Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 397: Too Weak

Chapter 397: Too Weak

Thankfully, and finally, the projection had paused after the volume ended, giving those other than Huda time to wallow in their grief before being repeatedly slapped once more.

Now, they were all consumed by their sadness in their own way, but each ’way’ shared one thing, a rule unbroken by all.

Silence.

None of it was something that they had acknowledged; again, each man and woman was stuck in their own world, thinking and processing, trying to figure out their own feelings, what this meant for them.

Obviously, they were grateful for what Malik did.

Grateful for him saving them all from a Fate worse than death.

This wasn’t about that; that was old news.

This was more, way more.

And yes, that even included those with loved ones killed by Malik.

Now that they nearly knew all of the context, hating him was very hard.

Rather, not admiring him for what he achieved was even harder.

People had completely fallen in love with their Sultan.

At this point, most of them would make any excuse to defend him.

Even if he did something wrong, which they were now sure that he didn’t, they’d claim that it didn’t happen, and if it did, it wasn’t that bad, and if it was, it was not a big deal, and if it was a big deal, then it was not his fault, and if it was his fault, he didn’t mean it, and if he did mean it, those he did it to had likely deserved it… somehow.

They’d simply go on and on, defending him till it all lost meaning.

Their minds, after all the unfathomable things they witnessed, had drastically changed.

No, no, that was too simple. The very damned makeup of their brains had changed.

Right, it was almost as if they were brainwashed.

Of course, they weren’t; these feelings and thoughts were real, but…

They were so… heavy that they dominated everything else.

Funny… even in their minds, Malik stood out above all.

Safira, now back on her feet, felt the same as they did.

Unlike the others, she and Layla never once aided the coalition.

Neither did their people, Nasir Al-Sultan, nor One Thousand Nights.

One might think that fact gave them some relief, but no, it gave them none at all.

They were bystanders in an incredible wrong, even if it was by design.

Being neutral in the face of injustice made them betrayers no less.

Now, Safira understood that it was too late.

Even if they had somehow saved Malik from the Ten Commandment…

Corruption would claim him, and Sinbad would fail his promise.

They needed to figure out a way to save her teacher’s soul.

…Perhaps find a Holy Relic.

Her eyes widened as she quickly looked at Duban and Faqir.

Right, instead of drowning in their self-pity, they could actually do something useful.

Something that Sinbad wouldn’t stop them from doing and might actually lead him to change his mind.

They could form an expedition, dive Al-Fawra’s Layers, reach the Fourth, and hope to find a useful Holy Relic, one that could at least momentarily stave off Malik’s soul from Corruption after they, by some miracle, get him out of those chains, this nightmare of a Ten Commandment.

Duban and Faqir immediately picked up on her thoughts and nodded.

They didn’t need to exchange words; they simply looked at the rest and walked out.

Many of the crowd, picking up on their plan by the mere difference in their gait, joined them.

Layla, raising her eyes from the ground, quietly looked at them as they left the hall.

She didn’t know what they were planning to do, and for the moment, she didn’t care.

Like Huda next to her, she was lost in a world of grief and guilt.

Grief for how easily her husband… her once husband spoke of killing himself.

Guilt for the tens of years they spent sleeping on the same bed without her ever being there for him, learning his truth, his tragedies.

And now… or rather soon, the entire world was going to watch that unfold.

A marriage that was built on a promise long since dead, something so fragile that it suddenly broke one day, without her ever knowing why…

Still, despite how much she hurt him, Layla never regretted marrying him back then.

They weren’t exactly close, especially not later on, but he was a good husband for her.

Layla tried to be a good wife too.

She had failed at times and succeeded at others.

Sure, they weren’t at all close to being a proper married couple, but…

Despite everything, they had somehow made it work.

Now, Layla couldn’t help but think of the ’what ifs.’

Because, well, if Dunya or Jasmine took her place, Malik would’ve been better off, way better.

She’d maybe even bear him a child, something that Layla tried to do but failed repeatedly.

Something she most regretted.

Yes, and again, in the past, she hated Malik to the bone.

After all, she believed that he had killed her father, making her estranged in an unfamiliar world.

And yet, she still tried to fulfill her vows, one of which was continuing Malik’s lineage.

He, as a Sultan, was constantly being pushed to have an heir.

She was constantly failing.

They told him to marry someone else.

…That perhaps she was the problem.

But, like Xerxes long before him, Malik never did.

Unlike that Sultan, though, it wasn’t love; it couldn’t be.

It was more duty, responsibility, or honor, perhaps.

Malik likely didn’t want to make Layla feel less valued.

She was Rehan’s daughter, and he treated her as such.

Their promise would remain true, even if Rehan himself told Malik not to abide by it.

Telling him that he was being very unfair to have forced it upon him.

Malik didn’t care.

And that rekindled her feelings for him.

The dormant ones, hiding behind her hate.

Of course, his actions could also be because he was required only to marry one and didn’t want the trouble of another, but that part didn’t snake its way to her mind, as she was focused only on the positive aspects, a bit too infatuated with the man that she had forever let down.

Layla wasn’t the only one with such positive thoughts.

Azeem was too, though his were much simpler.

He was Malik’s right-hand man.

He was told most things.

’Most’ was the keyword here.

This Silent Requiem…

This thing that Sinbad and Dunya knew…

It was the first time he heard of it.

Malik, he… until the end…

’He treated me like an outsider.’

The world made his Sultan a pariah, and his Sultan did the same to him.

It was obvious that it was on purpose, something that Malik did to keep Azeem guessing, make him doubt, and crack his complete confidence in his Lord, preparing for the day of his wife’s death.

All of it was planned.

From the very moment they met.

Azeem hated that.

He wasn’t angry that his Lord lied to him, no.

He was angry at himself, as his Lord deemed him unfit to know.

He was too inadequate; him knowing would’ve likely failed his Lord’s plans.

If Azeem was better, more trustworthy, maybe Malik would’ve welcomed him in.

’Forgive me, Lord.’

Opened his heart to him, at least for a moment.

’…I was too weak.’

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com