Chapter 248: 248 Twenty-four-seven words, "incorporation."

In the past, when Roseau was still being treated like a dog in a brothel, he believed that he was an unrighteous man. That's why he could not receive God's salvation and love.

The shopkeeper, the prostitute, and the customers all acted like normal human beings to everyone else, but to him, they acted as if they were hitting something. I am sure it is because I am an unjust person. I thought it was because I was an unjust person. No matter how much I prayed every night or how many good deeds I did, it didn't make any difference.

Therefore, Roseau continued to believe that he was a wrong person.

It was not until Roseau was old enough to be called a young man that he realized that all of this was just a mistake.

At that age, Roseau was finally allowed to dress like a man and was ordered to keep up appearances. He was given the task of pulling in customers, not just the heavy lifting of the brothel.

I didn't think anything of it per se. However, as a dog, I was not sure if I could handle such a job. I wondered if I could talk to them, if they would come to me.

However, his anxiety seemed to have dissipated into a fog, and he was doing well. He could talk so well that he even stopped customers who were about to leave. It was at this moment that he first learned that he had the gift of wordsmithing.

And that wasn't the only thing I learned. I learned another big thing.

--I also learned that people are not blind to their own true nature.

People who used to spit at you and throw mud at you now smile at you and exchange words with you when you make yourself look a little better. They start to treat you as a human being instead of a dog because of your appearance, even though your true nature has not changed at all.

It has nothing to do with whether you are right or wrong.

Roseau realized. In the end, no one is right or honest. Everyone makes judgments about people based on their appearance, but deep down, in the marrow of their brain, they don't think. And yet, strangely enough, everyone is convinced that they are right.

It's annoying, hateful, and abhorrent to Roseau. He still doesn't think he's right. How is it that other people can put on a cheerful face and say that they are right? That's what I find so strange. What is the righteousness of a righteousness that will change its tune if you stir it up a little in a public meeting room?

But even for Roseau, there was one girl, Philos-Treit, who was different. She seems to have always been thinking about what is right.

She does not collude with the people like the lords of the past, nor does she put her finger on her own greed, but simply lives as she thinks is right. She, who has been at odds with herself, the wrongdoer, many times.

She is different from me, and naturally different from other people. A foreign object that continues to emit an unshakable rightness. This is the reason why I'm going to be using this site.

I'm sorry.

The dungeon smells like mold and rotten food. I'm sure you've heard of it, but I've never heard of it.

There were no lights provided here. The only time the dungeon is lit is when the guards make their several daily rounds with their canteras. Other than that, the space is dominated by darkness, as if the space itself has been erased.

In the midst of all this, Roseau strode alone and without escort. The only sound that could be heard was the shaking of his cantera and the clattering of his feet on the hard slabs of rock. The only other sounds were the moans of the prisoners.

The footsteps stopped in front of the deepest dungeon. A thick steel door was right in front of Roseau. It seemed to absorb all sound. The only thing letting the sound through was a small hole in the wall at eye level.

Roseau twisted the beard around his mouth and let the words escape.

How are you doing?

For a moment, nothing came back. When Roseau began to think that the iron door had really blocked the sound, he finally heard a voice.

I've never had such a hard time drinking ...... air.

The voice was very scratchy. I've only been here for a few days. Although he had only been here a few days, he was probably genuinely exhausted.

After all, this is not a prison where a nobleman is supposed to be. There is no such thing as cleanliness, with rats running on the floor and mold crawling on the ceiling. The water and food served would probably not be of the highest quality. From the point of view of the ruler, Philos-Treit, it might be no different from filth.

And I'm sure that's not the only reason you're so weak.

I'm not sure if you're trying to help me, but I'm sure you're not trying to help any of my soldiers or clerks.

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I'm sure you're not the only one. It sometimes turns into a moan.

Unbeknownst to Roseau, he was biting the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Maybe it was the guards, or maybe it was one of the citizens who had gotten in. They could have chained her up with heavy chains and beat her with iron bars, or they could have tortured her. Whatever it was, someone must have gone on a rampage to harm her.

No one would touch an ungodly transgressor, but there are plenty of people who would use violence to vent their anger.

If that were the case, Philos-Treit's whole body would be in pain and he would not be able to move well. And yet, the concern of those who followed him? Roseau's eyes narrowed unconsciously, and he said.

Do you not wonder? Why didn't your guards protect you when you were surrounded by citizens at the gate? At most, only the clerks moved to protect you.

They sold you out, I tell them. In fact, some of them may have just been too cowardly to move. Not all of the troops were pawns of Roseau and the People's Assembly.

But in the end, it's all the same. None of us could save her. Not a single resistance.

What difference does it make if they sold her to us? Roseau clenched his teeth together slightly.

He waited to hear what Philos-Treit would have to say about his soldier's betrayal. A few moments later, a voice, once again hushed and occasionally laced with coughs, echoed through the dungeon.

"Yes, I see--so what are you going to do now, Roseau?

The only thing that Philos-Treit said about the soldiers was, "I see. Is that one word filled with grief and anger? Or was there no other emotion that came to mind?

Roseau silently accepted her slow, painfully spoken words.

I don't know if it's power or gold you want. I don't know if it's power or gold you want, but if we use the entire city army to fight a full-scale war, we can probably hold our own against the heraldic army. But that won't get us past the cold season. We'll lose everything, supplies and all, and the city itself will dry up.

One after another, from behind the iron door, Philos-Treit announced his thoughts. The People's Assembly will listen to you, but there is a limit to what they will do. You can't expect much help from the High Holy Church. But if we go to war with the heraldry, sooner or later the city of Philos will die out.

Listen to that voice. You'll be able to find a lot more than just a few of them. He closed his eyes and nodded quietly.

She's absolutely right about a lot of things. She's right about everything. She probably didn't even let her skull rest in this dungeon. Even in the face of betrayal, she must have thought about the city instead of being consumed by resentment and hatred.

Yes, to all intents and purposes, she is the rightful ruler of the city of Philos. I'm sure she still loves the city and its citizens even after all this time.

After all, she must be the opposite of herself. Roseau put his fist in front of his chest and said.

My desire is the same as it ever was. I just hate this city. You, the council, everything.

It was the first time in a very long time that Roseau let his voice leak out of his chest without any embellishment. Roseau's voice continued.

"Mr. Philos-Treit. I have one piece of advice for you. You are right to a fault. You're so right it's mesmerizing. But.

Philos listened to Roseau's words in silence. It seemed to Roseau that he had no desire to argue or interrupt. A high-pitched voice, unbefitting a prison, echoed.

There are people in this world who cannot live within the confines of righteousness. Not the weak or the strong, but those who can only live in error.

Roseau did not say, "Like yourself.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel. He did not look back at the dungeon.

--He had a job to do.

I've done most of the work I was assigned to do. The only thing left to do was to moderately exhaust the heraldic army.

Roseau put the secret book he received from the Kingdom of Garleist into the fire of the cantera and shook the beard around his mouth slightly.

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