The Villainess is my fiance: But she is gentle towards me

The wine settled into them slowly.

Charlotte's cheeks turned pink, then a soft red, and her eyes grew a little unfocused.

Vivian stayed almost the same, only the light flush on his face showed he had taken a drink at all.

Charlotte leaned her elbows on the stone table and let out a tiny hic.

"Vivian… are you going to fight in the war against the Tramplins?"

Her voice wobbled a little.

She had been holding this question inside for days, maybe weeks.

It sat in her chest like a knot.

Now, with the warmth of the drink in her body, she finally found the courage to let it out.

Vivian answered without missing a beat.

"Of course."

He didn't hide anything. He didn't soften anything.

"I have to kill them all with my own hands."

His tone was calm, almost too calm for the weight of the words.

The red on his face was only from the drink, his mind was steady, sharp, untouched.

His body was too strong for alcohol to cloud it.

Charlotte stared at him.

The moonlight made his eyes look even colder than usual.

It hurt a little, how easily he spoke of going to war, of throwing himself into danger.

But hearing it still made her heart twist.

Vivian leaned back in his chair, rolling the empty glass in his fingers.

"I need to fight. If I don't, I can't keep my word. And…"

Vivian let the last words fade. He couldn't push them any further.

There was no simple way to explain that strange pull he had felt ever since he came back in time.

That instinct pushed him toward someone unknown.

Toward danger.

Toward something he didn't fully understand.

The feeling had no shape. No name. He didn't know how to give it one.

Charlotte didn't let the silence rest.

"Can't we just leave everything?" she whispered.

Her voice sounded small, unsure.

She paused, searching for words, as if her thoughts kept slipping through her fingers.

"The empire is strong. Whatever comes, they can fight it. They don't need us."

When she looked down, her blush deepened.

Her lips pressed together in a soft pout, and she forced the next words out like she was afraid he might laugh at them.

"We can just… live peacefully. Just you and me. We already took revenge. Isn't that enough?"

Vivian breathed out slowly.

There she was again, selfish in the way someone becomes when they finally find something they don't want to lose.

But to him, there was nothing ugly about it. Her selfishness wasn't greed.

It was warmth. It was the kind of desire that felt like a blessing dropped into his hands.

How many people in this world would throw away a throne, a name, a life of power… simply to stay beside one person?

How many would turn their back on family, on duty, on the empire itself if he just asked?

He knew her too well.

He knew she would do all of that without hesitating.

She would betray her blood.

She would abandon her crown.

She would walk away from everything she had ever been taught to value.

If he asked her to die for him, she would.

And she wouldn't flinch.

To her, he wasn't one piece of the world.

He was the whole world.

Nothing else existed in her heart, not truly.

Vivian leaned forward and brushed his thumb against the back of her hand.

His voice stayed soft, steady.

"Charlotte…"

He didn't finish the sentence yet.

He just looked at her, letting the weight of everything she felt settle quietly between them.

The night around them stayed still, as if waiting for whatever would come next in their story.

Vivian opened his mouth, closed it once, then tried again.

The words felt heavy and strange on his tongue.

"I… don't know why," he said slowly, "but since we came back in time, I feel like I'm tied to someone. And… we can't exist together."

The moment he said it out loud, that feeling inside him pushed harder, like a shadow brushing against his spine.

Charlotte felt the shift in him and straightened up a little, her red cheeks still warm from the drink.

Her voice trembled.

"What do you mean someone you can't exist with? Is it Kafrik? If it's him, then we just have to find him and—kill—"

"No." Vivian cut her off before she could finish.

He shook his head, calm but certain.

"I used to think the same. At first I thought it was Kafrik too. But later… I understood it isn't him."

Charlotte blinked, confused and scared.

"Then who…?"

Vivian looked away from her and lifted his eyes to the sky.

The moonlight brushed across his face, making him look colder, older, almost distant.

"I can't explain it," he said.

"I don't know who it is. But I feel like my life is tied to that someone… and that person is the reason for my existence."

The strange truth sat heavy on his chest.

Every time he thought about it, the feeling grew sharper, like a voice he couldn't hear, but somehow always sensed.

A pull he couldn't escape.

He didn't know if it was fate or curse.

He didn't know if it was destiny or danger.

But he knew it was real.

He had tried to ignore it.

He had tried to drown it in training, in revenge, in quiet moments like this.

But the feeling never left.

It stayed there, fixed inside him like a second heartbeat.

For so long, he had kept this to himself.

Telling anyone felt wrong, like speaking the words out loud would make the unknown thing even closer.

But today, sitting under the moon, with Charlotte's warm hand near his, the urge to share it had finally broken through.

Vivian let out a quiet breath.

"I don't know what this feeling wants. I don't know if it's calling me… or warning me. But I feel like when I meet that person, everything will change."

Charlotte's fingers trembled around her glass.

The night suddenly felt colder, as if something unseen had entered their peaceful lakeside.

Vivian lowered his gaze to her again, steady but unreadable, waiting to see how she would carry this new piece of truth between them.

Charlotte stared at him for a long moment, her eyes squinting a little as if she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Then she leaned in, cheeks shining red, and asked in a tiny, hesitant voice:

"…Is it romantic?"

"Huh?"

Vivian's jaw actually dropped a little.

Charlotte panicked at the look on his face.

She waved her hands in a small, clumsy circle, trying to explain but only making herself sound more serious.

"No, I mean—listen—I can't picture you with someone other than me, right? So… I was thinking… maybe you were thinking about… you know… other girls…"

Her voice didn't even shake at the end.

She believed every word, she just said.

The place beside him, in his life, in his heart, she would give up everything else, but that place was hers alone.

Only hers. No sharing, no second options, no exceptions.

Vivian just stared at her, stunned.

He had just told her about a strange force tied to his very life, something he couldn't explain, something that scared even him, and she thought it was about romance.

About another girl.

He blinked once. Twice.

And strangely… relief washed over him.

For a moment, the heavy feeling pressing on his chest lifted.

Her ridiculous, jealous question knocked the weight right out of him.

The serious worry he had been carrying all this time scattered like dust in the wind.

She wasn't thinking about fate.

She wasn't thinking about danger.

She was thinking about him.

Only him.

He let out a small breath he didn't know he was holding.

Charlotte, drunk and dead serious, frowned at his silence.

"So? Is it romantic?" she asked again, as if bracing herself for the worst.

Vivian felt a laugh rise in his throat, not mocking, but warm, helpless, and full of something he didn't know how to name.

The moonlight touched her face, her pout, her stubborn possessiveness, and the fear she hid behind her jealousy.

Vivian tilted his head, tapped his chin, and pretended to think.

"Let me see… hmm… you know what? I think it's romantic."

His tone was pure mischief.

Charlotte froze.

Then—

"What!?"

She shot up from her seat, eyes narrowing like a cat ready to bite.

"What do you mean it's romantic!?"

Vivian rose too, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, the kind that belonged to theatre stages, not quiet lakesides.

"Charlotte… it's time I tell you about the most important girl in my life. The one right beside my mother."

Her breath stopped.

Her eyes slowly turned bloodshot, the bright red flush from the alcohol deepening into something dark and dangerous.

She grabbed her glass and threw it to the side, her voice rough with panic and anger.

"You unfaithful bastard. I told you not to let your mind wander to any girl but me… then why did you?"

she shouted, her voice cracking with fury.

She drew in a sharp breath, forcing her anger down just enough to speak again.

"Who is she?"

Vivian didn't flinch.

He stepped toward her, calm as the still lake behind them.

"You know her very well."

Charlotte's mind raced.

'Marinate?'

'Her?'

'No—he rejected Marinate. He never acted lovingly toward her. It couldn't be.'

Her hands curled into fists.

"I'm asking again. Who. Is. She?"

Vivian was right in front of her now.

She had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes, and she hated how steady he looked while her heartbeat felt like it was kicking her ribs apart.

He leaned down slightly, his voice low, teasing, almost cruel in how slowly he spoke.

"What are you planning to do? Because she's beautiful. More than anyone I've ever seen. And she's better than anyone at everything she does."

Charlotte's eyes sharpened to a cutting point.

Her breath grew short.

Her whole body braced as if she was about to launch herself at someone, or kill someone, in the next heartbeat.

But before she could take even half a step—

Her feet left the ground.

"Wha—"

In an instant, Vivian swept her off her feet.

Her body lifted into the air, and the world tilted.

The next moment she was in his arms, cradled securely before she even knew what happened.

Her mouth hung open. Her anger paused, frozen mid-explosion.

Vivian looked down at her with a small, wicked smile.

The kind that said he had enjoyed every second of making her jealous.

The kind that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

The lake, the moon, the empty cups, they all watched silently as Charlotte stared up at him, confused, furious, and utterly helpless against the way he held her.

He held her steady in his arms, her body light against him, and lowered his head until his forehead nearly touched hers.

Then he bent his neck just a little more and blew softly against the small strands of hair on her forehead, gentle enough to tickle, warm enough to make her heart race.

Before she could react, he pressed a soft kiss there.

"What if I said," he whispered, "she has a fiery temper… and she has the pride of a lioness?"

Charlotte froze.

Her eyes went wide.

Then her whole face exploded into red, all the way to the tips of her ears.

She understood instantly.

Without a word, she buried her face in his chest so fast it almost looked like she was trying to hide inside him.

Vivian chuckled quietly.

"Oh? Now you're going to be shy?"

Her only response was a small whine, muffled against his shirt.

She stayed hidden, refusing to lift her head.

He shifted his hold on her, making sure she was comfortable, then spoke softly near her ear.

"Listen. You were, you are, and you will always be the most important woman in my life… besides my mother. No one can take that place."

Charlotte's entire body went hot.

Her neck burned, her cheeks burned, even the tips of her fingers felt warm.

She clung to him tighter, refusing to show her face again.

Vivian looked down at the red bundle hiding in his chest and smiled to himself.

"So," he said, lifting her a little higher in his arms, "shall we return?"

Her answer came without hesitation, still muffled by his shirt.

"I won't walk."

Vivian blinked.

"…You won't walk?"

She shook her head, her face still buried in him.

"No. Carry me."

A slow grin spread across his lips.

"As you wish, my dear future wife."

The lake shone behind them, the moon reflected in the water like a second sky, and Vivian carried her back toward the lights of the city, her arms around his neck, her face hidden, and her heartbeat loud enough for both of them to feel.