Even the Devil Regrets it - Chapter 39

“Weren’t you here because you had something to say?”

At Braeden’s question, Lochlan cleared his throat once, gathering his unsettling thoughts.

“It’s about the opponent who tried to kill you, my lord. He was a mercenary hired by a man named Baron Karl Woodward.”

“That’s not the whole story, is it?”

“You’re right. Baron Woodward is known to be loyal to the Marquess of Everett. It’s highly likely he was acting under the Everett family’s orders. What would you like to do? Should we continue tracking them until we have solid evidence?”

Braeden paused to think. He had no intention of causing unnecessary commotion just to bring Juliana to the townhouse.

He could have captured the mercenary, inspected his weapon, and stirred up trouble to uncover the mastermind. But he chose not to.

Injuries during a jousting match were common, and no one would treat it as a serious incident.

It would also be difficult to accuse someone of attempted assassination based only on a thin, sharp dagger hidden inside a lance.

Even if they succeeded, it would be nearly impossible to prove any direct connection to the young Lord Everett.

Fighting through complicated legal procedures with humans was tiring. Braeden didn’t like those kinds of conflicts.

“No, leave that matter for now. Instead, assign someone to follow the young Lord Everett and his family. I want to know everything. What he is planning, whom he is meeting. Find out all of the Marquess family’s corruption, scandals, and anything that could be used against them.”

“Yes, understood.”

Lochlan was just about to leave when Braeden added,

“Oh, and once the tournament settles down, arrange for me to meet that mercenary who tried to kill me.”

A chilling smile formed on Braeden’s lips.

Lochlan had been wondering why his lord, who rarely let things go, seemed to be overlooking this one.

Of course not. That mercenary, who had tried to kill Braeden for gold, would soon be captured and forced to reflect on his choices when he least expected it.

“Understood. I will inform you once we have him.”

Lochlan bowed and turned to leave, but Braeden spoke again.

“One more thing.”

He was unusually talkative today. Lochlan stopped in his tracks and turned his head with a slight twitch of his brow.

“For the next few days, I am leaving everything in your hands.”

“What?”

Overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility, Lochlan frowned deeply.

“I am a patient, remember?”

Braeden grinned, waving his hand to dismiss him.

Lochlan couldn’t even argue. With a stunned expression, he left Braeden’s bedroom and glared at the closed door as if it had personally wronged him.

A patient? To shamelessly call himself a patient. The demons of hell would have laughed themselves sick.

At that moment, Juliana was reading a letter delivered by Rosie. It was from Count Barnett.

Rather than asking how badly Braeden was hurt or whether his treatment was going well, the letter only asked if the wedding could still be held as scheduled. It was a clear reflection of the count’s selfish nature.

Remembering Count Barnett’s furious face as he had gripped her shoulders hard enough to hurt, Juliana felt a cold storm rise within her heart.

She had not realized how relieving it would feel to have a reason not to return to that household. Using Braeden’s condition as an excuse, she could stay away.

Juliana, happy that she no longer had to deal with those people, picked up her pen. She wrote that the Duke did not wish to delay the wedding, and that she would remain by his side to care for him until then.

Once she finished writing, she handed the letter to Rosie.

“So are you going to prepare for the wedding from here?”

Rosie’s lips twitched slightly. She knew she should not be happy about Braeden being injured, but she could not help it.

“Yes. Although I will have to visit the count’s estate once the date draws near.”

A small smile appeared on Juliana’s face. Both of them agreed that this place was far better than the suffocating Barnett household.

“Alright. I will send the letter and go pack my things.”

“Go ahead.”

Rosie cheerfully ran off with the letter in hand.

Only after she left did Atlante, still inside her cage, quietly approach and ask,

“You look upset. Is something bothering you?”

“Do I really look that way?”

Juliana opened the terrace window and stepped outside. The sun had completely set, and the only lights visible were those from the townhouse behind her and the faint, distant glow of the city.

She stood there in silence, staring out into the darkness. But if one looked closely, it was clear her eyes were not really seeing anything. Her mind was somewhere else, deep in thought.

Atlante paced quietly along the terrace railing. He could sense something was weighing on her, but he could not bring himself to ask what it was.

Juliana was thinking about Felix Everett. If he had truly tried to harm Braeden through a hired agent, she would never forgive him.

Since coming back to this point in time, many things from her past had changed. Her once relaxed heart had become tense again, like a bowstring pulled tight.

She let out a long breath into the night air. Breathing deeply like that had become a habit. It helped her feel like she was letting go of at least a small part of the heavy feelings inside.

But tonight, no matter how much she exhaled, the pressure in her chest only seemed to grow.

Memories of her time in the Everett household spread over her like a shadow.

She remembered being the marchioness who received no love from her husband, pushed aside and ignored in favor of his mistress.

Even the servants looked down on her. It was common for them to disregard her completely. As time passed, her world became smaller and smaller.

The maids began to disappear for longer and longer periods. When they did appear, they would sneer or sigh whenever she gave them instructions.

And then there was Martin, the butler, who not only looked down on her but also helped Tristan with his disgusting actions, all for money.

Juliana could still clearly remember every detail of the Everett mansion. The layout of the rooms, the patterns on the wallpaper, even the designs carved into the pillars.

She had never intended to forgive any of them. So why was she hesitating now?

She laughed bitterly to herself, her lips curling into a crooked smile.

“Seriously, why are you smiling like that all of a sudden? You almost scared me right off the railing,” Atlante cried out, his legs shaking as he clung to the terrace bar.

Juliana looked at him for a moment, then spoke out of the blue.

“Atlante, I have to save someone.”

“What? Save someone? Saving is usually a good thing, but why do you look so intense when you say that?”

Atlante tilted his head in confusion. Juliana’s usual calm and gentle presence felt different. It was sharper now, and harder to understand.

As a Floresco, he was naturally drawn to good and Noble Energy. But something about her words did not match the warmth he was used to feeling from her.

Juliana finally gave a soft smile and reached out to gently pat Atlante’s head.

“I am going to save Marquess Grant Everett.”

“What? But he is alive, isn’t he?”

Atlante opened his beak in confusion, unable to make sense of her words. Juliana said nothing more.

In her previous life, Marquess Grant Everett had died around this time in a carriage accident.

That was when his son Felix, the young heir, took over the family. As soon as he did, he openly brought in his mistress and began running the estate with corruption and greed. He used dirty means to grow the family’s wealth and power.

Juliana was determined to keep Grant Everett alive this time.

As long as that strict and upright man remained the head of the family, Felix would be forced to act carefully and stay within limits.

With her decision made, Juliana let Rosie help her bathe and dry her hair. Before the night grew too late, she made her way to Braeden’s bedroom.

Braeden was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard, quietly reading a book.

“Why are you doing that instead of resting?”

Juliana hurried to his side with concern in her voice.

Braeden looked up and watched her approach without saying a word. She was wearing a light muslin nightgown, her long hair down over her shoulders. The sight of her caught him off guard, like an unexpected blow to his defenses.

“I am resting. Do I not look like it?”

He set the book aside and gently took a strand of her hair between his fingers, playing with it slowly.

“You are a patient. Reading is not really resting.”

Her tone was a little stern, and Braeden let out a low laugh.

“Reading is an excellent way to rest.”

Juliana pressed her lips together. She clearly disagreed, but she did not argue. This was the most relaxed she had ever seen Braeden.

He wore only a loose shirt, with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair, slightly messy and falling over his forehead, gave him a softer look than usual.

“In any case, you are still recovering. You should not overdo anything.”

As she reached out to remove the book from the bed, her eyes fell on the title and her brow furrowed.

The Relationship Between Ancient Mythology and Imperial Power

She flipped through a few pages and saw a confusing mix of ancient languages and complex political theory. She closed the book quickly and moved it aside.

“You are free to read whatever you want, but not tonight.”

Braeden’s eyes curved slightly with amusement, as if he was enjoying her scolding.

“Then is something else allowed?”

“What do you mean by something else?”

Braeden was still playing with the ends of her hair. He reached out and gently pulled her toward him.

Caught by surprise, Juliana found herself lying beside him on the bed in an instant. She blinked rapidly, trying to understand what had just happened.

Support Even the Devil Regrets it