The old woman’s trembling exclamation abruptly silenced the haggling voices at several nearby stalls.
People instinctively turned their heads toward the sound, their gazes first landing on the old woman’s face, marked by shock and doubt, then following the direction of her finger to focus on Allen.
Curiosity, suspicion, contempt, and the kind of excitement that thrives on others’ misfortune…
Countless invisible needles of stares pierced Allen all at once!
The marketplace, once filled with cries of vendors, bartering, and children’s laughter, instantly sank into an eerie silence centered on Allen.
This mute scrutiny was more chilling than any uproar.
Marianne felt a chill surge up her spine.
She instinctively moved closer to Allen, her fingers quietly clutching the pocket beneath her skirt—where she kept her “little tools.”
Anna instantly hid the joy of eating, like a frightened little animal.
She quickly tucked away her unfinished skewer and cautiously shrank behind Allen, only her amber eyes peeking out, alert and watchful.
Yet Allen, standing at the storm’s eye, remained as composed as if nothing were amiss.
He was far too familiar with being the target of countless hostile and disdainful eyes.
Just last cycle, at the graduation banquet of Saint Norra Emblem Academy, he was surrounded by that same cold gaze when Livia pierced his heart with a sword.
The eyes were the same, but Allen was no longer the trivial villain he once was.
Now, he was God’s Messenger, a supervillain determined to overturn the entire old world!
He came here to save these lost lambs.
Would a Shepherd fear his flock?
No trace of panic showed on Allen’s face; instead, there was a strange calmness.
He stood like an invisible wall, firmly holding back the pressure pressing in from all sides.
A gentle smile appeared on his lips as his eyes calmly swept over the crowd.
His gaze was clear and resolute, seemingly warm, and those who met it felt their disdain or curiosity burn like a touch of fire, involuntarily averting their eyes.
After the brief deathly silence, an even louder uproar erupted!
“Allen de Laval? How the hell is that bastard here?!”
“Good heavens! Is it really him? Why does he look like some commoner?”
“He kinda looks like him…but totally different! Like a changed man!”
“Did you hear? He nearly drowned in the river! After waking up, he’s not the same person!”
“Seriously? Maybe possessed by some water spirit?”
“Water spirit my ass! I bet some evil god’s got his eye on him! The cult must be after him!”
Rumors spread through the crowd like wildfire, twisting and exaggerating until the truth was unrecognizable.
Allen listened to the gossip, not angry at all.
Instead, his eyes brightened.
A perfect opportunity!
Tomorrow he was to meet Archbishop Lucien; today would serve as a warm-up!
He chuckled quietly.
“Hehehe, Archbishop Lucien, I’m preparing a little surprise for you!”
Then, a radiant smile broke out on his face as he lightly clapped his hands.
“Clap clap!”
The sound was soft, yet it instantly cast a powerful calming spell over the crowd.
Those nearest to Allen stopped their chatter first, and the quiet spread like ripples.
The noisy waves gradually subsided, and everyone curiously stared at the young man standing in the crowd’s center.
“Dear neighbors,” Allen’s voice was clear and peaceful, carrying through the little corner of the market, “I believe that most of you here have heard my name, Allen de Laval, and some of the ‘glorious deeds’ associated with me.”
He took a deep breath and spoke frankly, “That’s right, I am Allen de Laval, the once hopeless, degenerate scoundrel of the Laval family!”
Murmurs rose again among the crowd.
Allen’s sharp eyes spotted a large wooden crate used for unloading nearby.
He nimbly jumped up and stood on it, instantly becoming the most eye-catching figure in the square.
From this vantage point, looking down on the crowd, the feeling was not unfamiliar to him.
In a past cycle, Allen had ignited a massive revolution right here in the Capital.
Citizens rebelling against tyranny seized the prison, built barricades on the streets, and repelled several attacks from the city guards—until the Crestbearers appeared before the people.
It was an unprecedented slaughter, and Allen fought to the very end, overwhelmed by despair.
He was firsthand struck by the terrifying oppression Crestbearers exerted over ordinary people.
From then on, he had relentlessly searched for ways to defeat Crestbearers with mere mortal strength.
Allen’s dark chapter of joining the Crimson Spiral Cult occurred during this madness.
In previous cycles, Allen often mingled with the common folk, feeling a natural affinity with them.
He believed these hostile townsfolk before him would eventually become his staunchest allies.
The eyes of the people are sharp—they know who is good and who is bad once they get close.
“Dear fellow citizens, please quiet down and listen!”
Instantly, Allen shifted into politician mode, his voice modulated and expressive, his gestures fluid and natural, capturing everyone’s attention.
“If you’ve ever seen me on the street, you might still remember the miserable, despised figure I once was,” Allen smiled self-deprecatingly, “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about my wild antics—drunkenness, brawling, bullying others because of my status, and reckless extravagance. You must have grown callous by now.”
He paused, lowering his tone with a hint of pain.
“But that, I’m afraid, was only the tip of the iceberg! Today, here before you, I want to make a public confession! Lay my past sins bare in the sunlight!”
Like standing before an invisible tribunal, he began his story with a sorrowful tone.
He told of the Laval family’s rise, of his gentle and beautiful mother Ileyna, of his father Bernard’s coldness and detachment, and finally, of his mother’s death and the bitter hatred it left behind.
At the mention of his mother, Allen’s heart was sharply clenched.
He thought of his own mother on Earth.
After enduring so much suffering, how he longed to go home, to taste his mother’s homemade cooking once more, even to hear her voice.
Alas, just as the original Allen lost his mother, this traveler knew he would never see his mother again in this life.
If only he had crossed over before she died…what a tragedy that would have been for his parents!
The tree longs to be still, but the wind does not cease; the child wishes to care, but the parent is no longer there…
Allen understood this pain better than anyone.
This genuine grief soaked into his narrative, and at moments of emotion, his voice choked and his eyes reddened.
Allen’s story and heartfelt confession deeply moved everyone present.
Those previously hostile glances gradually softened into sympathy and understanding.
Then his voice turned bitter and remorseful.
He confessed how, out of revenge against his father, he had repeatedly done outrageous things, shaming the elder Laval in noble circles and forcing him to clean up his messes with his head bowed.
He admitted to lashing out unfairly at the innocent maid Marianne, to slipping further and further into decadence and self-destruction.
Finally, he spoke of the cold lake water, the despair of drowning into darkness, the seemingly otherworldly revelation of light, and the confusion and rebirth upon awakening.
His story was no fabrication; fragments of the original’s memories blended with his sincere remorse, making every detail vivid and compelling.
The onlookers listened intently—what could be more thrilling than a notorious young master confessing openly and exposing the dark side of the nobility?
Compared to the exaggerated rumors, the genuine, tear-stained testimony of the man himself was far more impactful!
Allen took a deep breath, knowing the most crucial part was coming.
Last cycle, the Crown Prince executed his father on the charge of “oppressing the people.”
This cycle, he must clear his father’s name in advance!
“My father, Viscount Bernard de Laval, was not born a noble!”
Allen’s voice carried pride and pain.
“Like many of you here, he came from merchant stock! Only through generations of hard work did he don the noble’s robe and become a tax collector! He hoped to shelter our family with this, but what he inherited was a land already drained by disasters and human misfortune!”
“He could not bear to raise his whip against the struggling, starving peasants, so he quietly bore a massive deficit alone—one that could have crushed our entire family! And I…”
Allen’s voice trembled with painful self-reproach as he clenched his fists, “I, the unfilial son, completely ignored my father’s hardships and origins! With my stupid, degenerate behavior, I not only failed to share his burden, but I also brought endless trouble and disgrace upon him, the Laval family’s reputation, and even upon those here who may have suffered shame because of my past infamy! I…am deeply ashamed! I have no place to hide my face!”
He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, his voice loud and resolute: “From the moment I awakened from chaos and received God’s Revelation, I made up my mind to turn over a new leaf and become a better man!”
He bowed deeply toward the sea of dark faces, performing a craftsman’s bow nearly perpendicular, his voice clear and strong.
“If you, my fellow villagers, will not despise me, please watch my transformation! Watch how I use my actions to atone for my past mistakes! But if you despise me and believe my sins unforgivable…”
He held the bow, pausing as if gathering courage, “Then please, use the vegetables and rotten eggs in your hands to pelt me! This is the punishment I deserve!”
He remained bowed and motionless.
Time seemed frozen.
Only the sound of breathing filled the square.
He felt countless eyes fixed on his back—some scrutinizing, some hesitant, some complicated, and some…wary!
Allen had already noticed some suspicious figures in the crowd.
They wore unremarkable dark clothing, expressionless faces, and eyes sharp as ice picks, unusually calm even during the heated discussions.