CHAPTER 105: CHAPTER 105*

The carriage slowed as it neared the outskirts of the Amagi estate. Min-jae’s eyes, narrowed, scanned the familiar skyline, the slate rooftops, the trimmed hedges, the stone walls that marked the boundary of wealth and influence.

Even from a distance, he could feel the weight of history pressing down on him, the invisible lines of authority and expectation that had always made him uncomfortable.

He leaned back, hands clasped over his stomach, and let out a dry laugh, more to himself than anyone else. "I don’t even have to step foot in there.." he muttered. "Why make a mess of it for myself?"

Saar, sitting opposite him, raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. "Excuse me, Master?"

"I don’t want to go in.." Min-jae said bluntly. "It’s a circus in there, and I’m done being the clown." He paused, eyes flicking to the sprawling estate. "I can keep my distance. That’s the smart move. And you know what? You can go instead. Pass my messages, retrieve the information, handle the contacts. No one needs to know I’m involved."

Saar nodded, expression unreadable. "Understood, Master. I will meet with Robert discreetly and gather the information you require."

Min-jae exhaled slowly, feeling a slight relief. "Good. Keep it clean, keep it subtle. If anyone even senses my presence, it ruins everything. I don’t need attention. I don’t need drama. I just need the facts."

Saar nodded, this way was easier, he could easily sneak Robert to a corner and get the information he needed from him.

"I can drop off here, Master. If you go in any further they’ll spot us.."

Min-jae nodded and leaned towards the front, asking the driver to stop.

The carriage slowly rolled to a stop as Saar got down.

"I’ll be back with some information before nightfall, Master.."

Min-jae nodded, in the meantime he would check some land options before he return back to the estate.

It wasn’t safe for the servant to leave them in the same place with Meical’s family.

The noise inside the town hall pressed against Meical’s skull like an unending hammer. Voices crashed over one another—accusations, pleas, insults, demands—merging into a single, grating roar. The long hall, usually quiet and orderly, was overflowing to the doors. Commoners filled every space, standing on benches, pushing forward, insisting on being heard.

Meical stood on the raised platform at the far end of the room, the high windows behind him casting long beams of daylight across the restless crowd. His hands rested behind his back, posture perfectly straight, expression unreadable. His heartbeat, however, thudded once, hard, then settled into a slow burn of restrained anger.

Sebastian stood a little behind him, arms folded, eyes sharp as he monitored the unruly mass.

"Your Majesty—" a man’s voice cut through the crowd, sharp and dripping with resentment. "Do you expect us to survive like this? Prices have doubled in only two weeks!"

"And they’ll keep rising!" another shouted. "People are starving out there! You think we can feed our children with your pride?"

A woman at the front threw her arms in the air. "We didn’t ask for this! We only said Eldridge kept things stable!"

Meical closed his eyes for a moment.

Stable.

That was what they called oppression now.

Stable.

Under Eldridge, they couldn’t raise their heads. They couldn’t refuse anything asked of them. They lived under crushing taxes and fear. And yet, now—after only one rumor—they longed for the "better days."

Meical inhaled slowly, then opened his eyes again.

The crowd continued.

"You revoked our housing permits!"

"My son is sick! The clinics refuse to treat anyone who can’t pay upfront!"

"Why must the poor suffer?!"

"Bring back the old policies! They were better!"

Ungrateful.

He had spent years repairing the disasters Eldridge left behind. Years designing a system that could give these very people stability and protection. Years proving with every reform that their lives mattered.

One rumor.

One woman whispering behind fans during Min-jae’s disappearance.

That was all it took.

Sebastian leaned toward him slightly. "Your Majesty, if this continues, the southern district might start rioting. Someone needs to address them before—"

Before what?

Before they tore this place apart?

Before they dragged him down from the platform?

Before he lost his temper?

Meical’s eyes swept the hall. "I am addressing them," he said quietly, his voice cold.

Sebastian fell silent.

Another voice rose from the crowd—older, brittle, accusatory.

"You must hate us," the man shouted. "Why else would you force us to live like this? Why punish us? What did we do that was so terrible?"

Meical stepped forward. The movement alone quieted some of the crowd, though a few continued to mutter.

"What did you do?" Meical asked. His voice was not loud, yet it carried effortlessly across the hall. Several people stilled. A few straightened.

His gaze moved slowly from one end of the crowd to the other.

"You threw away every improvement I made to your lives because of a rumor."

Murmurs rippled through the hall.

"You said Eldridge ruled better," Meical continued, his tone even. "You said his methods were more effective. You said I was too lenient."

Some people exchanged uneasy looks. A woman tugged at her shawl, lowering her eyes.

Meical took another step forward.

"So tell me," he said, "why complain now? You are getting exactly what you claimed to want."

A sharp silence cut through the room.

Sebastian glanced at him from the side, startled. Meical rarely spoke like this. He rarely let anger bleed through so cleanly. But today, he didn’t hide it—not even a fraction.

"You wanted the stability of Eldridge’s rule," Meical said. "Then live in it. Feel it. Understand it."

A man at the front clenched his hands into fists. "This is unfair—"

"You’re right," Meical said. "It is unfair. Because even after everything I put in place for you, you turned on me the moment a rumor spread."

He looked down at them, his expression unchanging.

"You expect me to treat you like humans," he said, "but you don’t treat me like one."

The hall went deadly quiet.

Meical’s voice softened—not kindly, but with a different sort of weight. "I dared to believe that if I worked hard, you would see the result for yourselves. That if I made your lives easier, you would stop flinching at shadows. That if I created stability, you would finally rest."

His jaw tightened.

"But you want Eldridge’s hand. You want that fear. That pressure. That control."

"No!" someone shouted from the back. "We don’t want that—"

"You do," Meical said. "Because you had peace, and you spat on it."

The man fell silent.

A young woman stepped forward, her eyes red. "We were angry. We were confused. Everyone kept saying you abandoned us—"

"I didn’t," Meical said. "I was dealing with something more important than your gossip."

"Then tell us!" she cried. "If we knew the truth, maybe—"

"And do you think you deserve to know?" Meical asked.

She swallowed hard.

He didn’t allow the question to linger long.

"I am not here to explain myself to people who will twist my words the next time they hear a whisper," he said. "If you want my reforms back, you will wait. You will learn."

Someone in the crowd let out a shaky breath. "For how long?"

"A month," Meical said. "Just a month."

"And if we survive it?" the man from before asked mockingly.

Meical’s eyes fixed on him. "You will. Eldridge made sure of that."

Sebastian stepped forward slightly. "Your Majesty—"

But Meical raised a hand, silencing him.

"You asked for Eldridge’s world," Meical said. "So endure it. Don’t complain that the fire burns after you begged to play in it."

A woman near the front covered her mouth, tears welling. Others shifted uneasily, their anger collapsing into a heavy, humiliated quiet.

Meical stood still for a long moment, letting the weight of his words settle across the room.

Then he lifted his chin slightly. "If you want a place where compassion rules, then remember who built it for you. And remember who destroyed it."

No one spoke. Even the murmurs died.

Sebastian finally exhaled, his shoulders lowering as the crowd’s fury weakened into shame and realization. Not acceptance—he knew that was too much to hope for—but recognition.

Meical turned slightly, speaking low enough for only Sebastian to hear. "I’m done here."

Sebastian nodded. "I’ll disperse the room."

Meical stepped back from the edge of the platform. Behind him, the hall remained silent—hundreds of people realizing, for the first time, what they had lost and who had taken it away.

And who they had chosen to betray.

As Meical descended the steps, he didn’t look back once.

They didn’t deserve it.