The secluded village had long lost its former prosperity, leaving only withered crops, barren land, and a noisy square.
On the high platform, the noble trampled on the grain, repeating simply, but then added meaningfully,
“You’re here looking for Emilia, aren’t you? Unfortunately, she can’t come back. After all, she was driven out by these people, and even her parents’ graves were desecrated.”
Though this noble held a minor title, he was well-informed.
That foolish emperor had issued a wanted notice and inquiry, making it known to all.
And it wasn’t just the emperor searching for that woman—nobles were too… though their intentions differed.
One sought to find her, the other to kill her.
After all, neither the nobles nor the church wanted another Emilia to emerge, nor for her to return, even if the situation was already settled.
Yet the shadow she left lingered, like a haunting nightmare.
Perhaps out of unwillingness, Delilah retorted, unwilling to lose face and eager to prove she was stronger than Emilia.
“Hmph, don’t change the subject. Besides, who said I’m here for that woman? The empire doesn’t need her—we can manage just fine.”
Unfortunately, Duke Ole, her companion, tore into her without mercy, showing no intention of helping.
His words cut straight to the heart.
After speaking, he sighed, tapped his head, as if reluctant yet reminiscing about the past.
“Interesting, Delilah. It’s clear you’re brainless, but I didn’t expect you to be this brainless. Save the empire? Spare me. You can’t even handle this place, hah.”
“Who says I can’t? I’ll settle it right now.”
Fury upon fury, Delilah’s anger flared, her face flushed red, the young woman’s rage surpassing any words.
Her fists clenched, itching to lash out on the spot.
Raising her hand, she pointed at the local noble and issued a command.
“You, distribute the grain to these people and return their land deeds. I represent the emperor, which means this is the emperor’s order, and as a noble, you must obey.”
“Interests.”
“And if I don’t?”
This farce naturally yielded no results; everything remained as it was.
After all, a few words or threats wouldn’t make the local noble relinquish such immense benefits.
Though Delilah’s appearance had no effect, it at least provided a good show for Sieg and Emilia, especially for those fickle farmers.
Seeing Delilah falter, they started muttering again, saying things like, “If only Emilia were here, if only she were still around…”
It nearly drove Delilah to explode, practically launching her to the steroid planet.
Duke Ole, detached from the scene, sat on horseback, quietly observing everything.
He shook his head slightly, his melancholic gaze betraying helplessness.
He knew this was no isolated incident.
The empire was constantly staging such scenes, to the point of numbness.
His lips moved slightly, but no words came out, as if to say, “Indeed, it won’t work without Emilia.”
Looking at these foolish, profit-driven farmers—the foundation of the empire—they seemed insignificant but could shake the empire to its core, teetering on the brink of collapse.
Though he had the power to resolve this small matter before him, he couldn’t save the countless suffering people of the empire.
With a sigh, he was tormented both physically and mentally.
Such is the burden of caring for the world.
After all, he bore great responsibility for this situation, the main source of his pain and regret.
The matter of abandoning Emilia was a long story.
Though he had believed in and liked her, under pressure from his parents, siblings, and even friends, combined with his own flawed thinking, he, born a noble, naturally favored the nobility—after all, he was a beneficiary.
Now, realizing his mistake came too late…
Back then, he thought it wrong to treat the nobles and the church so harshly.
These foolish masses needed guidance, and even learning knowledge was foolish for them.
The nobles were the best chosen ones, the church the best guides.
Yet, it turned out he was the one mistaken, his vision too narrow.
The education received from a young age made me believe that nobles should naturally be superior, leading and caring for the masses as a matter of course.
But it was forgotten that not everyone thinks this way.
If power is not tied to responsibility, then nobles are nothing more than beasts in fine clothing—greedy, insatiable, their desires never fulfilled. Just like this disaster—no, it should be called a man-made calamity.
The decisions made behind closed doors by the nobles were merely for the sake of maximizing profit by reclaiming land.
Hah, they turned a deaf ear to human lives and scoffed at pleas for help.
One life after another was brushed off lightly in their meetings.
His eyes were filled with helplessness, resignation, and above all, regret.
For a thousand years, this class has long been corrupt.
Perhaps its weakening, or even abolition, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
He began to fantasize again, imagining that if he had stood by Emilia’s side a year ago, perhaps everything would have been different, and things wouldn’t have come to this.
If only she could return, come back to his side, and once again place her utmost trust in him, shouldering the empire’s burdens as she did before.
Even if it meant standing completely against the nobles this time, he wouldn’t care.
To atone for her, to climb mountains of blades or plunge into seas of fire for her, to give everything for her.
Looking up, watching the birds take flight, he wondered, Where are you?
“Achoo! Damn it, is someone talking about me?”
Not far away, in the gloomy cemetery surrounded by crows, the atmosphere was oppressive.
Sieg, trying to stifle his sneeze, stood cautiously, muttering under his breath, clearly displeased.
But he was sensible enough not to shout.
He looked ahead with a serious expression.
Before him, the silver-haired girl, Emilia, stood fragilely in front of a damaged tombstone, praying for her parents who had just been laid to rest.
Her hands were clasped together, radiating divinity yet carrying human sorrow.
Her beautiful face, for the first time in a long while, showed traces of the past.
Her eyes were slightly closed, her lips murmuring prayers.
This was the only thing she, an unfilial daughter, could do.
“Mother, Father, I’m sorry for letting you rest in peace so uneasily.”
A gentle breeze lifted her silver hair, light and fleeting, as if her parents were comforting their daughter.
Though Sieg shouldn’t ruin the moment, with his arms crossed over his chest, he decided to keep his complaints to himself.
Thinking back to the earlier scene, it was almost comical.
A pile of scattered bones, reduced to fragments—damn it, he had to piece them together himself.
Even though it wasn’t his responsibility, he helped anyway, using magic to reassemble the pieces into something resembling a human form.
There were many reasons to help… well, he just felt he had to.
At the very least, he knew he was human.
He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
A debt is a debt, even if he really disliked her.
Looking at the girl, he still felt disdain, though it wasn’t as strong as before.
“Let’s go, Sieg. Thank you for staying with me.”
“Sure, we can go, but someone’s spotted us.”
He had sensed something off from the start, though he could tell the other party bore no ill intent and hadn’t approached, so he let it slide for now.
He pointed behind him at an elderly nun.
“Is she someone you know? Want to meet her? She seems to know you well. I can spare you some time to see her, so you don’t end up resenting me.”