The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 38: insignificant

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly into space, letting time slip away, when a servant informed me that Libian had come to see me.

Rubbing my eyes to ensure no unsightly crust remained, I adjusted my sleepwear, ran a hand through my hair, and opened the door.

Standing there was Libian, looking slightly uncomfortable in his polished attire—not the ornate uniform he typically wore, but something simpler, akin to what middle-aged men might don while reading the morning paper at a café.

Without asking for permission, he strode into my room, the thick soles of his shoes clicking against the floor, and dragged a chair over to sit down.

He picked up the book I had been reading, glanced at the title, and made a dismissive face before setting it back down.

“I wasn’t exactly eager to see your face first thing in the morning,” I remarked.

“Don’t be like that. This city is incredible.

We’ve got plenty of time before the ball, so why not explore a bit?”

“If I go anywhere, I’ll go alone. I have no interest in being dragged around by you.”

Libian shrugged, clearly unfazed. “I don’t think Mother would let you wander off on your own.

And the guards she brought along? All of them are stiff, by-the-book types. Would you prefer their company?”

I sighed. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Kesel and Raphael were here, along with several other knights, all of whom had a maddening tendency to hover and interfere. 

Even during a simple trip to buy tobacco leaves with a servant, Raphael had gone on a tirade about how such purchases were unnecessary.

Raphael, ever the shining knight, probably disapproved of my reliance on such vices. Having grown up watching people in the slums squander their meager savings on substances that dulled their pain, he likely saw my habits as part of the same cycle of despair.

But what could I do? Reality was suffocating, and this was my only escape.

He had fulfilled his boyhood dream of becoming a knight. Couldn’t he just be content with that and leave me alone?

“…So, where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, really.”

“Fine, as long as you don’t interfere with what I buy.”

“Like I could stop you if I tried.”

Not a bad answer.

The capital likely had far better goods than what made it to the duchy.

“Go back to wherever you were waiting. I need to wash up and change.”

“I’ll be at the mansion’s front gate.”

I rubbed my temples to stave off the headache creeping in and headed for the bathroom.

After brushing off the attendants who tried to follow me, I bathed quickly, dried off, and went to the dressing room.

When asked what I wanted to wear, I requested something a middle-class city dweller might don.

The servants seemed perplexed but eventually dressed me in a crisp white shirt, a short skirt that just brushed my ankles, and a fitted jacket.

They tidied my hair and added a ribboned hat before finishing with polished shoes.

When I stepped outside, Libian was waiting, wearing a hat and leaning on a cane as if he were trying to play the part of a gentleman.

He tipped his hat in mock courtesy, a gesture I could have done without.

We climbed into the carriage, and as it began to move, I gazed out at the people passing by, asking quietly, “Where are we going?”

“To the famous eastern shopping district.”

“While I’m out shopping, what’s your plan?”

“Same as you—taking in the sights.”

The thought of spending the day with Libian, making idle conversation, was unbearable.

“Does it really have to be you?”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” he replied with mock offense.

“…Still, I suppose…” I trailed off, startled by the instinctive reaction that followed.

My hand shot up to shield my head, and I shrank into myself, trembling.

Libian had simply reached for his hat, likely to adjust it.

The air between us turned cold and heavy.

My face flushed with embarrassment, and a tear slipped from my right eye.

“…Sorry. I thought maybe we could…”

“Shut up, Libian.”

The rest of the ride passed in stifling silence.

When we finally arrived, Libian stepped out first, offering his hand to help me down. I hesitated but took it, as the carriage step was too high to descend safely without assistance.

We walked side by side, though neither of us spoke.

The streets were bustling with life—couples strolling arm in arm, students singing as they walked, and families out for a day of leisure.

There were no beggars or shabbily dressed individuals in sight.

The Emperor’s claim about driving the impoverished into ghettos seemed accurate.

I spotted a general store selling various wares and stepped inside, finding items I needed: sleeping aids, painkillers—essentially concentrated opium—and high-quality tobacco leaves.

I filled a basket, paid, and exited the store.

Libian’s disapproval was palpable, though he said nothing.

We wandered further until we came across a neatly manicured park and sat on an empty bench.

I wanted to test the tobacco leaves immediately, but lacking a pipe and fire-scroll, I settled for quietly muttering to myself.

“Is it wrong to push people away when they try to reconcile?

I hold grudges, you know. I can’t just let things go.”

Libian heard me and replied, “I… I don’t know what to say.

All I can do is apologize.

But who wants an apology from someone like me?”

I turned to look at him.

Libian, now a young man, had grown considerably. Would the day ever come when I didn’t flinch at his raised hand?

“Libian.”

“What?”

“Why did you hit me back then?”

“….”

“Come on. This is why you dragged me out here, isn’t it?”

He hesitated, gazing into the distance, his eyes clouded as if revisiting old memories.

“You just… looked like a villain to me.

Like someone who needed to be defeated.

Mother cried every time she saw you.

Eileen came back angry whenever she dealt with you.

The servants gossiped endlessly, and you tormented them in return.

To me, you were some kind of devil.

And I…” He paused, then gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought I was a hero.”

“Congratulations. You succeeded.

Now I tremble and beg for mercy whenever you raise your hand.”

Silence fell again.

Anyone passing by might have mistaken us for a couple sharing a tender moment.

The reality couldn’t have been more different.

Still, appearances mattered most, didn’t they?

No one could see how rotten things were beneath the surface.

“Will you accept my apology?” I asked suddenly.

Libian’s eyes widened.

Unable to meet his gaze, I turned away, watching a mother clap as her child toddled around the park, giggling with joy.

“What brought this on?”

“We can’t keep going like this forever.

You brought me out here because you wanted to fix things, didn’t you?”

“Not that I expected much, but yeah, I guess.”

“Fine. But promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Even if everyone turns on me, spits at me, and curses my name… don’t genuinely hate me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just say you’ll do it.”

“…Alright.”

I stood, adjusting my hat as the wind threatened to snatch it away. A faint smile tugged at my lips.

“So, should I start calling you brother now? Though I really don’t want to.”

“Do whatever you want.”

We returned to the mansion in the same heavy silence.

The so-called reconciliation felt hollow, like severing the last thread of a fraying connection.

Relationships bound by hatred or resentment were still connections.

But with no desire for revenge or retribution, cutting ties entirely seemed the only logical choice.

Libian, despite achieving his goal of reconciliation, seemed unsatisfied, his expression clouded.

There was no one in this world who truly understood me.

I could only burn away my frustrations with fleeting pleasures.

And really, wasn’t that enough?

Good meals, a few simple joys—this was paradise, wasn’t it?

As I wandered the garden, puffing smoke from my pipe, I thought I might finally be at peace.

That is, until someone interrupted me.

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