I’m Stuck on a Remote Island With the Male Leads - Chapter 219

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Side Story Episode 4
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Yuanna Lucy and Archbishop Luzef observed the throng of people gathered atop Lamberson Bridge.
“Excuse me, coming through.”
A delicate woman’s voice reached Yuanna Lucy from behind. Though the footsteps pushing past her were decidedly rough and forceful.
“I’m sorry.”
The woman did turn to apologize, yet Yuanna Lucy couldn’t see her face. It was completely concealed beneath a hat and veil.
“How terribly rude. What kind of woman behaves this way? And that apology was pathetic.”
Archbishop Luzef bristled on Yuanna Lucy’s behalf.
“I rather like her.”
Archbishop Luzef was shocked at Yuanna Lucy’s murmur.
“That sort of… taste…?”
“No, that’s not it. Look—she doesn’t discriminate. Regardless of status or gender, she pushes through everyone indiscriminately.”
When Archbishop Luzef turned to look in the direction Yuanna Lucy indicated, he saw the woman advancing ruthlessly through a cluster of noblemen, shoving them aside without mercy.
“I find her absolutely delightful.”
Archbishop Luzef regarded Yuanna Lucy with the gaze of one witnessing something incomprehensible.
And what happened next was even more incomprehensible.
“You damned fool! Do you truly believe you can maintain your position as Crown Prince after this?!”
A nobleman shrieked at Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid, his face flushed crimson with agitation. The crowd on the street was predominantly commoners, with nobility representing only a small fraction.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid was a man who had become Crown Prince through their support.
“The man appears to have lost his mind.”
“His social life is finished. Archbishop, in noble society, that’s the end, isn’t it?”
“Even the most distinguished house would struggle to recover from that. It’ll be tomorrow’s headline, I’m certain.”
Archbishop Luzef was the second son of the Deferthe Family, a house of great renown that had produced Archbishops and Popes for generations.
Coming from Archbishop Luzef, who was regarded as a noble prince even within the Papal Court, the scoundrel’s fate was as good as sealed.
Yuanna Lucy smiled with genuine delight.
Escaping the Papal Court, even with Archbishop Luzef in tow, had been the right decision.
Watching quarrelsome nobles brawl among themselves was entertaining enough. This was far too amusing!
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Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid checked the time. The sunset was deepening into twilight, and he noticed people beginning to light the gas lamps. His shoulders sagged.
He was already late for the party. Though he hadn’t mentioned it to Diego Bastian Vilterheim, he’d anticipated this from the moment he stepped out of the carriage.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid’s indifferent gaze fell upon three men who could barely stand upright, swaying unsteadily. Those who abandoned themselves to their base instincts and acted without restraint were among the types he despised most.
Just then, the royal guards who had heard the commotion arrived and began to control the bridge.
As Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid watched with an exasperated expression the men who, despite their inability to stand properly, continued to cause trouble on the bridge, someone approached him.
“Hey, Half-Emperor! It’s been ages!”
The man greeted him with unwarranted familiarity.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid looked somewhat taken aback at the strangely dressed man who resembled a dissolute nobleman.
The man in costume that seemed fit for a theatrical bard was none other than the Crown Prince of Hestia Kingdom.
Behind the Crown Prince, his aide regarded his superior as one might regard a madman, but upon meeting Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid’s gaze, he hastily composed himself.
“You won’t recognize who I am, will you? Allow me to introduce myself! The greatest bard of the Langrid Empire…!”
“Get out of my way, you arrogant fool.”
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid shoved Prince of Asdal aside and approached the men with deliberate steps.
“Whoa, whoa? Laying hands on them directly isn’t a good idea, is it? Wait until the security forces arrive. And this place is dangerous—you should clear out and secure the Bridge. The Mana Flow feels wrong.”
One of the royal guards, who had been watching Prince of Asdal’s expression, spoke to Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid.
“Your Highness. It would be best if you left this to us and departed. There are too many eyes watching.”
Before Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid could even respond, the excited nobles rushed toward him.
It was partly because Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid had drawn close to them, and partly because the royal guards had momentarily let their vigilance slip while managing the festival crowds.
Of course, the men never laid a finger on Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid. Someone else had suddenly intervened.
“How dare you filthy wretches lay hands on anyone?!”
A woman in a Dress kicked the stumbling scoundrels with brutal force.
“Gack—!”
“Ugh!”
The men crashed to the Floor, and the woman mercilessly kicked them as they struggled to regain their footing.
“The third son of the Marquis Rohade Family and Baron Rockford, the heir of Count Baker. Well, except for the Marquis Rohade side, they’re all rather unremarkable.”
A veiled woman was wielding violence, while another woman stood beside her, directing the trajectory of the assault.
“Only beat them enough to be handled with money and power. Nowhere visible.”
Even Prince of Asdal was taken aback, staring blankly at the scene. The others were the same, unable to approach them readily.
The woman committing the violence had her face concealed beneath a hat and veil, making her identity impossible to discern.
Diego Bastian Vilterheim returned after dealing with the horses and witnessed the spectacle, approaching Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid with a shocked expression. Diego whispered quietly into Enoch’s ear, ensuring only he could hear.
“That woman appears to be the eldest daughter of House Flone.”
The eldest daughter of House Flone.
That meant the woman accompanying her was likely a member of the Flone Family.
And among the members of the Flone Family, there was only one woman who would behave like such a scoundrel—a woman Enoch knew all too well.
Margaret Rose Flone.
Under normal circumstances, she would have exercised restraint for the sake of her family’s honor, but it seemed that concealing her face had emboldened her recklessness.
In that moment, Innis, noticing the gazes directed at her, turned to face them with a smile.
“Don’t worry. Even though she acts like that, she won’t bite.”
Prince of Asdal, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid, and Diego Bastian Vilterheim momentarily thought they had misheard. Won’t bite? She was being treated like a wild animal.
But given that this was Margaret Rose Flone, who had recently been confined to the house after grabbing a certain Young Lady by the hair and causing a commotion, such a reaction was entirely understandable.
“She may not bite, but she certainly seems to be beating them.”
Innis lightly dismissed Prince of Asdal’s disgruntled murmur, still unaware of their true identities, and laughed.
“It’s better if we handle this. It will divert attention away from Your Highness Crown Prince. And we have much to do right now, so please don’t interrupt us.”
“My.”
At Innis’s words, Prince of Asdal let out an involuntary exclamation of admiration. Prince of Asdal nudged Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid’s shoulder with his elbow.
“You’re fortunate. Whoever she is, she’s quite the remarkable lady.”
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid regarded the figure presumed to be Margaret Rose Flone with a complicated expression.
That was when it happened.
“Wait, the Mana Flow is….”
Prince of Asdal’s expression shifted to alarm as his eyes followed Margaret Rose Flone’s movements.
At that very moment, Margaret Rose Flone climbed onto the railing of the Bridge.
“Why on earth did she climb up there?”
Everyone stared at Margaret in alarm, their faces etched with concern at the perilous sight before them. Margaret cried out toward Innis.
“Innis! Help me quickly! I’m going now?!”
Innis rushed forward and seized Margaret’s hand, while Margaret leaned her weight into Innis’s grip and bent her upper body downward beneath the Bridge.
At first glance, it appeared as though she were hurling herself downward.
“Kyaaaaaaah—!”
Screams erupted from the startled crowd.
Watching the scene unfold, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid’s face drained of all color. From his vantage point, it appeared as though Margaret had simply vanished beneath the Bridge.
Enoch bolted toward Margaret without hesitation.
He despised her utterly, held her in contempt and loathing, yet he had never—not once—wished for her death. Never, truly.
“Young Lady!”
The moment Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid leaned against the railing and peered downward, he caught sight of Margaret dangling beneath the Bridge.
Thanks to Innis’s iron grip, she appeared to be unharmed.
Then he noticed something clutched in her hand—it looked as though she had torn a square Wooden Box free from beneath the Bridge.
Enoch hastily aided Innis in hauling Margaret back onto the Bridge.
The moment Margaret climbed onto the Bridge, she urgently drew her Veil back down.
Seeing that she was perfectly fine, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid felt all the strength drain from his body.
“Damn it.”
He slowly wiped his parched face with a dry hand.
In the meantime, Margaret hurled the Wooden Box she held onto the Floor, then stomped on it with her foot, shattering it.
Crack—! Snap!
As the Box shattered, Black Smoke billowed forth beneath her feet, dispersing in all directions. Soon it drifted across the Floor and vanished entirely.
Prince of Asdal, observing the scene, spoke.
“That strange Mana Flow I sensed—it was that.”
Everyone gazed at the Wooden Box in astonishment. Innis embraced Margaret and exhaled deeply. Both were fortunate to be unharmed.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid knew that Prince of Asdal possessed Magic Sight.
According to Prince of Asdal’s words, everyone on the Bridge—including Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid himself—had nearly been placed in mortal danger.
Margaret Rose Flone had saved them all.
Even Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid himself.
This realization unsettled him deeply.
Meanwhile, the Knights of the Guard pressed through the gathering crowds, controlling the masses and clearing the congested passage as they managed the traffic.
Margaret Rose Flone grasped the hem of her Dress and bowed toward the newspaper reporters who had surged through the throng. Though she was photographed several times in this pose, she paid them no mind, brushed off her hands, turned away, and walked directly toward them.
“Pardon me, gentlemen.”
And with that, she feigned ignorance, pretending not to be Margaret Rose Flone. Her Veil had briefly slipped when she was hauled onto the Bridge, but few had glimpsed the face concealed beneath it.
Perhaps only Innis, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid, and Diego Bastian Vilterheim, who stood nearby, had seen it.
Prince of Asdal, unaware of Margaret Rose Flone’s true identity, gazed at her with an amused smile.
Meanwhile, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid, his heart churning with conflicted emotions as he regarded Margaret Rose Flone, offered his expression of gratitude.
“I am grateful, Young Lady. I shall repay this debt.”
Though brief, the words carried profound weight.
For the first time, Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid felt genuine gratitude and remorse toward Margaret Rose Flone. Though, of course, such feelings had decidedly not blossomed into affection.
At that, Margaret responded as if she had been waiting for this moment, her face brightening.
“Then marry me.”
Cough, cough. Prince of Asdal, even more flustered than Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid, broke into a fit of dry coughing.
“If you dislike it, I’ll leave the debt unpaid. But know this—I intend to keep accumulating debts to Your Highness. If the burden becomes too much for you to bear, come to me. I’ll shoulder it for you instead. It seems like quite a fair arrangement, wouldn’t you say?”
Well, there it was.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid immediately revised his assessment of Margaret Rose Flone. Yes. She was always this kind of woman.
“Ah…. Debt, you say. Langrid women truly are…. devoid of romance.”
Prince of Asdal trailed off and offered a small, measured applause. It seemed Margaret Rose Flone was the type to extend kindness while simultaneously undermining it with her words.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid regarded Margaret Rose Flone with a complicated expression.
He had not always avoided her from the start. Even he had harbored favorable feelings toward her initially.
If only she lacked that reckless, headstrong nature, Margaret Rose Flone would have been a woman of considerable merit.
And certainly, Margaret Rose Flone was a woman to whom he—as the Crown Prince—owed gratitude. Separate from the fact that she treated him like a valuable commodity.
“I told you to exercise restraint. You nearly made me lose my grip. Must you truly behave like such a scoundrel?”
Innis, having restored order to the situation, returned and chided Margaret Rose Flone. Observing the two sisters in silence, Prince of Asdal posed a question to Innis.
“Ah. Did this entire scheme originate from the Young Lady’s mind?”
Innis’s face, as she turned to regard Prince of Asdal, contorted in a most peculiar manner.
Upon observing Prince of Asdal’s attire, she had evidently concluded she was facing a madman—her expression made this abundantly clear. Diego, unable to suppress his laughter, turned his head away.
As the two stood in opposition, Margaret Rose Flone gently lifted the veil that had concealed her face and gazed upon Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid.
And Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid beheld her.
Against the darkening sky, backlit by a gaslight that gleamed like the moon, the woman radiated luminescence.
Platinum blonde hair as brilliant as starlight in the night sky, eyes as beautiful as ice jewels in their crystalline blue.
Beneath the gossamer veil, so delicate it seemed it would tear at the slightest pull, dwelt an angel without wings.
“Innis will scold me for this, but I wanted to see you with my own eyes. You look as handsome as ever today. Absolutely enchanting.”
With eyes as precious as gemstones, she gazed upon Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid and smiled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. As she smiled, the world around her illuminated.
In the dimming surroundings, she alone shone with radiance.
A warm breeze of early summer swept through, and the boisterous clamor of festival-excited crowds faded into distant obscurity.
Enoch Aster Klaus Langrid and Margaret Rose Flone gazed quietly upon one another. The air that enveloped them seemed to possess a form all its own.
Margaret Rose Flone was, in herself, utterly surreal.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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