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

After a beat, Harriet blurted out in a panic.
“ I-I-I—I’m s-so sorry for being so rude…!”

“N-no, not at all!! It’s fine, truly! I’m the one who’s sorry for letting a guest feel it!”
She soothed Harriet, who had tried to spring up, and coaxed her back onto the chaise.
Rishe lowered her gaze without thinking and spoke, her spirits wilted.

“We’re having a husband-and-wife quarrel.”
“A h-husband-and-wife quarrel…”
“I’m angry with him. So I threw a bit of a fit, but…”

She stirred the liquid with a glass rod in slow circles and murmured:
“In truth, it isn’t even a quarrel.”
Her voice sounded lonelier than she expected.
“I only wished to have a husband-and-wife quarrel, and—as always—he accepted that. I’m sure he simply won’t quarrel with me at all…”

Realizing her words bordered on a soliloquy, she startled.
“I’m sorry, Lady Harriet.”
Springing this on her would only bewilder her. Rishe moved to change the subject—but Harriet spoke first.

“Could it be… you feel lonely?”
“… ”
A stab of pain throbbed deep in her left chest.

“T-that’s not… quite it.”
She tried to deny it—and realized she couldn’t, not clearly.
Harriet gently removed the towel, slowly sat up, and faced her.

“Are you… angry with your betrothed, Lady Rishe?”
Rishe examined her own feelings and shook her head.
What churned inside was not an anger with clear edges.

What she felt toward Arnold was something far more childlike. And she knew she was relying on him.
“…I suppose I’m only sulking.”
Noticing that, she gave a wry smile.

“As you said, Lady Harriet, I… seem to be lonely. It may be that I’m vexed with myself for being unable to do anything for him.”
“Lady Rishe…”
“My chest tightens, it aches, it throbs…”

She set a hand softly over her left breast and drew her brows together.
“—If it were within my power, I would grant him anything.”
But it would not reach.
Arnold himself had rejected it, plainly. Thinking of that, she curled her hand into a fist.

“Lady Rishe.”
At Harriet’s voice, Rishe lifted her face.
“I—I apologize if I’m overstepping. Perhaps I’m wildly off the mark. But, um, I—”

“W-what is it, Lady Harriet?”
Those olive eyes, more serious than ever, looked straight at Rishe.
“—Just to hear those words… I think it would feel like being given so very much.”

“!”
Rishe’s eyes widened.
Harriet faltered for a heartbeat, glanced down as if losing confidence, then shook her head and looked up again.

“If it were me—and someone by my side said such words to me… If I knew there was even one person in this world who would go that far and be on my side!”
Harriet clasped both hands tight before her chest.
“That alone would be happiness enough…!”

“… ”
Told that, Rishe felt as though she’d stumbled on something unexpected.
(Even if I can do nothing… if I only say I want to do anything—)

She blinked slowly.
(Could there be ways, for His Highness Arnold, that I can still be of help…?)

She had little confidence—but a memory surfaced.

Arnold had made the same promise to her.
(He said, ‘So long as I can grant it, I vow to grant absolutely everything.’)
What Arnold had said just earlier—he had spoken those words once already, after his proposal.

“…Thank you, Lady Harriet.”
Rishe let her eyes soften and smiled at the slightly trembling Harriet.
“Your words make me feel, again, that I want to face him properly. Your kindness means so much to me.”

“N-no, not at all…!”
Harriet flapped her hands and drew a deep, bracing breath.
“I… I have never once thought I wanted to quarrel with His Majesty Walter, or with my own betrothed.”

Her gaze wandered; choosing each word with care, she continued.
“In the first place, I’m not allowed such a thing! A-as a queen meant only to be a decorative doll, all I can do is obey in silence…”
“Lady Harriet. That—”

“I thought what I was born with couldn’t be changed. That I was born a princess, that I’m useless, that I have a face my betrothed would hate…! I kept thinking it’s my fault, so I’m sorry—sorry I was even born…”
(No.)
There was no reason for Harriet to demean herself.

Rishe moved to deny it at once—then caught herself.
“But… I realized something!”
Because in Harriet’s eyes—fixed on Rishe—there was a small light.

“To others, it might be just a tiny bit. They might say all I did was put on some makeup, wear a lovely dress, and braid my bangs. But to me, it isn’t ‘just’ that.”
That light, invisible when she’d hidden behind her grown-out fringe and bowed her head, shimmered through tears.
“I could look in the mirror. When changing after my bath, I felt excited—unbelievably so. The maids who always seemed distant talked to me so much today.”

“Lady Harriet…”
“Just that much made it feel like everything had changed.”
Her voice was on the verge of tears.

Even so, she looked to Rishe with all her might and conveyed what was in her heart.
“I thought what I was born with couldn’t be changed. …But maybe—just a little—it can be. For me, that is such a very big change, and you’re the one who changed it, Lady Rishe… Thinking like that feels like a dream.”
In a small voice, she added, “So…”

“Your words will reach your betrothed, Lady Rishe. …Absolutely.”
“…!”
The moment Rishe drew a breath, Harriet clapped both hands over her face.

“A-a-aah, I’m sorry!! I talked too much—how embarrassing…!!”
“L-Lady Harriet!?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—now I’ll remember this in bed tonight and won’t be able to sleep—uuuu!!”

“P-please calm down—it’s all right!”
As she soothed the girl sinking into the chaise, Rishe couldn’t stop her cheeks from loosening.
What Harriet had just said must have taken courage.

But to encourage Rishe, she had pushed through and said it all.
“Thank you, Lady Harriet. I’m truly glad we’ve become friends.”
“F-friends…!”

Olive eyes lifted to Rishe, on the verge of tears more than ever.
(Lady Harriet is trying to change. …But—)
What flitted across Rishe’s mind was the future awaiting her.

(I still don’t know what leads to her execution. I can’t read Raul’s aims either…)
“…Excuse me, Lady Rishe.”
“Elsie.”

A knock, the door opening—both Rishe and Harriet turned.
Elsie wore a slightly troubled look and glanced back over her shoulder. There stood Women Knights in white uniforms.
(…Fabranian knights, not Sigwell’s.)

“L-ladies…! Um, this is—”
“This won’t do, Lady Harriet. His Majesty instructed that whenever anyone other than your brother and your maids are present, our guard must attend you.”
About three knights entered.

It wasn’t murderous intent, but the room’s air grew suddenly formal. Flustered, Harriet shook her head vehemently.
B-but, it’s only Lady Rishe here…!”
“It doesn’t matter who the other party is.”

“Ugh…”
“It’s quite all right, Lady Harriet.”
Rishe smiled and capped the bottle she had been compounding.

“I’ll take my leave. Apply the liquid in this bottle to your eyelids before bed. The dresses and bags are in the way here, so I’ll collect them.”
“Ah! T-then at least let me help…!”
Harriet jumped up and began hurriedly gathering the dresses and bags from several spots.

There was no time to stop her, so Rishe accepted the kindness, and together with Elsie, took the armfuls of dresses and bags.
“Then, good night, Lady Harriet. And my apologies to you, knights, for the late disturbance.”
“L-Lady Rishe…! Um, truly—thank you!”

“I’m the one who should be giving thanks.”
Thanks to the encouragement, she felt she could move their husband-and-wife quarrel forward.
Harriet ducked her head, flushed with bashfulness.

“G… good night, Lady Rishe.”
“Yes. Until tomorrow.”
She wanted to wave, but her arms were full of dresses. Seeing her off, Harriet watched as Rishe started down the corridor.

“Is it heavy, Elsie?”
“I’m fine! Are you all right, Lady Rishe…?”
“Yes. It’s late, so let’s just bring these to the wardrobe and leave putting them away for tomorrow.”

“Yes!”
Chatting like that, they went downstairs.
“—…”

They did not notice Harriet, standing in the corridor, narrowing her eyes and watching Rishe’s back.
＊＊＊
After setting the dresses and bags in the wardrobe and parting from Elsie, Rishe returned to the bedchamber and exhaled a long breath.

(…His Highness Arnold is still at work.)
Silence swelled in the room for two, now holding only one. And that stirred up unhelpful thoughts.
(Ghosts…)

She hastily lit every lamp she could reach, brightening the chamber, then scurried under the covers.
She pulled the quilt over her head to flee the sound of the waves—yet still felt wretchedly small.
“…”

She rose softly, climbed down from the bed she had been using, and—with the quilt around her shoulders—padded across the room.
She went to the window side.
In other words, she climbed onto the bed Arnold had used the night before and let herself sink there with a thump.

The quilt, the sheets, the pillows—she had changed them all this morning for fresh ones. None of what Arnold used yesterday remained in this bedchamber.
Even so, like this, she felt wrapped in his presence, and breathed out in a long sigh.
(His Highness surely won’t return to this room.)

Thinking that, she buried her face in the pillow.
(I even wrote insults on the bread. Wanting him to sleep beside me is just my selfishness…)
But—she exhaled.

(I hope he isn’t overdoing it.)
She regretted not at least asking Oliver about his [N O V E L I G H T] condition.
(He was drenched by the rain earlier, and I even got him into the sea. Even for someone who trains his body, if he works late every day, his strength will be worn down…)

Even as she worried, her thoughts began to melt at the edges.
She, too, had burned through her stamina during the day; on top of that, the unfamiliar husband-and-wife quarrel had scrambled her mind in a dozen ways.
“…Your Highness.”

She knew he wouldn’t come back—and still, some corner of her heart waited.
Trying to fool that heart, she slowly closed her eyes.
＊＊＊

When Rishe next woke, several hours had likely passed.
“…”
She opened her eyes and understood it was deep night.

After a few blinks and the verge of sleep tugging her down again, she sensed someone right beside her.
Arnold was sleeping quietly at Rishe’s side.