Wasn’t I the Female Lead of a Regret Novel? [Novel] Chapter 38

Chapter 38

“Who the hell was that?!”

“Will you shut your mouth? You’re going to wake the kid!”

But your voice is actually louder, Vendia thought while pressing her hand to her
forehead as she watched Ron shout over the fuming Baldini.

“If he wakes up after I finally got him to sleep, you’re a dead man,” Ron
hissed, his voice dropping into a lethal, low-register warning.

“lizen!”

Kate hurried over to Ron. He handed the sleeping babe over to her with
exaggerated care, though a flicker of lingering regret crossed his face as he
let go.

“Kate, go inside. I’ll call you when we’re finished here,” Vendia said.

“I’m so sorry…” Kate murmured, looking guiltily at the scene before retreating
into the back.

“Who do you think you are?! You can’t just go around using violence like this!”

“And what was that bastard trying to do to her? Was that supposed to be a
compliment?” Ron sneered, letting out a sharp, mocking snort at Gregory’s absurd
protest.

Gregory, noticing that Ron’s clothes looked high-end, didn’t dare use informal
speech with him, unlike the way he’d been speaking down to Vendia just moments
ago. It was a classic display of kissing up to the powerful while kicking the
weak, but Vendia didn't even have the energy to laugh at the blatant hypocrisy.

“Bl-blood…!”

Baldini felt a warm sensation under his nose and wiped it. When he saw the red
smear on his fingers, his face went deathly pale. For a man so eager to hurt
others, he seemed pathetically preoccupied with his own well-being, trembling at
the mere sight of a nosebleed.

“Arrest him this instant! How dare he use violence in front of the police? Throw
him in a cell…!”

Baldini, who had been hopping mad, suddenly froze.

“Yes, sir. I’ll arrest him at once,” Gregory said, stepping forward.

“Wait!”

Baldini grabbed the back of Gregory’s collar, yanking him back. His eyes were
wide and shaking, fixed intently on the red-haired Ron.

“Are you… by any chance, Shon–”

“Aaargh!”

A serving tray flew through the air once more, striking Baldini squarely. He
went down, defenseless. Since it hit the exact same spot as before, the pain was
doubled.

“Pests should know when to buzz off. Stop ruining my business,” Ron said.

Ron’s crimson eyes narrowed menacingly. It was a warning so chilling it sent a shiver
down the spines of everyone listening.

“Lord Baldini! This time, I really will arrest—”

“Get out! Now!”

Baldini practically dragged Gregory out of the shop, looking as though he’d seen
a ghost.

“What was that? Why is he acting like that?” Vendia asked, blinking.

“He probably realized he looked like a moron and bolted,” Ron replied with a
nonchalant shrug.

Vendia tilted her head, not entirely convinced. Meanwhile, Charles was still
slumped on the floor, muttering to himself in despair.

“It’s a lie. It’s all a setup…”

Vendia leaned in close to him; her shadow fell over his face.

“You still haven't learned your lesson, have you? Should I call Peter over to
handle you…?”

“Eeeeeek!”

Charles scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door as if his tail were on
fire.

“Always acting tough when he gets thrashed every single time,” Vendia muttered.
and while dusting off her hands with a look of satisfaction, She turned to Ron.

“By the way, Mr. Tenant.”

“Huh? What is it…?”
Ron stammered, flinching slightly. He grew tense, wondering
if she had caught onto something or overheard Baldini’s unfinished sentence.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you flick an object up with your foot and kick it.”

He relaxed instantly. She clearly hadn't been paying attention to the names.

“Forget it. If someone comes at you, just punch them in the nose.”

“Tch.”

• * *

“W-we can’t delay it any longer.”

“Who said anything about delaying? Go ahead and announce it.”

Unlike the priest, who was shaking with terror, the man standing before him was
the picture of composure.

It was broad daylight. Four people were gathered in a priest’s private quarters
deep within the temple. Seated in the seat of honor was Apepriest, the man
destined to be the next High Priest. Two other priests stood behind him, hands
clasped, trembling violently.

“An oracle must be revealed to the world in its entirety, with complete
transparency!” Apepriest declared, refusing to back down.

Intercepting an oracle that had already been delivered was an act of apostasy and a
direct defiance of the divine will. It was a taboo that the man before him had
broken out of sheer ruthlessness.

“Now, now. Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”

The man rested a massive, terrifying sword against his shoulder. His eyes
gleamed with a frantic light, and his voice carried a sharp edge of irritation,
as if his patience were finally snapping.

“This is the will and the voice of God! We are mere mortals and you heathens, no
less, I cannot dare to hide the divine will… Guh!”

In the blink of an eye, the man swung his sword. He returned the blood-stained
blade to his shoulder in one fluid motion. A heartbeat later, Apepriest’s body
slumped sideways, collapsing lifelessly.

“…”

“…”

The two priests standing behind him couldn't utter a sound. Their faces were
white as sheets, splattered with blood, their legs barely supporting their
weight.

“Tch. Who do you think put you in that seat? You won't betray your God, but
you’re happy to betray the master’s grace?”

The man grumbled irritably. He showed no remorse for the life he had just taken;
instead, he spat on the floor next to the corpse, which still had its eyes wide
open in shock.

“Right. Which of you wants to be the next High Priest?” the man asked, his tone
as casual as if he were assigning a cleaning duty.

The priests shook like aspen leaves, unable to open their mouths. They were
still reeling from the horrific scene they had just witnessed.

“You don’t want to?”

The man’s voice followed up quickly, prompting them to snap out of it. He wasn't
asking for their preference; he was warning them that refusal meant joining
Apepriest on the floor.

“I… I will do it.”

Finally, the senior of the two priests raised a trembling hand. The man flicked
a finger dismissively. Taking the signal, the priest moved on wobbling legs to
stand before him.

“Name.”

“I-it’s Jamie Ephron.”

“Right. Lord Jamie. Now, what are you going to do?”

“I will… announce the oracle.”

“How?”

“O-only the portion of the oracle you specified will be proclaimed in the name
of God.”

“And the rest?”

“I will… burn it.”

“Good boy. See? You can do it! Why do you make me say things twice?”

The man snapped his fingers and offered a bright, hollow smile.

“Well done.”

He reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair as if he were handling a beast.

“Then I’ll leave it in your hands, Lord Jamie.”

“Yes… yes, sir…”

Jamie bowed instinctively, as if addressing a superior officer. The man laughed
arrogantly and tore a teleportation scroll.

“How did it go?”

The man, having moved to his next destination, addressed the figure waiting for
him.

“Lord Monsen. We’ve recovered them,” the staff member replied, bowing his head
immediately.

Monsen’s mouth twisted into a wide, satisfied grin. It had taken a while, but
they had finally succeeded. He tossed his bloodied sword carelessly onto the
floor and approached the desk.

Stacks of recovered reports were piled high.

“They scattered these things everywhere like dogs, didn’t they?” Monsen tutted,
looking at the heap of papers.

Thinking about the trouble these documents had caused him made his anger flare
up all over again.

“To think that this bastard died a peaceful death after causing such a mess. I should
have made him suffer more.”

Still feeling unsatisfied, Monsen picked up the stack of reports himself.

“Wait.”

Suddenly, his face froze. He counted the papers. There were supposed to be seven
in total, but one was missing.

“One is missing.”

“Th-that… we simply cannot find the last one…”

The staff member began to sweat, trembling under Monsen’s gaze.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Aaaargh!”

With a single movement, Monsen hurled the staff member across the room.

“Go find the last one! Now! Move!”

Knowing full well what would happen if Monsen’s temper escalated further, the
staff members scrambled out of the room.

“Damn it, damn it! What am I supposed to tell the Master…!”

Fuming, he threw the pile of reports into a nearby basin of eternal blue flame
at the back of the room.

The massive pile of reports was engulfed in an instant, reduced to ash. He had planned to finish this cleanly and receive his Master’s praise, but things had gone sideways.
“I’ll kill them all.”
Unable to contain his rage, he stormed out after his subordinates.
Behind him, a final scrap of paper turned to ash in the blue fire. Only a few words were still visible before they vanished forever.