CHAPTER 50………………….
. The Villainess (1)
“Hey! Snap out of it!”
Smack! Slap!
Anje’s sharp hand struck the Count’s cheek mercilessly as she gripped him by the collar.
Each time her small but fierce hand sliced through the air and landed on his face, the shoulders of the duke’s knights flinched involuntarily.
“I thought we agreed we couldn’t kill him if we wanted to find out who’s behind this?”
At this rate, she might actually kill him.
Unable to bear watching any longer, the Duke spoke up. Anje’s hand froze midair.
“The atmosphere just now, Your Grace—it was terrifying. I really thought you’d draw your sword, so I panicked and said that. But honestly, this scum’s too tough to die from a few slaps from a weak little thing like me.”
He’s about to hit the worst luck of his life, but the bastard’s got a tough neck—won’t die easy. His bad luck’s just the result of his own deeds anyway. He’ll probably live long, sick, and miserable.
Swallowing back the rest of her words, Anje slapped the Count again.
“I know you’re conscious. Get up! Quit pretending!”
I saw your face twitch every time I hit you. Up. Now.
At that, Count Martin cracked open one eye and glanced around. When his gaze met the Duke’s, he quickly shut it again and pretended to be unconscious.
The Duke, watching this pitiful act, snorted.
“Step aside. I’ll handle this. You’re right—your slaps are far too gentle.”
The moment he said that, the Count sprang up and bowed deeply.
“Aah! Forgive me! Spare my life, please!”
The Duke nodded slowly.
“I intend to. My aide tells me that killing someone outside a battlefield counts as murder. However…”
He grabbed the Count’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze.
The Count, cowed by the Duke’s piercing blue eyes, quickly looked down.
“This was found in your possession, Count. Do you have a hobby of collecting filth? Let’s see… an aphrodisiac, a sleeping drug… and what’s this?”
The Duke nudged a small pouch with his boot—the same one the Count had thrown at Anje earlier in the carriage.
“It’s a powder that temporarily paralyzes the body,” Anje explained. “The kind of thing used by back-alley thugs.”
The Duke nodded grimly. “I’ve seen it before.”
A few years ago, while inspecting a merchant’s shop, he’d heard a scream and rushed to find a woman collapsed on the floor, paralyzed by the same substance. The memory made his brow furrow. He hadn’t been able to properly check on her then—had she ever recovered?
Thinking that Mariana might have been the victim made the Duke regret not being more careful at the time.
“Wh–why would that be on me?”
The Count, trembling, shoved the pouch away and shook his head frantically.
“I know nothing about this. Nothing at all!”
“But earlier, you said you were paid in advance by a woman when you were choking me.”
The Count shook his head violently. “I was delirious from the drug! I didn’t know what I was saying. Paid? Hah! And surely it’s illegal to detain a nobleman without cause, isn’t it? You can’t just hit me like this either. You should untie me now—”
Blinking rapidly, Count Martin stretched his lips into a shameless smile. His torn mouth twitched in pain, but he seemed to be regaining his composure.
“I admit there may have been a misunderstanding or two. But this—this is clearly unlawful.”
Pointing at the rope binding him, the Count went on smoothly.
“My men are probably searching for me as we speak. Perhaps they’ve already notified the city guard.”
Since he’d skipped out on the inn without paying, it was indeed possible the innkeeper had reported him.
Count Martin could only hope that the innkeeper had gone to the guards out of spite. It would be humiliating—but better humiliation than death at the Duke’s hands.
As he was calculating his next move—
“Your Grace, may I enter?”
After a brief knock, a young man stepped into the room. Without sparing the Count a glance, he went straight to the Duke and whispered something in his ear.
The Duke’s brow furrowed.
“Either he’s lucky… or there really is someone behind this.”
He gestured toward the Count with his chin. “Untie him.”
When the knights loosened the ropes, Anje shot the Duke a shocked look.
“The city guard’s downstairs,” the Duke explained. “No idea how they knew he was here.”
He gestured toward the drugs and powders scattered on the floor.
“He abducted my aide. Turn these over as evidence.”
“What? I never kidnapped that woman! I only—”
The Count caught himself mid-sentence, realizing what he’d almost said, and went silent.
“Or would you rather I say you tried to kidnap my sister instead?”
“…”
“We’ll hand you over to the guards for now, since that’s the law. But don’t think you’re safe.”
* * *
‘How badly did they beat me while I was out?’
Every inch of his body ached.
Suppressing a groan, Count Martin stared out the window of the guards’ wagon at the crimson-stained sky.
By now, he should have been rolling around lazily on the bed of his villa in Kenaz. Instead, he was a wreck.
“Hey, where are we going? The guard headquarters is supposed to be in the city, isn’t it?”
They’d left the city behind some time ago and were now traveling down a lonely road. Unable to contain his curiosity, the Count asked the guard beside him.
Though he spoke boldly, deep down he was just grateful to still be alive. He had truly thought the Duke would kill him. He even managed a weak grin at the guard.
“Ah, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not complaining. Once I meet your captain, I’ll make sure your efforts are properly rewarded.”
“…”
The guard merely gave him a look of disbelief, eyeing him up and down. He said nothing until the wagon came to a halt.
“Wait here.”
“Here?”
They dumped the Count in a deserted clearing deep in the woods—and drove off.
Panic rising, the Count started to run after the wagon but quickly gave up, scanning the empty surroundings. What was he supposed to be waiting for?
Why had they dropped him here? None of it made sense.
As darkness fell over the forest, a chill crept up his spine. One leg throbbed painfully—probably from a bad hit earlier.
He would endure this for now, but one day, he vowed, he would get revenge for this humiliation.
Limping, the Count began trudging toward what he hoped was the direction of a village—when a rustle from the underbrush made him stop dead.
Someone was approaching. Footsteps through the bushes, drawing closer.
Who’d be walking in the forest now?
No one sane, he thought—and ran for his life.
“Hildegarde…!”
A woman who liked everything planned to the last detail. He’d expected her to be furious if he failed, but—
How could she know so soon?
Had she planted spies around him?
It was just like her.
Still, he’d never considered failure an option when it came to seducing Mariana. So he hadn’t cared.
Until now.
“You have a debt to pay.”
The moment a man in a black mask stepped out to block his path, Count Martin regretted everything.
He would’ve preferred facing the Duke again. This man—shadowed, silent—was pure terror.
“If it’s money you want, I’ll return it! I don’t have it now, but once I’m back—”
“She said everything must be done as written in the contract.”
“Wait—! You don’t mean—!”
The Count’s eyes went wide as he remembered the contract with Hildegarde.
If he failed to carry out her plan, he’d agreed to disappear from society—taking all his secrets and disgrace with him.
He’d barely skimmed it at the time, focused only on the gold she’d promised. He thought it was just a figure of speech.
He’d been wrong.
“Please! Spare me! I’ll leave right now. Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Heh. You know that’s not what it means.”
With a weary expression, the assassin swung his blade.
“Argh!”
A burning pain seared through the Count’s ankle. Then again, and again—the blade slashing his wrists and fingers, painting thin red lines across his skin.
Rolling on the dirt floor, writhing in agony, Count Martin finally lost consciousness.
It didn’t occur to the protagonists that they should put someone on their tail to see who is backing that scum?