Previously
Euclid enters the mansion and is greeted by the butler Philip, whom he distrusts due to Philip's ties to the Imperial family and his knowledge of Euclid's past illness. A young servant named Rick is assigned to him, and although Euclid feels a flicker of guilt for the boy's innocence, he remains wary of everyone in the house.
And although peace had held until now…
Would it continue to last?
With a wry thought, Euclid sank back into the sofa in the exact same posture he had been in before Rick left. Still, he could not entirely mask the vexation on his face, raising an arm to shield his eyes.
At that moment, there was a soft click as the bathroom door connected to the bedroom swung open.
Perhaps the boy had been startled to see Euclid asleep, or perhaps he was quickly scanning the room. It was hard to tell during the brief silence that followed.
Finally, the boy spoke up cautiously.
Hearing this, Euclid slowly lowered his arm.
Rick nodded awkwardly. Yet instead of taking his leave right away, he hesitated, watching Euclid rise from the sofa.
Sensing the boy’s expectant gaze as though he were waiting for something, Euclid paused briefly before softening his expression into a gentle smile.
At last, Rick’s hesitant demeanor brightened, and he bowed deeply before leaving the room.
The instant the door closed behind him, the warmth vanished from Euclid’s smile.
He let out a long sigh.
He had not wanted to leave any room for familiar affection, yet Rick’s hopeful eyes reminded him so much of his young nephews, who used to hover around him hoping for praise or an affectionate pat on the head.
( ‘…It doesn't matter.’ )
At the very least, the boy had made no attempt to pry into the purpose of his visit to the capital, and Euclid had revealed nothing.
Of course, come tomorrow, Delano was bound to spill everything the moment he woke up. But that was of no consequence.
( ‘By then, it will be too late to turn back.’ )
Euclid firmly resolved to proceed with what was likely the most selfish decision of his life, brushing aside the brief pang of turmoil he had felt earlier in the carriage.
There was nothing else a powerless man could do.
Revenge? He did not dare to dream of such a thing.
That pure, gentle self who could never harbor hatred or resentment toward anyone was long gone.
As he prepared for sleep, he held on to a single wish: that tonight, whoever learned of the Duke of Rodion's unannounced arrival in the capital would fret over his visit, tighten the security around the imperial palace, and find themselves utterly unable to sleep soundly.
And thus, the final night before the wedding slipped away.
4. The Villainess's Wedding
Human greed knows no bounds, and history endlessly repeats its mistakes.
Even so, as the momentous occasion of marrying my favorite bias drew near, I conquered my impulses and kept myself from making foolish blunders.
By that, I mean I fought off the urge to slather myself in skincare concoctions like the day before, reigned in my fluttery excitement at the thought of seeing my beloved, and focused on turning in early.
The result? I woke up feeling thoroughly refreshed at a laudable hour, perfectly poised to tackle the day in high spirits.
Today was my last morning at the Basilian ducal residence before the wedding. Normally, I would have eaten breakfast alone, but Melissa had made a small request yesterday. She mentioned how much she enjoyed having family meals together and asked if we could do the same today.
Was it the natural aura of an angelic protagonist, or was it simply because I truly loved having a younger sister for the first time?
I could not help but indulge Melissa, wanting to fulfill her every wish.
Besides, I was also curious to see how Father was doing. He had seemed so terribly flustered last night, and I wondered how he felt after that whole dinner.
( ‘Though he was surprisingly sweet, even better than I expected.’ )
I had been all set to give him a piece of my mind if he played the role of a cold, prickly in-law. Instead, he had boisterously declared, “My son-in-law!”
Honestly, how could anyone not love Euclid? It wasn't just because he was my favorite character. He truly was the spitting image of an ideal husband: upright, kind, and thoroughly dependable.
‘I’m already looking forward to seeing him again.’
Did he sleep well last night? My mind drifted to him all the way to the dining hall.
Yet when I opened the door to greet everyone, I froze right mid-sentence.
The sight of Father and Sionel stopped me dead in my tracks.
Their faces looked thoroughly ravaged, a far cry from their usual composed selves.
I couldn't bring myself to ask what on earth had happened, and it was impossible not to recall my own ghostly appearance from the morning before. Instead, I stood there in stunned silence.
As if catching on to my astonishment, Father let out an awkward chuckle.
Then he quickly added, almost defensively, “I don’t usually drink this much.”
While his excuse was somewhat plausible, what in the world had happened to Sionel?
His face looked even worse than Father’s: dark circles hollowed his eyes, his expression was drawn tight, and he looked entirely disheveled.
( ‘Don't tell me they stayed up drinking together all night?’ )
I narrowed my eyes at him, suspecting the worst. Startled by the scrutiny, Sionel hastily changed the subject.
“…”
Was it just my imagination, or could I feel an unspoken ‘for once’ lingering at the end of that sentence?
I gave a dubious nod.
Just then, Melissa arrived as well.
Though she looked visibly taken aback by the haggard faces of the two men, she wisely chose not to let it show.
The quiet meal carried on until—
Father, who had been gloomily spooning up soup that was supposed to nurse a hangover, suddenly sighed and muttered aloud.
Seeing Sionel instinctively try to cut him off with a quiet, “Father,” I grew increasingly convinced that the Duke had spent the entire night drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
Then Father cast a hesitant glance at me and asked:
How could I possibly be? This was literally the happiest day of my life.
When I tilted my head in confusion, the crestfallen Duke went on to explain:
Just imagining myself suffocating in a sea of people gave me the shivers.
I was on the verge of saying that such ostentation was completely unnecessary and that I actually hated it, but the words died in my throat when I saw Father's face, dripping with such bitter regret that one might think he was the one getting married.
( ‘Is there some sort of wedding gift tradition around here, perhaps?’ )
Then again, with wealth overflowing beyond measure, he hardly seemed the type to obsess over gifts.
Besides, once word of the wedding got out, anyone affiliated with the Basilian ducal family—or desperate to curry favor—would inevitably line up to shower us with presents anyway.
In the end, I figured it simply came down to pride and saving face.
Unsure of the exact reason behind Father's dejection, I held my tongue for a moment before giving an honest answer:
Naturally, I left out the fact that the greatest part of all was that my partner happened to be my ultimate bias.
Perhaps having anticipated my answer from my already furrowed expression, Father gave a slow nod.
Now that was an unexpected remark.
( ‘Isn't the quintessential villainess in romance fantasy novels supposed to be a total social butterfly who never misses a single ball or tea party?’ )
Of course, they would end up as the target of whispers and scathing stares, but nevertheless, they always thrived on being the center of attention!
Yet Evgenia, despite her striking looks and lofty status, had apparently failed to adapt to high society at all, let alone reign over it.
While I shook my head in silent disbelief, Father, perhaps assuming I was upset, smoothed away his crestfallen expression and offered:
Right at that moment, Melissa, who had been quietly eating her meal, choked violently on her food as if it had gone down the wrong pipe.