The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!
Chapter 173: Closure

Chapter 173: Closure

She wanted to stop the male leads from going down a dark path... But did she have any success? Cassian still faces abuses from his mother, Benedict’s mother died... And Dimitri... He went to the mage tower. Nothing has changed.

She wanted to cry. Why was she so incapable? Since her arrival, she felt like things had only gotten worse.

Benedict looked tired, there was barely life in his eyes, he did not have time for this nonsense, "I will remind you one last time, Anna." he refused to show her any respect, he called her by her name. "If you enter this room again, you will never be able to leave alive."

He slammed the door shut on her protesting face.

Anna turned to the servants who witnessed the scene, barking orders at the servants with an air of authority that made Adeline’s blood boil. She was dressed in an opulent gown, its fabric shimmering as though mocking the sombre occasion.

Adeline could not breathe for a second.

Adeline’s eyes narrowed. "How dare she?" she thought, her anger intensifying. "The audacity to parade around like this, so soon after the Duchess’s death..."

Anna’s voice was sharp and unyielding as she gestured toward the servants, her commands growing more impatient.

Adeline’s butterfly hovered just out of sight, its presence unnoticed by the woman who had undoubtedly orchestrated this tragedy. Watching Anna in that moment, Adeline felt her fury reach its breaking point.

She could hear Benedict’s cries from the inside of the room... Enough was enough!

When Anna finally dismissed the servants and left the room, Adeline followed her with the butterfly. The hallways were empty, the silence amplifying the sound of Anna’s heels clicking against the marble floor.

She entered a study, a room filled with bookshelves and a heavy oak desk. As soon as Anna closed the door behind her, Adeline struck.

The butterfly darted forward, its radiant form streaking through the air like a bolt of lightning. It struck Anna squarely in the back, sending her reeling forward.

She cried out in pain as her body collided with the edge of the desk, her forehead striking the hard wood with a sickening thud. Blood trickled from the wound as she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Adeline’s butterfly hovered over Anna’s motionless form, its wings fluttering softly. It lingered there, as though contemplating whether to heal the woman.

Adeline gritted her teeth, her anger still burning hot. "No," she thought coldly. "Let her rot." With that, she directed the butterfly away, leaving Anna bleeding and alone in the study.

Her focus shifted back to the Duchess’s chambers. The butterfly returned to the room, flitting through the doorway with a sense of urgency. There, amidst the empty bed and drawn curtains, was Benedict.

He sat on the floor near the bed, his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to his chest.

His face was red and swollen, the tracks of dried tears etched into his cheeks. His eyes were closed, his body limp with exhaustion. Adeline realised with a pang of sorrow that he had cried himself to sleep.

Her butterfly moved closer, its soft light illuminating his features. He looked so vulnerable, so utterly broken, that Adeline’s anger gave way to guilt. She had promised to protect him, to save his family from their cruel fate. Yet here he was, mourning his mother as if her death had been inevitable all along.

"Benedict," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m so sorry."

The butterfly hovered near him, its gentle light casting a warm glow over his face. Adeline wished she could be there with him, to offer comfort and support in his time of need. But all she could do was watch, her heart aching with the weight of her failure.

Maybe it was the light from the butterfly or maybe it was because of her voice... He woke up. His eyes fluttered open and were wide! He was surprised to see a glowing butterfly in his room.

She lingered there for a while, unwilling to leave him alone in his grief. The butterfly’s light flickered softly, a silent testament to her sorrow and regret.

As the butterfly began its long journey back to the capital, Adeline’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, guilt, and determination warred within her, each vying for dominance. She couldn’t change what had happened, but she could try to be there for Benedict...

For now, she did not plan to deal with Anna, she needed to know who was behind her... And fast... This matter got delayed and it cost the life of Benedict’s mother.

The butterfly lingered quietly near Benedict as he stirred, the soft golden glow catching the light in the dim room. His eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, confusion flickered across his face. The butterfly hovered, its translucent wings shimmering softly, a gentle presence in his grief-stricken world.

"Who... Who are you?" Benedict asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted slightly, his gaze locked on the glowing creature before him. "What are you?"

Adeline froze, her connection to the butterfly allowing her to see his tear-streaked face as if she were there in person.

The question echoed in her mind, and for a brief moment, she considered answering, revealing herself. But then she blinked and shook her head. No. She couldn’t.

It would not help him now. Instead, she let the butterfly respond in the simplest way possible: a quick, delicate flutter of its wings.

The faint motion brought a glimmer of understanding to Benedict’s eyes, and his lips quivered. Tears welled up as his voice cracked. "Mom..." he whispered, his voice was filled with pain.

Adeline’s heart ached at the word. She hesitated, then guided the butterfly to gently rest on his knuckles. It was her way of offering comfort, a silent assurance.

She knew how much he had loved his mother and how deeply her death had wounded him. If this small gesture could ease even a fraction of his pain, it was worth it.

Benedict’s shoulders shook as he began to cry. "I’m sorry," he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking with each syllable. "I’m sorry for not being a better son. I’m sorry for all the times I yelled at you—" He hiccupped, his sobs choking his words.

Adeline couldn’t stop her own tears from falling. Through the butterfly, she felt every ounce of his pain, every unspoken regret. She guided the butterfly closer, letting it rest briefly on his tear-streaked cheek.

The soft light reflected in the trails of his tears, and for a moment, it looked as though the butterfly itself was weeping with him.

"I really... Miss you, Mom," Benedict whispered, his voice a broken plea. "I wish you were here. I feel so lonely."

The words struck Adeline like a physical blow. She gritted her teeth, her hands trembling as she wiped her tears. Stop... Please stop... The thought echoed in her mind, her heart a chaotic mess of guilt and sorrow.

She had failed. She had failed to save the Duchess, and now Benedict was left to endure this unbearable pain. She couldn’t bear it anymore.

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