I Reincarnated as the Villain’s Daughter – Chapter 133

Until just a moment ago, the hall had been filled with cheerful laughter, brimming with joy. It seemed as though nothing could possibly go wrong here.

But that illusion was shattered sooner than anyone could have anticipated.

At first, it seemed that Laila was only experiencing a brief dizziness. As she approached Tearoha, she wavered slightly, and Tearoha, concerned, supported her gently.

However, it soon became clear that this was no mere momentary dizziness—Laila dropped her cocktail glass.

The sound of it shattering was not particularly loud. Instead, a disturbingly vivid red liquid splattered across the floor of the hall. The hem of Laila’s dress was also speckled with the cocktail, but she seemed oblivious.

She swayed again.

Edwin, who had been chatting with Lanshe across the hall, instinctively rushed forward at the sight.

Light and Esat did the same, startled, sprinting toward her.

Tearoha held Laila tightly, but soon she began to vomit blood. Her slender shoulders trembled violently. Laila stared at her own hands as if she could not believe them, and before long, she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Watching this, Tearoha seemed to lose all sense of reality.

“…L-Laila?”

A sharp scream, its source unclear, echoed through the hall. Chaos erupted instantly. Tearoha, his face drained of color, placed his fingers under her nose.

But not the slightest breath met his touch. Laila’s face had turned pale to an almost pitiful degree.

“…Laila.”

No response. Tearoha shook her shoulders, but she did not move.

Light alternated his gaze between them, then dashed off. Soon, he returned with a woman in his grip.

“You—the one who gave Laila the cocktail earlier, it was you, wasn’t it?!”

“P-Prince…?”

The maid, with plain features and dark brown hair pinned high, looked at Light with a flustered expression. But Light did not fall for her pitiful gaze. She was the one. She could only be the one.

“What have you done?!”

“I-I don’t understand what you mean…”

The maid tried to protest, but she quickly fell silent under Light’s piercing gaze. The lethal aura radiating from him seemed capable of devouring her alive.

Esat stepped past Tearoha and checked Laila’s pulse. His face, too, was as pale as death, but the faintest glimmer of hope shone across his features.

“Laila…”

Fortunately, Laila’s heart was still beating. When Tearoha confirmed it, it was clear she was in a temporary state of apnea.

Yet her eyes still showed no sign of opening.

Edwin swiftly took control of the hall. He prevented anyone from leaving and had the maid Light had brought detained immediately. At times like this, Lanshe’s quick judgment, honed from her days as a knight, proved invaluable. She ordered servants to gather the shards of the broken glass and the spilled cocktail, searching for clues as to why Laila had collapsed.

Despite the commotion, Tearoha stood dazed, as though utterly detached from the world. He raised a trembling hand and held Laila’s. Cold. Pale.

“…Laila…”

His gaze was unfocused. He muttered desperately.

“Wake up, Laila…”

Please, let this be a dream. Just a nightmare.

If it were, he would wake from it and tell her, “You had a terrible dream.” She would laugh brightly, saying it was a truly strange nightmare.

But reality was cruel. Laila did not wake.

Tearoha blinked slowly. A ringing filled his ears. Gradually, the hall seemed to recede into the distance.

Rain fell.

A torrential downpour for the normally mild central region, especially in August, approaching late summer. Thick gray clouds blocked the sunlight, making it as dark as dawn despite the hour.

A man sat quietly in the dim room, the only sounds being his breath and the rain. His pale face showed exhaustion from days of fatigue, his eyelids sunken from lack of sleep.

A woman lay on the bed, equally pale, almost as if the life had been drained from her. Her face was colorless, like a paper flower drying out without moisture.

Breaking the eternal silence was a middle-aged man with aquamarine hair.

“……”

He opened the door quietly and closed it just as gently. Yet the softest steps could not be silenced entirely. Standing behind Tearoha, the man prompted him to speak.

“…What happened to the maid?”

Bitterness filled his face. Esat lowered his eyes as he replied,

“She’s being interrogated, but it’s not going well.”

“We need to act as quickly as possible. We don’t even know what poison was used.”

Tearoha spoke, though his own expression suggested he barely understood what he was saying. He looked as though his soul had been completely drained, leaving only a shell. All day, all he did was stare endlessly at Laila. Outside the window, the rain hammered ceaselessly. Esat glanced at him before speaking.

“…Laila hated the rain.”

“……”

“And she was afraid of thunder as well. I had hoped spring would never end for her, that such monsoon rains would never come.”

Tearoha tried to speak but stopped. Esat added a few more words.

“Would you like to remain here despite your duties? Other family members could watch over her…”

Tearoha politely declined.

“Just let me watch over her. Please allow me to stay here.”

“…Very well.”

Esat glanced between the two. Letting Tearoha remain was emotionally complicated, but there was no choice.

Once Esat left, the door shut with a soft click, returning the room to silence.

Tearoha gazed at Laila.

Never had he wanted anything so desperately in his life, with such a burning, anxious heart.

“Laila…”

There was a question he had not dared ask Esat earlier: Does she blame me?

But such a foolish question would serve no purpose. The answer was obvious.

Tearoha clenched his hands tightly.

It was because of him that Laila had come to this state.

Why is it that everything he loved, everything he wanted to protect, always slipped through his fingers like grains of sand?

The maid had only recently entered the Rosahil estate. Unless she were insane, she could not have poisoned Laila on her own. Surely, someone had ordered her to act. And the culprit was unmistakable.

Prince Alteo.

Tearoha’s hands clenched so tightly that blood flowed, though he did not even notice the pain.

Laila’s pale face remained unmoving, like a mask.

What are you thinking?

Her face seemed as fragile as butterfly wings, ready to crumble at any moment.

The once-beautiful Rosahil garden was now flooded by continuous rain. The engagement ceremony had long been postponed, and people were busy notifying invitees of the cancellation.

But none of that mattered. What did it matter if the ceremony was canceled? If she could open her eyes, call his name, and smile again, he would endure countless cancellations and sacrifice anything.

Yet Tearoha, as before, remained powerless.

Though he was a legendary archmage, he had one weakness: he was not skilled in healing magic. He could barely keep Laila alive, but purging the poison and restoring her vitality was beyond him.

And it was not as though another mage could heal her in an instant.

Several renowned healers had attempted treatment, but despite their efforts, Laila remained unconscious.

Her breathing continued; her life persisted.

But she would not awaken.

Was it the poison, or some other reason? Without entering her mind directly, there was no way to know.

Tearoha stared at Laila, recalling the past.

From the first time he met her after losing his mother to the present, she had always been his light, his salvation. A divine being, untouchable.

He whispered to her,

“Wake up, Laila…”

If she did not awaken, he would interrogate the maid, extract her accomplices, and wage war against Prince Alteo if necessary. He would lead an army to fight him. He would find a way to save Laila at any cost, regardless of who was hurt, who despaired, or who died in the process.

If he spoke such threats, Laila would surely protest, wide-eyed, insisting that someone so gentle could never do such things.

But he could. He had gone to war for her, killed for her, and done countless deeds for her.

“So… wake up…”

There was nothing he could not do now. He was ready to face anything to keep Laila alive.

Making a decision, Tearoha finally spoke aloud:

“Rel.”

In the room filled only with the sound of rain, Tearoha’s voice resonated.

There was something remarkable. His pronunciation differed slightly from the Imperial language he normally used. It was infused with magical power, a mystical, secretive tone.

Responding to his voice, another voice echoed in the air.

—Why do you call?

A low voice with a hint of amusement. Though its source was distant, Tearoha could transmit his words directly to it. Why? Because he was speaking to a dragon existing far beyond human understanding and truth.

“…I wish to make a contract.”

Tearoha closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. His irises shone with a vivid golden light.