The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 63: Upon Arrival

It’s much easier for a butler to manage when they can suppress weak-willed young ladies.  

Whatever they request or say can be dismissed as nonsense, and they can manipulate the servants to turn her into a laughingstock.  

In the end, their workload lightens, their pay remains the same, and they can indulge in a twisted sense of satisfaction—a fairly advantageous choice.  

Of course, that only works if there isn’t a knight with a sword standing beside the lady.  

I climbed into the carriage naturally.  

When the servants tried to board as well, I spoke up.  

“Where do you think you’re crawling up to without permission?”  

“B-but the injured man needs to be taken to the mansion quickly….”  

“Injured man?”  

I glanced behind me. One of the men was holding the severed arm while the other two supported the middle-aged man.  

“Ah, right. Leave that one behind; the rest of you can come aboard.”  

“…Pardon?”  

“Leave him behind, or do you all want to live as one-armed fools?”  

The servants hesitated, muttering nervously.  

“Raphael.”  

At my call, Raphael drew his sword.  

The steely sound of the blade sliding from its sheath was enough to make the blood drain from the faces of the uninjured servants.  

They panicked, dropped the middle-aged man, and scrambled into the carriage.  

The injured man screamed hoarsely, begging them not to leave him behind. 

His pronunciation was awkward, probably due to his jaw injury, but it seemed his jaw hadn’t been completely dislocated.  

If he carried his arm and walked to the nearest village, he might manage to reattach it.  

Though finding a doctor would be unlikely—ha.  

“Is it okay to cause such a ruckus on the first day?” Raphael asked, his face showing a hint of worry.  

“Think of it as a grand entrance,” I replied.  

“Servants don’t listen to me unless I yell or threaten to gouge out their eyes. If I clear out the ones who don’t listen, only the obedient ones will remain, right?”  

The only person who ever truly listened to me or tried to understand me was Alina.  

Even she had been driven away by the servants.  

No matter how much money I pile up like a mountain, I don’t keep a single maid or housekeeper in my modest home.  

The reason is simple—I feel safer doing things myself than entrusting them to others.  

Who knows if they’d poison my tea as I drank it?  

“They may be trembling now, but over time, they’ll start pushing boundaries,” I said.  

I picked up a notebook lying in the carriage and tossed it at the maid who had spoken back to me earlier.  

She flinched but didn’t make a sound, standing rigidly upright, likely afraid her arm would be cut off if she reacted.  

Though she was trembling slightly.  

“When they realize they can’t touch me, they’ll start targeting those around me.  

They went after Alina relentlessly, so this time, it’ll be Raphael—they’ll come after you.”  

I figured I’d likely have to eat meals in the same place as Libian, Eileen, and the Duchess.  

I just hoped I wouldn’t get an upset stomach.  

Though even if I did, I could deal with it, so it wasn’t a big concern.  

“That’s why you need to stick close to me. If they try anything, just tell me. I’ll give you permission to kill them.”  

“…Okay.”  

Raphael didn’t seem entirely on board, judging by his expression.  

If this had been before he went to war, he might have hesitated, held back by his knightly ethics. 

Back then, he wouldn’t have drawn his sword so readily or severed an arm at my command.  

He might have even stubbornly argued that knights don’t stoop to such things.  

That wouldn’t have been bad, but having a Raphael who listened to me like this was undeniably reassuring.  

In a situation like this, not being able to trust the person you love would be unbearable.  

The carriage, moving smoothly without a single jolt, soon brought me to the mansion.  

When it stopped, the door opened, and I stepped down slowly.  

I remembered a time when they had laid out steps for Libian and Eileen but not for me.  

What had I thought back then?  

Probably something along the lines of “Know your place.”

Accepting and enduring things like that one by one, I had become less the obedient child and more the person the Duchess wanted me to be.  

A bitter laugh escaped me.  

The numerous servants around me flinched at the sound.  

As I descended from the carriage, the old butler I had seen before approached and bowed.  

He didn’t greet me verbally—it was customary for me to speak first.  

“It’s been a while, Butler.”  

“…It has been, Miss.”  

“Are you looking for the person you sent ahead?”  

“Yes, the one I was raising as my successor….”  

“You’ll need to find a new one.”  

“Understood.”  

The old man seemed to realize what had happened to the middle-aged man.  

He had likely warned him to be careful.  

Not that the man would have listened.  

He probably approached with full confidence, thinking, What could a bastard born in the shadows possibly do while hiding in the corner? 

Following the old butler’s lead, I walked into the mansion.

This place… it’s damp, gloomy atmosphere always filled me with unease, no matter how many times I visited.

It wasn’t about adapting to it—it was something more fundamental.

What had I thought the first time I came here?

Something along the lines of “Well, here it is, as expected.”

Having grown up in the orphanage with Raphael, I had often imagined what kind of future awaited us.

Back then, I used to think Raphael would lose his head.

But here we were—ending up with a child and even getting married. If I told my past self that, she’d probably scream at me to get lost.

We passed through a hallway lined with portraits of the family members.

At the very end hung a painting that vividly captured my distinctive pale skin, red eyes, and white hair.

Next to it were portraits of the Duchess, Eileen, and Libian.

“…The lady had them hung here,” the butler explained.

“I didn’t say to take them down, did I?”

The old man remained silent.

When she hugged me and told me I was part of this family, was this what she meant?

To leave behind eternal proof that someone like me existed in this house.

I just hoped that someday, when children roamed this mansion, they wouldn’t cry, calling the image ominous.

I resumed walking.

I passed the spot where Eileen had slapped me.

The pain of the slap itself was nothing compared to the humiliation I felt from the servants giggling behind me.

I passed the place where Libian had pushed me, causing me to fall.

A doctor had later told me that my bone had cracked.

The room where I had been locked up. The room where I hid from Eileen and Libian. The room where the servants bullied me.

There really weren’t any good memories in this mansion.

“The master is waiting in this room,” the butler said.

It was a large reception room.

I nodded and lightly knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came the reply.

The voice hadn’t changed much, save for a faint undertone of weariness.

“Should I wait outside?” Raphael asked.

“No, come with me. Worst case, you’ll have to blow his head off,” I said with a smile.

Raphael gave a half-hearted chuckle, but the butler standing beside us turned pale.

Opening the door, I saw Libian seated, drinking tea.

He had grown a beard and wore pince-nez glasses—likely an attempt to appear older since becoming the head of the household. After all, young leaders often faced ridicule.

“It’s been a while, Libian,” I greeted.

“Yes, it has, Marisela. And who is the gentleman with you?”

“Raphael.”

“Ah, the knight you married. You brought him here once, didn’t you?”

I sat on the sofa opposite him.

He poured tea from the pot on the table into a cup and placed it before me.

I took the cup, let the tea linger on my tongue briefly to savor the aroma, and then said, “Hydrangea tea?”

I used to drink this all the time.

When I asked why, I could only say it felt most pleasant on my palate.

“Yes,” Libian confirmed.

“Raphael, come sit next to me.”

Raphael, tense, looked at Libian. When Libian nodded, Raphael cautiously took the seat beside me.

Libian spoke to Raphael in a tone meant to ease his nerves.

“You don’t have to be a knight of the Vitelsbach family when you’re by Marisela’s side. Just her husband will do it.”

“…Understood.”

“Oh, and feel free to drop the formalities. Though the dynamics are what they are, we’re family, after all.”

If someone were to ask Raphael his last name, he’d give the same one as mine.

I’d heard that many knights envied Raphael for that—claiming he wasn’t skilled but had simply married well, earning nobility through a fortunate match.

Of course, most of them would flee with their tails between their legs if they ever challenged him to a duel.

Libian had written that sentiment in a letter, but I hadn’t expected him to say it outright.

In any case, I began the conversation.

“You said you wanted to see me—to discuss unfinished matters.”

“…Yes.”

“What more needs to be said?

You tried to kill my mother, I shot you, and you fled in disgrace.

Isn’t that enough closure? Wasn’t it sufficient to paint me as some monstrous villain, as you’ve always done?”

“…Marisela.”

Ah, this wasn’t why I came.

I hadn’t come to express anger or to wallow in sadness.

I hadn’t come to drown in my emotions or sink back into despair.

There was something about this wretched mansion that dragged people down, pinning them to the floor.

Otherwise, why would I feel so suffocated the moment I stepped inside?

“…I came to talk,” I said quietly.

Why did I like hydrangea tea?

Perhaps it was the subtly sweet aroma or the lingering aftertaste it left on my tongue.

In this terrible place, even my mouth always seemed to taste bitter.

“How are Eileen and the lady?”

I nearly asked when are they coming but swallowed my words.

I had the feeling my tongue would slip into profanity if I wasn’t careful.

“They’ll be here soon… Eileen has already arrived.”

Eileen entered the room with an awkward smile.

“Ma-Marisela. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.”

From her childhood to now, Eileen didn’t seem to have changed much at all.