The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 43: Glances

After returning to the estate, I bade Raphael goodnight and went back to my room.

Well, it was closer to dawn than evening, but I still called it a night.

Taking a few servants with me to the dressing room, I shed the cumbersome corset and decorative ornaments from my dress. 

Once freed, I discarded the gown and headed to the bathroom, where I scrubbed all the makeup off my face.

As expected, bare skin, carrying only its natural scent, was far better than heavily fragranced cosmetics—even if it looked lifeless.

My left wrist throbbed faintly.

The bruises from Raphael’s firm grip were starting to show.

I wasn’t angry, though. He hadn’t meant any harm—he was just dragging me off because I was injured.

Slipping into a bath filled with warm water, I dismissed the servant who brought in fragrant oils and petals. I wanted to enjoy the plain water without any distractions.

If they added fragrance, I wouldn’t be able to submerge my face and blow bubbles to my heart’s content.

For a long time, I alternated between dunking my head underwater and bubbling the surface.

It almost felt like I was a child again.

After finishing my bath, I changed into pajamas and returned to my room.

As I packed the pipe with leaves and powder, Raphael’s earlier words echoed in my ears.

He had asked if I really needed to keep smoking this.

Today wasn’t particularly painful.

Perhaps it was because I’d spent the end of the day with someone who didn’t despise me.

My wrist throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the relief of not having my heart ache.

I tore a match, but instead of lighting the pipe, I snuffed out the flame and returned the tobacco leaves to their container. Some of the powder stuck stubbornly to the pipe, but I didn’t bother cleaning it off.

Placing the pipe on the bedside table, I let the subtle sweet scent lull me to sleep.

The room still carried the lingering aroma of opium I had smoked before.

The next day, I joined the Duchess, Libian, and Eileen for lunch.

Balls often ended at dawn, so it was essentially breakfast despite the hour.

The atmosphere was slightly awkward as we ate our soup. Eileen broke the silence, speaking softly to me.

“I heard you got hurt and left early last night. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“…That’s good.”

Eileen looked tired; her spoon clattered against her bowl with every movement.

Perhaps trying to lighten the mood, Libian made a passing comment.

“I heard you smashed the head of that rude woman in the corner last night. Even while dancing, everyone was talking about you—”

The Duchess cut Libian off with a sharp look and changed the subject.

“Her parents sent a letter this morning, asking how someone from a duchy could act so recklessly toward another person.”

Was she trying to set an example this time?

If she wanted to assert authority, it would’ve been simpler to outright order me to comply.

Considering my reputation and the rumors swirling around me, reconciliation between the Duchess and me seemed almost impossible.

“Send them a simple reply. Ask how a well-mannered lady should behave when called the daughter of a filthy prostitute from the slums.”

The Duchess, who seemed about to scold me, opened her mouth, then closed it again, left speechless.

“I’ve never even met these people, so I don’t understand why they treat me this way,” I said.

Her expression darkened my words.

She must have been the one to fan the flames of those rumors.

“Is your hand… better?” the Duchess asked hesitantly.

“Yes, a friend brought a doctor—”

As I mentioned Olivia, Libian and Eileen gasped in unison.

“A friend!?”

They stared at me, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief, before awkwardly looking away.

Was it so strange for me to have a friend?

Olivia had been the one to suggest friendship, even if I hadn’t explicitly agreed. Still, I supposed we were friends.

And Raphael was a friend too.

I muttered, feeling slightly deflated.

“Even I can have a friend or two, you know.”

Did I really have to explain this?

After the meal, dessert was served—a frozen and crushed fruit dish.

Honestly, it didn’t taste good.

“The next gathering—not quite a ball, but more of a smaller affair—will be held here in four days. If there’s anyone you’d like to invite, feel free to do so,” the Duchess said.

I gave a half-hearted acknowledgement.

Eileen’s expression brightened as she cheerfully responded, suggesting she had friends she wanted to invite.

Libian, who had once attended an academy in the capital, likely had a long list of acquaintances to call upon.

I had claimed Olivia as my friend, but I didn’t even know where she lived.

She probably knew where to find me, though.

Feeling restless from being cooped up in the estate, I dressed and headed to the courtyard where Raphael usually trained.

Kesel was teaching Raphael when I arrived.

Previously, their training had involved swinging swords or endurance exercises. Lately, however, it seemed to focus on technique.

“Channel your magic into the blade to draw the opponent’s focus!” Kesel instructed.

“Unless I’m trying to cut a boulder, that seems pointless,” Raphael replied.

“If you want to grab their attention, add some color to your sword!”

At Kesel’s prompting, Raphael imbued his sword with a white glow.

Kesel, meanwhile, demonstrated by infusing his blade with a vibrant hue before drawing a pistol from his belt and shooting at a tree.

The sight left me slightly baffled.

“In a one-on-one fight, swordsmanship and magical skill don’t matter much. Just distract them and blow their head off,” Kesel said nonchalantly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Hearing such an irreverent statement about combat made me laugh unintentionally.

Startled, Kesel turned to look at me.

“Knights who care about honor and all that nonsense would have a fit if they heard you,” I said.

“Ah, my lady.”

Kesel’s face reddened, though whether it was from embarrassment at not noticing me standing so close or from the nature of his lesson, I couldn’t tell.

The sight of an aging man with a thinning hairline blushing only made the moment more amusing.

“By the way, aren’t knights supposed to be impervious to bullets? Or have I misunderstood something?”

Kesel tilted his head slightly and began to explain.

“On the battlefield, yes—everyone is tense, their bodies shrouded in magic. But in everyday life, they’re just ordinary people. Even if they channel magic to shield themselves, a sword imbued with power can still cut through them, so their priority is usually dodging, not blocking.”

“That makes sense. I suppose that’s why that drunk fool died so easily.”

Both Raphael and Kesel stiffened at my comment.

It seemed the memory of that day wasn’t a pleasant one for them either.

What was I supposed to do? That was the only example that came to mind.

Speaking of which, Alina had once asked me to visit her. Perhaps I’d stop by on my way back from the capital.

“…….”

“I was thinking of taking a walk with Raphael, but he seems busy. I’ll be on my way,” I said, turning to leave.

Kesel’s expression remained stiff as I walked away, but Raphael quickly followed after me.

“So, why were you looking for me?” he asked.

“You’re training, right? Am I interrupting?”

“I’ve trained enough for today. Lately, my Master has been teaching me tricks more than anything else.”

“Oh, like telling you to carry a gun and shoot during a duel?”

“Yeah. It might seem cowardly, but it’s effective.”

“I guess it is,” I replied, nodding.

We walked for a while, covering about half the courtyard, before I spoke again.

“They’re holding a ball here this time. Do you want to come?”

Raphael’s expression turned sour at my invitation.

Did he already have plans with someone else?

“Marie, I think you’re forgetting something,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m still just an apprentice knight. A commoner.”

“Oh.”

“If you’re that desperate to dance with me, wait a few years. Master Kesel says my promotion is practically guaranteed.”

“…Right,” I muttered.

For a moment, I felt an invisible wall between us.

Every time I tried to step down from my pedestal to mingle with commoners, I was rejected as an outsider.

Malicious rumors surrounded me, twisting into a suffocating cocoon. When I reacted in anger, people fled, terrified of me.

Even with close friends, a barrier still stood between us.

Yet mingling with the aristocracy didn’t suit me either. I was too lowly and wicked for their world.

All they ever did was point fingers and hurl insults.

For the first time, I felt I truly understood the source of the discomfort that had plagued me throughout my life.

Isolation.

Even at the orphanage, aside from Raphael, the other children viewed me as different and avoided me.

After entering the estate, Alina had been the sole exception.

The Duke himself didn’t so much avoid me as neglect me, too absorbed in his own responsibilities to pay me any mind.

A few days later, the ball was held.

I danced with a few people and had the occasional conversation, but nothing about it was particularly enjoyable.

The Duchess sighed as she watched me, but she didn’t lecture me.

After all, even Eileen, who flitted around enthusiastically, failed to catch anyone’s interest.

As for me, I simply chose not to bring anyone back.

The people who approached me were only interested in my body.

Over the following weeks, I attended several balls held at the estate and in the gardens or fields of other nobles.

About a month later, I attended a ball at the estate of a renowned magical family, where I unexpectedly ran into Olivia.

It had been a long time, but she was as beautiful as ever.

“Ma-Marisela! It’s been so long!

I thought about visiting your estate, but then I realized you’re someone of incredibly high status. For someone like me to visit you first would have been a terrible breach of etiquette…

But I’m so glad to see you again!”

“Yes, it’s good to see you too,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

As I embraced her, I noticed the sharp stares directed my way.

At some point, Olivia had become universally adored, while I had become the one everyone loved to hate.

For the first time, I felt a fear that made me want to run away—the fear of their gazes.