamiliar with you.”

“I’ve never been particularly good with animals.”

“If it bothers you, why not try befriending a hundred dogs or cats next time?”

“No thanks. Forget the dog and explain more.”

Carynne grumbled, watching the dog from beside Raymond. When he tied the dog to a post and stepped away, she followed him. Only after he poured water on his hands and wiped them with a handkerchief did she walk alongside him.

“I’ve observed him for a long time. His range of knowledge… how far he’s willing to go. At the final moment, he always falters.”

“…Dullan?”

Carynne asked again, and Raymond smiled as he replied.

“I’m not saying he’s kind. He’s simply unable to bear certain burdens. Even if his own life were at stake, he’s the sort of person who can’t bring himself to take another person’s life. He couldn’t have shouldered the burden of killing the king and remained intact.”

Raymond continued.

“He might interpret it as morality or faith. In any case, he has killed only once before.”

Carynne knew who that one person was.

“It was me.”

“Yes. At that moment, he was absolutely certain you would return to life.”

If anyone could be killed by Dullan, it was Carynne—even if she was the most important person to him.

“That’s his most insidious flaw.”

Raymond had finally come to understand Dullan—his wickedness, his weaknesses, and the things he couldn’t endure. Perhaps, in this understanding, Raymond had also made up his mind.

He stopped walking, turned to Carynne, and looked her in the eye as he asked,

“Will you marry me again this time?”

“…This is the second-worst proposal I’ve ever heard, Sir Raymond. At least bring a ring and some flowers.”

Though, of course, that alone would still earn scorn. Carynne answered lightly and kept walking, but when Raymond didn’t follow, she had no choice but to stop.

“Everything I have is yours.”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“With everything I am….”

The blonde knight knelt and swore to his lady.

“I will seek death on your behalf.”

The setting sun obscured their faces, spent bullet casings lay scattered across the ruined palace floor, and both were weary.

There was no ring, no flowers. But what Raymond offered her was truly what she desired, and no further answer was needed.

***

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