Thought It Was 'The End', Only to Return to a Changed Genre - Chapter 33
Adeline looked around instead of answering immediately.
Curious eyes were sparkling all around. Even those who turned their heads away had their ears wide open. It was clear that no one would step in to help or intervene.
“And who might you be?”
“Pfft, if I tell you, will you even know?”
A chuckling laugh followed.
An unpleasant breath and the smell of alcohol wafted over. Just from his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, it was clear he wasnât in his right mind. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have approached without understanding the situation.
Adeline reflected a little.
Feeling like she was being watched, she had just moved a bit away from her familyâs gaze to be alone.
“You seem to be drunk.”
“I’m perfectly fine! I’m fine, I tell you!”
“Everyone whoâs drunk thinks theyâre fine.”
“A con artist preaching now, huh.”
Since it was a church-hosted event, alcohol shouldnât have been provided. Adeline glanced at the bottle the man was holding.
‘Young alcoholics are a problem in any world.’
The small bottle, barely covered by his palm, likely contained alcohol, not water. Following her gaze, the man looked at his hand and sneered roughly.
“What, do you want a sip too? Nervous about trying to con people with your pretty face?”
“âŚâŚ.”
“Bringing a lookalike girl here and spewing nonsense. You think people would just believe you because you said so, damn Blanchard.”
She understood now.
âInferiority complex eats away at people.â
Adeline realized that the man, whose face was flushed, was around Shaneâs age. If he wasnât drunk, he might actually be quite handsome, but she was too used to the protagonistâs looks to distinguish well. Probably handsome, thoughâŚ.
“Excuse me, but Iâve never committed fraud.”
At least not against you.
Adeline laughed inwardly at the thought of deceiving the world five years ago.
“You claim to be Adeline Bertrand?”
“Well, yes, thatâs right.”
“Then thatâs fraud! Youâre using the name of a woman whoâs been dead for years!”
“Oh, so youâre saying I should prove that I am Adeline Bertrand?”
“Yeah! Unless youâre a con artist!”
“Wouldnât my family who accompanied me today be able to prove that?”
“Ha, theyâre obviously in on it. You need to make some sense. Dead people canât come back to life. Youâre not a divine apostle, so why would you be the exception?”
“Thatâs quite a reasonable statement.”
“What?”
Adeline looked directly at the wide-eyed man and elaborated.
“Oh, Iâve never actually died. The articles probably said I was in a near-death comatose state. If you had read them properly, as long as youâre not illiterate, you would know that.”
“If someoneâs in a coma for five years, theyâre as good as dead!”
“Right, rightâŚ.”
“What?”
“Thatâs right. But what can we do, Duke Blanchard and the Saintess both call me Adeline Bertrand.”
Adeline looked at the man as if she felt sorry for him.
‘A conspiracy theorist who survived the cold must be a drunkardâŚ.â
If this man had been a little more cautious and intelligent, she could have used him, which was a pity.
Adeline decided to abandon her regret and quickly get rid of the man before her family returned and caused a bigger commotion.
“So all you have to do is admit youâre a con artist!”
“Oh, am I a con artist even without the intent to deceive?”
“Youâre deceiving people, arenât you? How can you have no intent?”
“What can I do? I canât prove that Iâm meâŚâŚ. But of course, that makes it suspicious. Any intelligent person would doubt it. So what to doâŚ.”
