The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief in Exile - Chapter 102

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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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Episode 102
‘The Magical Engineering Academy Headmaster is a timid, cautious sort, I’ve heard.’
I’d sent him a brief letter with just a few requests, and he’d obliged by cutting power to a section of the Commercial District exactly as I’d asked.
‘He seems like a decent person.’
I resolved to thank him properly when we met face to face.
For a gift, I could give him some monster meat and materials I’d collected before—that should do nicely.
‘Hmm, though now that I think about it…….’
I tilted my head slightly.
‘I’ve already gotten help from three of the people I most wanted as allies.’
The Magical Engineering Academy Headmaster.
The Sacred Shrine.
The Stria Household.
I needed to make sure my bonds with them weren’t just one-off favors, but something that would grow steadily stronger over time.
‘And for that to happen, Izelium Village needs to become stronger still.’
There truly was no rest to be had.
Growing drowsy, I opened my mouth wide and let out a yawn.
Smacking my lips, I was about to rub my tired eyes with the back of my hand when the Duchess of Stria gently caught my arm and lowered it.
Then she began softly stroking the corners of my eyes.
Her touch was cautious and tender, as if she were careful not to wake a sleeping puppy.
“…….”
“…….”
But the gaze fixed upon me held none of that gentleness.
The Duchess of Stria had lived as a great noblewoman for a long time. Her life had been far from smooth, and through it all she had naturally developed keen judgment and foresight.
‘She must have realized.’
I saw it on her face when I warned her of the tragedy that would come—that I’d sought her help knowing what was about to happen.
‘That the Crown Prince had tried to kill her.’
The shock, the betrayal, the sorrow she’d felt.
And a touch of resignation.
I couldn’t begin to imagine how deeply that revelation had struck her.
The same was true for everyone else. So they all held their breath and quietly watched what the Duchess would do.
“My child.”
“Yes, Duchess.”
“You’re a clever and strong one, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.”
At my answer, stripped of all false modesty, the Duchess smiled faintly.
But I couldn’t bring myself to smile back.
“What would you do, if you were me?”
“…….”
“I don’t know anymore…….”
“…….”
“Everything feels like my fault. Because I was too harsh with that child, because I failed to hide my discomfort, and so Pereus ended up like this……!”
“It happens sometimes.”
I cut in quickly, interrupting her.
“Some children are born that way.”
The Duchess blinked in surprise, looking at me.
I offered a bitter smile.
“They’re indifferent to others’ suffering from birth, willing to use any means to reach their goals.”
In my view, the Crown Prince had already crossed many lines.
He’d tried to exploit human lives not once but twice, and he’d torn apart the faces of those hired hands—undead though they were, they still bore human form—as if they were mere outlets for his rage.
And yet.
“If even one proper adult had been at his side, things wouldn’t have come to this—I can’t shake that thought.”
“True enough. The Stria Household does seem remarkably cold.”
“It’s always the innocent children who suffer.”
The village elders thought differently.
The Crown Prince was still just nine years old.
With earnest effort and proper support, even those budding psychopathic tendencies might be curbed somewhat.
‘Though I myself don’t believe that.’
But that persistent, grueling effort alone might be the only way for the Duchess of Stria to protect the treasure her daughter had left behind.
‘He’ll need to step back from power, though.’
With that thought, I finally understood why Stria had declared its neutrality.
“It will require considerable effort.”
“…….”
“And even then, despite all that effort, success may still elude us.”
“I understand.”
The Duchess nodded with humble acceptance.
“We shall have to persevere, however many times it takes.”
“…….”
I found myself envying the Crown Prince.
‘Foolish wretch.’
He didn’t know how precious it was to be cherished and worried over by someone like that. Here he was, kicking away his own blessings with both feet.
“Duchess.”
Cherdo the priest spoke gently.
“We have prepared quarters for you within the Temple. Please make yourself comfortable during your stay.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“Not at all.”
Polite words passed between them.
But everyone understood the truth.
‘She won’t find comfort here.’
How could she possibly rest easy?
When I had walked all the way to the Temple deliberately to observe the situation, I caught sight of the coffins the priests were carrying.
* * *
Truth is the Daughter of Time.
This saying stemmed from an ancient myth, its meaning simple: given enough time, all truths must eventually come to light.
Today was that day.
The Holy King had visited the Deste Temple to appraise the Angel’s Wings it had acquired, and by chance had uncovered the horrific tragedy that had befallen the Deste Estate.
The Deste Territory became a place of mourning.
Some cried out their children’s names before losing consciousness.
Others muttered in a daze that it couldn’t possibly be true, their minds refusing to accept reality.
By the time they regained their senses, they were already rushing toward the Deste Estate.
They had no time to put on their shoes. Blood seeped from their bare feet as they ran across the scalding road.
“My love! My love!”
“Holy King! Please, save my son!”
“It’s a lie! Why is my daughter dead?! It can’t be……!”
“Let us through! My wife is inside!”
But there was no way past the sacred protective barrier that sealed the Deste Estate.
People pounded the barrier until the bones in their fists cracked.
Their cries of denial transformed into curses.
“Why! Why our child……!”
“I will never forgive! Never! Never!”
The Holy Knights encircling the estate made no move to silence the grieving families as they poured out their curses.
They could only pretend not to see, not to hear—a silent communion in the bereaved’s suffering and pain.
‘……Clear.’
A young Holy Knight looked up at the sky, trying to hide tears that threatened to spill.
The summer sky, cloudless and brilliant, was heartbreakingly beautiful—and somehow made the tragedy before them seem all the more cruel.
‘O divine one.’
The Holy Knight prayed.
‘…….’
But what to pray for, he could not fathom.
* * *
One week later.
Every shop operating in the Deste Territory had shuttered its doors.
White and black ribbons were woven and tied before every window and door, and white flowers in vases were placed outside each entrance.
People had dressed in black garments, their hair carefully bound.
When they encountered acquaintances, they held them quietly in their arms to offer solace, and when they met those who wept, they shed tears alongside them.
Today was the day of the mass funeral for the Deste Estate servants who had become Undead.
‘The heavens are cruel indeed.’
Hebenia wandered alone through the Temple’s inner garden.
‘Not a single drop of rain.’
The weather had been clear for the entire week.
Yet the hearts of the people had grown so dark that no light could reach them.
A wailing sound reached Hebenia’s ears as she wandered aimlessly through the grounds.
She couldn’t tell whether it came from the funeral service taking place now, or if it was a phantom noise born from a week of living alongside such sounds like ambient household chatter.
But Hebenia didn’t particularly care.
“Rita. Twenty years old…….”
She matched her footsteps to the wailing and recited the names and details of the dead in sequence.
Rita, twenty. A girl with orange hair and a pretty smile. She had a younger sibling who attended the academy on a scholarship.
Ostia, thirty-two. Light yellow hair. A maid who had just finished paying off her house loan with her husband a few months ago.
Ripi, forty-two. The oldest employee at the Deste Mansion. A gardener who had worked alongside his son.
Shark, eighteen. The gardener’s son. He had learned the trade under his father and was keenly interested in romance.
Arche, seventeen, wheat-colored hair. An orphan from a distant land, a diligent maid who sent half her wages to the orphanage.
In total, thirty-five names she had memorized.
The day Hebenia first saw the corpses at the Deste Mansion, she had estimated there were roughly twenty-nine.
But the actual number of undead discovered was greater—thirty-five in all.
Normally, undead had to be purified immediately upon discovery. Just as Olive had done when protecting the Duchess of Stria in the town square.
But the Holy King had not done so.
He had summoned all the bereaved families to the Deste Mansion and purified the undead one by one before their eyes.
The animate corpses had turned to dust and scattered away.
So the thirty-five coffins arranged today held no bodies.
They lay the clothes the dead had worn and filled the caskets with precious belongings from their lives.
‘It’s not my fault, but…….’
Hebenia, who had been wandering listlessly, came to an abrupt stop before the vegetable garden.
It was a plot where Dulchbia Herbs had withered and drooped.
‘If only people had reported the deaths to the Sacred Shrine back then…….’
At least the victims’ bodies would have been protected.
They wouldn’t have endured the indignity of becoming undead.
“……Ugh!”
Smack!
‘Get a grip on yourself!’
Two small hands slapped her full cheeks.
‘If I think that way, there’s no limit to it—everything becomes my fault! Instead of sinking into gloom, think about what to do next!’
Hebenia held both her stinging cheeks in her hands and steadied her resolve.
‘What I need to do now is find a way to ease the resentment of the victims and their families.’
Hebenia had received much help from the dead victims.
‘They guided me all the way to the Antemma Research Institute. They showed me kindness even when Modi was on duty instead of Molle Rebus.’
So as the mayor of a village, she would repay that debt without fail.
Hebenia glanced around.
Confirming no one was watching, she stretched out her left hand, the one wearing the watch.
“Summoning.”
An upright five-pointed star floated up from the earth.
The moment Hebenia saw the summoned Angel, her eyes went wide.
“Don’t smirk. It’s unbearable.”
“I assure you, it suits you well.”
“Get to the point.”
A bare-chested, muscular, handsome angel with flowing platinum hair and white wings fluttering irritably asked the question.
Hebenia opened a pocket dimension and took out what she had prepared.
“The names and addresses of the families of the victims who became undead.”
Hebenia made her wish.
“Please let them meet the dead victims in their dreams.”
“What should the dream contain?”
“That we’ve gone to heaven, so please don’t grieve too much. That it will be hard, but I hope you live well in the present…….”
“…….”
“So that even if the living people grieve, they can fall asleep in peace.”

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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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