This Villain Is Mine Now - Chapter 130

People were appalled when they saw the Marquis being led out by the soldiers. Just a few weeks ago, he had appeared robust, but now he looked emaciated—it was no surprise they reacted that way.

No one could tell what had reduced him to such a state, but accusatory glances turned toward the soldiers supporting him, as if suspecting them of having tortured him.

Even in the courtroom, the Marquis stared blankly into the void. His body was present, but his mind seemed to have drifted far from it, wandering in a dream. Only after being addressed several times did the presiding judge manage to confirm his identity—name, age, and other basic information.

The Marquis showed no response even as the prosecutor read the charges. In his place, his son defended him. The man now referred to as the “Young Marquis” in his late brother’s stead stood by his father, shoulders squared, and spoke boldly.

“Do not tarnish my father’s honor. This is all nothing but slander fabricated by House Grant.”

He was desperate. Never trained as a successor because everyone assumed the elder son would inherit the house, the current situation was overwhelming for him.

Without the family head, the House of Redwood was like a kite with its string cut. In the past few weeks, he had investigated the situation from all angles.

The Emperor, who had once protected his father, now left him locked away in prison—this meant he no longer intended to support House Redwood.

If they lost this trial, it would be their house, not Grant’s, that would be reduced to a hollowed-out name as Grant had been ten years prior. That awareness kept the Young Marquis on edge and made him act.

The court allowed the Young Marquis to represent the Marquis. A fair judgment couldn’t be rendered for a man who was in no state to even converse, let alone defend himself.

The Young Marquis calmly refuted each point raised by the prosecutor. Whenever something was unfavorable, he either shifted the blame onto his deceased brother or claimed ignorance.

“Then you claim to know nothing of the Archduchess’s kidnapping a few weeks ago? Answer clearly.”

The Young Marquis hesitated for a moment. It would be a lie to say he had known nothing. His late brother, apparently tired of bearing all the risk alone, had told him to check on the Archduchess’s condition at the tower over the course of a few days. He had refused, making excuses, not wanting to be involved.

“That’s correct.”

He forced a composed expression as he answered. But the judge’s expression only hardened further.

The judge flipped through a stack of documents. Included was a petition submitted by the former Young Marquis’s wife. She claimed that her brother-in-law had known about Elaina’s kidnapping and should be held accountable.

“Therefore, honorable judge, the rightful heir of House Redwood cannot be my brother-in-law but must be my son. If my husband died for his crime in the kidnapping of Her Highness the Archduchess, then my brother-in-law, who turned a blind eye to the incident, cannot be absolved.”

The judge clicked his tongue inwardly. The members of House Redwood seemed preoccupied only with who would succeed the Marquis. As if unwilling to let her husband’s property fall into her brother-in-law’s hands, the widow had harshly slandered the Young Marquis.

“…I see. I understand.”

With a cold stare at the Young Marquis, the judge collected himself. There were two key issues in this trial. The kidnapping of the Archduchess, and the rebellion of House Grant ten years ago. The latter was far more important. The former had already been proven, but regarding the second incident, not even the judge knew what kind of evidence House Grant had prepared.

“Then we’ll proceed to the second hearing. Are the evidentiary materials not ready yet?”

“They are ready. I will present them now, Your Honor.”

The prosecutor received the documents from Lyle, who had been seated, and handed them to the judge. Lyle’s name was soon called as a witness, and he stepped forward to the stand.

“What are these evidentiary materials?”

“They are information on the Northern Army that Fleang Redwood siphoned off ten years ago.”

Lyle asked the court to compare the dates in the late Archduke’s journal with the date of the letter sent by the Marquis of Redwood. The contents, written around the same time, were drastically different.

The Archduke’s journal stated that after verifying with someone in the capital, he had received word from his heir that there were no signs of rebellion. Meanwhile, the Marquis’s letter contained a request for the Northern Army’s organization chart, citing unrest and the need for preparation.

One of them had to be lying—and it was obvious who stood to benefit from the lie.

“L-lies! Are you saying my father planned such a thing? Unless he had the power to control someone’s thoughts, how could he have? At the time, my father was in the capital! It was the late Archduke’s army in the North that raised the rebellion!”

The Young Marquis shouted, his face flushing bright red. But those in the courtroom, seeing the calm composure of Lyle in contrast, had already guessed who the victor of this trial would be.

“Silence! Quiet, please.”

The judge banged his gavel in warning.

“Maintain order in the court, Young Marquis. And Your Grace the Archduke, as the Young Marquis claims, the Marquis of Redwood was indeed residing in the capital at the time.”

“At the time, my grandfather was suffering from a kind of paranoia. He had recurring dreams and fell into the delusion that His Majesty the Emperor was in danger. Even back then, ten years ago, my grandfather said the same thing: that he had come to protect His Majesty.”

Lyle looked toward the Young Marquis and the Marquis of Redwood. “Back then, the imperial forces didn’t fly their standard. And the one who proposed that—was him. The Marquis of Redwood. Ask yourself why.”

The judge listened silently. At the time, the imperial army claimed that hiding their banners was a tactic to confuse the Northern army. But looking back, it did seem suspicious.

“If the imperial army had properly flown its banner, my grandfather’s mistaken belief that a rebellion was underway might’ve ended as just another incident. Even if the Northern army had won, I’m certain nothing further would have happened. My grandfather was always His Majesty’s most loyal servant.”

At that moment, those in the courtroom saw a glimpse of the former Archduke in Lyle, still only in his mid-twenties. Ten years ago, his grandfather had shown the same unwavering gaze while being tried. Even as he was executed, he had displayed his loyalty to the Emperor, and some remembered that the final image of the man labeled a traitor had nonetheless shone with dignity.

“Th-that’s…! And now you plan to pin that decade-old crime on my father over something so flimsy?!”

“This isn’t pinning anything.”

Lyle looked at the trembling Young Marquis without emotion and continued, “Fleang Redwood. This is simply the day he takes responsibility for what he’s done. There are no secrets that last forever.”

At that moment, the Marquis of Redwood began to tremble.

“Fleang, it may seem as if you have taken everything for yourself. But humans must eventually answer for their deeds. There are no secrets that last forever. When the day comes that this secret is laid bare before the world, you will pay for today’s sins with your own blood.”

The voice of the former Archduke, who had laughed at him on his deathbed, echoed in his ears.

With a scream, the Marquis of Redwood leapt to his feet, and his eyes met Lyle’s. Instantly, the Marquis began to thrash like a madman, pointing at Lyle and shouting.

“It’s all your fault! Why—why did you do that?! Why did you give the domain to Shawd and give me… give me such a menial task?! It’s your fault! All of it! If you had acknowledged my abilities, I wouldn’t have done any of this!”

He was now seeing someone else in Lyle’s face. The Marquis, shouting his resentment toward the former Archduke, gasped and screamed.

“F-forgive me! Young Archduke! H-hngh… This, this is… I mean… Yes! His Grace the Archduke contacted me in secret. Yes, yes! That’s right. He ordered me to deliver the Northern Army’s organizational chart to you, my lord. Of course! Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

Like a lunatic, he kept muttering nonsense.

“It’s all your fault. You cursed old man. You acted so high and mighty, but you fell for such basic brainwashing. Foolish, useless human. The only difference between us is that you were born into a noble family. You think I wanted to be born into a family like mine? If I had what you had… then I could’ve done better!”

Brainwashing. The moment he pronounced that word with crystal clarity, the tension in the courtroom spiked. Lyle seized the moment and questioned the Marquis.

“Brainwashing? What kind of brainwashing did you give me?”

“Heh… I mean those dreams you had every night! The dream of slitting the Emperor’s throat and feeding it to dogs! The dream of the imperial heirs being slaughtered one by one by foreigners! The dream of the entire empire burning and vanishing from the earth!”

That cursed old man. I should’ve made him dream something worse. Then he would’ve never come back.

The Marquis’s frenzied muttering and confessions continued.

That was the moment the trial was decided. The balance, once evenly poised, had suddenly and sharply tipped to one side.