Wasn’t I the Female Lead of a Regret Novel? [Novel] Chapter 43

Chapter 43

“…Hey.”

“…”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

“Wh-what? Yes?”

Vendia snapped her head up as the voice suddenly barked in her ear. She had been sitting blankly in the yard, and now Ron was standing right in front of her.

“Is something wrong?” Ron arched an eyebrow, his eyes searching her face intently.

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why do you look like this?”

“Look like what?”

“Like you’ve aged ten years since yesterday.”

Ron’s eyes were filled with genuine pity. Vendia shot him a sharp glare, but she couldn’t find the words to argue.

He was right. She hadn’t slept a wink, leaving her skin sallow and her eyes hollow with dark circles.
But she couldn't sleep when her heart had been thumping against her ribs like a trapped bird all night. She had spent the early hours in a state of sheer panic, lying paralyzed on her bed.

Her hands and feet had been trembling, and cold sweat had soaked through her sheets. She barely even remembered how she’d managed to stumble back to her room.

She had woken up late in the night, her throat parched, so She’d headed to the kitchen to refill an empty water pitcher, and that was when she saw it, something she was never meant to see.

She saw what Chris had done to Peter.

She didn’t know exactly what he had done. She only knew that a blue aura had bled from Chris’s hand and seeped into Peter’s skull. Afterward, Peter had acted as if he were a mindless puppet, utterly submissive to Chris’s commands.

And Chris’s voice, the way he spoke to Peter, had been ice-cold. It was a side of him she had never seen before. He was like a different person entirely.

Worse, he hadn’t stuttered. His speech had been perfectly natural, as if he had
never struggled with a single word in his life.

She knew he was hiding something. She had already suspected his name was a fake. But this was far beyond anything she had imagined.

Suspicions began to crawl through her mind like a slow-growing rot. Something was very, very wrong.

“M-Master!”

Lost in her thoughts, Vendia jumped at the sound. Chris, who had been finishing some repairs on the fence, was waving at her with a bright, innocent smile.

“Oh, hi!”

Vendia managed a nod, her smile so stiff it felt like her lips might cramp.

“Did that guy do something to you?”

A dark, low voice rumbled from a head's height above her. She looked up to see Ron staring at Chris as if he were ready to kill him on the spot.

“What d-did he do ?”

Her voice trembled with tension, fearing Ron might have caught onto something.
Instead of answering, Ron simply flicked his chin downward. Vendia followed his gaze.

“Oh…”

Her hand was deathly tight, gripping the hem of Ron’s sleeve.
The moment she’d heard Chris’s voice, she had instinctively reached out to grab onto the nearest thing for support.

“There was… a piece of lint. Haha.”

She quickly let go and patted down his sleeve, though there wasn't a speck of dust on it.
Ron’s suspicious gaze remained pinned to her face, but she hurriedly looked away.

Her eyes landed on Peter. He was inside the mansion, diligently wiping the windows of the main drawing room as if nothing had happened.
Could such a thing really be possible?

“Ron, listen.”

With no one else to turn to, Vendia eventually whispered to the man beside her.

“Speak.”

“Is there… a special talent that lets someone control another person’s mind?”

“A talent? You mean magic?”

“Magic? Is it possible to do that with magic?”

“How should I know? But if those bastards can manufacture magical devices, I’m
sure they can do plenty of other things.”

Ron’s words made sense. In fact, if it wasn’t magic, there was no way to explain
what had happened last night.

“Ahem! Anyway, aren’t you going to work today? If you are, we should go together—”

“Is anyone home?”

Ron’s hesitant words, accompanied by a scratch to the back of his head, were cut
short by a new arrival.

Standing outside the fence were several figures dressed in pure white priestly
robes.
Their hoods, made of a light, flowing fabric, were pulled low over their heads.

“We have come to share the good word,”
one of them said, knocking on the gate with a line that sounded all too familiar.

“What’s this?”

“Even the priests are out here proselytizing now? All the way out in the sticks?” Ron grumbled.

“Proselytizing?”

“I heard the temples are losing followers lately, so the priests are taking matters into their own hands. I guess the rumors were true.”

“Is that so?”

Vendia didn't believe in the gods and had no religion to speak of, but she felt it would be rude to just turn them away. She walked toward the gate, and for some reason, Ron followed right at her heels.

“Hello,” she greeted.

“Greetings. We have come to deliver the good news. The Goddess says that salvation is drawing near.
It is not too late; if you serve Her with faith, you shall be saved.”

The tallest of the three priests, standing in the center, bowed politely. His voice was a soft, soothing baritone.
The robes they wore were made of expensive fabric, embroidered with the temple’s crest in gold thread.

“M-Master, what is happening?”

Chris, apparently curious, stopped his work and walked over. Vendia nearly froze where she stood, but she forced herself to remain calm.
Since she couldn’t be sure of anything yet, she couldn't afford to show her hand in front of him.

“…”

Ron stared at the two of them. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, sensing a strange vibe.
Ever since a few minutes ago, Vendia’s reactions whenever Chris was involved had been… odd.
She was trying to hide it, but it was clear she was deeply uncomfortable.

“Can’t you see for yourself? They’re here to preach. Why don’t you get back to
your own business?”

Ron grabbed Vendia’s arm and pulled her to his right side. This put Ron between Vendia and Chris, effectively separating them.

“I-I would like to hear the word as well. May I?”

Ignoring Ron as if he were a mere wall, Chris leaned his head out to look at Vendia and asked with a sweet smile. His bright eyes crinkled so kindly it would have made anyone else feel good.

“You brat, why are you looking at her like that?” Ron snarled.

“Of course you can. Let’s listen together if you want,” Vendia said, holding Ron back as he leaned aggressively toward Chris.

“Hehe. Thank you.”

Chris smiled, not even blinking at Ron’s posturing. Ron was fuming, but he kept his hand because Vendia was holding onto his arm so firmly. Still, he glared at the boy with pure irritation.

“Brothers and sisters,” the priest continued. “As you know, the Goddess has
spoken for the first time in a hundred years. She has always watched over us, and salvation is now at hand. In times like these, one must maintain a pure heart and practice benevolence.”

“She spoke?” Vendia asked, confused.

Ron scoffed. “Don't you read the papers?”

I read them every day! Every single day! she screamed internally.
But she had been so distracted by Chris this morning that she hadn't had the chance to check today’s news.

“It seems you haven't heard the news yet. An oracle was delivered for the first time in a century.”

According to the priests, that was the content of the new oracle.

Three hundred years… does that mean the Empire?

This year marked the 300th anniversary of the Empire's founding.
To be precise, it’s in three months, in October.

She was lost in thought for a moment until she felt a heavy, pointed gaze on her face. She turned her head to find Chris staring at her. His face was entirely expressionless.

“In any case, the energy of this house is quite extraordinary. If you are the owner, might we step inside for a moment?”

“Oh, well…”

Vendia hesitated at the awkward request. Even if they were priests, she was reluctant to let strangers into her home.

“Haha. It is quite alright. I understand,” the priest said with a benevolent
smile, his eyes turning toward the large scholar tree standing in the yard. “I simply wished to see that tree up close.”

“That tree?”

“Yes. I feel a strange energy emanating from it.”

The priests all turned their eyes toward the ancient scholar tree.
No one knew exactly how long it had stood there. Vendia had always felt the tree was somewhat auspicious, so her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the gate.

“Please, come in.”

“Thank you.”

The three priests entered the yard one by one, fingering the rosaries on their wrists. Deep shadows fell across their faces under their hoods.

It was then that a gust of wind caught the hood of the last priest to enter. For a split second, Vendia caught a glimpse of his face.

She couldn't help but notice that there was a long, vertical scar running across the
priest’s eye.

“May we take a closer look?”

“Oh, yes. This way, please.”

At the tall priest’s request, Vendia pulled her gaze away and led them toward
the tree.