Chapter 65: Great Despair, Part Two*

Even after the great cold wave ended, few would willingly venture onto the streets.

Snowdrifts, bitter cold, desolation, bleakness… these would linger for a long time, consequences of the cold wave far worse than the event itself.

But no matter how severe those consequences, they were nothing compared to death.

And on this empty, pale street, someone was trudging through the snow.

Her eyes were lifeless, her face ashen, her expression chaotic, like a… walking doll.

Hitana saw more deaths.

All of it was born from her.

The scattered ice sculptures silently recounted the pure despair they had endured.

Why had they left the warmth of their coal-heated homes?

Why had they walked toward that cold, merciless death?

Because they had no choice.

Those coals—who knew what they were like?

Just as Marina had said, they were shoddily made, substandard, or even impossible to ignite…

If those coals had been enough to sustain them through the cold wave, who would have chosen to walk toward death?

And why had they gone out?

Wasn’t it obvious? To seek help.

To seek aid from the great Lord Hydra, who had passionately promised to help them survive the cold wave.

Every single person, every despairing soul, had stepped onto that cold, silent road full of hope.

“It’s because of me…”

The girl whispered pitifully, trembling. “Is it really… because of me?”

She already knew the answer.

Marina’s judgment had been clear and unmistakable.

Her sister’s cold, merciless words had plunged Hitana into despair she couldn’t accept.

Hell.

She had created hell with her own hands.

So many who should have lived, so many who could have seen hope, had ended their lives in the snowstorm.

And it was all her doing.

Hitana’s stomach began to spasm.

She realized, in a daze, that while these people, on the first day, the second day, the third day… watched their shoddy coals fail to burn, shivering in the cold, their bodies and souls eroded by despair, she had been running joyfully in a warm room, wearing light clothing, free of any burden.

When they watched their flames flicker out, darkness fully descending, she had broken a heating lamp that might have saved a family of three, then dismissed it entirely under Anselm’s reassurance.

When they were forced from their freezing homes onto an even colder, lifeless road, seeking one last shred of hope from the benevolent lord of that mansion…

She had been enjoying the richest feasts, bathing in clean, warm water, basking in the warmth and happiness that intoxicated her, writing that laughable, absurd diary.

Back then, she and they had been separated by just a door.

That person who had reached the door, perhaps close enough to knock—what had they been

thinking?

“Ugh—”

Hitana fell to her knees, unable to suppress her dry heaving.

Her convulsing stomach seemed to accuse her of her wrongs, condemning her sins.

Everything was ruined.

Her hopes, Anselm’s reputation and most importantly… the lives of those who should have lived.

All destroyed.

Tears slid down her numb, pale face.

Her lifeless, unfocused eyes squeezed out tears filled with all her despair, regret, and pain—

But what did it matter?

Could her sincere repentance bring the dead back?

Perhaps… Perhaps the only solace was that more poor people had survived this cold wave than in previous ones.

The nobles might have tampered with things, but they didn’t dare do anything.

But could that let her forgive herself?

Those people, those people should have lived.

No one should have died in this disaster.

It was all because of her arrogance, her pride, her laughable… self-righteousness.

Hitana, who had once been so proud of her “achievements,” slammed a fist into her stomach without holding back.

“Ugh!”

Already kneeling, she nearly collapsed to the ground.

The tear-streaked girl hunched over, punching herself again and again.

“Beast… beast… beast!”

“Hitana… you… beast!”

Her stomach acid turned to saliva, then to blood.

Her fists and abdomen numb with pain, Hitana staggered to her feet, swaying as she continued walking.

She walked a long, long way—only now did she realize how far the outer district was from the inner district, how far those pitiful poor had been from Anselm’s mansion.

What kind of resolve had driven them to set out on that doomed path?

Those who fell before Anselm’s manor… what kind of will had carried them through that despairing, endless road in the deadly snowstorm?

“Cough… cough…”

They had trusted Anselm so much.

Even stepping onto that cold, silent road, they believed that if they could just see Lord Hydra, everyone would be saved.

But in the end, no one was redeemed.

Hitana, trudging through the snow, didn’t know how long she walked.

The blood she coughed up left a long, crimson trail in the snow.

The ice corpses grew fewer as she neared the outer district, meaning only these had made it this far in their despairing trek outward.

But how many were “these”?

Hitana no longer knew how many ice corpses she had seen, how many people, full of hope and admiration for Anselm, had resolutely walked toward death.

Standing in the outer district’s icy expanse, she gazed blankly at it all.

A vast white, a silent death.

“Cough… cough!”

Hitana clutched her stomach, shouting hoarsely, “Is anyone there… is anyone still alive?! Did you all make it through?!”

She felt gazes from all directions.

No one spoke, but in this impoverished outer district, many who should not have survived the cold wave had indeed lived.

Hitana thought this might bring her some comfort, but she found… the guilt threatening to consume her showed no sign of lessening.

Marina’s sorrowful whisper as she closed her eyes lingered in her mind.

[They all could have lived.]

Hitana collapsed, slumping into the thick snow.

She could neither vent nor claim the right to vent her pain, only closing her eyes and letting it consume her.

In the face of this guilt, what was cold and pain?

From a dilapidated building nearby, a wooden door creaked open slightly.

The person behind it watched for a long time before gritting their teeth, pushing the door open, and rushing to Hitana’s side.

“Hey, you.”

A girl with rough skin pulled Hitana up. “You okay?”

“…?”

Hitana, dazed and confused, looked at the girl, her skin reddened by the biting cold, unsure how to respond.

“How are you coughing up so much blood!” the girl exclaimed. “Injured this badly and is still running around the outer district… you’re really not afraid of dying!”

She glanced around warily, glaring at the hostile eyes watching them and helped Hitana into her home.

As Hitana entered the house, her chaotic mind registered—normal houses were this cold.

She had almost forgotten what it felt like to live in such a frigid, rundown place.

The fire burning in the fireplace proved this girl was one of the lucky ones who received proper aid, surviving the disaster unscathed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. The cold wave just ended, you’re this badly hurt, and you’re still running around outside.”

“…” Hitana looked at the girl warming herself by the fire and asked hoarsely, “Aren’t you… afraid I’m a bad person?”

“Hm…”

The girl tilted her head. “A bad person wouldn’t have that pitiful, half-dead look and say things like ‘Is anyone still alive?’”

“And you…” The girl looked at Hitana’s pale, numb face, hesitating before asking, “Didn’t you get proper coal either?”

Hitana opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.

Should she kneel before this girl, bow her head, and confess, I’m the one who caused you to get bad coal?

“I say, every single noble should’ve been killed off long ago.”

The girl sighed, then said angrily, “Lord Hydra wanted to do so much for us, and they still cut corners! Most people should’ve survived, but now, now…”

She looked at another bed in the room, her expression dimming.

“…But I believe Lord Hydra will bring us justice.”

The girl comforted Hitana. “Don’t worry, he’ll kill off all those nobles! Avenge everyone who died!”

Hitana forced a smile, tugging at her lips.

This might be the only good news she’d heard in this despairing morning.

The people of Chishuang City still trusted Anselm, believing in the Lord Hydra who had given them a future, given them hope.

This was the one unforgivable sin lifted from her shoulders.

“I think that so-called count, what’s his name? Ironstone? He should be killed too! That guy’s so fake! Some people in the outer district still owe him favors, but don’t think everyone’s fooled by his fake face. He doesn’t even see us as human…”

As if to distract Hitana, the girl ranted on, her familiar words bringing some comfort to the wolf’s heart.

Then—

“…And those merchants who made the coal so bad, they all need to die! All of them hanged—”

[You’re finally back. Where’d you go, taking so long?]

The faint color that had returned to Hitana’s face vanished instantly.

“Huh, weird, where’s that voice coming from?”

The girl pressed her face to the window, puzzled. “Why does it sound so much like…”

“…Like me?”

The girl in the center of the residential district’s open space murmured dazedly.

Because there, she saw… a massive, projected screen of light.

On the light screen, a beautiful snow-haired girl was speaking impatiently with a noble.

[I told you, I don’t have time to waste with you.]

[You mentioned before, having me bear the cost of the coal to help the poor survive this cold wave…]

[…It doesn’t mean the nobles of Chishuang Territory can’t do it.]

[Without spending a single coin of Lord Hydra’s.]

In that crystal-clear image, all those who had received Hydra’s grace, who had praised Hydra countless times during the cold wave, saw the girl say—

[This way, Hydra doesn’t have to spend a dime and still gains a great reputation!]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep