The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief in Exile - Chapter 18

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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 18
“What?”
Beritty started at the sudden question and leapt to his feet, then hastily glanced back toward where Ian and Flora lay sleeping.
Fortunately, they both remained fast asleep, undisturbed.
Though I’ll admit, I was more startled than he was.
“Is this really shocking, even to a demon?”
“Demons are a race that protects its young fiercely! In our world, child abuse is an automatic death sentence. Isn’t that common sense?”
“Wow, so I really should aim for rebirth as a wealthy demon’s pet dog next time.”
My reincarnation plan was clearly on the right track.
Regardless, after that day, our household fell into ruin.
Beritty quickly denied the premise.
“From what I can see, it was already in ruins. Your parents just shifted all the blame onto an innocent young woman.”
“I know that now.”
Though it took me a while to realize it.
Until then, even I spent all my time shrinking under their shadow.
“Then I saw a broadcast.”
“A broadcast?”
“A current affairs program. There was a major case back then—a domestic violence incident that killed an elementary school child. The whole country was in an uproar.”
The abusive parents blamed everything on the dead child.
They claimed they’d only administered appropriate corporal punishment for discipline, and that the child’s death was merely an accident.
Yet the dead child’s body bore so many bruises and fractures as evidence to the contrary.
Mine bore the same marks.
“That’s when it suddenly occurred to me: perhaps my own situation was also a grave problem.”
“It’s not ‘perhaps a problem.’ It’s an unmistakable one.”
“So I looked up that broadcast.”
After I watched it through to the end.
I felt a sense of elevation unlike anything I’d known before.
Ah, so revenge is permitted.
Fighting back is allowed.
The vicious nature I’d kept hidden all those years finally broke free.
“I immediately researched the statute of limitations on domestic violence reports, and how to collect evidence.”
“You didn’t ask anyone around you for help?”
“If I did, I couldn’t have my revenge.”
“…What kind of revenge did you take?”
“I smashed a chair down on Father’s head.”
I smiled at Beritty, whose eyes had widened in shock.
“People are like this: the more helpless you seem, the more they abuse you.”
When Father cursed at me, I swung a chair back at him.
When Mother struck me, I lunged for her hair.
When my brother yanked my hair, I kicked him square in the groin.
As for my younger brother, instead of hitting him, I poured water all over his expensive computer. That hurt him far more.
“After this kept happening, eventually there were no chairs left in the house. You should have seen those animals standing in front of the dinner table eating. It was hilarious.”
When I caught their eye walking out of my room later, watching them flinch—I nearly burst out laughing.
That was when I understood.
Ah, those monsters who tormented me—they were far more pathetic than I’d thought.
“Wow.”
Beritty offered his admiration sincerely.
“You really are Clavius through and through.”
“That’s an insult, isn’t it?”
“This time, it’s praise.”
Beritty asked permission to laugh, and I granted it readily.
The moment approval came, Beritty burst into uncontrollable laughter.
His delight was so infectious that I found myself laughing along with him.
After we’d laughed for a while and caught our breath, Beritty asked a question.
“But were you really alright? From the sound of it, those people don’t seem like the type to back down so easily.”
“You’re right. But it was fine.”
My family always played the part of “good people” in public.
Father was an executive at a major corporation, and Mother was a deacon at the local church. They were quite famous in the community as a devoted couple.
And my brothers were promising students at their respective schools.
My older brother was even the president of the university’s student council.
So I turned it around and used it to my advantage.
“I threatened to distribute the abuse evidence I’d collected to your colleagues at work, people from church, friends from school.”
“Oh wow…!”
“When they immediately got angry and demanded proof, I showed them everything I’d gathered over a year of biting my tongue. I wish you could’ve seen how perfectly I presented it all.”
Of course, I also made sure to store copies of the materials in several different places.
After that, my life became smooth.
I received pocket money for the first time, and I sprawled across the living room sofa hogging the television all day long. I stole my younger brother’s snacks, borrowed my brother’s laptop whenever I wanted.
From then on, they tiptoed around me, crawling and groveling in my presence.
“During high school, I went to a school with dormitories, so I left home. I threatened my family that if anything happened to me, my friend would report the evidence to the internet and various broadcasters. Of course, it was all a lie.”
“Wow, that’s thorough.”
“It was just crude scheming, really.”
After graduation, I moved out immediately.
Of course, I did take tuition for university and some living expenses before I left.
I’d extracted it all under the threat of evidence, but thinking of it as compensation for the violence I’d endured, it was still far too little.
“I’m still curious about it, you know.”
Now I can laugh and talk about it as if it were ancient history.
“Why did they hate me so much?”
Back then, I was truly desperate.
But even so, they were family—was this really allowed?
Was I a bad child like they said, and that’s why they treated me this way? I nearly surrendered to such doubts more than once.
“I’m not entirely sure about that myself,” Beritty said honestly.
Beritty spoke with candor.
His refusal to comfort me with empty words sometimes felt cold, but I was actually grateful for it.
“But this much I am certain of: all the unreasonable events you experienced—their cause and responsibility lie entirely with those people. No matter what circumstances they might have had.”
“Now that I’m gone, will my family finally feel at ease?”
“More than at ease. Your funeral was probably a festival for them.”
“Ha ha, figures.”
A hollow laugh escaped me. All my efforts to survive felt futile. In the end, when you die, it’s all over.
But Beritty’s words didn’t end there.
“But they will crumble.”
The demon’s words sounded like a prophecy.
A prophecy certain to come true.
“Miss, I have lived for a very long time. I’ve experienced countless varieties of human nature. People like your family—they don’t feel guilt.”
Do you know why?
I couldn’t answer Beritty’s question.
“Twisted people abandon their chance to feel guilt on their own. They don’t know how precious that opportunity is.”
…….
“They blame others and deny their own faults, so their grip on reality grows duller and duller. And then distortion sets in.”
I didn’t do anything wrong.
It was all that bastard’s fault.
“Can someone trapped in such delusions, someone so thoroughly broken, ever live properly?”
…….
“At least, I have never seen it.”
Not even once.
Beritty shrugged and smiled faintly, his voice as certain as the truth that the sun rises in the east.
“Ha ha.”
A laugh lighter than a feather tumbled out of me.
“I, on the other hand.”
I just had bad luck, that’s all.
* * *
Back in university.
A friend had suggested I join the National Territory Long March.
I’d turned her down with work as my excuse.
But privately, I’d harbored the twisted thought: “Wow, willingly going through hardship. I guess life hasn’t given you many valleys to descend into.”
‘I’m really pathetic.’
The reason that memory suddenly surfaced was that I was amazed at myself for walking through the Primordial Forest for two whole days straight.
‘So this is why people do the National Territory Long March.’
Though we rested intermittently along the way, walking between the densely planted massive trees was still grueling work.
But the hardship itself wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
‘I’m alive. I can feel it.’
The ache in my feet felt good, and the slightly quickened breathing felt good too.
“Maybe I actually enjoy pain as a preference.”
“Please, develop healthy hobbies befitting a seven-year-old.”
Ian looked troubled.
At his grave response, I burst out laughing.
“Flora, are you doing all right?”
“Yes.”
Flora, following beside me, nodded. Her voice carried more confidence than before, and it was pleasant to hear.
“We’re almost there.”
Beritty was right.
When I lifted my head and looked into the distance, bright light pierced through the darkness and stretched outward.
It was Exilium, the place of exile hidden within the Primordial Forest.
“Flora, this is the village where we live.”
I explained what kind of place it was.
“A splendid base where innocent wrongly accused criminals gather to plot a rebellion that will one day overthrow Emperor Jonshina.”
“What an admirable young lady you are, maintaining your resolve for revenge even in such harsh circumstances…!”
Beritty dabbed at his dry eyes with a handkerchief, moved by pride.
Meanwhile, Ian pretended desperately not to hear. As a former Imperial Household knight, words like dynastic overthrow and rebellion seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“From now on, don’t be separated from your mother. You’ll stay together.”
“Yes…!”
“When you see your mother, be sure to hug her and tell her how much you missed her.”
“Yes!”
“If you tell her you love her, she’ll be even happier.”
“I love you, Mom!”
“I know.”
Click.
“Your mother loves you so very much, Flora.”
The moment the forest’s boundary opened, bright light poured down.
My eyes, accustomed to darkness, grew dim for a moment, but soon adjusted to normal.
“Children!”
“Welcome home!”
Everyone from the exile came out to greet us.
The exiles, whom I hadn’t seen in almost a week, looked refreshed and robust. They hardly resembled prisoners laboring in exile.
“Hebenia! Ian! Beritty!”
Libi, who was among them, came running toward us.
“Welcome back! Are you hurt anywhere? You must have worked hard! You too, Beritty.”
“There’s nothing to get hurt from.”
Embarrassed, I answered curtly. Ian and Beritty grinned at my discomfort.
“Hello? So you’re Flora.”
Libi spotted Flora, who had hidden behind me.
“How beautiful you are—you look just like your mother!”
“….”
But Flora had no time to respond.
“Mother….”
Because all her attention had already been drawn to a single place.
Libi graciously stepped aside.
Not just Libi, but all the exiles who had come to welcome us turned their bodies to create a single path.
At the end of that path stood Dalis.
Dalis, now fully restored to consciousness, was unrecognizably transformed.
Clear eyes reflecting intelligence, shoulders drawn with strength, and a dignified bearing.
One could glimpse the echo of her past life as Countess Deste’s wife.
“Flora!”
“Ah, Mother…!”
The two rushed toward each other in tears, and Dalis, with her tall frame, reached first and swept Flora into her arms.

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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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