The village fell completely silent. All eyes turned to Geralt's wife.
They were confused.
It was disgusting, yes.
But they were married.
No law had been broken.
No sin could be shouted—no matter how much the truth still turned the stomachs of everyone present.
Only an awkward discomfort hung in the air.
Slowly, Mae lowered her hand.
The magic circle before Lucas's face vanished.
The suffocating pressure disappeared in an instant.
Lucas drew in a deep breath.
Finally… he could breathe again.
The Baroness exhaled long and hard, like someone who had just escaped death.
Her hand pressed against her chest.
"…Thank goodness…"
The Baron slumped into his chair at once, one hand covering part of his face.
His shoulders dropped.
The tension drained from his body.
Liona…
Did not relax.
Her fingers clenched tightly at the side of her skirt.
Her jaw hardened.
Mae said nothing more.
No drama.
No further accusations.
She stepped toward Geralt's wife and—like a physician examining a patient—began inspecting the woman's face with a flat expression.
"Open your mouth."
The woman obeyed nervously.
Mae examined her jaw.
Her teeth.
The structure of her cheekbones.
She tilted the face to the right.
Then to the left.
Then bent down slightly, adjusting her angle.
Silence.
Seconds stretched longer than they should have.
Finally, Mae exhaled softly.
"…A match."
She straightened.
"Jaw structure. Tooth alignment. Bite position."
She cast Geralt a brief glance.
"…All consistent."
No lie.
No manipulation.
No signs of coercion.
Mae looked…
Confused.
She couldn't point at anyone.
Couldn't blame anything.
Everything was… "normal."
At least by a healer's standards.
The atmosphere slowly loosened.
Whispers returned—but without venom.
Just awkward murmurs.
Heads lowered.
A few people cleared their throats.
Someone pretended to fix a sandal that didn't need fixing.
The tension faded…
…but the unease lingered.
And just when everyone thought it would end awkwardly and be quietly forgotten—
Lucas stepped forward.
He carried the great hoe like a man about to give a speech, not farm.
A thin smirk curved his lips.
"Well… well… well…"
All eyes slowly turned to him.
---
Lucas stared at the villagers one by one.
Those faces…
Now wore pitiful expressions.
As if they were the victims.
As if *he* were the beast.
His blood boiled.
They were the ones who had whispered first.
They were the ones who had sneered.
They were the ones who had thrown around words like "disgusting" and "not human."
And now?
They stood there like lambs waiting for slaughter—
pure, innocent, blameless.
Lucas let out a short laugh.
Dry.
Sharp.
"Funny, isn't it…"
His gaze shifted to Mae.
To the face that had been so full of authority.
To the voice that kept invoking the name Rawdihgo.
To the mouth that had casually spat the word "sin."
"From the very beginning… you people were screaming 'sin' at me."
His voice was flat.
But its coldness cut deep.
"And now that you're wrong…"
"…you put on your pitiful little faces."
He lifted his chin slightly.
"Fine. A promise is still a promise."
The villagers didn't move.
Pale.
"Kneel."
The word fell like a hammer.
Several villagers flinched backward.
Mae frowned.
"Young Mast—"
Snap.
Lucas shot her a glance.
"Ssssh."
One villager suddenly broke from the crowd.
He dropped to his knees hard against the stone road.
THUD!
"M-Mercy, Young Master! Please!"
Tears streamed down his face.
"I never accused you! I swear! I didn't spread anything! I didn't say a word!"
His forehead struck the ground again and again.
"P-Please… don't punish me…"
Lucas stared at him.
Expressionless.
Then slowly, his gaze lifted back to the crowd.
"Okay."
His voice was light.
"Then who did?"
He pointed with the great hoe.
"Who started this trash rumor?"
Silence.
Then—
"Not me, him!"
"He said it first!"
"No! It was her!"
"I heard it from him!"
Fingers shot out.
Voices overlapped.
The noise escalated.
The village became a marketplace of blame.
Lucas closed his eyes.
His temples throbbed.
Annoyed.
Disgusted.
"Tch."
He opened his eyes again.
Cold.
Then—
"EVERYONE—"
HIS VOICE EXPLODED.
"KNEEL."
The air itself seemed to crack.
The villagers trembled.
One by one—
They dropped.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Like falling dominos.
Any sense of dignity evaporated.
No one wanted to be last.
No one wanted to be chosen.
In seconds—
The entire village…
Was kneeling.
Lucas felt something crawl beneath his chest.
A grin stretched across his face.
"GOOOD…"
He breathed in like an addict inhaling poison-sweet air.
"Gooood…"
His eyes swept over them—
Low.
Small.
Worthless.
"Know your place…!!"
He raised the great hoe high—
Then slammed it into the ground.
BOOM!!
Dust burst into the air.
The villagers flinched.
Several pressed their foreheads to the dirt.
Lucas grinned wide.
Wild.
Unhinged.
"TRASH."
Then—
His face stiffened.
His eyes widened slightly.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to calm down.
Damn… that was too far, but…
[Ding!]
[They deserve it… XD]
The system responded— but granted no EXP.
---
Lucas let out a long breath.
He rubbed his face with one hand.
"Enough."
His voice dropped.
No longer thunderous.
"Go home. All of you."
The villagers froze.
None of them dared to move.
Lucas glared.
"I said… go home."
It was like ice water had been dumped over them.
The villagers scrambled to their feet.
Some bowed deeply.
Some fled without looking back.
One nearly slipped in his panic.
Within seconds, the courtyard emptied.
Only those who truly belonged there remained.
The Baron and Baroness slowly rose.
No speeches.
No sermons.
Just pure relief written across their faces.
The Baroness stepped forward and straightened her crumpled sleeve with trembling fingers.
She said nothing.
Only reached out…
…and patted Lucas's arm softly.
Like a mother who could finally breathe.
The Baron gave a small nod.
Few words.
But from his expression alone, it was clear—
this would never happen again.
Liona stood behind them, rigid…
Then gradually easing.
She avoided Lucas's gaze.
As though she wanted to say something—
…then swallowed it instead.
Silvara, however, had been silent the entire time.
Too silent.
She stepped up to Lucas and looked him over.
"You really are…"
She paused.
Inhaled.
"…garbage."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
Silvara had already turned away.
"I'm going to the fields."
Her steps were heavy.
Not angry.
Just tired.
Geralt and his wife stood nearby.
Awkward.
At last, Geralt lowered his head.
"I… I'm sorry, Young Master."
His wife bowed as well.
"Please forgive us."
Lucas look at them.
For a long moment.
Then snorted lightly.
"What kind of morning drama is this?"
He yawned halfway.
"Fine. You're forgiven."
Geralt looked up in disbelief.
"R-Really…?"
Lucas had already turned around.
Then stopped.
"Oh. By the way…"
He glanced toward Geralt's small home.
"Is Anya still sick?"
Silence.
Behind them—
Mae froze.
Anya.
The name hit her like lightning.
Yesterday—
Geralt had come with a bright expression.
Bought medicine without bargaining.
That smile…
It had been wrong.
Too sincere for a poor man.
And now—
His wife had rushed home early.
Because their child still hadn't fully recovered.
Mae stared at Lucas.
Only now…
She understood.
Geralt nodded quietly.
"She's still weak… but she's better."
Lucas nodded once.
"Good."
And then—
He walked away.
No need for praise.
No heroic posturing.
No interest in Mae's stare.
"Silvara."
He called over his shoulder.
"The fields."
Silvara snorted.
"Yeah."
Geralt hesitated…
…then chased after them.
"I—I'll come too."
Lucas exhaled.
"Good. You need the work."
The three of them headed toward the fields together.
The sun was already high.
Morning was turning into noon.
Slowly—
The village began to breathe again.
And in the courtyard left behind—
Mae stood alone.
Her chest felt tight.
Her thoughts in shambles.
"No…"
She whispered.
"No… this can't be…"
She stared at her right hand.
The gauntlet suddenly felt—
Heavy.
The name Rawdihgo felt—
Fake.
Loud.
Excessive.
Now she was afraid.
Not of the despised Young Master.
But of the Central Cathedral.
Of the report.
Of the consequences.
And then—
The most terrifying realization struck her.
She hadn't knelt.
Her face drained of color.
"Oh no…"
She turned toward the road Lucas had taken.
Panic rising.
"…OH NO—"
The gauntlet vanished.
Her proud healer's attire now felt like nothing more than a cheap costume.
She ran.
Not like a legendary healer—
But like a high school girl who had just realized…
…she had misunderstood the wrong boy.