I Ended My Engagement With The Woman Who Despised Me

✦  Chapter 7 — The Rift  ✦

「Translator - Creator」

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The term ‘rift’ referred to a phenomenon where space itself was artificially twisted, causing spatial distortion; the key points were its artificial creation and spatial distortion.

‘To put it bluntly, it means someone intentionally tore open a passage to invade.’

Considering that monsters emerged from these rifts, it was rather evident who might be responsible for such occurrences.

'The Demon Lord or demon-kind.'

Judging by the timeline of the original story, it was still in its early stages.

Thus, it was more reasonable to assume that the culprits were lesser demons rather than the Demon Lord himself.

Even if it were low-ranking demons causing this chaos, at this point in time, both the protagonist and his allies were still too inexperienced to handle such a crisis effectively.

This, naturally, led to massive casualties.

Thanks to my efforts to restore warmth and vitality to the city, the damage was far less severe than depicted in the original story. However, it was undeniable that the loss was still grave enough to be described as catastrophic.

'I warned them, didn’t I?'

I had repeatedly cautioned them — pointing out the risks, urging them to bolster their forces, and asking if they were truly prepared for any unforeseen issues.

But it seemed that no one had taken my warnings to heart.

‘Well, nothing I can do about it now.’

In the original story, events unfolded from the protagonist’s perspective. By the time he arrived in the North, the monsters were already rampaging, leaving little detail about when the rifts had first appeared. With no clear timeline to rely on, insisting that they prepare in advance had been a challenging argument to make.

‘And in the original, it wasn’t until they were hit hard like this that they finally began taking rift defense seriously.’

Perhaps this severe loss was, in a way, a necessary wake-up call for the north to take proper precautions.

As my thoughts wandered, I began to contemplate what actions I should take for Elysia.

'Immediate help? Or letting her stand alone for future independence?'

What was the right answer?

My emotions pointed toward immediate help, suggesting the rational choice was to let things be. Though logically the latter made sense... a bitter smile crossed my face at the thought of growth achieved through deaths.

'I don't know. It's not like I can do anything anyway.'

And there was nothing I should do.

Resolving to focus solely on spreading warmth across the north, I continued channeling the sun spirit’s power. It was then that Loraine suddenly burst into my room, her face tense with urgency.

And she brought unexpected news.

"Many in the north are claiming that the young master is the one who caused the rift."

𓆩♱𓆪

This is how the incident began — 

With the major casualties, they needed someone to take 'responsibility.' And from their perspective, they conveniently found an outsider with enough family influence to shoulder the blame.

'Considering their closed nature, it seems like protecting their own.'

While Loraine suggested this was similar to how siblings instinctively protect each other in times of danger, I had a different view.

"With monsters pouring from the rift, the North can't afford to focus on the South anymore. Since one of their reasons for accepting me - their plan to enter central politics - has fallen through... they're probably trying to shift the blame to me."

At my words, her face lit up as if something had just clicked in her mind.

“Oh! Do you think this might also have something to do with the troubles surrounding House Carsaril?"

“House Carsaril? What kind of trouble?”

"Ah... never mind."

Her sudden reluctance to elaborate was suspicious, and I was tempted to press her for more details. However, I didn’t get the chance.

Before I could dig further, the people the northern faction had sent arrived at my door and knocked firmly.

"Young Master Damian, the Lord of House Wintraven, Archduke Leicreek, requests your presence.”

With the Northern Archduke and head of House Wintraven calling, I had no choice but to follow them.

𓆩♱𓆪

Realistically, they couldn't harm me — 

— not because of any naive notion of innocence, but because I was the youngest son of House Carsaril.

And any scratch on me would invite pressure from House Carsaril, which held considerable influence in central politics. Even if I were guilty, they'd likely just express 'regret' and send me back home.

‘And that’s precisely the outcome they’re aiming for.’

In the end, it would allow everyone to avoid further conflict.

No one would be hurt or killed, and for House Wintraven, who valued solidarity within their closed-off northern circles, this arrangement wasn’t a bad outcome at all.

‘But what I don’t understand is…’

They must have at least some inkling that I’m the one generating the warmth that benefits the entire north. So why would they try to ostracize someone who brings them such an immense advantage?

As I pondered this, I continued walking forward.

Meanwhile, Loraine, keeping close by my side, lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Young master, if you wish, I can prepare a carriage for immediate return home."

Since relations would inevitably break down whether I met the Northern Archduke or returned home, she suggested leaving before things turned ugly. 

Why not spare myself the trouble of an unpleasant confrontation?

I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head.

"It's fine."

At the very least, Elysia understood what I’d done.

She knew about my efforts to warm the north, and given her usual fairness and cool-headedness, she would undoubtedly realize that I wasn’t at fault.

Even if no one else believed in me, as long as she saw me for who I truly was, nothing else really mattered.

And with that thought giving me strength, I opened the door.

𓆩♱𓆪

Expecting rationality from those who had lost their loved ones was as foolish as trying to extinguish fire with dry wood.

Consumed by rage and despair, the grieving sought not a perpetrator with a complicated backstory, but a clear and unambiguous villain — someone they could hate without question.

And so, their fingers pointed at no one else but me, Damian Carsaril — the former troublemaker and now fiancé to Elysia, the Archduchess of the North.

“Did you open the rift, Lord Damian?”

The meeting began with this direct question.

Under normal circumstances, there should have been procedures — a thorough examination of the evidence followed by a formal inquiry.

However, it was clear from the start that they had already decided on the conclusion. All they needed now was to backfill their reasoning to support it.

“Of course not.”

"For someone innocent, your behavior before the rift opened was rather suspicious."

Glancing around the room, I estimated that roughly 30% of those present bore open hostility toward me. The rest either feigned ignorance or kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact.

Judging by their reactions, it was obvious most of them knew I wasn’t guilty. Yet, if they spoke the truth, it would mean one of their own — the Northern faction — would have to bear responsibility.

To them, that was an unthinkable outcome, so they chose silence instead.

“What exactly were you doing in the deep forest late at night, every night? Were you perhaps attempting to open the rift for some unknown reason?”

“Ridiculous.”

No matter what I said, their conclusion would remain unchanged.

Resigned to this fact, I repeated the same answer over and over, all while pondering a way to turn the situation around.

How could I shatter their narrative and regain control?

After a brief moment of thought, I arrived at a simple solution — they were targeting me because it was a low-risk move. In that case, all I had to do was create risk for them.

“Depending on your answer, you may face a punishment equivalent to death, so choose your words wisely—”

“Are you prepared to bear the consequences of this?”

My sharp retort cut them off mid-sentence. Chin held high, I exuded an air of defiance, the kind that said, Do you even know who you’re dealing with?

This wasn’t just empty bravado.

In movies and novels, such tactics only worked if the protagonist was unhinged enough to defy all logic. But in real life, such strategies were surprisingly effective —

'Especially here in the North.'

The North might be strong, its soldiers resilient and hardened from standing at the frontier, but without the supplies and reinforcements sent from the South, they would eventually wither away.

As insular and self-reliant as they were, the northern faction couldn’t afford to ignore the influence of the central political powers.

It seemed my bold stance had caught them off guard.

A wave of hesitation rippled through the room.

However, they had already committed to their narrative.

Backtracking now would mean losing face — and likely even more. So they pressed on with their accusations.

"I misspoke. However, isn't it true that the rift appeared after Lord Damian entered the deep forest? Can you really prove that you had no involvement in its creation?"

I laughed bitterly at the word 'prove.' 

In this world, proof wasn’t something you could just conjure up.

To establish my innocence, I’d need a third-party witness or high-grade magic artifacts like a magic orb — neither of which I had while wandering through the deep forest.

‘So, what now?’

A lone individual defeating a collective through sheer argumentation was nearly impossible. Overturning their accusations through conventional means wasn’t an option.

Instead, I had to flip the entire board.

Rather than trying to win against them, I needed to render their accusations meaningless.

I looked at them calmly and spoke, my voice carrying an air of mockery.

"So you're asking if I, the youngest son of House Carsaril, conspired with demon-kind to invade the North?"

Their goal was simple enough — pin just enough blame on me to save face, reprimand me lightly, and sweep the matter under the rug as though it never happened.

But the moment I mentioned colluding with demon-kind and invading the North, I shattered the delicate balance they were trying to maintain. Now, the entire framework of their accusations had crumbled, forcing them to rethink their approach.

The realization dawned on them quickly.

Several people made motions to speak, likely attempting to de-escalate the situation and salvage what they could. Yet, no one wanted to shoulder the burden of stepping forward.

In the end, they all averted their gazes, unwilling to meet mine.

As I was about to push further — to not just flip the board but burn it entirely —

"Emergency! Second invasion from the rift has begun!"

A second wave of monsters was spilling out of the rift.

This was a disaster on an unprecedented scale for the North; the destruction it would cause was unimaginable.

But this also meant something else.

The second wave heralded the arrival of Dale, the protagonist of this world.

END of CHAPTER

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