Home/The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief of Exile/ch 71

Chapter 71

[Pr-Pre-Pre...?]

The small voice from the watch trembled—not because the other person was in the primeval forest or due to poor audio quality.

[Are you really Pre-Pre?]

[Calm down, Uncle! And Pre-Pre was real? I thought it was just your delusion...!]

[Pre-Pre! Please answer me! Pre-P...!]

"...Mo-Modi?"

The robber leader, Prellia, covered her mouth with her trembling hands.

Her wide, disbelieving eyes quickly grew wet.

She walked slowly to Hebenia, knelt like a child saved from despair, and grabbed her left hand.

"Modi..."

[Pre! Pre-Pre!]

"Sob, Modi-Modi..."

Prellia pressed Hebenia's left hand to her forehead and sobbed.

"She was a real person..."

"Indeed..."

Ian and Nema exchanged quiet glances.

During his exile, Modi had told them he had a beloved wife.

But people thought she was just a figment of his delusion from his long imprisonment.

"We were about to be married."

"My wife's wedding dress was truly beautiful."

"We'd even chosen names for our children..."

Because he called her his wife even though they weren't married.

And he'd chosen names for children who hadn't even been born.

His wife's stories, lacking coherence, earned sympathy but not belief from the villagers.

However.

"Honey, Modi-Modi. I offered countless sacrifices to see you again. We can finally build a real family."

[D-Dear? Sacrifices? Did you shoot someone again?]

"I want to show you my small, beautiful revolver. I named her Bess. Bess Crow. That name we said we'd give our first child, regardless of gender..."

[You remembered that name!]

"It was the rope that kept me from giving up on life. How could I forget! To keep from forgetting, I carved it into the skin of every sacrifice..."

[D-Did you destroy the evidence?]

Thanks to the couple's tearful reunion after eight years, Ian and Nema finally understood.

'They were just in a strangely intense relationship.'

And listening closely, Prellia seemed to have quite a history that would make a prison sentence understandable.

[Pre-Pre, I've always...!]

"Uncle, I'll connect you again later. Hang up for now."

Beep.

Modi's love confession was cut short.

The couple's poignant exchange, which had stirred the listeners' hearts, ended fittingly.

Only then did Prellia come to her senses and hurriedly wipe her tear-stained face.

With the venom washed from her tears, she looked like she had eight years ago, dreaming of a happy future with her beloved.

In a trembling voice, Prellia asked.

"Little lady, who are you?"

"A village chief."

"A, village chief...?"

"Someone who will protect and watch over you from now on."

"......"

"But, can I sit down while I talk..."

I'm dizzy.

Hebenia's face was pale as she muttered. Her legs trembled like a newborn fawn.

Only then did the robbers hurriedly guide her to the head seat of the sofa.

After a sigh of relief, Hebenia continued.

"Thank you, Uncle Merdi."

The doctor's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"H-how do you know my name...!"

"Gray hair with low saturation, snake-like yellow eyes, rough speech but a kind heart."

"......!"

"I heard from Aunt Elva. You were the only one who visited and believed her when she was framed."

"......"

"Thankfully, your feelings were genuine."

"E-Elva is...!"

"She's alive."

"Ah, ah...!"

The doctor covered his eyes with his other hand. His lips, twisted pitifully, were fully visible, making it a pointless gesture.

Hebenia went on to name the other robbers in turn.

"Silver hair with a scar on your face—you must be Uncle Makin."

"Could Pex be...!"

"He always hoped your family was doing well. I'm glad to meet you here. Uncle Pex would be sorry if he knew."

"That fool...!"

Makin sniffled.

"Black hair—you must be Aunt Vione. Just as described, with a round, cute face like an otter."

"V-Vayne is alive? Truly?"

Vione, the smallest of the robbers, wept at the sound of her friend's name.

"Uncle Hos, Uncle Organ composed a piece thinking of a friend. I think it might be you."

"We grew up in the same orphanage. We were like brothers..."

Hos nodded quietly.

"And Uncle Redem, you look just like Uncle Aig."

"...He's safe."

Redem, the brother of Aig, the farmer of Exilium, lifted the corner of his mouth slightly.

"Uncle Aig was always worried about his family. Especially..."

"Mother's dementia has gotten worse."

"Ah..."

"But she always calls for her youngest."

The robbers' reception room quickly became a sea of tears.

They weren't ordinary robbers.

They were the families, friends, and lovers of the prisoners unjustly sent to the Exilium exile camp.

Knowing their innocence better than anyone, they'd sharpened their swords against the imperial family and prepared for revolution.

Of course, that fact was shocking enough, but.

"You memorized all that?"

Ian was surprised by something else.

"Everything about the villagers' families, friends, and acquaintances? Their personal details?"

"Yeah."

Hebenia nodded, as if admitting it.

Again surprised, Ian couldn't close his mouth, and Nema was moved by Hebenia's casual attitude toward such a monumental task.

"I'm a village chief, after all."

Her fever hadn't fully broken, so her body was heavy, and her voice was unusually low.

But that made the sincerity in her words all the clearer.

"Just because I'm young doesn't mean I can neglect my responsibilities. I'm the village chief—I have to serve the villagers..."

Hebenia had made a promise to the villagers.

"I can't promise to clear your names, but I'll do my best to bring your families, friends, lovers, and acquaintances to this village!"

The adults all thought the same.

That it was impossible.

They appreciated the sentiment, but they firmly believed that those branded as heinous criminals would never be accepted.

It was a kind of resignation.

They'd even made a secret pact among themselves to just live well together, since it was a miracle to be alive.

"Hello."

"Home visit!"

But the seven-year-old village chief didn't know that.

"Who do you want to bring to the village—kidnap, I mean, invite?"

She simply visited each house, listened to their stories.

And memorized them all.

"A fine village chief."

Verity quietly said.

The touching silence in the reception room was broken as the young village chief's hidden efforts were revealed.

The demon spoke sincerely.

"I am truly proud to be able to serve you."

"Hehe..."

It's nothing.

Hebenia blushed, pretending to be modest.

---

'...This is awkward.'

My conscience was pricking me.

The adults thought I'd worked some great miracle, but I'd just remembered their stories.

'Who knew the robbers we ran into by chance would be the villagers' families?'

Yet the adults' gazes toward me were full of gratitude and admiration.

'Tch, no choice.'

I'll just have to enjoy it.

"A village chief should naturally do various things for the village's development and the residents' comfortable lives. That is the duty of the master of the residents and the ruler of the village..."

"Pardon?"

"The residents are the masters, and the ruler of the village."

Anyway, I gained the robbers' great trust.

"Would you like to move to Exilium?"

"Yes!"

I secured future tax revenue.

While the new families packed their things, I lazed on the bed.

"Your fever is gradually going down."

After finishing the IV, a round bandage was placed on my right arm.

Verity drew a puppy on it.

"Ah, the ink is smudging."

"Then like this..."

"Eek! Don't wipe it with spit!"

Verity giggled and cleaned the ink with alcohol swab.

"I'm glad you're safe."

"It's not lucky, you know?"

I still have to endure two more of these damn trials.

Just thinking about the future made my head throb.

'Fuck, feels like my lifespan's shortening.'

Whoever said trials make you strong—that guy must have had such a smooth life that his greatest trial was stepping on a thorn.

'...Still, the result is good.'

I survived the trial, and my power grew stronger.

And I'd also found the villagers' families and acquaintances.

'Better to enjoy it than waste energy getting angry.'

But one thing.

"......"

Bothering me.

"......"

"......"

I met eyes with the Inquisitor who'd been leaning against the doorframe, watching me like a guard.

'Olive, was it.'

I knew at a glance.

Libby's younger brother.

Olive looked just like his sister, but his vibe was completely different.

If Libby was like warm spring soil, he was frozen permafrost. And his speech was as biting as a winter wind.

"You're Libby unnie's brother, right?"

"......"

"No?"

"Are you Lady Clavis?"

"Why, surprised I'm alive?"

"I need you to come to the central headquarters with me."

"No thanks."

I clicked my tongue, recalling our earlier conversation.

"Young people these days have no potential."

"If you're talking about your conversation with Sir Olive, it was 80% your fault."

"I was only 20% at fault?"

"Huh? You're 80% at fault."

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