The Villainess Enjoys Her Married Life
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Episode 15. What the Crown Prince Was Seeking
2023.12.15.
The battle of wills between women was just as fierce as that between men.
The majority of the noblewomen gathered there were blatantly looking down on Eshika Klaus.
Even though Eshika was a duchess and the husbands of the harpies tormenting her held lesser titles, their gazes and tone dripped with contempt, as if cruelty had long become second nature to them.
Someone must have indulged them terribly.
“…….”
Lesvan Deon Lusane—who had come here to intimidate the count—had merely found himself intrigued by the conversation in the garden.
He was still unsure whether the white butterfly—the one he had once searched for so desperately, once dismissed as a mere illusion, and which now fluttered through his chest like a recurring fever—truly resided in Klaus.
Aside from spectating blood-soaked warfare, it was the only thing that had piqued his interest of late.
He held a wineglass in hand.
Each time he took a sip of the blood-red wine, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed.
Even amidst the shifting gazes, her presence remained unmistakable.
Her blue eyes were serene.
The haughty bridge of her nose and the line of her chin both spoke of an innate nobility.
Only the faces of the other women flushed red with fury, then drained pale with fright.
At times, Eshika Klaus would reach out her slender fingers to take up her teacup.
Then, parting her crimson lips just slightly, she savored the tea.
The neat, elegant shape of her fingernails stirred a sudden thirst in Lesvan, prompting him to take another sip of wine.
Like a white rose amidst weeds, Eshika was both aloof and venomous.
When their petty scratches were met with sharp thorns time and time again, the noblewomen who had been itching to tear her down slowly clamped their mouths shut.
Like beasts cowed after measuring each other’s size, they seemed to recognize whose jaws were truly lethal.
The outcome was so clear-cut that it almost felt anticlimactic compared to what he had anticipated.
“L-Let us go.”
“Yes. Hmph.”
Forgetting that she was their guest, the defeated were the first to flee the battlefield.
‘Not even a contest.’
It brought to mind a few of the dull battles he had fought.
A deep smile grazed Lesvan’s lips before fading away.
Eshika did not rise from her seat.
His gaze remained fixed on her throughout.
When she finally revealed the purpose hidden behind those calm blue eyes, his throat grew dry once more.
And the conversation that followed was, if anything, even more intriguing.
How did she know that girl’s identity? What was her objective? Eavesdropping on their exchange grew increasingly enticing.
“Love is bound to change. No matter how sweetly a man whispers, nothing can withstand the passage of time. If you abandon a splendid, warm life in the Imperial Palace for his sake, you may regret it until the day you grow old and die.”
Her red lips parted.
Her voice was quiet, yet Lesvan could hear every word with crystalline clarity.
Watching her eyes, the corners of his lips twisted faintly.
That tragic, breathtaking, yet desolate mark of hers, tinged with venom.
That very imprint he had spent so long searching for was shining quietly within those blue eyes.
It was indeed that child from twenty years ago—the one who had left an indelible mark upon him.
“Y-Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
The Crown Prince had ordered Count Alhemits to rectify the discrepancies between the military supply records and the substandard goods, and to bring them back.
And long after, Count Alhemits stood before him flustered, clutching a bundle of papers.
Sweat dripped down his balding forehead.
When Lesvan turned his chilling gaze toward him, the count flinched and lowered his eyes.
“There appears to have been a mistake. My deepest apologies.”
Count Alhemits, like the other nobles, feared Lesvan—the young and ruthless fiend of war.
He was not only bellicose but also meticulously thorough, doubly so when it came to nobles trying to line their pockets from the state treasury.
“Your household is quite entertaining, both indoors and out, Count.”
The Crown Prince furrowed his brow as he glanced over the sloppy sheaf of documents.
Submitted like this, it was practically a confession of corruption.
Count Alhemits flinched once more at the reproving tone.
There was no telling what the Crown Prince would do next. If only he could appease him somehow…
“While the husband writes off a hundred sets of arms as rusted scrap and frets over how to replace them, the wife invites guests over for an unseemly tea party.”
“…Y-Your Highness.”
The timing was atrocious. Had he known the Crown Prince would visit, he would have called off the party at once.
Dammit. He cursed his wife for inviting guests on this day of all days and disturbing the Crown Prince’s mood.
Alhemits bent his body low, begging for mercy.
“I shall severely reprimand my wife. And I will restore the weapons without fail, even if I must expend my personal fortune to do so.”
**
Only after suffering from an upset stomach for two more days did Riona come to her senses.
She had merely eaten as she always did, yet her stomach had ached so severely that her mind grew delirious.
Kalian, ever the dutiful son, had come three times a day to check on her condition.
At any rate, after a five-day ordeal, she had somehow recovered, though she still lacked her usual energy.
The physician claimed her lack of exercise had weakened her constitution and worsened her indigestion, but nothing of the sort had ever happened before.
“How did Marshall’s tea party go?”
Riona asked, sitting haggard on the bed while receiving a foot massage.
Dark shadows hung beneath her eyes.
Marshall’s tea party—Riona herself had originally intended to attend, but she had sent Eshika instead.
It was obvious the girl would have fumbled and made a fool of herself.
After all, the time had come to arrange a divorce.
‘I have been patient long enough.’
Marshall and Bolan were clever enough to read her intentions precisely.
Many women must have witnessed just how pathetic Eshika was.
And that there was only one queen of Klaus—Riona Klaus.
It would serve as one more reason to cast Eshika out of Klaus for tarnishing the family name.
A wife at fault for the breakdown of the marriage was not entitled to the return of her dowry upon divorce.
That was precisely what Riona was aiming for.
“Um… you see…”
The maid standing beside her, Emilia, opened her mouth awkwardly.
She began to recount what she had heard regarding the events at Marshall’s tea party.
How Marshall and Bolan had been humiliated, and how both had been forced to apologize to Eshika.
The story had reportedly spread like wildfire across high society from the mouths of the noblewomen.
Several ladies who were planning to entrust their daughters to Marshall and Bolan for hefty etiquette lessons had even canceled their arrangements.
Moreover, Marshall’s husband, Count Alhemits—whose medal of honor had been revoked for some reason—flew into a rage at his wife, forbidding her from hosting any guests for the foreseeable future.
Riona’s eyebrows twitched and jerked violently throughout the tale,
and by the time it ended, they were arched sky-high with incredulous rage.
Slap!
Unable to contain her fury any longer, Riona reached out and slapped the maid’s cheek.
“So you’re saying everything was a complete disaster?!”
Struck across the face, the tearful maid dropped to her knees.
It was not the first time, but Riona’s hand was fierce enough to draw tears.
And as a maid, the only thing she could do before an enraged mistress was beg.
“…F-Forgive me, Grand Duchess.”
“Fetch Eshika… No.”
Riona stopped herself as she looked down at the pale, bloodless back of her hand.
The physician had said it:
Stress accelerated aging.
If she had to look at that wretched, foolish wench’s face, her body—which had barely just recovered—would surely suffer more damage.
Thus, she would first demand an explanation for why her stomach had suddenly turned so violently ill.
“Bring Yuri to me.”
“Pardon?”
“The head maid! Yuri Anesis! Are you deaf?”
Riona was cruel and relentless toward anyone who crossed her.
“I-I am so sorry…! Right away, Grand Duchess!”
The maid scrambled to her feet.
Yuri’s summons was a lifeline for her.
Whether Riona ordered Yuri to torment Eshika or vented her anger on Yuri instead, she herself would be spared.
Hurrying out of Riona’s chambers to find Yuri, the maid thought back to what she had heard about the tea party.
‘The Duchess stood up to them?’
No matter how she thought about it, such conduct was unimaginable coming from Eshika.
Eshika Klaus, the shabby, miserable Duchess. How could a woman whose status was lower than that of the servants defeat two vicious countesses?
‘And yet… that look in her eyes back then…’
When she had gone with Yuri to pour cold water over Eshika, the Duchess’s eyes had been truly chilling.
Merely meeting her gaze had felt as though a sharp icicle was being thrust toward her heart.
‘…What was that, truly?’
The maid bit her lip and shook her head.
No way. No matter what she does, the Duchess is still under the Grand Duchess’s thumb.
A pitiful woman who could not even earn her husband’s love… disdained by all.
“Where is Eshika right now?”
But at the sound of a low voice, the maid abruptly stopped in her tracks.
Turning her gaze, she saw the Duke of Klaus standing around the corner, speaking with a manservant.
Duke Kalian Klaus—a master so handsome and dashing that even maids who had served for years flushed red just looking at his face.
As far as she knew, he had cut off whatever little interest he had left in the Duchess following their last clash, so what could be the reason?
“My wife.”
He was asking the servant where Eshika was.
With a somewhat anxious look on his face.
