The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 382: Laughing at You

When Arthur personally delivered Isolde to the Ministry of Justice prison, the suffocating rage he had been holding onto finally found release. That day, Mell had rushed to inform him that Cristina had been placed under house arrest. Enraged, he hurried to the Valen estate, where he crossed paths with Isolde. The mere sight of her ignited a fire within him.

Her arrogance, her cold indifference—she had always been the pampered jewel of the Valen family, surrounded by doting elders and deferential servants. When she saw him, she deliberately turned away, as if he were beneath her notice. Strip away her title as County Princess, and what was she? A mere fifth-rank general.

Arthur had climbed the ranks of the court, married Agnes, and was basking in his prime. But ever since Isolde entangled Cristina in her schemes, he had suffered repeated humiliations, losing face time and time again. Seeing Cristina’s pitiful state only fanned the flames of his fury. He recalled how Isolde once rode out, surrounded by an entourage, basking in her former glory. And now, standing before him was the broken ruin of his sister. His fists clenched. He swore to himself—he would rip that haughty expression off Isolde’s face.

Leaving the Sunset Chamber, he unexpectedly ran into Ashley in the corridor. He had no reason to meet with her, but since their paths crossed, he could not ignore her. Ashley smiled at him. “Are you here to see Isolde? She’s gone out.”

Arthur was momentarily stunned. Why would she assume he was here for Isolde? But her next words made everything clear. “You’re a man of virtue, are you not? If you do see Isolde, you should remind her—what kind of granddaughter doesn’t return home to mourn her grandmother? If His Majesty were to hear of such disrespect and unfilial conduct, he would be furious.”

The moment she spoke, Arthur understood. Behind Ashley’s gentle, benevolent smile lurked a blade, sharp and poised to strike. And in that moment, a trace of his own killing intent flickered to life. Yet he swallowed it down. To accuse Isolde was to challenge the Valen family. He still hoped Cristina would receive fair treatment under their roof. So, after leaving Ashley, he sought out Margaret.

He begged her. He begged Margaret to find a better living arrangement for Cristina, to ensure she was not mistreated. He even promised that Heidi would never suffer a single hardship in the Langley household. But Margaret’s response was a face of cold indifference. She did not even deem him worthy of a single word.

Disheartened, he turned to Pablo. Yes, Cristina had made mistakes, but surely Pablo would not hold such a deep grudge against a mere woman. The blaze within Arthur, already fierce, now became an inferno.

He left the Valen estate with single-minded fury, so much so that, for a fleeting moment, he was tempted to march straight home and divorce Agnes on the spot. But he was not entirely reckless. Agnes was not the real enemy—Oliver and Isolde were.

Then, Ashley’s words returned to him. And he realized this was fate handing him an opportunity. The King despised disloyalty and filial disrespect above all else. So, Arthur waited. And when Prudence’s funeral passed without Isolde making an appearance, he knew the heavens had favored him. Evil never triumphs over righteousness. Isolde—venomous, reckless, and treacherous—was finally receiving her just deserts.

And so, he personally escorted her to the Ministry of Justice prison. He stood outside the iron bars, watching her as she was led inside, hoping to see fear in her eyes. But she simply sat on the damp straw, lifted her head, and looked at him with the same unshaken arrogance as always. “Much obliged for the escort,” she said lightly. “I appreciate it.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened. “What do you have to be proud of now? Do you actually think someone will come to save you?” Isolde laughed.

Arthur seethed at that laughter, at the way she gazed at him as though he were a fool. “What are you laughing at?” he snapped.

Isolde leaned back with an air of leisure. “I’m laughing at you. At a so-called Baron who behaves like a petty, gossiping village wife. At a man who preaches morality while indulging in filth and corruption. At a fool who has blindly walked into Ashley’s trap without even realizing it. And above all, I’m laughing at the fact that, even though I sit behind these bars, you are the one who is more nervous and furious.”

“You’re just trying to hide your fear behind that laugh.” Arthur glared at her, but her words gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Had he truly become the man she described?

“Fear?” Isolde smirked. “I have no reason to fear. My conscience is clear. But you… you should be afraid. After all, someone must take the fall for this. And if it isn’t me, it will be you. Do you believe that?”

“You’re already finished,” Arthur spat, his eyes burning.

“I wouldn’t be so sure!” Isolde flicked her sleeve, her smile almost dazzling in the gloom of the prison. “Because if I fall… you will fall harder.”

“Then let’s wait and see,” Isolde said simply.

Arthur sneered. “Bluster all you like. You’ve committed treason against the King himself. To think you can escape justice is nothing but a fantasy.” He turned sharply, unwilling to see that smile any longer, and stormed out.

He was certain—Isolde would never leave that prison alive. She had been disrespectful to her family, rebellious against the throne. The King would not spare her. And yet, as he walked away from the Ministry of Justice, he could not shake a gnawing sense of unease.

Isolde had said he had walked into Ashley’s trap. A trap? What trap? Ashley was Kamari’s confidante, and though she had earned merit by eliminating Kamari, she had been in Argentum for over a month without gaining access to the palace. The King’s stance on her remained unclear. Rowena had seen him speaking with Ashley. But so what? It was a mere exchange of greetings. If the King questioned it, he had nothing to hide.

And yet, Ashley’s last words lingered in his mind. She had smiled at him and asked, “Do you plan to cling to the Valen family forever? If not, why not forge your own path?” Then she had whispered, “Trust me, and I will see you promoted three ranks within three years.”

She knew. She had seen his growing disillusionment, his resentment toward the Valen family. Ashley was trying to recruit him. She was a foreigner, a woman without powerful kin in Argentum. She needed allies. And he… he needed advancement. Three ranks in three years. How tempting it was.