I Don't Want To Do a Romantic Comedy With a Villain! - Chapter 27

Episode 27

“If you need a means to protect yourself…”

Permette’s charm flowed like music. 

Min-joo listened attentively to the blend of his heartbeat and voice. Even without hearing everything, she felt like she knew what he was trying to say.

“How to shoot a gun, teach me.”

The reason she intercepted the words was that the man was being cautious. Min-joo, as Permette knew her, was not someone who easily accepted help.

If she could handle escorting, the cost of shoes, and even the work of a thug on her own, she was the type to manage things independently. 

Min-joo had no intention of asking Permette for help. 

It was just because the shoes were comfortable, she felt his breath and the sound of his heartbeat against her skin, and she observed the hungry people in the alley. It was an impulsive choice.

Still, it wasn’t just an impulsive decision.

Having the means to protect herself meant she could deal with thugs, not underestimate her lack of knowledge about handling a gun, and avoid witnessing someone like Mireille dying in front of her.

It was an investment for the future.

She thought that learning might be useful when she returned to the States. After all, it was a country where firearms were prevalent.

“If you don’t like it, just say so. I’ll find someone else.”

If she asked, Vehen would likely reluctantly teach her, given his considerable gun skills. Though, if it were the Vehen from Min-joo’s scenario, he wouldn’t be that type of character, but the one she had experienced was undoubtedly that kind of person – someone who willingly took time for the person by their side.

Why did she come to think that way? Min-joo closed her eyes.

It was all darkness.

She guessed who the person she would ask for a favor was.

It would be Vehen.

When Permette was close to Min-joo, he remembered Vehen, who was alert and annoyed.

Only then did Permette realize what emotions Vehen had at that time.

Jealousy. Or possessiveness.

He didn’t want to hand her over to Vehen. Permette lightly furrowed his eyebrows.

His tone was gentle and affectionate as he spoke.

“If you come to my residence, I will teach you.”

“Really?”

“I’m not sure if Your Excellency will allow it, but if Min-joo comes, I’ll make time separately.”

As Min-joo was about to raise her head in surprise, Permette’s hand pressed firmly on the back of her head.

Min-joo buried her face in his chest again.

Even with his hand around the back of her head, Permette’s large hand lingered, tracing down her neck and gripping her shoulder. Ticklish, Min-joo hunched her shoulders.

“Okay.”

As she muttered softly, the man’s laughter erupted quietly. Like leaves colliding in the wind under the sunlight, it was a refreshing and bright laughter, full of charm.

Good things are good.

Min-joo kept her eyes closed, leaning against him until they arrived. 

Being with Permette seemed to have become quite comfortable, to the point of being unexpectedly fond of it. She thought he would go on to do other things, but Permette returned with her to his residence and sent her back in the carriage.

Before returning to Vehen’s mansion, Min-joo had a brief conversation with Permette in front of the carriage. The promise was to arrive in front of the palace at seven in the morning the next day.

‘Take this carriage all the way.’

Without questioning, without knowing anything, doing as told was the most comfortable thing to do. Min-joo nodded, understanding, and rode the carriage back.

[Mirtese: Viscount Ziken’s workshop has been arrested. I had someone check his residence and office, but there’s no trace of interaction.

Tedric: Are you sure? If there’s a mistake in the trial and a search order is issued?

Mirtese: (pauses, seeming perplexed) I can’t be certain.

Tedric: I prefer certainty. Count, if I make one request to you, will you comply?

Mirtese: Please command me, Your Highness.]

Again.

Min-joo recalled a part of the dream that remained intact in her mind after waking up. It wasn’t a one-time opportunity. Though not entirely certain, it seemed like she could see the future once a day. No, she didn’t know if it was a definite future. There was no way to confirm if it was the truth or just a dream.

By the way, why does this villain Tedric keep appearing? What does he know when she never sees his face? If the scenarios from her dreams truly match, it could mean having the ability to see the future.

It would be great if there was a way to confirm.

Frowning, Min-joo grabbed her head for a moment, then looked at the clock on the small table and abruptly got up from the bed.

“Whether it’s the future or nonsense, I’m late.”

It was already six o’clock.

* * *

The street was noisy, as always, but this morning, it was unusually chaotic, and people’s voices were loud. 

Fortis, who had come out onto the street to open the clothing store, could only grasp the situation after checking the newspaper handed to her by the newsboy.

“Even Viscount Rolfreme….”

Fortis, brushing back the thick, reddish-gray strands of hair sticking to her forehead, let out a bitter laugh. 

Now she could finally understand where the rumors Permette had asked about were being used. The operation of the gambling den, how it was manipulated, and how much profit the nobles made from it were all vividly described. 

People were angry that the money received as taxes from the commoners and the wages from labor were used for mere gambling. The news that the trial of the noble who operated the gambling den would take place at eleven o’clock today had spread gradually.

Even if Ziken, the workshop owner, was acquitted, he would still face the people’s resentment, and if he was charged, he would receive punishment. In either case, Ziken would not be able to walk away unscathed.

Stories about a series of murders that remained unsolved were also written at the end of the newspaper.

Unable to catch the culprit, can one live in fear?

Fortis folded the newspaper and embraced it, opening the shop door. 

News and rumors were always interesting.

* * *

Arriving at Ceteran’s office and meeting with Vehen to reconfirm the plan, Min-joo proceeded to the courthouse. 

Even before the trial began, the place was bustling with people, and the jurors were sitting with a serious demeanor.

Just before the judge entered, Viscount Ziken was brought in by the soldiers. His appearance was disheveled, not from physical struggle, but he looked intoxicated as if he had been drinking. His state was enough to incur the public’s anger.

The lawyer appointed to protect him was a neatly dressed man, the one Permette had called in the morning. The lawyer glanced at Ceteran, Permette, and the audience, then tightly sealed his lips.

The three judges who entered afterward were composed of two from the palace and one from the temple, exuding a solemn and heavy atmosphere.

The judge sitting in the center, from the temple, announced the start of the trial by reciting scriptures. 

In the hushed space where even a breath sounded alien, the well-dressed Ceteran rose from his seat and began to denounce the tyranny of the gambling den.

“Do you know about the clandestine gambling den? As you all know, the Empire does not tolerate gambling. Yet, it became widespread, robbing the nobles of their wealth.”

Min-joo, sitting in the juror’s seat thanks to Ceteran and Vehen’s influence, had come to know the judge in advance, thanks to Permette’s bribery. Money was everything.

Laments of nobles losing money could be heard everywhere. Those who had lost money were expressing their regrets.

Ceteran, turning to Ziken, continued his speech.

“He led people to gamble on a fellow human being and bet on matches. Up to this point, it’s a fact known to everyone. However, Viscount Ziken, who operated the gambling den, manipulated the matches, determining the winners and losers. This is evidence found in the players’ waiting room.”

As Ceteran finished speaking, he handed the evidence to the judge. The judge, with a thinning beard, read the evidence aloud.

Ziken’s face grew paler as the evidence was read.

“And he plotted to take away the nobles’ money by creating a list. The list contains characteristics of visiting nobles along with deductions about their wealth, and if they were bankrupt due to gambling, he recorded them on a blacklist. This is evidence that deliberately manipulated outcomes, robbing the precious property of the nobles.”

Once again, Ceteran submitted evidence, and the defense lawyer made some arguments, but they were futile and filled with meaningless rhetoric.

Nobles who had lost their fortunes were crying out, condemning Viscount Ziken.

As the atmosphere inside the courtroom became tumultuous, the judge placed his staff on the desk and knocked it twice.

“Quiet. Maintain decorum in the courtroom.”

Amid the hushed crowd, Ceteran continued his speech confidently, without cowering. 

Min-joo felt he was quite impressive, considering she would shrink and feel scared when standing in front of many people. This fear led her to abandon her dreams.

“As rumors of the tyranny of the gambling den spread through society, to attract more customers, Viscount Ziken ordered the players to engage in more intense fights and charged admission fees to the people gathered to witness provocative scenes. No follow-up measures were taken for the injured players.”

Ceteran called forth a witness he had prepared. 

A man with a mottled complexion from the audience rose. Beneath his brown hair, gruesome scars were visible, and sighs erupted from various places as he stood up. 

The man, sitting on the witness stand, touched the bandages covering his face, glanced around nervously, and took a short oath.

Ceteran asked the secretary to translate the conversation happening here, and the secretary nodded, noting down the conversation.

“What is your name?”

“Pel.”

Pel answered in a hesitant Imperial language. The subsequent answers from Pel were in the defeated nation’s language, Hitan.

“Mr. Pel, were you a player who worked in the gambling den?”

“Yes. I can’t remember when it started, but I worked there for quite a while.”

As Ceteran’s hands handed the original document containing the testimony to the judge, the secretary, without hesitation, translated Pel’s answers for everyone present.

“How was your life as a player?”

“I don’t even know if I was a player. I came here on a boat following the person who bought me. Then, I was immediately trapped in the gambling den. I lived there confined. I couldn’t see the sunlight, and I couldn’t tell how many days had passed.”

Pel paused for a moment. His eyes blinked, and his throat seemed sore as if tears were about to fall.

“We were trapped behind the mirror. It was narrow, dark, and damp. We had to sleep sitting inside the iron bars, unable to wash or lie down properly. There was no bathroom, so we had to use a big container. We lived like that, and twice a day, a single potato was our entire meal.”

Spilling out from his lips, how miserable and humiliating it must have been. Pel’s voice trembled at the end, and he eventually shed tears.

“Before stepping into the ring, when going to the waiting room, we had to follow orders. ‘You must lose today, struggle until the end, and then lose spectacularly. If you want to live, do it that way.’ If we made a mistake due to not understanding the Imperial language, we had to endure a day of punishment and go hungry.”

Pel glanced around at the nobles sitting in the audience, laughing bitterly. Those looking at him now were the same people who had cheered for his death when he stood in the ring.

Tears didn’t stop.

“I didn’t even receive medical treatment. The person living next to me in the iron-barred cell had wounds that festered and rotted. It was more painful to watch the person next to me suffer than the stench of the rotting flesh. Not long after, he died. I couldn’t know where he went or where he was buried.”

Listening to Pel’s testimony was painful for Min-joo. Ziken, sat there in a seemingly indifferent manner, absentmindedly gnawing at his fingernails. How can one wear a human disguise, and how?

Min-joo bit her lips carefully, suppressing her anger.

“I don’t consider what I did as work. I’m not a player. I’m just a beast, a form of entertainment. My life and my fate are in the hands of that person. If that person wants, I have to die on the ring. I am… someone who wants to die as a human.”

Living as a person, stepping into the world as a person, and ending as a person. How difficult could it be? What was an obvious constraint in life for others was so desperately burdensome for them.

Min-joo quietly shed tears, feeling the heaviness in her heart.