The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 60

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind, and I asked a question.

Was it because I found it odd that nothing had happened after spending years together?Or perhaps, was it to once again indulge in self-deprecation over my unchanged self?

“Hey, Raphael, what do you think?”

“About what, all of a sudden?”

After the illustrious protagonist left the house, I had tried to throw out the bland scraps of trash but ended up keeping them out of a strange sense of reluctance. 

Now, I was heading to the market, intending to use them to neutralize the smell of meat.

Come to think of it, Raphael was dressed in a military uniform, and I was wearing a dress. Hardly the appropriate attire for shopping.

Thanks to that, people’s gazes were glued to us.

“You know, that story about Libian.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

Hadn’t she said she wanted to come and apologize? Apologize, my foot.

It’s enough if she doesn’t bother me anymore.

If we can pass each other without recognition, that would suffice.

Or maybe the Duchess has lost her mind.

But it doesn’t seem like she’s at an age for senility yet.

“From my position, it’s hard to say anything.”

Of course, it is. She’s technically his lord and employer, after all.

“It’s been quite some time, and you haven’t seen her in years. As time passes, emotions fade, and guilt is, after all, just another feeling.”

What kind of face would she make if she looked at me now?

To be honest, I don’t understand why the Duchess even feels such emotions toward me in the first place.

It’s hard to put into words, but the best way to describe it might be sheer disgust.

I want to forget, but it just won’t fade.

If her guilt has faded, isn’t she just trying to find a new way to torment me again?

While someone’s nature may not change, their actions often do. Maybe she wants to trouble me a little, just to feel a slight satisfaction.

A pair of youthful lovers, probably no older than sixteen, walked hand in hand on the brick-paved street. A butterfly perched on a flower growing between the bricks caught my eye.

The world is so beautiful, yet I feel like I’m walking through a dull gray landscape alone.

“Marisela?”

I stopped in my tracks and looked at my hand.

I glanced down at my legs and touched my now noticeably longer arms.

My body had grown, but I was still the same inside.

“Raphael, what do you even like about someone like me?
With that uniform on, you could attract as many beautiful women as you want.”

There’s no shortage of women who romanticize knights.

Especially among the nobility.

The cheap romance novels sold in the streets, the heroic tales born out of wars, and that dashing uniform—how could anyone resist?

Nobles who learn about romance only through books, the most beautiful courtesans of brothels, even stunning married noblewomen—none of them would stand a chance against that clean uniform paired with his handsome face.

“Someone like me is just a nasty, useless person. I’m only barely alive, just breathing day by day… Honestly, I don’t get it.”

“Well, do I need a reason? I’m not sure. Even if you ask what I like about you, I can only say that I just do.”

“…What’s more important than having a reason?”

From the corners of the orphanage, to the edge of the mansion, to the top of the tower, and even in this city’s small attic rooms, I’ve always searched for a reason to live.

The three basic principles of life are functionality, adaptability, and sustainability.

Although I ultimately failed to find all three, I confirmed at least one thing: I can still use my intact hands to play instruments. That’s why I’m still alive.

“Let me ask you the opposite question. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“Because I’m nasty, my soul is ugly despite my outward appearance, I’ve hurt people, cut someone with glass, killed someone… I’m just trash.”

“Marie, who would’ve thought? Who could have imagined that the rude little kid from the back alleys would actually become the knight they didn’t even believe in?”

“That’s just because you’re amazing…”

“If it weren’t for you, a knight? No way. I’d have been dragged off as a common soldier and died a meaningless death.”

Even without me, Raphael, as talented as he is, would’ve beaten all his enemies and survived somehow.

It was true.

The Empress—or rather, the Imperial Consort for now, though she would eventually become the Crown Princess and then the Empress—would have been Olivia.

Thinking of such possibilities brought a slight sense of emptiness.

Raphael wasn’t mine or anything like that, yet still…

“I don’t understand why you think you have no value.”

“Because it’s true. All I can do is press a few piano keys. Where would you find value in that? And it’s not even proper music—just weird, bizarre stuff that only I enjoy.”

“I happen to like it quite a lot.

Otherwise, how could I have listened to it for years without complaint?”

Raphael grinned, holding the fresh vegetables and meat he’d just bought from the market.

“And the fact that we get to eat fresh vegetables and meat is all thanks to you.”

“…I know the Knights’ meals are better than this. What are you talking about?”

“At least they’re not meals you cooked.”

I wasn’t particularly skilled in cooking, so being praised like this felt burdensome.

“You’re the one who turned a pitiful orphan destined for a miserable life into a knight.”

“Even without me, someone would have—”

“Who?”

Raphael’s voice lowered slightly, cutting me off.

For some reason, my body flinched. Was I scared?

“Who would’ve pulled me out of that place?

No one cared. Not even me.”

He leaned in close and whispered softly in my ear. His face, touched by the setting sun, appeared faintly red.

“In the end, you’re the one who saved me. So why would I ever hate you?”

“Is that so?”

“It is. So stop the pointless self-loathing and go make dinner.”

“…Alright.”

He had grown cheekier.

At first, he’d been the stiff, dull archetype of a knight, but now…

When we returned home, Raphael changed back into his worn casual clothes.

In the meantime, I took out the pot Olivia had used and boiled some raw meat before chopping it and stir-frying it with vegetables.

The seasoning was simple—just salt, pepper, and a bit of herbs.

Still, the food turned out surprisingly tasty.

Well, with such a simple recipe, it would’ve been harder to mess up.

Pointless self-loathing, huh?

Maybe so.

After years of separation, the guilt hadn’t just faded—perhaps my very existence had become faint to her.

Her sense of obligation might still remain, though.

Ever since I was born, I’d always imagined the worst-case scenarios, and maybe that’s what twisted me so thoroughly.

“Raphael.”

I wanted to think more positively, to truly smile for once.

Not the dirty, grotesque smiles that oozed out of my opium-clouded brain, but genuine smiles born from happiness.

That’s why I gave up opium.

I was also trying to abstain from alcohol as much as possible.

“What is it?”

“Officially, we’re a married couple, aren’t we?”

“…Yes, we are. Why bring that up now?”

I wondered if loving someone would change anything.

Even now, and in my past life, I remembered vaguely liking someone, but I was certain it wasn’t love.

What I felt for Alina wasn’t sexual desire but fondness.

“I was just thinking it might be time to do what needs to be done.”

The icy white feeling that clung to me, like my hair, wrapped faintly around my body.

Should I call it a distorted redness?

I wasn’t sure if this was the right direction, but I didn’t want to remain a useless, brooding idiot for the rest of my life.

“Do you love me?”

Raphael nodded.

“Why?”

Loving someone might stem from the desire to love oneself.

Raphael resembled me.

But still, he was only similar. At his core, he was different.

“Who knows.”

“If I have a child, could I love them?

All I’ve learned in life is how to hurt people.”

From the high nobles who ruled the world with a flick of their fingers to the courtesans selling their bodies on the streets, I’d seen how people could suddenly change when they had children or fell in love.

“…You’ll be able to.”

Raphael’s face held a tinge of sadness.

“I hope so.”

A child—a newly born life—deserves admiration and love.

But could I love a child as much as my mother loved me?

Even though she sometimes vented her frustrations on me after being mistreated in the brothel, I believe she did her duty as a mother.

Maybe I was running away, afraid of the reality that I couldn’t love myself.

And that would be a terrible fate for a child.

Better they weren’t born than to live a miserable life like mine.

“Would you love a child?”

Without hesitation, Raphael nodded.

How nice it would be if I could do the same.

But yes, Raphael could.

That’s why his story ended with, And they lived happily ever after.

After finishing the meal, I went to the bathroom to clean myself.

The pale hair that looked dull even under light and the ominous red eyes stared back at me in the mirror.

I dressed lightly, drank heavily, and went down to the bedroom.

Words weren’t needed; a kiss sufficed.

And that night, I realized, unfortunately, that Raphael’s feelings for me leaned more toward sexual love than mere affection.

When I opened my eyes, it was morning.