I Don’t Want to be a Villainess

It was quite a long time ago when she first met her.

With black, shiny hair flowing as if it would slip down even if tied, and beautiful ruby-like red eyes.

Her white skin made one wonder if she had ever seen the sun, and though a bit thin, her body had lovely curves.

Even in the same patient uniform, lying on the same bed, she exuded elegance. Of course, she sought after a VIP hospital room, and while the bed she laid on might have been “same as others,” it felt a bit different.

A beautiful and soft voice. And a disposition so gentle it seemed she could never clash with anyone.

She was a type of person she had never seen before.

Could a person raised without a single worry, bathed only in love, really become like this?

No, it wouldn’t be entirely free of worries. She came to the hospital often because her body was so weak.

It wasn’t just love she received. When she visited the hospital, it wasn’t her family who took care of her.

But she always smiled brightly when she found her in the patient room.

Even late at night, they had to change the IV drip several times. If needed, painkillers had to be administered, and a nurse had to monitor her for seizures all night long.

Yet strangely, when it came to staying up all night for her, it didn’t feel that tiring.

Whenever she saw her lying in the patient room, it felt weirdly emotional, even though she probably shouldn’t say such things.

“Are you tired because of me?”

Sometimes, when their eyes met as she lay awake, she would say that with a wry smile. Most nurses would respond with the usual words. No, it’s okay, it’s our job. Of course, the moment they left the patient room, they would head to the counter with tired faces.

But she was different.

She was genuinely happy that she would say such things.

In fact, she wanted to hear those words several times. It wasn’t just a passing conversation between a patient and a nurse; she really wanted to have a dialogue as if they knew each other well.

So she responded,

“No, it’s something I want to do.”

Oh no, she realized. She couldn’t predict how the patient would take those words. “Something we have to do” and “something we want to do” are different. The former conveys a sense of obligation.

Whether it was because she was getting paid, due to her calling as a medical professional, or simply because she felt she should do it, there was a huge difference from doing it simply because she wanted to, stepping up even if others hesitated.

Sick patients are often sensitive. They can nitpick over a single word, getting angry, trying to pin the reason for their illness on others.

But she didn’t do that.

“Is that so?”

Perhaps it was because she received a different answer. Her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, it seemed a spark of curiosity flickered in those beautiful red eyes.

Oh right, she was just lying here.

In the daytime, the maid would come. But the conversations between her and the maid were not particularly warm. She’d chat about various things, but the maid would just awkwardly smile and half-heartedly reply.

Maybe that’s why. She seemed to have no intention of saying more to her. The curiosity just ended there. Delving deeper would probably make the other uncomfortable. She might have thought that was the case.

“…”

What else could she say? No, let’s not. If she said more, who knew what kind of mistake she might make again.

That day, she simply bowed her head slightly and said goodbye before leaving her behind.

*

“I’m sorry. Because of me…”

She heard that phrase once again.

She had recently come back to the hospital shortly after being discharged. Perhaps it was more appropriate to say she had returned. No one in this ward knew her name; she had stayed in the hospital for so long.

The cause was unknown. At least her physical condition could not be identified. Without knowing the diagnosis, her body was getting weaker each day. Every night, without fail, the seizures would come, and often she would scream and tremble even while resting comfortably.

Taking care of her was becoming increasingly burdensome. If this hospital room hadn’t cost as much as a premier hotel, they would have probably given up on her treatment long ago. The response to those without money was often “we can no longer help.”

Unfortunate or fortunate, her family seemed wealthy. At least they had enough money to care for the college tuition of a daughter borne from an affair before she got married, and for the health issues that arose thereafter. Though there was no love to take care of her meticulously.

“Your concern is unnecessary. It’s what I want to do.”

She said it once again, this time with clear conviction.

A few times, whenever she flashed a bright smile and said that, the expression of the girl looking up at her with a strange curiosity was becoming more and more relaxed.

She felt that their relationship was gradually getting closer.

“Do you mind if I ask, how old are you?”

One day, the girl spoke to her.

After pondering for quite a while, she finally managed to spit it out.

“It was a rather random question.”

However, she was delighted at the question.

“I’m—”

Coincidentally, they were the same age.

Though it started awkwardly, the conversation flowed surprisingly naturally as they talked more. Even after changing her medication, both of them carried on a fun conversation for a while. It seemed like talking to her was much more enjoyable than chatting with the maid.

Day after day, they spoke to each other over and over.

She found joy in their conversations.

The work was no longer a concern. Even if a coworker quit out of the blue, leaving her suddenly covering shifts, or her peers took off after making plans, she was all the more joyful because their time to chat was increasing.

They got to know each other more and more.

In fact, she wasn’t someone who had lived there from the start.

She was brought in by her biological father, whom she didn’t know, and started living there.

Of course, she didn’t share everything.

She didn’t think she hid the truth. She simply probably didn’t want to talk about those things. In moments together, she only wanted to share bright stories.

So, a few weeks later, she left the hospital once again.

But she didn’t feel regret. They would see each other again soon anyway.

*

“I’ve found someone I like.”

She heard that from the girl who had returned.

Was it because she had found love?

She said she had been introduced to the person. Someone so wealthy that counting how many people had more money than him in the country or even the whole world would be faster.

At first, she thought it was just a marriage of convenience, given how attractive the girl was.

But they were not just meeting out of simplicity.

“Something we have to do” and “something we want to do” are different—throughout life, those two seldom intersect.

But it seemed like those two had aligned perfectly.

They soon got married. The happier she became, the healthier she grew. The doctor cautiously speculated that perhaps it stemmed from a mental illness.

Yet, she did not feel disheartened.

It was a matter of time.

She knew all too well that it would eventually come to this.

But an ache in her heart was inevitable.

Perhaps she had liked the girl more than just a friend.

“Will you come to my wedding?”

“Of course, I’ll go.”

She looked beautiful in her wedding dress.

With a simple, understated design without large decorations, she appeared very sophisticated. She seemed to know how to express elegance simply by her own presence without dragging on the ground.

The girl gazed at her as if spellbound.

Fortunately, their bond didn’t end there.

Though they loved each other, he was extremely busy. He had to travel abroad several times a month, often away from her.

Perhaps that’s why she began to find herself returning to the hospital again and again.

When he wasn’t around, she would stare out the window for a long time. He visited diligently when she was in the hospital, but there were many cases where he couldn’t even do that. The maid taking care of her was warmer than the one sent by her family, but it still seemed insufficient to heal her heart.

“…I have a favor to ask.”

“Just say it. I’ll do whatever you need.”

At those words, she smiled.

“You’ve always been there for me.”

She could not respond.

“Could you possibly stay by my daughter’s side? If I leave this world first.”

She couldn’t answer.

*

In life, rare are the moments when “something we have to do” and “something we want to do” align.

Yet, the moment she looked at the girl, she realized.

With black, beautiful hair and red eyes like embedded jewels.

Skin as white as porcelain.

Though still too young to judge, she might look just like her mother if she ever grew up.

The girl, still quite young, gazed up at her.

“Hello.”

The girl greeted her.

“Hello there.”

The little one placed her hands on her belly and bowed politely.

She was still too young.

But in that act, the image of the girl’s mother who had long since passed seemed to emerge.

“I apologize. It was my wife’s dying wish.”

“It’s okay.”

She replied with a smile to his words as he placed a hand on the child’s shoulder.

“It’s something I want to do.”

This was the second moment in her life when “something I want to do” and “something I have to do” aligned.

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