After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 40

It was already noon, and many students, having finished their lunch, were strolling around the playground.

On the playground stage, Westlyrian stood solemnly, steadily holding a microphone. The other end of the microphone was connected to the broadcasting system, its faint static like the prelude to an approaching storm.

Because of the broadcast, many students began gathering toward the stage.

Westlyrian’s gaze swept over the youthful faces in the crowd below as he slowly began to speak:

“Fellow students, teachers:

Today, with immense sorrow and indignation, I stand on this land brimming with youthful energy to expose to you a heart-wrenching tragedy.

Gangs—these terrorists who trample on humanity and shatter peace—are undoubtedly a huge stumbling block on the empire’s path to prosperity and stability, the deadliest enemies of peace and tranquility.

They are the dark underbelly of society, the concentrated embodiment of human depravity.

They burn, kill, loot, and commit every crime imaginable.

They are like a swarm of greedy locusts, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake.

They corrode the moral fabric of society, weaving a web of crime with violence and fear, trapping countless innocent people within it.

They oppress defenseless refugees, seize their meager means of survival, strip workers of their livelihoods, leaving them displaced and forced to flee their homes.

Their atrocities are utterly horrifying!

We have always harbored good intentions, striving to create a haven for you—a place where you can immerse yourselves in the ocean of knowledge and blossom freely under the sun, rather than facing the harsh realities of violence and bloodshed prematurely.

At the same time, the empire has exerted every effort to eradicate these scoundrels, but they are like weeds that can’t be burned away or cockroaches that refuse to die, never truly eliminated.

Yet, these heartless brutes have torn apart this peace without warning!

The guards discovered them, their hands stained with countless crimes, and sought to bring them to justice. But like mad dogs, they engaged in fierce firefights with the guards, throwing the city into chaos.

Those brave guards, who should have been pillars of their families and bearers of future hope, fell on blood-soaked land while protecting our safety.

The defense line they built with their lives will always deserve our remembrance and deepest respect.

Here, on behalf of Brand University, I extend our highest respect and profound condolences to these heroes.”

Standing tall on the stage, Westlyrian’s deep eyes glistened with tears.

He slowly pulled a pure white handkerchief from his suit’s inner pocket, gently dabbing the corners of his eyes, trying to conceal the overwhelming grief at the edges of his mouth.

Below the stage, students who had been chatting and laughing in small groups were drawn together as if by an invisible force under the influence of Westlyrian’s heartfelt and sorrowful speech. They unconsciously gathered into a more unified crowd.

They clenched their fists, their eyes reddening, tears welling up within them.

So, all this time, the empire they lived in had never truly basked in the sunlight of peace. Those beautiful appearances were merely a carefully constructed barrier by the warm harbor of the campus, shielding them from the darkness and dangers of the outside world.

Gangs had always been destroy peace—they were the root cause of everything!

Westlyrian tucked the handkerchief back into his chest pocket, his expression turning serious as he continued:

“This disaster has also affected innocent civilians and students.

I feel deeply remorseful and hold myself accountable for the pain this tragedy has brought to the victims and their families.

We will spare no effort to provide them with the highest quality medical care and psychological counseling, helping them emerge from the shadows as quickly as possible and regain the courage to live.

May the departed rest in peace, and may the living find strength. Our city will eventually dispel the gloom and return to tranquility.

At this moment, listening to Westlyrian’s speech, some students in the crowd could no longer contain their emotions. Tears streamed down their faces like a burst dam.

They grieved for the fallen heroes and the innocent victims. They were enraged by the actions of the gangs, wishing they could personally eradicate them to protect their homes and country.

Renith arrived at the playground early and witnessed the whole thing. She saw the faceless statue, which was originally facing the library, turn to face the playground. An invisible white mist overflowed from the statue, enveloping the entire playground and spreading to every corner of the school via the radio broadcast.

The enormous sound, which could normally only be heard inside the library, now resonated in the minds of everyone on campus. But the sound was very faint, so faint that Renis could easily mute it with a flick of her finger.

But others in the school were different.

Westlyrian’s speech was rather ordinary, so why were these students moved to tears as if listening to some solemn oath?

How could no one notice such obvious blame-shifting?

Clearly, it was the influence of this invisible white mist.

The mist seemed capable of altering people’s perceptions. Studying in such an environment, within half a year, an ordinary person could be brainwashed into a fanatical believer.

Not to mention that most here were inexperienced blank slates.

“For the empire, eradicate this sin!”

Someone started the chant, and soon, students and teachers on the playground raised their arms and shouted in unison:

“For the empire, eradicate this sin!”

Westlyrian was deeply pleased. Holding the microphone, he wiped his tears:

“I am deeply moved, but your task is to focus on your studies, to quickly become pillars of the empire… Only then can you become loyal right-hand supporters, making outstanding contributions to eradicating this sin!”

The chants on the playground continued.

Westlyrian’s speech ended. Amid the students’ and teachers’ slogans, he hurried back to his office and ordered a telegram to be sent to Kirk, who was en route:

“I have handled the students’ side. Those who raised doubts are merely new, ignorant freshmen. With a little maneuvering, their voices can be suppressed—they won’t cause any major waves.”

“Rest assured, in a few years, you will receive many outstanding talents who are fiercely loyal to the empire and obedient to you. They will be like well-trained hounds, serving as your right-hand supporters on the path to power, clearing obstacles for you, achieving remarkable accomplishments, and steadily elevating you to the highest positions of authority.”

“When that time comes, I hope you will remember today’s favor and extend your support to this humble commoner. Finally, the doors of Brand University are always open to you, and you are always welcome to visit.”

After sending the message, Westlyrian leaned back in his chair with relief, casually propping his legs on the desk. His arrogant and smug demeanor suggested that everything was under his control.

On the playground, the invisible thick mist gradually dissipated, and the statue slowly turned back toward the library.

It seemed that under normal circumstances, only students entering the library were affected.

But a university is, after all, a place for studying, and very few have never visited the library.

Renith suddenly understood why Roganne remained completely unaffected.

She might never have set foot in the library.

But Vistad was different. As an ordinary person who worked hard to enter university, he would certainly study diligently and borrow books from the library. To some extent, he would have been influenced by the white mist.

Yet, he had managed to resist its effects with his own willpower, beginning to question himself and the school.

Vistad’s determination was truly remarkable.

After investigating everything, Renith returned to the agency and took the opportunity to return Boscia’s clothes.

Back on Lion Street, Renith pushed open the door to find the agency in complete chaos.

The originally small reception room was filled with documents and newspapers. Vistad and Antina were sitting in a corner, meticulously combing through materials word by word.

In contrast, Roganne, who had claimed she would help, had fallen sound asleep amidst the piles of books, occasionally muttering something in her sleep.

This only reinforced Renith’s belief that Roganne had never been to the library and thus remained largely unaffected by the white mist.

Clearly not the studious type.

“How’s it going?”

No one in the bustling agency had noticed Renith’s return. She approached Antina and looked at the densely written notes in her hand.

“Some good news, I suppose.”

Antina glanced at her notes.

“First, the one harassing Angelica isn’t a true noble. He’s one of Baron Mattehan’s sons, named Beriyet. This guy, relying on his father’s influence, flirts with anything that moves and is already notorious in certain circles.”

“Dealing with him is much simpler than dealing with an actual noble. Nobles often have complex networks and deeply entrenched relationships, but Beriyet is merely riding on his father’s coattails.”

“If we can make Baron Mattehan abandon this good-for-nothing son, stripping him of his backing, then when he stands trial, our chances of winning are practically one hundred percent.”

Renith nodded; Antina’s idea was quite good. Since the one harassing Angelica wasn’t an imperial nobleman, but merely one of a baron’s many sons, severing their vested interests first was the right thing to do.

“But we’ve hit a snag in finding a method. Most nobles are fiercely protective of their own. How to make Baron Mattehan willingly ‘abandon’ Beriyet—we still haven’t come up with a feasible plan.”

At that moment, Vistad placed his stack of books on the floor in the corner and spoke slowly:

“I think we can work on this angle. Finding witnesses who have suffered similar experiences with Beriyet to testify in court could be a good approach.”

“But Roganne went out looking twice. All the women who had published in the newspapers about being harassed by Beriyet refused to say anything about him. I suspect his father paid them off with hefty compensation, or they have some leverage held against them.”

Antina retorted.

Renith glanced at the paper filled with pen writing. Besides finding a witness, she also saw several rejected methods. Her gaze lingered on the one about “faking a stain” for a long time.

“What is it?”

Antina put down her pen and looked at Renith.

“I have a rather good idea. A ‘piece of evidence’ that, once presented, would force Baron Mattehan to abandon Beriyet.”