THE REBORN LADY IS LOVED BY HER FOSTER BROTHER: THE SCARIEST VILLAIN

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Chapter 179: Incomprehensible Logic

“You truly harbor no resentment? How can that be?”

“Allow me to pose a scenario: suppose you and I were to engage in a game of chess, My Lady. Should I emerge victorious, would you resent me? Would you plot your revenge?”

“Hmph… well…”

Ortansia pictured the scene in her mind.

Back when Lucien had served the ducal house under a false identity, he had instructed her in many things. He had taught her not only the duties required of the prestigious family, but also the parlour games favoured by high society.

Naturally, they had played their fair share of chess. Ortansia had never been particularly skilled at such games, and she had lost to Lucien more times than she could count, yet…

“Of course not. I would never dream of resenting you, let alone seeking revenge.”

It was, after all, nothing more than a game played upon a board. One would have to be quite mad to lose oneself to temper over such a trifle.

When Ortansia spoke her mind, Lucien flashed a smug, knowing smile, the very same look he used to wear during her lessons.

“Precisely so, My Lady.”

“…Meaning that when you tried to ensnare us and were struck down instead, it was all merely a game to you?”

“Spot on! As expected of My Lady, as sharp-witted as ever.”

He offered her a playful wink. Hortensia could only stare at him, utterly exasperated.

‘After everything he did, how can he act so lighthearted…!’

To think that the endless agonies, doubts, and wounds that she and Gérard had suffered were, to Lucien, no different than pieces moved across a chessboard. Watching him stand there so nonchalantly drained the strength right out of her, she didn't even have the energy left to be angry.

“…It seems I ought to cut him to ribbons once more.”

Predictably, Gérard—who had been dragged through hell and back by Lucien’s antics, was unable to stomach such flippancy. His voice bristled with cold irritation as his aura pressed heavily down upon the demon.

“Whoa, steady now! Is that wise, Lord Gérard? Though I know not why you two wander this desolate place, I can offer the most sound advice on how to escape it.”

Sensing that Gérard meant business, Lucien hastily offered up a bargain.

“You know a way out of here?!”

“Cqlm down Ortansia. Do not fall for the demon's silver tongue. There is no telling what price he will demand in return.”

Gérard quietly stabilised Ortansia as she unconsciously leaned forward in anticipation.

Yet, as Lucien looked upon the two of them, a surprisingly gentle smile crossed his lips.

“Ever cautious, Lord Gérard—and rightly so. One ought never lend an ear to the whispers of a demon. We employ every trick in the book to manipulate human hearts and bend circumstances to our favour, after all.”

“Ugh…”

Ortansia winced. Having been thoroughly outwitted by Lucien, and by the Evil demon of Slumber, his words hit far too close to home.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Lucien spoke to her with sudden gentleness.

“However, for today and today only, I shall offer you both my counsel free of charge!”

“Wait… why?”

Was this yet another trap?

As Ortansia regarded him with deep suspicion, Lucien bowed with formal grace and offered his explanation.

“For all my faults, I have grown quite fond of you both. Lord Gérard, a mere mortal who possesses power vast enough to slay a Fiend… and then…”

Lucien turned his gaze directly toward Ortansia.

In his eyes lay an undeniable flicker of genuine admiration.

“…and Lady Ortansia, the sole existence capable of standing at his side and guiding that immense power down the righteous path. You are both truly fascinating beings. Left alone, Lord Gérard might well have become a blade of ruin, destined to destroy the world. Yet with Lady Ortansia by his side, that very calamitous power is transformed into a force meant to protect it. A most marvelous synergy… and a logic that we demons find utterly incomprehensible.”

Lucien shrugged with a soft sigh, almost intoning his words like a song.

“I never imagined the Goddess’s play would unfold so brilliantly. My, my… you two are fascinating beyond measure.”

“…Say what you will of my brother, but I have done nothing.”

Because the man before her behaved so exactly like the familiar Lucien, Ortansia found the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.

She understood better than anyone that Gérard was a chosen being. He was the heir to a distinguished ducal house, blessed with countless divine protections. Even setting that aside, he possessed a singular, overwhelming presence that set him apart from ordinary men. Anyone, not just Ortansia—would view him as a true chosen one.

Ortansia, on the other hand, was entirely replaceable.

In her first life, she had possessed no notable blessings and had been executed without a second thought—a insignificant, pathetic thing. In her second life, she had been granted numerous divine protections, but that was not because she was special; she was merely a convenient pawn meant to “prevent Gérard’s fall into darkness.” Even now, she had barely mastered those blessings.

She had somehow managed to fulfill the mission imposed by the Goddess—to earn Gérard’s affection and prevent his transformation into the Demon King, but she had no idea how much she had actually contributed to that outcome.

‘…I know it was merely a nightmare conjured by the Evil God of Slumber.’

And yet, she could not purge the image of that peaceful, happy Vérité Duchy from her mind.

‘…I am always plagued by this anxiety.’

Has her very presence become a shackle around Gérard’s neck? Has her existence stolen away the true happiness of her father, her brother… and the House of Vérité?

Perhaps sensing the dark clouds gathering in her heart, Lucien let out a soft “Oh?” of wonder, his expression shifting as he took a step toward her.

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