Wasn’t I the Female Lead of a Regret Novel? [Novel] Chapter 41

Chapter 41

“Why is this day so long?”

Utterly drained, Vendia leaned her head against the side of the carriage.

It was 10:00 PM. Between dealing with Shaillet, holding meetings with Yulije,
and inspecting the shop for the upcoming grand opening, her commute home had
become incredibly late.

Before leaving, Shaillet had disappeared after leaving behind some cryptic remark about how fun it was to watch her brother fail, promising they’d see each other again soon.

“Why do you work this hard when the guild isn’t even yours?”

Ron, sitting across from her with his legs crossed, tilted his head as he asked the question.
Having commuted with her for the past few days, he seemed baffled by how much she overextended herself.

“A lot of people ask me that.”

Sasha was one of them.

To Vendia, who had been a salaried office worker in her past life, completing the tasks given to her was only natural, regardless of whether she owned the company or not. So what? It was her responsibility, and she fulfilled it. She lived day by day, doing her part. She didn’t need some grand, sweeping reason;
that was just how people lived.

Of course, doing something under her own name would be ideal. If she were like the female leads in other romance fantasies, she might have her own guild or a massive business empire.

But I’m not like them, she thought.

She didn’t have a family who loved her just for existing. She didn’t have a doting Duke for a father
who gifted her islands or diamond mines for her birthday. She didn’t have the power to summon divine beasts or wield holy arts.

She wasn't the protagonist of a childcare story, nor was she a wealthy lady or a saint.
If she wanted something, she had to build it from the ground up, by herself.
She had to prove her own utility and value. To her, this was common sense; in her world, everyone lived this way. It wasn't something to be seen as odd or special.

And besides…

“I do it because I enjoy it.”

“Making someone else’s guild richer?”

“It benefits me, too. I’ll have my own shop soon. Besides, I’m just glad I have
work I’m capable of doing.”

The old Vendia had spent her life locked away; she’d never had the chance to
achieve anything on her own, but Most noble ladies were the same. They lived
pre-scripted lives, even after marriage.

If she hadn't gotten the divorce, she would still be trapped in the Calvermer
Duchy like a bird in a cage, barely breathing, with no hope of ever doing what
she was doing now.

That was why she sincerely rooted for Yulije, who wanted to become the head of
her family. She wanted to prove herself to Yulije, who had trusted a woman with
nothing and given her this responsibility.

“Ordinary people all live like this. It’s nothing special. But I get to earn money while doing something I’m good at, so I’m happy. It feels good to have my skills recognized.”

“You are… very strange.”

“Could you try saying ‘exceptional’ instead?”

Vendia chuckled, looking out the window. All she could see was the thick, velvet darkness of the night.
Just as the silence of the early hours can make the one more sentimental, it was Ron who finally broke the quiet of the night carriage.

“My grandmother wanted me to succeed my father.”

“…”

“She just wanted us to have a proper conversation for once.”

Huh? Where is this coming from?

Startled by the sudden personal story, Vendia turned her gaze back to him. Ron was resting his chin on his hand, staring out the window with a vacant expression as he continued.

“She tried so hard to act as a mediator to fix the rift between us. Though it
was never going to work.”

They had agreed not to pry into each other's private lives, but he seemed comfortable enough now to offer up his story first. Vendia was surprised, but she understood. Perhaps he just needed to vent, to let out long-buried words to someone who had no stake in his world.

“Are you and your father on bad terms?”

“Father? That bastard doesn’t deserve the title.”

She saw the flash of loathing in his red eyes as they narrowed.

“That day, I had another massive row with him. But Grandmother took his side.
She stood up for that man, the one who left us and never visited once.”

“…”

“I was angry, I lost my temper and I said things I shouldn't have. I told her that even if he was her son, he was nothing to me and I told her she had to choose between us.”

For a moment, Ron’s face twisted in pain.

“She chose him, so I told her I’d get out of her hair, so I told her we’d never see
each other again but She tried to stop me, She was crying, begging me not to go,
but I pushed her away.”

Vendia felt a heavy weight in her chest, sensing where the story was headed.

“She passed away shortly after that.”

“…”

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t even there for her final moments.”

So that was why Ron had left home and ended up at her mansion. The sudden runaway, the aimless wandering, Vendia finally understood. She’d heard the gist of it from Shaillet earlier while Ron was busy.

She realized that now was the time. She looked at Ron, who refused to meet her
eyes and kept staring out into the dark.

“How arrogant of you.”

“…What?”

Ron snapped his head around to look at her. He hadn't been looking for comfort, but this was the last response he expected. His brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Are you a god, Tenant? Do you suddenly control the timing of death?”

“Hey.”

“What’s going to happen will happen, regardless of what you do.”

“I know that, I just…”

“You know it, and yet you think your actions made her die faster?”

Struck by the blunt truth, Ron clamped his mouth shut.

“It’s a tragedy that you weren't there for her passing, I understand why you’d
feel guilty and regret it.”

“…”

“But you can't force broken pieces back together and expect them to look like
they did before. Your grandmother realized that too, eventually.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

Vendia reached into her dress and pulled something out, offering it to Ron.

“What’s this?”

“Read it.”

He took the envelope suspiciously and pulled out the paper. The moment he saw
the handwriting, his eyes shook violently.

It was a letter from his grandmother. Shaillet had quietly handed it to Vendia earlier.

“That idiot is definitely digging a hole for himself, thinking it’s all his fault. I don’t like doing him any favors, but what can I do? Grandmother left this for him, so he should have it. He never listens to a word I say, so find a good moment to give it to him for me.”

Vendia didn't know the exact contents, but Shaillet had told her that their grandmother regretted trying to force a reconciliation with their father. She’d realized that everyone’s wounds are different sizes and that she’d been trying to push them together out of her own selfish desire.

Judging by the way Ron’s expression shifted every second, it was clear those
sentiments were in the letter.

“Haa…”

Ron’s eyes turned red. He covered his face with one large hand. His lips
trembled, though she couldn't tell if he was trying to cry or laugh.

“Are you crying?”

“Are you insane?!”

Seeing him snap like that, she figured he probably was crying. Vendia suppressed
a giggle at how hard he was trying to hide it.

“I don’t know much,” she said softly, “but I’m sure your grandmother remembers
the joy you gave her throughout her life much more clearly than the sight of
your back as you walked away.”

“…”

Ron lowered his hand and stared at Vendia and wondered “who’s she?”
Why does she always seem to know exactly what I need to hear? To someone like me, who doesn't even know what that is…

“Are you on your second life or something?”

“…Pardon?”

For a split second, Vendia froze. She quickly masked her expression and tilted
her head.

“You’re twenty-three, but you talk like you’ve mastered the secrets of the
universe.”

“Well, that’s because I’m just more exceptional than you, Tenant.”

Ah, he was just being metaphorical.

Vendia let out a silent sigh of relief and shrugged. In reality, her soul was older than Ron’s. It was the wisdom of an adult who had already weathered the storms of life.

“Just call me Ron.”

“Oh? Should I refuse? I’m not really the type to turn down a polite
offer.”

Watching her act so nonchalant, Ron fought a desperate battle to keep the
corners of his mouth from twitching into a smile.

His grandmother used to tell that every person carries their own energy., And among them, there are those who radiate a positive influence, making the people around them want to become better versions of
themselves.

And for the first time, Ron felt like he understood what she meant.