The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 53: Travel

The journey to Alina took far longer than my previous trips to the capital.

After all, instead of heading straight there, I wandered from place to place, turning the trip into a leisurely journey.

Whenever I came across a village, I stayed for a few days. 

Occasionally, I ventured into the woods and played the violin clad in nothing but my undergarments.

Standing before a breeze, gazing at the open expanse while playing an instrument, I felt as though I might float away. It was exhilarating.

You could call it a simple drug-induced feeling, but what would that change?

The violin I’d bought in a tiny village didn’t sound particularly good.

Still, Raphael, with his face flushed red, gave me a curious, amused reaction and even praised my playing. Not bad, I suppose.

I made Raphael trade his knightly attire, with its ornate and authoritative designs, for simple, farmer-like clothing.

It wouldn’t do to have a knight walking around town with a sword at his hip, intimidating everyone.

The world was surprisingly beautiful—if you had money and the freedom to roam.

Perhaps it was different if you lived in the slums, or were a prostitute, or physically crippled.

The farmers we met weren’t worried about starving to death; instead, they fretted about what to do if their crops were too abundant to sell.

Even the tiny general stores in rural villages seemed to stock everything one could need.

Occasionally, we passed through small towns with populations large enough to be called cities, perhaps a few thousand people.

I sampled strange street snacks made from unidentifiable ingredients, visited old bookstores to read novels, and even climbed a tall tower in the heart of a city with Raphael.

When I walked toward the edge of the tower’s railing, Raphael panicked, thinking I might jump, and tried to stop me. I didn’t bother making excuses—it was understandable, considering what I’d done.

Instead, I just smiled faintly.

After moving into the estate, I’d mastered the art of solving complicated emotions and unspeakable feelings with a faint, unreadable smile.

No tears, no shouting, no anger—just suppressing everything deep inside.

If I didn’t show my emotions, I wouldn’t get hit.

These small villages and tiny cities, barely deserving of the name, seemed far more livable than the larger ones.

There were no homeless people on the streets, children’s faces were bright, and the people I overheard at cafes didn’t seem burdened with worries about the future.

Yet every time I thought about how ordinary these lives were, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of melancholy.

Even in the slums, few starved to death.

Sure, some might eat rotting bread and die, but at least they’d eaten.

Dying after eating—well, that’s a “fortunate” death, isn’t it?

I set aside those grim thoughts and continued along the path.

Today, instead of the stone-paved roads frequented by merchants, I walked down a long dirt road.

When my legs grew tired, I asked Raphael, trailing beside me, to let me ride his horse.

How will I live from now on?

I couldn’t help but wonder if, given time, Libian might sell me off to some bloated merchant.

Perhaps his emotions had swayed him into letting me go now, but when he began to think like the head of a household, he might change his mind.

Maybe I should just marry someone—anyone.

Even marrying the prince wouldn’t be the worst idea.

He’d once told me that I wouldn’t have to share a bed with him and could live freely, even with a lover, after the wedding.

But the imperial city always seemed to come with Olivia and her endless troubles.

Eventually, I’d run into her, and who knows if that would bring harm or nothing at all.

“Raphael, do you have someone you like?”

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“If not, would you marry me someday?”

“…What?”

“Just the marriage. You don’t have to like or love me.

It’s just… if Libian drags me back and forces me to marry some bloated rich man, I think I’d feel a little sad.”

Raphael looked utterly bewildered.

“Why me?”

Even he couldn’t guess the simple truth: there was no one else I could ask.

It felt a bit embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t enjoy misunderstandings, even minor ones.

“Who else do I have to ask this of, besides you? Alina, maybe, but she’s a woman—and regrettably, already married, for all I know.”

“But marriage is… it’s a sacred bond between a man and a woman who love each other…”

“If we’re being technical, knights are supposed to be noble and just, too.”

I once said that when we were at the orphanage, and Raphael sulked for days, refusing to speak to me.

Now, having endured some misfortunes of his own, he seemed more resigned to the irony of it all—perhaps even disgusted with himself for being a knight.

“People always long for what they lack,” I said. “If you already like someone, I’ll find someone else.”

Raphael, startled, seemed fixated on my last remark.

“Who… who would that be?”

“The prince.”

Raphael hesitated for a long time before shyly asking in a small voice, “Do you like him?”

The answer was easy.

“Not at all.”

“Then… you don’t like anyone? You went to that ball for marriage prospects, didn’t you?”

The Duchess made me go.

“Raphael, to truly love someone, you have to be willing to give up everything for them. And they’d have to do the same for you.

Where would I find someone like that? Balls aren’t the place for such things, anyway.”

No one finds that kind of person at a ball, where people weigh the pros and cons of potential partners with a single dance and a few conversations.

Love requires sacrifice, even if it means staining your hands with blood for your partner.

If they can’t do that, it wasn’t meant to be.

Raphael fell silent, guiding the horse along.

When the lack of response irked me, I dismounted, packed some leaves into my cheap wooden pipe, and lit it.

After inhaling a little smoke, I decided to break the tension by tossing a question his way.

“Do you think my idea of love is too heavy?”

“…A bit, yeah.”

“My mother fell for a love too light, and it made her life difficult.

Maybe that’s why I think this way.”

Perhaps the only thing I’d truly loved was music.

Without it, even with all the drugs in the world, I wouldn’t have lasted a single day.

Better to fade completely, leaving no trace, than die a cursed death by my own hand.

As I looked up, I realized the sun had already set.

The sunset I used to watch from a carriage window or from my room in the estate had never seemed this beautiful.

“So, Raphael, what will you do?”

“Do about what?”

“About marriage.”

I didn’t bother mentioning that if he refused, I’d go running to the prince and offer myself as a decorative wife.

After all, if I did marry the prince, I’d just end up a caged bird living within the imperial palace, which didn’t sound like a pleasant life.

Raphael scratched the back of his head, clearly torn, before he finally muttered,

“Who even talks about stuff like this so casually…”

“I’m sorry. But it’s just a stopgap measure. When you meet someone you really love, we can divorce right away.”

“…Do what you want.”

Well, I guess that would be a matter for when we’re adults.

Still, I desperately wanted to rid myself of the cursed surname that clung to me like a weight: Wittelsbach.

“Raphael, come to think of it—did you get your own surname?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope it’s one that goes well with Marisela.”

At that, Raphael seemed about to reveal his new surname, but I pressed a finger to my lips to stop him.

These things are better left as surprises, after all.

Not that it mattered much. If Libian truly let me go, there’d be no need for marriage at all.

How many days had it been since I left the estate?

We might reach Alina soon.

What should I say to her when we meet?

It’s been a while. I missed you. How have you been? Have you been doing well?

It was hard to decide.

I could only hope my gratitude and affection would come naturally when I saw her.

By the time I met Alina, I’d quit this wretched habit of mine.

No more drugs clouding my thoughts, no chance of blurting out nonsense I didn’t mean.

Following the address Alina had once written for me, I kept walking.

Eventually, a small village came into view.

I counted the houses—there were only about thirty.

She said she’d moved to a quiet rural town, and she wasn’t lying.

Even though it wasn’t as grand as a ducal estate, the open farmlands, grazing cows, and wandering sheep gave the place a serene, peaceful feel.

“Marie, is this it?”

“Probably.”

“What’s the village called?”

I glanced at the map and read the small name written above the village: Hessen.

Raphael said it sounded familiar.

Familiar? He’d never been anywhere near here.

Anyway, this was where Alina lived.

We walked further down the path and entered the village.

Looking around, I noticed children playing nearby.

Among them was a little girl holding a flower, waddling around.

She was the spitting image of Alina—an unbelievably adorable child.