097. The Wicked (1)
Edward was not only expelled from the Marquisate of Celid but also stripped of his noble status following the incident.
With the Emperor’s permission, Kyle ensured that Edward would never wield magic again, effectively robbing him of his imperial citizenship as well.
No one knew where Edward, now exiled from the empire, would end up.
What was certain, however, was that having lost his wealth, honor, power, and status, his options were exceedingly limited.
Even if he sought refuge in another country, who would welcome someone notorious for being banished from the empire?
“He carried on with the engagement ceremony in the midst of that chaos… What a lunatic,” Bella muttered, unable to conceal her agitation.
Though there had been no evidence to depose her, Edward had undoubtedly been consumed by his hatred.
Given any opportunity, he would stop at nothing to overthrow Bella.
After all, ‘Bella’ had made an enemy of him.
“Isn’t it common sense to halt everything after such an incident?”
Bella sighed deeply, nervously biting her nails.
The situation had veered entirely away from her expectations.
It was one thing for Edward to be exposed, but she had never imagined the engagement ceremony would proceed regardless.
Under normal circumstances, any incident of attempted murder, let alone murder itself, would delay such proceedings.
“How did Bella manage to regain control of the body?”
One more troubling thought plagued her mind.
When she arrived at the banquet hall for the engagement, there had been no warning signs.
But at the exact moment Marie approached the table—
[Move aside.]
With a brief command, her control over the body had been wrested away.
Bella had sunk into the depths of her consciousness, and ‘Bella’ had risen to the surface.
Though Bella struggled to regain control, her efforts were futile.
The most she could do was scream uselessly at ‘Bella,’ begging her to stop.
[Stop it!]
[If I do, the maid will die. I can’t allow that to happen.]
Click.
Bella bit her nails again, so deeply that blood began to seep from under them.
Habitually summoning her divine power, she stopped the bleeding and healed the wounds before putting her fingers back to her mouth.
Click, click.
Her nerves were too frayed to endure without doing something.
Having lost control of her body once, Bella now understood.
‘Bella’ had the strength to reclaim it.
It was only Bella’s stronger will that had prevented her from doing so until now. If ‘Bella’ grew more determined, she could take over at any time.
“What should I do? What can I do…?”
She was plagued with uncertainty about how to remain in control.
She knew that completely subjugating ‘Bella’ was the only way, but she had no idea how to achieve it.
In Owen’s case, ‘Owen’ had willingly handed over his memories and experiences, making it easier.
But ‘Bella’ offered no such cooperation. Bella had to figure out everything on her own, and it was anything but simple.
“Owen… Yes, Owen. Pretending to be the agent of a god might be the only way…”
There was now only one method left to claim Owen.
She would need to fabricate a divine message.
God was an absolute entity in this world, and people would inevitably listen if she claimed divine guidance.
“‘Bella’… Let’s worry about her later. Yes, later…”
Muttering as if to brainwash herself, Bella rose from her seat.
She decided to get a glass of water to calm her anxious heart.
“Saintess!”
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open.
Bella frowned at the sight of a maid entering without knocking.
“Ah, my apologies! But Duke Verdun has arrived!”
The maid’s news was unexpected.
Owen’s visit to the temple? It made no sense.
‘Could he have come to provoke me further?’
There was only one possibility.
Perhaps he was here to gloat over the chaos and demand that she leave the body.
Even though she had torn apart the ancient grimoire page, the magic circle etched upon it hadn’t disappeared.
If it was Kyle, he would undoubtedly remember the details of that circle.
If Bella wished, she could still return to her original world. But now?
‘Too late.’
Everything was already too late.
Much had been disrupted, much had been broken, but despite it all, Bella now had something she wanted in this world.
Changing into her temple uniform, Bella followed the maid to the drawing room.
When she entered, the sight before her was familiar.
Dark black hair, eyes of the same hue, and a perfectly tailored suit.
Owen Verdun looked as composed as ever.
Click.
The door to the drawing room closed.
Bella sighed and sat down at the table.
“Are you here to mock me? Or perhaps to threaten me into leaving again?”
The table was already set with tea and refreshments.
Unlike the last time, the tea was clear and green, untouched by any tampering.
Bella picked up the warm teacup and took a sip of green tea, finding it mildly soothing.
“Well. Neither of us is the type to enjoy mocking people,” Owen replied to her question.
Though his voice and demeanor were as usual, something about his words felt off.
“If it’s the latter, I suppose it’s close enough. He asked me to persuade you.”
Owen picked up his teacup with a smooth motion and sipped calmly.
After taking a few sips of green tea, Owen set the cup down without a sound.
His gaze lifted, black and deep like an endless abyss.
It was calm, composed, yet piercing, like the Owen she remembered and yet different.
“Leaving those memories intact was intentional. Seems there was a reason for it,” he said.
“…You… don’t tell me…”
Bella felt her heart pound violently. The deafening thudding filled her head, leaving her dazed.
“Owen…?”
It was him.
Not the person she had been facing all this time, but the Owen she had known.
“I never gave you permission to call my name,” he cut her off coldly, the irritation in his tone unmistakable.
“Why are you…?”
Her voice trembled as she struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Owen, on the other hand, was utterly indifferent.
“Didn’t I just say? I was asked to do this,” he replied flatly.
“You accepted a request…? From the person who took over your body? Why on earth—”
“You’re still laboring under that misconception.”
Owen clicked his tongue, silencing her before continuing with a steady gaze.
“It was my will. Don’t misunderstand.”
“…I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
Owen’s response was blunt, his cold demeanor unwavering.
“You and I have no relationship that requires mutual understanding.”
“….”
It was true. Bella clamped her mouth shut.
This was the Owen she knew—cold, resolute, and unapologetically straightforward. A man who took care of those he deemed his own but left no room for others.
“They said I’d find them useful. I suppose this was the reason.”
“I just… never thought you would….”
“Do you know me well enough to claim that?”
He tilted his head, a faint trace of curiosity crossing his otherwise impassive expression.
“I’ve watched you for a long time,” Bella answered, her voice confident in its certainty.
At her reply, Owen let out a dry chuckle.
The sound was neither amused nor mocking, simply dismissive.
“I still can’t understand. Not you, nor that person. I never thought either of you would just let things play out this way. It’s as if… as if you’re certain.”
“Certain of what?”
Even as she poured out her thoughts, Owen remained composed, his response succinct.
“That you’ll return, as if it’s inevitable.”
“I will.”
His simple affirmation, devoid of hesitation, made Bella snap, her voice rising in frustration.
“Why? Why on earth—!”
“I’m tired of it.”
The answer came back as an emotionless monotone, cutting through her anger like a blade.
“I have no interest in this world. No affection for it. The same goes for my life.”
His voice was devoid of warmth, carrying neither bitterness nor sorrow. It was chilling in its lack of emotion, a void that even hostility couldn’t fill.
“…You could have endured. Just a little longer.”
Bella’s voice cracked with emotion as she tried to suppress her rising tears.
“If you had…”
“If I had, what? You think someone worth loving would have appeared?”
Owen’s interruption was sharp, as though he could predict her every word.
“Yes,” Bella admitted, her voice quivering.
“And what meaning would that hold?”
His question was void of curiosity, as if the answer didn’t matter.
“Why wouldn’t it? To love and be loved—it’s meaningful,” Bella argued, desperation tinging her words.
But Owen remained unmoved.
“I don’t need it.”
His blunt rejection was resolute.
“I already have someone who understands me. That’s enough.”
“…Someone who understands you?”
Bella repeated his words, as if the concept baffled her.
“Who is it?”
She couldn’t fathom who Owen might be referring to.
No such person existed in either the original story or this world—or so she thought.
Surely, he didn’t mean Lucia.
Lucia was important to the other Owen, not the one sitting before her.
“You know him,” Owen said, as if it were obvious.
“Who…?”
“The Owen Verdun you interact with daily,” he replied.
Bella’s face froze in astonishment.
“Why… him…?”
“He knows me better than anyone. Understands me more than anyone else does,” Owen explained, his tone even, as though this revelation were nothing extraordinary.
“He shares the same foundation as me, yet he thinks differently and achieves different outcomes.”
“….”
“That’s why I chose him. Like I said, it was my will.”
His words were both unbelievable and irrefutable.
This was Owen—unwavering, deliberate, and clear in his decisions.
“Even if you were the true Saintess, the outcome would have been the same,” he declared, sealing her fate with a finality she couldn’t contest.
It was a branding, a confirmation that what Bella desired was unattainable no matter the circumstances.
“All I needed was someone who could understand my life’s purpose. That’s the same reason I might have sought someone to love.”
