Please Leave The Sickly Villainess Alone

Those who had watched our dance exchanged greetings with their respective partners, cheering and applauding us.

‘Ah, it’s over…’

From here onwards, following the ceremonial address by Jeria, standing in as the Empress’s proxy, the rest would be a free-flowing party.

A red carpet descended from the elevated stage, cascading down the steps.

Jeria stood above on the stage, fanning herself with an enormous folding fan as she gazed down upon us.

With her tousled, lustrous scarlet hair and piercing blue eyes exuding an alluring charm, she emanated an overwhelming aura that commanded the attention of all.

If the Empress I had met earlier could be likened to a herbivore, then this woman belonged firmly in the carnivore category.

Her towering stature, further accentuated by what appeared to be at least 10cm heels, amplified her imposing presence.

Rising from her seat, Jeria parted her ruby lips to speak.

“May glory and prosperity forever grace your noble houses.”

With those words, she raised her glass aloft.

‘Oh, I had expected her ceremonial address to last at least 10 minutes, given her title.’

Unexpectedly, her demeanor seemed rather forthright.

As I began lifting my own glass in a reciprocal gesture, Luka smiled faintly and remarked:

“Not yet, Ria.”

“At our Croia Marquisate’s recent family council, we have recruited new vassals, aiming to unite with the political factions and explore ways for the nobility to achieve greater prosperity within the Empire…”

Those opening words heralded a torrent from Jeria’s crimson lips that showed no signs of abating.

Her speech dragged on endlessly, forcing her to periodically pause for sips from her ceremonial toast to catch her breath before continuing.

Initially, I had attempted to comprehend her words, but soon found myself counting the patterns adorning the walls instead.

To summarize, it amounted to: ‘You, the Crown Prince, or me. Make your choice.’

Presenting the opportunity to become a vassal of the Croia Marquisate as if open to all, several nobles had already begun displaying keen interest, attentively listening to her spiel.

Eventually, her address veered off into a tangent about the Croia’s history, reaching the point of divulging confidential details about their ongoing business ventures.

Marquis Croia, who had initially watched with an indulgent smile, now profusely perspired, fidgeting restlessly as if silently begging someone to gag her relentless mouth.

“Sehamon Island, that’s the answer. Vast gold mines spanning the entire region… Oh, please disregard that last part.”

Upon witnessing her instruct her attendants to research Sehamon Island’s location for over 300 guests, Marquis Croia appeared ready to foam at the mouth.

Jeria’s ceremonial address finally concluded after a drawn-out 40 minutes.

Glancing around once it had ended, some had pulled their hats down pretending to nap, while countless tissue flowers adorned the tables before others.

As for me, I had determined the precise number of patterns adorning that particular wall section.

“1,794.”

“Accurate. I arrived at the same count.”

“Huh? I got 1,780?”

“There are patterns behind that corner too, Sister Rachel.”

“Over there too?! Drat! Heild, what was your count?”

“4,100…”

How did you even count that high?!

The slumbering orchestra members, roused by the attendants, began tuning their instruments to commence playing.

The proper party was about to commence in earnest.

“Ria, you danced quite splendidly earlier,” Miller remarked, having approached without my notice.

Beside him, Drehan gazed down at his own feet, which had been trampled hundreds of times during our practice sessions, muttering:

“Do you perhaps harbor some personal grudge against me…”

“No, no! It was Luka who guided me so expertly…”

From behind, Dad draped a shawl over my shoulders, simply stating:

“Well done.”

With my entire family now gathered, eyes naturally turned towards the scene resembling any ordinary household – a sight that seemed to puzzle the onlookers.

It was then that a blue-haired man approached our group, addressing Drehan.

“There you are, Drehan.”

“Essil.”

If it was Essil, then this must be Essil Claire?

Essil Claire, Drehan’s academy colleague and the next head of the Claire Duchy, greeted me with a polite nod.

“We meet at last, though I had heard countless rumors. Essil Claire, at your service, my lady.”

Drehan accepted the proffered handshake on my behalf before shaking it himself.

“Haha, and who might this young friend be…?”

“Haha… Laveria Jenne Rayes, young lord.”

Beside Essil stood a youthful young man as well.

This boy around my age, with wavy blue hair reminiscent of ocean currents, bore an uncanny resemblance to Essil.

“I presume Sion and the young lady are of the same age?”

“What are you implying, Essil?”

“Simply that they should become well-acquainted, is all.”

Sion Claire was Essil’s younger brother.

A character who didn’t feature prominently in the original story – the second son of Duke Claire.

As the Claire Duchy maintained political neutrality and refrained from direct involvement, they had remained largely detached from the numerous incidents depicted in the novel.

Amidst all this, Essil Claire had made occasional appearances due to his unrequited love for Senia since childhood.

For now, he presented a genial countenance, but would eventually orchestrate various shenanigans out of jealousy towards Luka.

Of course, he never managed to land a single blow against Luka, serving merely as a vapid, inconsequential villain.

Seeing is believing – meeting them in person triggered recollections of plot details I had forgotten over the past few years, causing me to knit my brows in concentration. It was then that my gaze met Sion Claire’s as he stared at me intently.

Despite being my age, his diminutive stature made him resemble a younger brother more than anything.

When I smiled faintly at him, Sion’s silver eyes widened before his ears promptly flushed red.

Shyness seemed perfectly normal for boys that age.

Luka was undoubtedly the aberrant one.

“Call me Laveria, Sion.”

“I, I’m Sion…”

Sion timidly grasped my fingertips in a handshake, reminding me of a small animal and nearly prompting an amused chuckle.

“That’s quite a prolonged handshake.”

It was then that Luka, who had momentarily stepped away to retrieve the strawberry cake I had ordered, firmly grasped our still-joined hands.

‘You’re one to talk.’

During our first encounter at the orphanage, Luka had sustained that handshake until dinner.

“Your Highness, I have assembled the Imperial faction attendees for the upcoming Grand Nobles’ Council.”

“I see. Where is this gathering?”

With the Grand Nobles’ Council fast approaching – a crucial event to solidify Luka’s political standing amid intense factional conflicts – Dad guided him towards the assembled Crown Prince loyalists.

“Ria, I shall have to leave you for a moment.”

“Ah, yes… Please, go ahead.”

My stilted formality stemmed from the belated realization that the Claire family was present.

Drehan followed after the two of them.

Midway, Luka turned back to glance at our table before promptly shifting locations.

The Claire brothers, who had joined us due to Drehan’s acquaintance, also took their leave after exchanging pleasantries.

Around 30 minutes had elapsed, filled with animated chatter as Rachel and I caught up, when I remarked:

“Why don’t we count the patterns over there this time, Rachel?”

The moment those words left my lips, Rachel’s glass slipped from her grasp, spilling its contents.

“Rachel…?”

Her dress was now completely stained crimson by the beverage.

But that wasn’t the issue.

“Rachel!”

Her eyes had taken on a vacant, glazed expression, as if entranced by some unseen force.

She then collapsed sideways onto Sir Heild’s shoulder, unconscious.

“Your Highness!!”

I sprang to my feet, my racing heartbeat thundering in my ears as I rushed towards Rachel.

“Rachel! Wake up!”

Feeling no warmth emanating from her body, her breathing unnaturally still, a sense of dread washed over me.

Since they couldn’t drop a chandelier, they resorted to such measures instead…?

Had the waiter laced that spilled beverage with poison?

Or had someone discreetly slipped her a toxin while passing by our table?

Various possibilities surfaced, but I couldn’t discern the correct answer.

It was as if someone had scribbled all over my thought processes, rendering me unable to think coherently.

Visions from my dream overlapped with the present scene.

Luka, lamenting how everyone around him ended up suffering misfortune, sounding like a pitiful child despite his outwardly formidable demeanor.

The wretched Luka who believed the Empress’s and Rachel’s deaths to be his fault, tormented by guilt to the point of shedding tears of blood.

And Rachel’s voice, calling me ‘one of her people,’ echoed in my ears.

If Rachel were to die here like this, then I…

My hands began trembling uncontrollably.

The frantic voices of Sir Heild and Miller, desperately calling for physicians and healers while supporting Rachel, faded into the background.

The Imperial guards had sealed off all exits, treating everyone present as potential suspects. Yet I scarcely registered the rising murmurs from the restless crowd.

All I could perceive was a gentle voice piercing my heart like a thorn:

-Thank you for becoming a friend to Luka and Rachel. Please, take good care of my children…

With quivering hands, I grasped Rachel’s chilled fingers.

Though surrounded by pandemonium, my immediate space felt eerily still, as if suspended in an abyss.

Holding Rachel’s hand, I found myself fixating upon something – an utterly repulsive presence.

Viscous and sludge-like, jet-black tendrils akin to a monster’s appendages were coiling around Rachel’s neck, constricting her breath.

I couldn’t comprehend why I could perceive this entity, let alone discern its true nature.

All I knew was that this revolting… thing was toying with Rachel’s lifeline like a child’s plaything.

Then, in an instant, those tendrils seemed to shift, morphing into ancient script before my very eyes.

The archaic lettering resembled some sort of incantation.

No, it was an incantation – what some would call black magic.

For while conventional magic manifested in blue hues, these characters radiated an ominous obsidian aura, exuding an unsettling malevolence.

‘How do I dispel this…?’

If this wasn’t a case of poisoning but rather the effects of an arcane curse, then summoning physicians would prove futile.

I briefly considered using Jen’s Wish Orb, but he was an offensive water mage.

While capable of restoring vitality, he lacked the means to unravel such a potent spell.

Moreover, the Magic Tower he belonged to currently had no healing mages among its ranks.

Then the only healing mage present here was Senia…!

I frantically scanned our surroundings, but couldn’t locate her distinctive purple tresses anywhere.

As time trickled by, the sinister force sapping Rachel’s life grew increasingly overwhelming.

“Please…”

It was at that moment a faint breeze caressed the space between Rachel’s hand and mine.

The wisp tickling my palm carried a gentle, soothing warmth.

“What, what is this…?”

Then, a sun emblem abruptly materialized upon my outstretched palm, channeling a warm radiance that enveloped Rachel’s hand as well.

From that emblem blossomed a dim glow akin to flowering petals, rapidly coalescing into a brilliant white magic circle.

‘What is this…?!’

An intense burst of blinding light erupted from the magic circle, momentarily dazzling me as the feeble breeze transformed into a fierce gale.

A solitary beam lanced forth, utterly obliterating the obsidian tendrils strangling Rachel, leaving not even a speck of residue behind.

“What just happened…?”

As I slowly opened my tightly shut eyelids, Rachel, who had been unconscious moments prior, gasped deeply and her eyes flew wide open.

“Cough cough! Haah, haa…”

“Rachel!”

No longer could I sense any traces of death’s chill lingering within her.

While unable to fully comprehend the events that had transpired, the overwhelming relief of witnessing Rachel’s revival left me collapsing to the floor in a daze.

“That, that’s…! The emblem of a healing mage, is it not?!”

The so-called ‘Blessed by the Sun’ – when awakening as healing mages, the goddess bestows that sacred emblem upon them, or so the legends claim.

And the symbol that had just manifested on my palm was…

“What, what emblem…?”