The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!
Chapter 160: Replacing the Duchess

Chapter 160: Replacing the Duchess

The Marquess glared at her, his anger only barely held in check, but after a moment he gave a sharp nod. "Fine. Let’s discuss how you’ve decided to court disaster—privately."

He motioned for her to follow him, leading her through a winding corridor into a sparsely furnished office. The door slammed shut behind them, making Adeline jump.

"Well?" He demanded, crossing his arms. The sparks around him finally subsided, but the heat of his anger lingered in the room. "Speak."

Adeline hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I... I agreed to meet with Edward," she admitted, watching his reaction closely.

The Marquess froze, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Edward? As in the Holy Temple’s head priest? Have you lost your senses completely?!"

"Wait, let me explain!" Adeline quickly interjected, raising her hands defensively. "I didn’t just agree for no reason. He asked me to come to the Holy Temple for testing."

Her father’s face turned a shade darker, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the desk. "And you think that makes this better? Testing? Adeline, do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? Do you know what they’ll do to you if they discover—"

"They won’t discover anything!" Adeline interrupted her voice firm for the first time. She took a deep breath and raised her hand, summoning a crackling streak of lightning that danced between her fingers. The light illuminated her face, reflecting her steely determination.

Her father’s eyes widened, and for the first time, he seemed at a loss for words. "Lightning magic?" He finally managed, his voice softer now but still tinged with disbelief.

Because of Adeline, he felt like his lifespan had been shortened by half. Just what was he going to do with this child? He wanted a normal child... Instead, he got her...

He looked at her. She looked back at him with an innocent smile.

"Yes," she said, letting the magic fizzle out. "When they test me, this is what they’ll find. Not my holy powers."

The Marquess stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "And you’re certain this will work?" he asked, scepticism lacing his tone. "The Holy Temple isn’t stupid, Adeline. If they suspect even for a moment—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. The weight of unspoken consequences lingered between them.

"They won’t," she cut in. "I’ve been careful. The only people who know the truth about my holy powers are you, Aaron, and a few others I trust. No one at the Temple will suspect me of anything other than being an overzealous mage."

The Marquess sighed, this was the Goddess’s doing, wasn’t it? He was furious with her, sure she was a divine being but that was no reason for her to put his daughter in trouble.

And by being a divine, all-knowing being, she should have known the consequences his daughter might have to face!

Still, he trusted in her... She gave Adeline lightning powers to save her... Maybe he should just put aside his rational thinking and believe.

The Marquess sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I still don’t like this," he muttered. "But I suppose there’s no stopping you, is there?"

Adeline shook her head. "No, there isn’t."

Adeline’s plan was simplicity itself, call a timeout, and in the presence of everyone she will prove that she does in fact, have only lightning powers.

If Edward knew what was good for him, he would have backed out from the war.

The Northern Duchy had grown uncharacteristically sombre as preparations for the late Duchess’s funeral progressed. Snow drifted lazily from grey skies, shrouding the land in a mournful silence.

The halls that were once filled with warmth and quiet laughter now echoed with the hushed murmurs of servants who moved about with heavy hearts. However, amidst the sorrow, one figure emerged with a purpose that felt almost inappropriate—Anna.

Anna moved with an energy that felt almost cruel.

She had taken it upon herself to oversee the arrangements for the funeral. Her actions were not motivated by grief or respect but by an insidious desire to assert her newfound dominance.

Dressed in a mourning gown that was almost too elaborate, she flitted about the estate like a self-appointed ruler, barking orders and ensuring every detail of the ceremony reflected her vision. To her, this was more than a funeral, it was an opportunity to cement her position as the new Duchess.

The servants obeyed her grudgingly, their movements slow and deliberate as if resisting her control in the only way they could.

Anna’s audacity knew no bounds.

Benedict, meanwhile, remained alone in his chambers. The weight of his mother’s death had shattered him in ways he hadn’t known were possible.

Every corner of the room seemed to remind him of his mother. Her laughter echoed in the silence, her scent lingered faintly in the fabric of the curtains. Yet, her absence was a gaping wound that refused to heal.

He sat by the window, staring blankly at the snow-covered grounds, his once-sharp mind dulled by an endless cycle of disbelief and despair. He had refused every meal brought to him, the plates left untouched until the servants hesitantly removed them.

Sleep eluded him, and when he closed his eyes, all he could see was his mother’s lifeless face, pale and still against the backdrop of her once-vibrant room.

His father’s absence only deepened the wound. The Duke, always distant but once a source of quiet strength now seemed to avoid his son entirely.

Benedict had sought him out in a moment of desperation, only to find the study door closed and locked. The message was clear... His grief was his own to bear. Alone.

Anna’s presence made it worse. Though she had no formal authority yet, she acted as though the Duchy already belonged to her. Her first act of defiance had been to move her belongings into the late Duchess’s chambers.

The servants had watched in silent horror as her trunks were carried across the estate, and whispers of her audacity spread like wildfire.

The whispers spread quickly. "How dare she?" the servants asked each other in hushed tones. "Doesn’t she have any shame?" But no one dared confront her, not while the Duke’s silence seemed to condone her actions.

Benedict had heard them too, and the knowledge had sent him spiralling further into despair. How could she desecrate his mother’s memory so brazenly? And why was no one stopping her?

How could his father... How could he do this?! The answer was as plain as it was infuriating: no one dared. Anna had somehow won over the Duke’s favour, and with it, the implied authority to do as she pleased.