After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

An old horse swayed as it set off southward. After taking stock of his remaining possessions, Lucas carefully placed his wallet close to his body and gently flicked his whip to speed up the journey.

The girl behind him had already soaked his back with tears. She finally understood his sorrow and lost everything in the process.

Lucas sighed helplessly. Why did he always end up being associated with "villainous" characters?

Wasn't there anyone to guide him onto the right path and lead him to join the increasingly powerful Northern Territory?

Just kidding, Lucas was actually glad that the Northern Army general didn't recognize him, otherwise he would never have been able to leave so easily this time.

With all the mess he and Isoldegan had, even if they had forty more heads, it wouldn't be enough for the Northern Army to chop them off.

After observing the terrain for a while, Lucas said softly, "There's a large village ahead. Let's rest here and continue our journey this afternoon."

"good……"

Monet sniffed, and once again successfully warmed Lucas with his tears. A cold wind blew, and it felt like ice was stuck to his back, sucking away all the warmth from his body.

Shortly after arriving in the village, Lucas met Catherine, disguised as a merchant, riding in a carriage through the village and heading south towards the city.

Lucas scratched his head in frustration. "One wrong step and you're behind at every turn," he thought. "Looks like I have no choice but to take a longer route..."

Arriving at an inn, the villagers here also adopted the habit of drinking holy water. The members of the Goddess Faction still have a lot of potential in causing trouble for Duke Oswald.

They actually came up with the idea of ​​distributing free potions that could create illusions in bulk to render the Northern Territory's most hardcore land redistribution policy ineffective.

The more villagers drink the "holy water," the less effective the Northern Territory's rule becomes in the southern part of the Central District.

Although they were no match for the Duke of Oswald, he had no choice but to unleash a massacre in the face of such shameless behavior.

Why?

The real problem isn't just that the drug is addictive; it's that people who have experienced a wonderful illusion will find it very difficult to face real life.

In reality, they were miserable beasts of burden, tools of the nobility, their few moments of joy being a distant glimpse of a noblewoman's slender waist and large buttocks...

In their illusions, they are the masters of the world, their lives filled with joy and rampant with sins that go unpunished. If these illusions were played out, even Satan would probably be sitting in the audience taking notes.

Therefore, most of the people who come to the hotel are homeless people who have abandoned their families and everything from their past, living in a daze every day, waiting for the nuns to bring them medicine, and then indulging in their fantasies.

The innkeeper could only accept his bad luck; he didn't have the courage to confront dozens of insane adults, and the nobles certainly wouldn't help him solve these troubles, since they also loved drinking that stuff.

It was rare to have two respectable guests, so the hotel owner was very attentive. By the time Lucas returned from the door, the table was already full of food.

But Lucas noticed the potion in Monet's hand immediately.

Meeting Monet's panicked gaze, Lucas strode over, took her hand in his, and pried the medicine out from between her taut fingers.

Tears streamed down her face. Lucas knelt down, sighed, and then patted her head.

"You can't live off this, Monet. We can all be defeated by reality, but once we become addicted to fantasy, we can never get back up."

"Here, have something to eat."

Wiping away her tears, Lucas watched as Monet nodded gently and began to take small bites of the buttered bread, a faint smile appearing on his face.

He learned to be a good older brother, to be a good teacher, and he learned to... make life a little better.

After all, one cannot understand the meaning of companionship without experiencing loneliness.

When it was time to depart, Lucas heard commotion coming from the village. He quickly pulled Monet behind a wall and watched through the cracks in the window as Erión and the Holy Knights swept across the village road like the wind.

Fortunately, I chose to rest...

Lucas was still shaken. If he had encountered Erian with his paladin party on the way, he estimated he would have had a heart attack on the spot.

Perhaps it was the unexpected encounter with Ereon, but the wound on his arm started to ache slightly. Lucas took a deep breath and peeked out to look around when he suddenly felt a warm, itchy sensation on his arm.

Lucas turned around and saw that it was Monet carefully blowing on his wound.

"It's alright, it's not a big problem, you'll be fully recovered in a few days."

He tossed the vial back into the hotel, and the addicts, intimidated by Lucas's cold gaze, dared not approach. Only after Lucas left with Monet did they swarm forward to grab the vial.

The hotel owner, wiping the table, sighed with regret. Those nuns weren't good people; they would reward addicts who brought in new members, thus dragging more people into the abyss.

After finishing his fodder, the old horse continued on its way. This time, Lucas dared not go straight south. When he reached a fork in the road, he turned his horse around and headed towards a small road to the southeast. Although the security there was more chaotic, at least he would not encounter the Northern Army.

"Teacher, who is the good person among them?"

Lucas, who was looking at the map, was taken aback when he heard this. "If I had to say, the Northern Territory is the good one. Duke Oswald's leadership has allowed many people to live and work in peace."

"We're not included, are we?"

Monet rested his head against Lucas's back and murmured softly.

Lucas sighed; he hadn't expected Monet to think of that.

"Yes, I have done a lot of wrong things. You are the child of a nobleman, and neither of us are under the protection of the Duke of Oswald."

"I'm hopeless, but you've suffered an undeserved misfortune. If it weren't for the fierce fighting between the two sides, tearing through the bottom line again and again, your parents would probably have been sent to labor camps by the Northern Army, and as for you, you'd probably become a farmer."

As a teacher, Lucas, without acting on impulse, gave Monet a very fair analysis.

The Northern Territory doesn't kill every nobleman. As long as they don't resist, it hasn't caused any serious incidents in the past. At most, they'd just be a VIP in a labor camp.

However, the Goddess faction was determined not to let the northern regime have an easy time. The conflicts they caused would eventually ignite the anger of the north, and countless corpses would be buried in this war.

The human race is bleeding, and Lucas has already done everything he can to escape.

"Are you telling me not to seek revenge, teacher, or are you saying I'm not capable of avenging my parents?"

Another question rang out, and Lucas remained silent for a long time. Faced with such a troubling question, he couldn't find an answer for the moment. Monet certainly lacked the ability to take revenge, but to advise someone to let go of hatred was humanity's most foolish arrogance.

"You know what, Monet? We've lived in this world three times already." Lucas chuckled, his laughter echoing in the woods on the cold wind.

"Sometimes I think, if I could have known the outcome a lifetime earlier, damn, there are such good things. I would definitely live life to the fullest and have a different life."

"And then?" Monet asked, intrigued. It was the first time she had ever heard of the concept of reincarnation.

Lucas patted Monet's hand on his shoulder and shook his head with a wry smile.

"Actually, if there really is a next life, I wouldn't be willing to give up anything. I would only strive to do better. Because it is those sorrows, pains, joys, and happiness that make up me."

"So you see, the reason we can't live easily is that we're actually making things difficult for ourselves. You need to understand this too, Monet. If you choose to make things difficult for yourself, then you have to strive to do better."