The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 30: The Garden

How many years had it been since I went to the lake and lived without Alina? About three, perhaps.

Life had become monotonous.

I would wake up in the morning, shove something—anything—into my mouth, and play the piano.

After lunch, I would read for a while and then play the piano again until sunset.

In the evening, I would eat dinner and read until sleep came.

Kesel, my sole remaining bodyguard after the incident with the young knight—since the rest of the knights had adamantly refused to serve as my guards—was mostly unnecessary. I rarely left the mansion anyway.

So, I had asked them to train Raphael as a knight instead, and it seemed they were taking my request seriously.

Thinking about it now, I hardly ever saw Raphael’s face because he was always training whenever I happened to run into him.

Sometimes, I wondered if Raphael was avoiding me.

I was the one who brought him to this mansion, so why would he avoid me?

The only plausible reason I could think of was the incident at the lake.

But that wasn’t my fault. That piece of trash wasn’t even a knight anymore.

When my thoughts ran unchecked, they often spiraled into something negative.

Trying to counter it, I thought about that Romani woman swaying her hips at the tavern, but it didn’t improve my mood. Maybe it was my disposition—or perhaps it was her slightly dusky skin.

Come to think of it, I rarely see the Duchess these days.

It might be more accurate to say the timid woman was actively avoiding me.

After that day, the Duke told me I didn’t need to attend dinner if I didn’t want to.

He even gave me a pouch filled with gold coins and an envelope stuffed with paper money—perhaps he had learned that I gave all my money to Alina.

Since I barely ever left the mansion, most of that money was still untouched.

“No matter how much I have, there’s nothing to spend it on.”

When was it?

About a year ago, I think.

I asked the Duke if it would be all right for me to leave the mansion and live on my own.

His response? “Stop saying such ridiculous things. If there’s anything you want, just tell me.”

Pretending not to be disappointed, I asked him to get me a guitar. He gifted me one heavily adorned with gold decorations—so gaudy that I couldn’t stand to play it.

Every time I strummed the strings, the useless ornaments created strange noises. I shoved it into a corner, never touching it again.

The Duke’s version of affection, like that guitar, was utterly worthless.

At least the piano worked properly. I supposed I should be grateful for that.

Time passed, and my body grew.

My hands, which had barely been able to reach an octave, could now easily stretch a ninth, from C to D.

Thanks to that, I could finally attempt some of Rachmaninoff’s pieces, though I mostly tinkered with simpler preludes before giving up.

Fifteen years had passed in this wretched world, yet the notes and scores of countless songs never seemed to fade from my mind.

It was as if they were etched into my soul.

I steadied my breathing and pressed the piano keys.

The piece was Rachmaninoff’s Prelude Op. 23 No. 5: Alla marcia, meaning “in a marching style.”

Unfortunately, my body still lacked the strength to produce the sound I wanted.

As I continued to strike the same notes over and over, pushing my fingers to their limits, a knock interrupted my focus.

Knock, knock.

Since I hadn’t assigned myself a dedicated maid after Alina left, I rose from the piano and walked to the door.

“Who is it?” I asked quietly.

“It’s me, Marisela.”

It was Eileen.

“You should give me a name even if you say it’s ‘me,’” I retorted.

“It’s Eileen! Stop joking and open the door!”

I opened the door, and Eileen entered without waiting for permission, pulling out a chair to sit down.

“That piece you were just playing—did you compose it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Why had she come?

We hardly exchanged a word even once a week.

“Mother says it’s about time you were presented to Her Majesty the Empress.”

She was talking about debuting in high society.

Meeting the Empress, making an impression, and exchanging pleasantries were prerequisites for starting any social activities, be it attending balls or participating in hunts.

“Well, I’m half commoner, aren’t I?”

“Officially, you’re still Mother’s daughter.”

Was that so? I hadn’t realized.

Eileen moved closer to me.

“You’re all grown up now. It’s time to start dressing prettily.”

She began adjusting my sleeve and smoothing out my clothes.

When her hand brushed against my necklace, I lightly pushed her away.

“Who will be unfortunate enough to be your fiancé, I wonder?

Of course, Father and Mother will decide, but I can’t help feeling sorry for him.”

“If you’re going to pick a fight, get out, Eileen.”

What nonsense was she planning to spout this time?

Unlike the servants, I couldn’t simply kick her out by force.

Nominally, she was still above me.

“Call me Sister.”

“Should I call someone Sister if all they excel at is being shallow and dressing up?”

“You… you’re always…”

Eileen’s face turned red, and her clenched fists trembled. I offered her my right cheek, as if daring her to hit me.

“What’s wrong? Going to push me so hard I break my nose again?

Or maybe throw food at me and call me trash?”

At my words, the anger drained from Eileen’s face, replaced by guilt.

She had only stopped tormenting me when puberty hit, but before that, she had been relentless.

After I broke my nose, her bullying had been reduced to throwing trash at me or pouring water from above.

“…My brothers and I, we’ve been trying to make peace with you. Why do you keep pushing us away?”

“That’s why I said you’re stupid.

Do you think we can suddenly laugh and talk like nothing happened, just because you say so now?”

The Garden

“I can do it…!”

“No, I can’t. I hate you. I hate your brothers too.

And don’t give me that excuse about how it was just childish behavior from when you didn’t know better.”

“…Anyway, Mother said to meet her at the garden table after lunch.”

“Sure.”

“And you might want to toss that ‘I’m better than everyone’ attitude into the trash.

No matter how pretty you are, with an arrogant demeanor like that, no one will want to speak to you.”

Eileen tried to sound sharp, her expression laced with a kind of venom, but it came off awkward—perhaps an inheritance from her timid mother.

I hadn’t wanted to feel a difference between us right down to our bloodlines, but it seemed unavoidable.

In any case, I had no interest in marriage.

So, I responded to Eileen’s ridiculous warning with a smirk.

“That sounds fantastic.”

Eileen gave me a look like she was staring at a lunatic before leaving the room.

My head throbbed.

Lunch? I’d have tasteless oatmeal and wash it down with a dose of opium.

I reached for the handle on the wall and pulled it, triggering a familiar bell sound.

Ever since Alina left, the only person who came when I rang was one girl.

I had learned her name by now: Looney.

“Looney, bring me oatmeal, black tea with a heap of sugar, and some milk.”

Looney nodded and returned shortly with the meal.

I half-heartedly spooned the bland oatmeal into my mouth, taking occasional puffs of opium smoke to make it tolerable. Only after that did I touch the overly sweet milk tea.

After I had driven away most of the servants the Duchess had assigned to me, the remaining ones began serving me sour milk and subpar meals.

In the beginning, I threw tantrums, reported the incidents to the Duke, and even got a few of them expelled from the mansion. But it didn’t help much.

About a month later, they resumed their petty antics.

Even when I confronted the servants and demanded to know who prepared the milk, no one answered.

Those who stayed silent got slapped until their faces stung before being thrown out of the mansion.

I guess it made them feel like righteous avengers punishing an evil villainess.

I finished my meal half-heartedly.

Feeling slightly dazed and lightheaded from the opium, I stepped out of my room.

I walked down the long corridor.

I used to despise the clatter of these stiff shoes echoing against the floor. But now, I barely felt the discomfort.

Through a window, I caught a glimpse of knights running and singing as they trained.

I wasn’t sure if Raphael was among them; I wasn’t the type to keep track of him. But the last time I saw him in armor, it seemed he’d become a squire.

As I looked out, I noticed a thin layer of dust resting on the window frame.

There should have been a servant cleaning this area nearby.

I turned and saw a woman dusting.

She looked older, and since she was cleaning without assistance and armed with nothing but a feather duster, she must have been working here for a long time.

I didn’t like her.

“Is this what you call cleaning?”

I ran a gloved hand along the window frame, showing her the faint smudge of dust that clung to the white fabric.

The maid, trembling as she dusted, froze at my words.

“Answer me. Is this what you call cleaning?”

“I-I’m sorry, My Lady!”

Smack.

I slapped her lightly, barely putting any strength into it.

It didn’t hurt, but it would sting her pride.

“If you can’t even handle the tasks you’re assigned, just leave.

You don’t want to keep working here if it means listening to things like this, do you?”

“N-no, My Lady.”

“Then stop standing there like an idiot. Get a rag—one that looks like you—and wipe the window frames properly.”

“…Yes, My Lady.”

Her actions and words were submissive enough, but her eyes held a spark of defiance.

I didn’t bother picking a fight over it.

After leaving her with a light warning, I continued down the hallway.

I glanced at the portraits lining the walls.

When I first arrived here, I despised those paintings.

They seemed to glare at me, silently urging me to leave.

Now, they struck me as absurdly pitiful.

Perhaps they were forever trapped, immortalized in frames and hung on these walls—a silly thought, really.

Eventually, I reached the garden.

Under a parasol, seated at a table, was the Duchess, gazing at the flowers.

I glanced around and, seeing no one else, spat onto one of the blooms.

Ptooey.

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