Chapter 12
Although it was still late in the evening, Arahan sat alone in his office, deep in thought.
Elizabeth Arlesia—the woman who had indulged his whim—was someone he knew well. She possessed both beauty and power, enough to be considered a candidate for empress. And yet, she lacked one crucial thing.
Her personality.
Elizabeth enjoyed standing in the spotlight. She loved hearing her name spoken by others. Her temperament was difficult—so much so that she openly tormented Osborne Luciela, the woman known as the flower of high society. She was the type of woman who brought unnecessary trouble to anyone who approached her carelessly.
And yet—
Because of his own whim, he had danced with her at the imperial ball. Because of the newspaper article that followed, he had even apologized by gifting her cake and clothing.
He had truly lost his mind.
This wasn’t the first time Elizabeth had been featured prominently in the papers. That much was certain. And yet, for some reason, this time felt different.
Arahan absentmindedly spun the pen between his fingers as he tried to organize his thoughts.
Was that really a good suggestion for her?
“…”
It was a problem without an immediate answer.
Then, something from earlier that day resurfaced in his mind.
On the street—when he had turned his head at the sound of raised voices—just as a nobleman was about to strike a child, someone had stepped in first.
At the time, he hadn’t realized it was Elizabeth.
If it had been the Elizabeth he knew, she would have sided with the nobleman and scolded the child instead. And because she hadn’t been wearing her trademark red shoes, he had assumed it was a young man acting out of courage.
From his perspective, such people were valuable to the Empire. Talent like that needed to be nurtured.
That was all.
“…Sigh.”
To think that young man was Elizabeth Arlesia in disguise.
Of all people, he had become entangled with the one woman he least wanted to deal with.
The reason he had asked her to dance at the last imperial ball had been nothing more than a whim—a whim triggered by her audacity to shamelessly demand compensation after sneezing on him.
Yes. A whim disguised as manipulation.
It made him recall the past.
As the only granddaughter of the Vincent family, Elizabeth had grown up under countless gazes—contemptuous, hateful, disgusted. And yet, despite all of it, she had survived. She had concealed her true self, fighting back with thorns against those who looked down on her.
“Back then…”
Arahan set the pen down. Resting his chin in his hand, he stared blankly at the office door.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The first time he had met Elizabeth, she had seemed like a shy girl. But as she grew older, her personality hardened. Rumors spread—from the aristocracy, to the servants, and finally to the common people.
She was eventually branded a witch who had made a pact with a demon.
An infamous villain.
And yet—
‘It’s common, so it’s fine.’
‘What exactly am I supposed to do at that ball? What am I supposed to obtain?’
Her words echoed in his mind, each one piercing his heart.
He didn’t know whether what he felt was pity or sympathy.
“…I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Arahan touched his flushed cheek and recalled those trembling silver eyes.
He pulled his hat down, trying to shake the thought away—but how could he forget?
He had been shocked. And she must have been even more so.
Elizabeth had never been the type to step forward for a child like that.
That was what troubled him most.
He had planned to meet her eventually anyway, but running into her unexpectedly—feeling that discomfort, that awkwardness—left him deeply unsettled.
“…Hah. This is insane.”
Once his thoughts started, they wouldn’t stop spiraling.
He couldn’t ignore the expression she had worn when she left him.
Had her silver eyes ever looked so sad?
Arahan was certain they hadn’t.
Why was he so affected by it?
Elizabeth had never shown him that expression before—yet now, for the first time, she had looked at him with sorrow, contempt, and hatred.
Could someone’s feelings change so drastically from a single dance?
No.
That wasn’t it.
He knew the truth about her. He knew her hidden past.
She hadn’t always been called a villain. If she had been, she never would have become a candidate for empress.
She had tried to disguise herself—but her noble silver eyes could never be hidden.
That was when he had realized who she truly was.
And seeing his own reflection in her eyes, he had found it laughable.
The shame he had never shown to anyone. The curiosity he felt toward her changed appearance.
None of it felt like a simple whim anymore.
“…You really are an incomprehensible woman. Both now—and before.”
Most of all, when she had casually recited the articles written about her, widely circulated throughout the Empire, Arahan had felt an overwhelming urge to crawl into a hole and hide.
She was a woman, after all.
Not a steel-hearted witch, as one imagined a villain to be—just another noblewoman.
He had forgotten what she was truly like, having not seen her in so long. He had judged her based on rumors alone—harboring the very bias he should have rejected as a statesman of the Empire.
Arahan stood up.
Organizing his thoughts, he gazed at the moonlight shimmering through the window—so reminiscent of her silver eyes—and left the room.
“…I’ll apologize properly tomorrow.”
As for the ball, it’s too dangerous for her. I’ll have to retract my proposal. I’ll need another way.
Perhaps she could disguise herself as a servant instead of a noble…
The moonlight.
Her silver eyes.
The way she had taken the blow meant for a child.
One by one, Arahan thought of them all.
“Chirp, chirp, chirp.”
The loud sound of birds pulled me from my sleep.
Blinking awake, I looked around.
Ah.
The Vincent Marquis’ residence.
And since I was still inside the novel, that meant this was reality.
That thought crossed my mind every morning.
I knew very well this place came from the book—but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it might all be a dream. So every morning, I looked around.
Nothing ever changed.
Slowly, I got out of bed and chose the simplest dress from the wardrobe, putting it on myself. Carefully, I opened the door.
Normally, Elizabeth would have called a maid to attend her, but I was too embarrassed to do that.
“Ah—! Miss…!! If you’re changing clothes, you should have called for us…”
“Well… I’ll be dressing properly when I go out later. I didn’t want to get tired already.”
“Still… if you don’t, the Marquis will scold us. Please call for us next time.”
“Alright. By the way—where’s Grandpa?”
“He stepped out briefly. He instructed us to prepare breakfast as soon as you wake.”
“Mm. How long will that take?”
“About thirty minutes. If you wait in your room, we’ll bring it to you.”
“No, I’ll eat in the dining hall. While I wait, I’ll go to the training grounds.”
“…Understood. I’ll inform you when breakfast is ready.”
The Vincent family, which commanded the Order of the Guardians, officially possessed three training grounds—one within the Imperial Palace, one at their villa, and one here at the main estate.
I’d read about them countless times in the novel. Seeing one in person filled me with anticipation.
As I walked, a thought struck me.
Come to think of it… Elizabeth was a swordsmanship prodigy, wasn’t she?
In the novel, she truly was.
However, Anais—the captain of the knights—had opposed her wielding a sword, fearing his precious granddaughter’s hands would be harmed.
And though my memory wasn’t perfect, Elizabeth never actually used a sword in the story.
Except once.
When she sent an assassin to kill Osborne—that was the only time.
Which meant that for a long time, she hadn’t held a sword at all.
“…She really was the queen of girl crushes.”
Her eloquence alone was impressive—and on top of that, she was a sword prodigy.
Wow.
If she hadn’t been labeled a villain, she might have been the perfect woman.
In many ways, Elizabeth was perfect.
And perhaps that was exactly why she was the worst.
Which meant—she had countless enemies.
Looking around, noticing details I hadn’t paid attention to when I first read the novel, I realized just how many enemies she must have had.
For a moment, I wondered if her evil deeds had reasons behind them.
But that was the original story.
For me—someone destined to commit villainy without reason and die—it was clear.
I needed to meet Osborne as soon as possible.
Or get invited to a social gathering.
That was how my villainy would begin.
Eventually, I arrived at the training ground.
It was enormous.
Ah. The rich really are different.
“Wow… it’s huge.”
“So this is the training ground I’ve heard so much about.”
Just like in comics, straw-filled wooden dummies were lined up, thick wooden staffs leaning nearby.
But—
Why was it so quiet?
Shouldn’t there be training?
Did they not need to practice?
I didn’t know.
As I looked around the empty grounds, I picked up an old sword lying on the ground.
“…It feels strange.”
Then again, I’ve never trained in swordsmanship. If it felt comfortable, that would be strange.
I set the sword back down.
And decided to return to the mansion
