Wasn’t I the Female Lead of a Regret Novel? [Novel] Chapter 44

Chapter 44

“Hmm. How strange.”

“Do you feel something?” Vendia asked.

“Yes. A strange energy lingers here,” the priest replied, nodding as he knelt to
touch the bark of the tree. “Do you happen to know anything about this tree?”

“No, not much. Only that it’s very old.”

“I see.”

The tall priest stood up, dusting off his robes, and turned his gaze toward
Vendia. “Sister, what are your thoughts on the oracle?”

It was a sudden, pointed question. His voice was heavy with gravity.

Vendia flicked a glance at him, wondering why her opinion mattered or what his
intentions were, but his face remained a mask of shadows beneath his hood.

“It is the first oracle in a hundred years,” the priest added kindly when she
didn't immediately answer.
“I am simply curious about the people’s perspective.”

Vendia scratched her cheek and shrugged. “I just think… well, it’s an oracle.”

“Have you considered what ‘salvation’ might actually look like?”

“I only heard about it for the first time today.”

“I meant in general.”

“I don’t really believe in salvation or gods,” she admitted. “I’m not
religious.”

“So, you do not believe in the divine.”

The priest let her answer sink in.
Vendia failed to notice the shift in Chris’s expression when her voice was conveyed to him on the rustling leaves.

“Are you finished with the tree?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve seen enough. Aside from the energy I mentioned, I can’t tell you much
more. My apologies for not being of more help.”

“It’s fine,” she replied lightly. She had hoped to learn something useful about
the tree, but it seemed she had gained nothing.

“However… about that third floor.”

Vendia froze. The priest, who she thought was about to leave, was now staring
fixedly at the top floor of the mansion. His voice had dropped an octave,
turning low and ominous.

“Is someone living there?”

“Why do you ask?” Vendia’s voice sharpened with defensive instinct. No matter
that she was the landlord; she had no intention of gossiping about a tenant’s
private life.

“I do not know how this will sound to you, but… I sense the aura of death coming
from there.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her entire body turned to ice.

“…What did you just say?”

“It is dark. It feels as though it has been there for quite some time.”

Vendia slowly turned her head. The third floor loomed in her vision, the floor
where the curtains were never opened, belonging to a tenant she hadn't seen
since the day they moved in.

“Hey! Dia! Wait!”

Ron’s voice barked out behind her as she bolted toward the mansion.

She had to check. Was it just because the priest said so? No. It was because the
memory of her first meeting with Cecilia came rushing back. That body, ut was so cold
it didn't seem human. The way the woman had watched her surroundings with such
frantic, desperate anxiety.

Vendia burst into the building and took the stairs two at a time.

@SFX actoin
BANG! BANG! BANG!
@end

“Cecilia! Cecilia, are you in there?!”

“Cecilia!”

She hammered on the door and twisted the locked handle, shouting her name until
her voice cracked, but not a single sound came from within.

“Cecilia! Please, answer me!”

“Move.”

Ron reached her and pulled her back with one arm.

He raised his foot and kicked the door with devastating force. The flat wood
buckled and groaned under the impact.

Vendia, her face pale and slicked with cold sweat, gnawed on her fingernails.

With one final, violent kick, the latch snapped and went flying. The door swung
wide.

“Cecilia!”

The moment the way was clear, Vendia charged inside.

“Cecilia, where are you?! Cecilia!”

Her voice rose in a frantic plea as she threw open every door along the hallway.
The apartment looked exactly as it had during the pre-inspection. Not a single
piece of furniture had been added as if It was frozen in time.

A suffocating sense of dread washed over her. Cecilia was nowhere to be
found, not in the kitchen, not in the bedroom.

“…”

Vendia’s frantic pace came to a sudden halt.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“That trunk… I offered to help her carry it on the day she moved in. It’s… it’s
exactly where it was then.”

A large trunk sat at the end of the hallway. The very same bag she’d been
rejected for trying to help with. It sat there, bulging and full, as if it had
never once been unpacked.

If she wasn't in the rooms or the hall… Vendia walked toward the main drawing
room as if pulled by a ghost.

When she stepped inside…

“Gasp…!”

“Dammit. Don’t look.”

Ron followed her in and immediately tried to shield her eyes with his hand, but
he was too late.

The strength left Vendia’s legs, and she collapsed onto the floor.

Cecilia was dead.

“Aaaahhhh!”

A piercing scream ripped through the air behind them. Vendia and Ron spun
around.

A middle-aged woman stood there, with ghostly terror covering her, her entire
body shaking.

“Y-you… you killed my daughter! You killed her! You murderers!”

****

“Hmm-hmm-hmmm~”

Gregory Hexadion hummed a jaunty tune as he straightened his hair in front of
the mirror. He checked meticulously to ensure no lunch was stuck between his
teeth.

“Sir, you seem to be in a grand mood today,” a junior officer remarked with a grin.

“Haha. I am, indeed.”

“Care to share the news with me?”

“That is none of your concern,” Gregory replied curtly. He adjusted the collar
of his uniform and stepped away from the mirror.

As he walked, he tapped his chest pocket to make sure the item inside was still
there. It was right where he’d left it. A sleazy smile spread across his face.

“Sir, if you’re heading to the interrogation room, may I come along?” the junior
officer asked, trailing after him.

“Why should you?”

“Well, about that suspect… Everyone is saying she’s a real beauty, and I haven't
caught a glimpse of her yet.”

Gregory let out a dry chuckle at the boy’s bashful scratching of his head. “I’ll
give her that. She’s a stunner.”

“If you say so, sir, she must be incredible! Your high standards are famous
around the station.”

Gregory laughed, basking in the flattery, before thinking of the woman. “Fine.
Follow me. You should see what happens to her next.”

“Thank you, sir!”

With his junior in tow, Gregory marched toward the interrogation room with an
air of immense triumph.

The door opened to reveal the back of a blonde woman sitting perfectly still,
like a doll, in the dim light. Even in this dismal space, her posture remained
unyielding.

Gregory pointedly dragged a chair across the floor before sitting down opposite
her.

“So, how did you kill her?” he sneered.

He could feel his junior’s eyes wandering over the suspect. Yes, she was
beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And that only made him want to crush her more.

Gregory had tried his best at the tart shop to salvage his relationship with
Baldini Heden. But everything had gone up in smoke because of this woman. Worse,
Baldini had dragged him out of the shop in a panic.

‘Don’t touch her for now. I need to look into this first,’ Baldini had warned before
vanishing.

What was so special about her? He’d run her background check and found nothing.
She was just an ordinary woman. So why was a man like Baldini acting so
skittish?

As the second son of a rural Baron who had barely managed to claw his way up to
the rank of Investigator, Gregory needed connections. He needed a lifeline. And
Baldini Heden was a golden rope.

Baldini was the eldest son and the confirmed heir to the Marchioness Heden, one
of the most powerful families in the South. Along with the Lavian family, the
Hedens held the deciding votes in the South for the upcoming Imperial Ballot, the
vote that would decide the fate of the ‘Disposal Project.’

By imperial decree, only provincial noble families could participate in the
project this time. That meant there was hope for his own family, the Hexadions.
His elder brother, the heir to the Barony, had tried and failed miserably to
secure the Lavian family’s vote. But if Gregory could bring in the Heden
family’s support? His father would finally see him in a new light.

The current Marchioness Heden was famously incorruptible, so targeting Baldini
was the only way.

‘He clearly hates this woman with a passion,’ Gregory thought.

If he handled her for him, Baldini would surely be in his debt.

“It’s no use staying quiet. The investigation will turn up everything
eventually,” Gregory said.

“…”

“Let’s not waste each other's energy. The one who killed Ceracil Vanne is YOU!!”

“I did not.”

Her lips, which had been pressed together like a doll’s, finally opened. Her
voice was firm, showing no sign of the weakness expected from a murder suspect.

Gregory gave a cruel, oily laugh and reached into his chest pocket. He pulled
something out and tossed it onto the table.

“This was found near the body. It looks familiar, doesn't it?”

“…”

“It’s yours.”

On the table sat a silver earring, set with a blue sapphire in the shape of a
flower.