The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Married Life in a Former Enemy Country in Her Seventh Loop

“When I asked about a seaside stroll, they kindly guided me to this cove. —I didn’t expect to find the two of you here. My apologies for intruding.”
(Another easy lie…)
There was no way Raul hadn’t noticed that she and Arnold were on the beach.

Even so, he glanced at Rishe’s wet {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} hair and dress, chuckled, and held out her hat.
That chuckle was exactly like the real Curtis.
“Here.”
“…Thank you, very much.”

She gave thanks, but accepted it with caution. Raul’s gaze was the kind that studied one’s movements.
She had trusted the Raul of her hunter’s life. The Raul before her now had unknown aims.
Under those eyes, she had to approach carefully.
As she thought that, a hand reached out from beside her.

“Your Highness Arnold.”
Arnold, standing at her side, took the hat Raul offered.
“I’ll thank you on my wife’s behalf. …Rishe.”
He plopped the hat onto her head.
She held it with both hands and set it properly, then looked up at them in turn.

“Thank you, both of you.”
“…”
“…”

But neither man looked at her.
Raul, smiling as Curtis, addressed Arnold.
“Thank you for calling a merchant for Harriet this morning. It seems she found Galkhein’s wares most intriguing.”

Arnold, for his part, remained blank-faced, as if it were of no concern.
“I’m glad to hear it. If you have other requests, state them freely.”
“In that case, I would very much like to speak with Lady Rishe.”

“….”
Smiling at Rishe, Raul added:
“My sister tells me Lady Rishe is an avid reader. I wondered if we might have a chance to chat after dinner.”

(It’s hard to believe talking is the true objective…)
Raul’s gaze slid back to Arnold.
In that instant, Rishe realized he might be observing Arnold, and she started.
‘Arnold Hein may be wounded.’

She remembered the words from her hunter’s life.
Arnold now wore only a shirt, jacket off—lighter than usual. Naturally, the less one wore, the easier one’s movements and habits were to read.
(If Raul spots Your Highness Arnold’s scar…)
That scar was Arnold’s only weak point—and likely one he did not want known.
Rishe moved to draw Raul’s attention to herself.

“…But of course, Prince Curtis!”
She stepped forward brightly, smiling.
She couldn’t hide Arnold, who stood taller behind her, yet even this might shield him a little.
“What sort of books do you read, Prince Curtis?”

“If it bears the name book, I’ll read any field whatsoever. As long as it has letters upon the page, my hands itch to pick it up.”
Those were indeed words the real Curtis might say. Rishe nodded with a counterfeit smile.
“I understand the feeling perfectly.”

“I’m delighted Lady Rishe is the same. On a summer day like this, nothing is finer than reading while lying in the shade. With a sweet at one’s side, I could ask for nothing more.”
For the record, Raul hated sweets.
The real Curtis had a sweet tooth, so Raul was playing the part. To Rishe—who knew the man beneath—it was a painfully hollow exchange.

(Even if the talk is only superficial, I have to keep his attention off Your Highness Arnold…!)
Yet despite her determined effort, Raul smiled at Arnold again.
“Truly, you have a splendid fiancée. I envy you, Your Highness Arnold.”

(Raul!!)
She kept the smile on her face and protested silently.
(Why throw a provocative smile at His Highness Arnold now of all times…!!)

She couldn’t see what expression Arnold wore in response. Before she could glance back, Raul continued.
“When I received the news, I was astonished. That the Crown Prince of Galkhein would suddenly announce an engagement to a foreign lady—and schedule the wedding only three months later.”
His red eyes lifted, past Rishe, to Arnold behind her.

“That is quite abrupt. …Should we take it to mean His Highness Arnold is that smitten with his fiancée?”
“…”
The air seemed to chill.
Arnold was likely watching Raul in silence. Feeling awkward just hearing it, Rishe tried to change the subject.

“Um, Prince Curtis. On a different note—about Lady Harriet…”
But she was interrupted—not by Raul before her, but by Arnold behind her.
“—Yes. That’s right.”

“!”
A hand reached around and pulled her firmly by the waist.
Bending down, Arnold removed the hat he had set and brought his lips to her ear from behind.
Looking at Raul, he said:

“From the first instant I laid eyes on her, I was hopelessly taken with her.”
“—…!!”
At those words, a dull pain throbbed in Rishe’s left chest.

He would have noticed how her body stiffened.
But Arnold didn’t mind; in a low voice that etched itself against her eardrum, he told Raul slowly:
“I wished from my depths to have her, proposed without regard for means, and made her say yes. …We’re rushing the wedding because I want her to be my wife as soon as possible.”
“Y-Your Highness…”

When she tried to slip from his hold, he caught her left hand this time.
From behind, his fingers laced with hers.
“Otherwise, another man might steal her away.”
“….”

Taken as words alone, it was the kind of ardent whisper that could make one’s head spin.
But Rishe caught it clearly.
Arnold’s words bore the unmistakable ring of a lie.

Of course, it wasn’t that Arnold couldn’t hide it. He was deliberately not hiding it.
He framed the words so she would grasp they were falsehoods—meant for the man before them.
(…It’s fine.)
Rishe swallowed.

(I understand His Highness’s intent perfectly.)
The short time until the wedding had, of course, given Rishe pause. The proposal had come in the fifth month; the ceremony would be in mid-eighth.
She had originally been scheduled to marry her first fiancé, Prince Dietrich, in the ninth month of this year.

Thanks to that, some of her bridal preparations were already underway—but Galkhein’s were not.
She’d heard they’d strained themselves to prepare the ceremony and invite dignitaries from many lands. Only because Galkhein was a great power had those royals and nobles agreed to attend.
Arnold was a rational man; he would never do such a thing without reason.
And certainly not for the sort of affection he had just voiced.
She knew that well.

“…Lady Rishe will surely be a happy bride,” Raul said, his smile twitching.
It was the first time she’d ever seen his composure crack—even counting her hunter’s life. Had Arnold glared at him that fiercely from behind?
But Raul smoothed it over at once, showing that same gentle expression.

“My sister Harriet’s marriage to Fabrania has been arranged since childhood. I know I’m the one forcing that duty upon her, and yet selfishly, I worry.”
He lifted his shoulders slightly.
“Very few couples in political marriages find happiness, after all.”

“…Indeed.”
Arnold’s voice seemed to carry a faint note of scorn.
“To hound another nation with disparity in power and force a political marriage upon them is nothing but despicable.”

“Your Highness Arnold.”
Before Rishe could turn to him, the hat he’d taken was set back upon her head.
“Rishe. Would you be interested in continuing your book talk with Prince Curtis?”

“…Yes.”
In truth, not particularly—but she wanted Raul’s attention away from Arnold.
When she nodded, the Arnold she looked up at wore a gentle gaze.
“Then go.”

“!”
Even in that gentle tone and expression, there was a clear line drawn—she felt it.
“I’ll return to my duties for now. If you need me, I’ll be in my office—”

“Your Highness Arnold!”
Rishe seized his hand without hesitation as he began to walk.
“—…”

When he turned, his eyes were round with surprise.
She squeezed his hand, lacing their fingers with courage.
“…Rishe.”
(Whatever intent lay behind His Highness’s words, it doesn’t matter.)

Right now, she simply had to do what she should do.
And she would reach for the things she wanted to do as well.
One of those, it seemed, was to take Arnold’s hand like this.
“I want you to come with me, too.”

“……”
When she said it plainly, Arnold drew his brows together a little.
To counter that, she brought her other hand over his, cupping his hand with both of hers.
“Your Highness…”

But Arnold didn’t answer.
Was this the natural lead-up to being refused?
She feared as much—then Arnold let out a quiet breath and said:
“…If I can find the time.”

“!”
Joy flared bright inside her.
Relieved, Rishe smiled at him naturally.
“For now, let’s go back to the castle and change. We’ve mostly dried, but the damage is… considerable.”

“…Right.”
“In that case, Prince Curtis, please excuse us.”
Still holding Arnold’s hand, she turned with a sunny smile—then let it fade and shot Raul a warning glance.

“Good day.”
“…Yes, Lady Rishe.”
Raul narrowed his eyes faintly, sending her a meaning only she would catch.

“Then, until later.”
“…”
His aim remained unclear, but for now, Rishe set off walking with Arnold.

She had no way of knowing what Raul, left on the beach, murmured under his breath.
“Beautiful couple… By the world’s standards, I suppose they’re well matched.”
Those red eyes were on Rishe, not Arnold.

“Somehow, though, they’re a dangerously unstable husband and wife… aren’t they?”
A hunter’s smile—one that stalked its prey—curled across Raul’s face.