The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief in Exile - Chapter 70

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

Episode 70
And yet.
‘If only it were just my imagination…….’
For reasons she couldn’t explain,
Nema found the Bandit Group leader oddly familiar.
But when she tried to place where she’d seen her before, nothing came. Having worked in the wardrobe department, Nema prided herself on her eye for detail—she would have remembered. Yet this was different.
‘Then why does she feel so familiar?’
This sensation was distinctly different from when she’d recalled Hebenia’s mother.
‘Did I hear about her from someone?’
Just then, Ian’s face entered her field of vision. Remarkably, he too was studying the Bandit Group leader with that same peculiar intensity.
The Bandit Group leader was a striking woman.
Her vibrant yellow hair and brown eyes gleamed with intelligence, and despite her petite frame, she commanded presence—not easily dismissed.
“You’re all strong, aren’t you?”
the leader asked.
The four of them did not answer readily. It wasn’t modesty about their abilities—it was a silent question about why someone who clearly knew their strength would choose them as hostages.
The leader pointed her gun at one of them.
“Especially our resident Heretic Inquisitor here.”
“…….”
“The Red Hounds—the Holy King’s direct unit.”
“Is that who you’re after?”
From the brief exchange, Olive had picked up one crucial fact.
‘She knows what a Heretic Inquisitor is.’
The Heretic Inquisitors were not a hidden paramilitary organization, but since they kept a low public profile, most ordinary people knew nothing of them.
Their uniforms were barely distinguishable from those of the Holy Knights.
‘Yet she didn’t confuse us for a second. Which means…….’
The Bandit Group leader had received education enough to make that distinction.
To possess knowledge wholly useless in daily life meant she had the luxury and wealth to afford such an education in the first place.
‘A noble? Or a wealthy merchant?’
Why would such a person resort to banditry?
“……What do you want?”
“I won’t beat around the bush. I want information.”
the leader said.
“The annual consecration ceremony for the royal family—the Sacred Shrine handles it every year. I need all the details: the event schedule, the names of those in charge, everything.”
“Whoa.”
Verity let that slip out.
“Are you planning a Regime Change?”
“Havi would’ve enjoyed hearing this…….”
Ian’s eyes grew wet as he murmured, wishing she were here to see it.
“My wretched fortune…….”
It pained him that such turbulent trials had become his everyday existence.
* * *
Two days into Hebenia’s party’s journey to Antema.
“It’s strange how empty everything feels when someone’s gone.”
“There’s truth to the saying that an empty seat shows its weight more than when it was filled.”
Rivi was attending to village matters alongside Modi.
They were gathering opinions from residents about how to manage the newly built communal facilities, then organizing the feedback.
“The gym was especially popular. Have you been, Modi?”
“I stop by every afternoon to work out.”
Modi flexed his forearm to show her. The muscle beneath was solid and well-defined.
Rivi couldn’t help but admire it.
“I visited the swimming pool in the basement—wow, it felt like being underwater. Do all nobles get to enjoy places like that?”
“That said…….”
Modi’s hand slowed as he continued writing the forms.
A troubled expression crossed his face.
“Still.”
He spoke after a moment of hesitation.
“The resident population is too low.”
“Mm.”
Rivi felt the same concern.
Exilium Village was prosperous—a blessing they enjoyed thanks to the Village Chief Hebenia’s generosity.
In fact, this was only possible because the village that Hebenia managed had barely twenty residents.
But that brought its own problems.
Even if they tried to build an economic foundation, there simply weren’t enough people to maintain it sustainably.
Any initiative the village attempted on its own was doomed—the population was too small to accomplish anything worthwhile.
“We can’t just accept new residents, given the nature of our village.”
“Should we raid a prison and bring the inmates here?”
“Rivi, we were falsely accused. We’re not actual criminals.”
“Perhaps not. But there might be others like us in the prison.”
Modi tilted his head at Rivi’s words, making a small sound of consideration.
“That’s the thing. The Emperor surely didn’t commit this madness just against us? There must be other victims out there.”
“Well, I suppose there’s some logic to that.”
Though he said it that way.
Both of them harbored a far more realistic solution in their hearts than raiding a prison.
Bringing their families and loved ones here.
But they couldn’t voice it aloud, because while it was realistic, the chances of success were far lower than a prison raid.
‘Prelia, Prelia….’
Modi thought of his wife.
‘I will love only you forever, but will you truly love me the same? The doubt gnaws at me so much that sometimes I wish I could forget.’
Buzz—
Buzz—
The watch on Modi’s wrist vibrated.
“Sir, the watch!”
“Huh? Oh—oh, how do I…!”
“The screen—there’s an image on it, right? It looks like a phone. You just tap that.”
He pressed the receiver icon that appeared on the screen, and a quiet static crackled through.
“Yes…?”
Modi spoke the caller’s name with an uncertain voice.
“Hebenia? Is the work finished?”
* * *
“Since we’re on the subject.”
The bandit leader spoke freely.
“Let me introduce myself briefly. I was the heir to a baronial house. I married the man I loved, inherited the title, and was waiting for the day I could govern a small but prosperous estate.”
For a brief introduction, it contained a great deal of information.
Still, it became clear enough what situation the bandit leader faced.
To summarize simply.
One day before her wedding to the man she loved.
That man was falsely accused and thrown into prison.
Devastated, the woman picked up guns and blades, seeking revenge, and descended into the path of regime change.
“Um….”
Ian carefully raised his hand to ask for the floor.
“In cases like that, usually the other party was hiding a past criminal record, weren’t they?”
In other words, Ian’s guess was that she’d gotten involved with a scoundrel.
But the bandit leader shook her head.
“On the day the incident occurred, he was with me. But they dismissed my testimony—saying a fiancée’s word before the wedding lacked credibility. So grief-stricken was I that I fired a bullet, wet with my tears, straight through that investigator’s thigh.”
“Good heavens.”
She deserved it.
Verity made a sympathetic murmur.
“My parents tried to arrange a marriage of convenience with another man. I fired my gun at their feet as I left.”
“Well, that’s… a bit much.”
Verity shook her head as if to say that part didn’t sit right.
“After that, I fled my estate. All I had left were blank checks and gold bullion I’d stolen from home, and a number of guns and bullets.”
“You packed quite efficiently.”
“In that unnamed village I arrived at, I held a modest wedding ceremony alone in the Sacred Shrine, without him.”
That day, she made a vow to God.
That she would offer the world that had taken her husband as a sacrifice.
Her bouquet would be made from their bones, and the comfortable home she and her husband would share would be built with their suffering and despair as its bricks.
“…Say, Inquisitor.”
Ian turned to Olive with a question.
“That woman seems a bit… possessed, doesn’t she?”
“Unfortunately, that is not the case. She appears to be entirely alone. There is no demon or spirit.”
“In her right mind, you say? That?”
“Demons don’t do things like that in the first place.”
Verity grumbled.
Olive understood perfectly well how the bandit leader felt.
“When anyone loses someone precious, they break. Always.”
He knew this because he’d lived through something similar himself.
“But you want to know what’s truly remarkable?”
The bandit leader spoke as though announcing a momentous discovery.
“I wasn’t the only one this happened to.”
The Bride of Blood, wandering without purpose, had found others like herself—people who’d lost family, lovers, friends to the same kind of grief.
“So we came together as comrades bound by the same purpose, and here we are now. As for this villa—it belonged to the Old Count, the elderly man my parents tried to force me into marrying for political gain.”
“You stole it?”
“No, we borrowed it.”
“……Without asking?”
“With asking. We asked and borrowed it.”
The Old Count himself was staying here at the villa with them.
“Right now he’s sleeping peacefully beneath the back garden. Such a wonderful fellow—he sleeps so deeply that he won’t wake even if you try.”
Ian and Nema squeezed their eyes shut.
‘She really is insane!’
‘There’s someone more insane than me……!’
If Hebenia had been here, she would have said exactly this.
“Whoa, a Regime Change comrade!”
Yes, just like that.
“……Huh?”
Ian wasn’t the only one startled.
When they turned toward the sound, they saw Hebenia shuffling forward with support from one of the bandits, while another held her IV drip high above her arm.
“Hebenia!”
“Didn’t die. Still kicking.”
Hebenia waved her hand as if to tell them not to worry.
“Don’t talk like that—you’re only seven years old!”
Ian’s throat tightened; he couldn’t finish the sentence.
Nema smiled through tears of relief, while Verity leaned back against the sofa’s armrest and let out a long sigh, releasing all the worry she’d been holding down.
“…….”
Only Olive watched Hebenia quietly.
Hebenia felt his gaze and met his eyes.
“So who’s this mister, or rather… big brother?”
“Olive, a Heretic Inquisitor.”
“Oh.”
Ah. Right.
Hebenia responded slowly, like a broken machine.
‘Rivi’s little brother!’
Beside Olive, Ian and Nema shook their heads frantically. Understanding their meaning, Hebenia wisely closed her mouth.
“Leader, the girl here says she has something to tell you…….”
“Me? Injured but you’ve got energy, don’t you.”
The leader gestured openly, inviting her to speak.
“What would our dear little lady have to say to a criminal like me…….”
“Yellow hair like a mimosa, a pretty face, a small frame.”
“Yeah, that’s right. That’s exactly my description…….”
“Prelia.”
“…….”
“Prelia Pudica.”
Hebenia raised her left hand, the one wearing the watch, and smiled sharply.
“I’ll transfer you to your husband now.”

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