The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!
Chapter 167: Shame and Guilt

Chapter 167: Shame and Guilt

Benedict’s jaw tightened as he replayed the words spoken earlier in the evening. The subtle barbs and outright dismissals from his father, the mocking glance from Anna as she sauntered through the halls as if she owned them. Each moment chipped away at the fragile hold he had on his emotions.

"I will remember this," Benedict thought to himself, his fists tightening at his sides. "Every word, every action. I will never forget."

Benedict’s eyes drifted to Adeline. She stood in the centre of the room, poised and radiant despite the heavy atmosphere. The sight of her brought a strange mixture of comfort and despair.

He wanted to approach her, to tell her everything that was weighing on him. She would understand—she always did. But something held him back.

His gaze lingered, his heart aching with the conflict inside him. On one hand, he wanted everyone to see the injustice, to know how his father had betrayed his mother’s memory. On the other, he didn’t want to burden Adeline.

But beneath the simmering rage toward his father and Anna lay an ache he couldn’t shake.

"She’s better than this," he thought, his chest tightening. "She deserves the light, not the darkness I’m trapped in."

For a moment, he entertained the thought that maybe, just maybe, she would notice him and come to him. But he quickly pushed it aside. It was selfish, he told himself. She didn’t need his pain overshadowing her moment.

He told himself he couldn’t tarnish her evening with his pain, even if his heart screamed otherwise.

His resolve wavered, and he turned to leave, his steps heavy with regret.

Cassian, ever watchful, noticed Benedict’s lingering gaze. He saw the way Benedict’s expression shifted, the way his shoulders sagged as he walked away.

For a brief moment, Cassian considered calling out to him, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place, and he doubted Benedict would welcome his interference.

Instead, Cassian returned his attention to Adeline. She was speaking with one of her father’s advisors, her voice steady and clear. He admired her strength, her ability to navigate the complexities of a noble society with such grace.

For a brief moment, Cassian considered calling out to him, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place, and he doubted Benedict would welcome his interference.

Instead, Cassian returned his attention to Adeline. She was speaking with one of her father’s advisors, her voice steady and clear. He admired her strength, her ability to navigate the complexities of a noble society with such grace.

But even as he stood by her side, a part of him couldn’t shake the image of Benedict’s retreating figure.

"Why couldn’t he go to her?" Cassian wondered, the question lingering in his mind.

He understood that Benedict was going through something. Not interfering in their conversation... Hah, it was very uncharacteristic of him. He would immediately stick to Adeline but now he was avoiding her.

Was it because of a fallout? Or was there something going on? Either way, he did not care. He never liked him. And he never intended to get along with him.

Benedict found a secluded corner of the estate, far from the prying eyes of the nobles. The cold stone wall pressed against his back as he slid down to the floor, his legs folding beneath him.

He hugged his knees tightly, his head resting against them as he tried to steady his breathing. The weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought desperately to keep them in check.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Why am I so pathetic?"

He was filled with shame, guilt, anger and frustration. They were overwhelming. He could not live with himself. How could he go on like this? He felt like he was at a dead end.

He thought of his mother, her laughter, her warmth, the way she had always made him feel safe. And then he thought of Anna, parading through the estate as if she owned it, her presence a constant reminder of his father’s betrayal.

"I couldn’t save her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I couldn’t not do anything."

The shame was suffocating. He felt as though he had failed in every possible way—as a son, as an heir, as a person.

His mind drifted back to Adeline. She had always been a source of strength for him, a light in his darkest moments. But now, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her.

"She’s helped me so many times," he thought bitterly. "What have I ever done for her?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered. He buried his face in his arms, his body trembling with the effort to keep his emotions contained.

He did not know when it started to rain, but when he realised it did he found his pants soaked in water.

He sat there for what felt like hours, the cold seeping into his bones, but he didn’t move.

Eventually, a servant passed by, pausing briefly when they saw him. They hesitated, unsure whether to approach, but something in Benedict’s posture kept them at a distance.

"Leave me," he said hoarsely, not lifting his head.

The servant obeyed, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Benedict’s thoughts spiralled, each one more painful than the last. He wanted to believe that things could get better, that he could find a way to honour his mother’s memory and reclaim what had been lost.

Back in the grand hall, Adeline glanced toward the doorway, her eyes scanning the crowd. For a brief moment, she thought she saw Benedict, his figure disappearing into the shadows.

She frowned, a pang of concern tugging at her heart. Why did he not meet with her? Was he in a rush to leave? She looked around to see that the Northern Duke was still chatting.

"Adeline," Cassian’s voice brought her back to the present. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, offering him a small smile. "Yes, I’m fine."

But as she returned her attention to the conversation at hand, a part of her mind remained with Benedict, wondering if she should have gone after him.

Cassian watched her closely, his keen eyes catching the flicker of worry in her expression.

Did she really care about him that much, he wanted to distract her... He wanted to take her away from this place, but he wondered if he did that... And if Benedict’s situation worsened, the guilt would cause her to care about him more.

As she returned to her conversation with the nobles, her thoughts remained with Benedict, her concern growing with each passing moment.

She resolved to find him later, to ensure he was all right. For now, though, she had to maintain her composure. The eyes of the court were still upon her, and she couldn’t afford to falter.

Adeline wondered what could have caused him to leave like this... Did they not find evidence against her? Was that why he was so down? Or did Anna do something? Her fists clenched... If she dared...

She would make her pay.