The Max Level Hero Has Returned!-Chapter 1233.1
Chapter 1233.1
Mit sat by himself.
Prince Davey had left not long after their exchange.
That vulgar-mouthed Vampire Lord, Josiah Frances—who was also his mentor in a sense—had returned with that man as well, using a reverse summoning circle. She had said she’d return eventually, but didn’t mention when.
The room in the quiet villa was still and silent. Mit initially should’ve been locked up in a prison cell, yet thanks to Prince Davey clearing up the misunderstanding with his father, he was simply confined to a room instead.
In his hand, he held an old bottle of wine.
Alcohol. It was something he used to drink all the time. He’d always drink too much and cause scenes. He would look down on commoners, picking fights with royal attendants and maids. That was his daily routine.
If it had been the old him, he would’ve thrown a fit over being offered such cheap, dusty wine. Sitting there in that room, however, he didn’t feel any anger or resentment over it. In fact, by that point, a cheap bottle like this somehow felt more appropriate for him.
“You and I... what a pitiful pair we’ve become,” he muttered with a bitter smile.
As the warmth of the alcohol slowly rose to his head, memories from earlier resurfaced.
- Think it through carefully, because I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.
Davey O’Rowane. The strongest being in the world, and the Saint of the Continent. Those had been his words to him. The way he had conveyed his words was as if he could see straight through everything with a glance. It made it impossible to talk back to him or ignore him.
While they weren’t even that far apart in age, the gap between them felt unreal.
The old him would’ve been filled with jealousy and scorn. Looking at it with a clear head, however, it was clearly different. That simple statement Davey had said struck a chord somewhere deep within him.
Despite the cold expression and overwhelming pressure, when his father struck him across the face, Davey had been the only one to say anything like that to him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand his father's words and worries. He had caused a major incident at the Central Academy, and because of that, the Chyde family had been saddled with enormous debt.
The Central Academy, with its long history, housed countless rare specimens. The trouble began when the museum, filled with artifacts on a national treasure level, exploded.
The explosion. The flames. The fire that swallowed up the ancient relics and powerful artifacts. Mit couldn’t possibly forget the scene, as it repeated within his mind once more.
* * *
Mit lay pinned to the ground, violently restrained as the Student Council members coldly stared at him. The academy’s Seven Star Professors, who were considered the highest-ranking elders within the institution, also looked down on him with scorn.
He found himself unable to even open his mouth.
‘It wasn’t me! This is a misunderstanding...’
However, perhaps because of all the things he had done until then, the Student Council, who had always picked fights with him; the Seven Star Professors, known for their kindness to students; and even the sycophants who once tried to cozy up to the Chyde family for its privileges all pretended not to know him.
That was the first time he truly realized just how worthless and helpless he was when faced with injustice. It was the same kind of delinquent behavior he had shown others, twisting the truth and trampling on people with baseless accusations. While he had never caused a mess quite so big before, he had hurt many people over the years in smaller ways.
He had always put himself first. If someone opposed him, then they were in the wrong. If they didn’t have power, they were the one to blame. If they were humiliated, it was their fault for being weak and stupid.
He used to laugh at people like that all the time. However, once facing it himself, the reality was nothing like he had imagined. He wondered if it was how the people he’d bullied felt.
He insisted that he did nothing wrong. He tried to tell them that he’d only been looking at the relics out of curiosity, thinking of playing a harmless prank and nothing more.
However, no one believed him. Just the fact that he had entertained such a thought was enough in their eyes to brand him the culprit behind the incident.
When a person felt too wronged, their mind was bound to break. He sobbed on the ground, face pressed to the floor, begging them to believe he wasn’t at fault. They didn’t buy it.
In the process of being restrained and dragged off to the disciplinary office, Mit Chyde seized a brief opening and ran for his life. By doing so, he gave up the only opportunity the academy could have possibly extended to reduce his punishment.
He fled the Academy grounds, breath ragged. Knowing it was wrong to run wasn’t enough to stop him. When he reached the slums, drained from thirst and excessive mana usage, exhaustion overtook him.
Once he finally collapsed, someone appeared before him. It was Prince Vasilion le Bosta, the youngest prince of the Bosta Kingdom—the very kingdom his family served. They were the same age.
Back when Mit had gotten entangled in some family scandal, kicked out of his household and sent to the Academy, it had been Vasilion who first approached him.
The prince had a soft, gentle face. He was the one who’d supported Mit when he was acting like a bigger bastard than ever before.
Whether the prince’s nature was good or evil had never mattered to Mit. What mattered was that he was useful and advantageous for him to befriend.
Exploiting that supposedly naive prince, Mit had continued his delinquent behavior. Perhaps because Vasilion approached him without any judgment, Mit had come to trust him more than anyone. After all, no one had ever treated him the same way he did. Even the students at the Academy had treated him with suspicion when first encountered, their minds poisoned by rumors.
‘I trusted him too much.’
By the final meeting, Vasilion had already turned into a monster—he had been the one who lured Mit to the museum. It became painfully clear that he had orchestrated the entire disaster.
Mit wondered why, yet at the same time, it didn’t matter. What mattered were the words he spoke.
“Thanks, man! Thank you for playing the fool for so long. Thanks to you, the Chyde family is now mine. You helped make my dream a reality.”
He said more, but Mit couldn’t understand. So, instead of trying to comprehend, Mit shouted, “Why did you manipulate me like a stupid marionette?! What did I do to deserve this?!”
Vasilion gave a simple answer. “For fun.”
Then he forced a strange potion into Mit’s mouth. Drained of mana and on the brink of death, Mit swallowed it and began to slowly die.
Prince Vasilion Le Bosta smirked at him, jeering, “No one is going to find you. Once a dog is done hunting, it gets eaten.”
He stomped on Mid’s hand and walked away, laughing.
Mit had been thrown out. Used, treated as a piece of garbage by the one person in the entire country he trusted.
Poisoned by a faint, traceless toxin, Mit bitterly lay dying. He couldn’t help but let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.
‘What a pathetic end.’
Through the haze of fading consciousness, he saw someone approach with a basket of fruit. She froze in place the moment she saw him, and he recognized her.
She had worked at the Chyde house long in the past. She was a commoner maid with a gentle, almost foolishly kind personality—something which Mit had taken advantage of. He had even beaten her and thrown her out in spite after getting scolded by his father. He’d even ruined her family.
To her, Mit Chayde was nothing short of a living nightmare.
He recalled what Prince Vasilion had just said as he mocked him.
-
You did wrong, so you get punished.
Right up until he lost consciousness, Mid truly thought he was going to die.
However, he didn’t.
When he came back to his senses, he was in an old, foul-smelling room. The younger brother and sister of the girl he had thrown out were huddled together in a corner, trembling.
They were her only family. Having recognized his face, they couldn’t hide their fear.
It wasn’t long before the maid, Isera, returned with herbs in hand. She handed them to him with a cold expression. “The poison was weak, so I was able to treat you quickly. You’ve been unconscious for three days, so you should leave now.”
She didn’t ask for anything, and also didn’t show hatred.
Staring blankly at her, Mit asked, “Why? Why did you save me?”
Isera glared at him, her expression cold. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I still hate the sight of you. I despise you! But... I couldn’t just stand by and watch someone die. That’s all. Now leave.”
Strangely, Mit could tell she was lying. He didn’t know why, but he just did.
In pain and overwhelmed, he shouted at her, “Is this some cheap sympathy? Do you even know who I am? Who do you think you are, saving me and leaving me like this?!”
It was a shameless, pathetic outburst.
He would later realize that the outburst was what had changed him.
Isera only said one thing in response. “I’m just repaying a small kindness you once showed me.”
He didn’t know what kindness she could even be referring to. Whatever it was, he had long forgotten it.
Leaving her home, he stood at a distance, staring at the quiet, old house.
She was someone he had bullied for fun before kicking her out after framing her for no good reason.
He asked himself what made him any different from her at that moment.
Only then did he realize how many people he had hurt, and how many lives he had trampled without a second thought.
They say people never understand something until they experience it themselves.
For the first time, he finally understood. How much pain he had caused. How cruel he had been.
So, he swallowed back the tears and walked away. He knew all too well that he didn’t deserve to apologize to her. He didn’t deserve to cry in front of her.
So, without saying anything, he went back home.
.
!
Chapter 1233.1
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