Disqualified as a Villainess - Chapter 29

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#29.

Octavia was drowning in the harrowing memories of her past life.

“Teacher, am I going to die?”

The trauma of children suffering from radiation poisoning cut deeper than the pain she herself had endured as a child.
Clinical successes and failures. The words the researchers had spoken to her as a child—meant to offer hope—shattered into lies, sinking her into despair. Those moments haunted her still.

“You are not a doctor. You are a military researcher who finds efficient ways to kill people and discovers how to survive them.”

That adult had shown her the reality beyond broken hope, and she had awakened to the truth that she was no different from them.
Why had she too become a researcher who weighed life and value on a scale? That regret from that day still clung to her.
Octavia felt her chest tighten, and she clenched her fists hard.
Ding—
The formal ceremony began with the sound of the Saint’s sacred bell ringing.
As the priests poured holy water onto the child’s blackened skin, a sizzling sound erupted.
“Aaaahhh!”
Pain was necessary to drive out the internal chaos, so the only comfort was the incense that steadied the mind.
Because of this, Prince Jeriel had to endure the agony of the ceremony and healing without relief.
“Uuuugh—!”
A considerable distance separated those attending the ceremony from the altar, with a barrier erected between them.
Unable to bear watching her son suffer from afar, Dekima Crown Princess turned her head away.
Whoooosh—
From the Saint’s golden bell, resting her hand upon the prince’s body, silver sacred energy flowed forth.
The chaos that had invaded the child’s body writhed in resistance, yet showed no sign of being driven back.
Sacred power battled the chaos that had invaded within, pushing it out—a process accompanied by excruciating pain.
Only the screams of Prince Jeriel, his body convulsing, filled the space.
His thin, small hands grasped the collar of the priest restraining his thrashing limbs.
“…Stop.”
Tears streamed down the child’s crimson eyes and across his cheeks.
Octavia’s shoulders trembled faintly as she watched.
Kelsedny Admiral observed Octavia, whose silence was strangely uncharacteristic.
She who had always chattered incessantly, her words sharp enough to sting, now stood silent as if time itself had frozen.
Even her eyes, which had always remained composed—beyond consistent, almost brazenly calm—had grown clouded and distant.
Only the Admiral’s coldly withdrawn hand trembled faintly.
It was only after the ceremony ended that Octavia, who had appeared frozen throughout, finally exhaled and let her shoulders sag.
“Order Divine, look upon this child with mercy and forgiveness, that he may not be consumed by chaos.”
The Saint rang the bell, signaling the end.
Everyone rose silently and began to leave.
The Admiral rose from his seat and looked at Octavia.
Unlike her usual behavior of clinging to him or following him around in an annoying manner, she sat there blankly, staring straight ahead.
Her face was unusually pale, but that wasn’t his concern.
He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and took a step forward.
The process of leaving her side was easier than before, yet for some reason, his footsteps felt heavy, as if shackled.
“Wait a moment.”
Octavia’s characteristic light footsteps sounded behind him.
True to her fearless nature of casually touching the Royal Family’s body, she slipped her hand through the Admiral’s arm.
Unlike the withdrawn state from before, she wore her usual bright smile.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?”
What she had slipped into his sleeve was a postcard depicting Bishop David.
“I noticed you staring at it earlier, so I thought you were coveting this limited edition ‘Sexy Dynamite’ postcard of Bishop David, who’s famous for his handsome appearance…”
The bishop in the illustration held a rose in his mouth and exposed his chest in a pose far too irreverent for a clergyman.
The Admiral’s brow furrowed at the sight.
Whoosh.
“Oh no, that’s terrible. It’s a hard-to-find limited edition.”
Octavia’s voice turned regretful as she watched the postcard turn to ash in an instant.
Then she casually changed the subject and asked a question.
“Admiral, did you come because you were worried about the child you played rock-paper-scissors with? I’m sure you didn’t attend just to support your claim about not overlooking others’ difficulties.”
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t have any injuries, do you, Admiral?”
His eyebrows twitched slightly before returning to their normal position.
“I don’t.”
“You mustn’t get hurt.”
“Understood.”
He walked away from her with long strides, but she didn’t persistently chase after him.
When he glanced back slightly, she stood there blankly, gazing into empty space as before.
He told himself it wasn’t his concern and quickened his pace.

***

Logan Ortega, who had exited the Ceremony Hall, spotted Octavia standing and gazing toward the Autumn Rose Vines.
His first clash with her occurred when he commissioned Ludovisi Corporation to create his new exclusive weapon.
The law had changed in such an annoyingly inconvenient way.

“Exclusive weapons can only be operated by the mana of their designated user. Due to the regulatory law preventing overload, the output rate of all magical engineering weapons and equipment is limited to 80%…”

It was Octavia who explained the new exclusive weapon back then.
Platinum blonde hair that gleamed, eyes like purple gemstones set into porcelain, a doll-like precision to her features, and an impression of kindness.
Her gentle face and delicate frame awakened protective instincts in anyone who saw her.
As a man, my first impression was undeniably positive.

“Yes, the production schedule has been delayed. So what?”

But the moment we began speaking, I felt treated like a commoner despite paying premium prices.

“I find it difficult to accept such treatment as a customer paying substantial fees.”
“Then would you prefer to find another blacksmith who’s polite and affordable but hopelessly incompetent?”

I expressed my displeasure with measured restraint, but it fell on deaf ears. Her eyes remained indifferent, her tone dismissive.
Since Ludovisi held an unparalleled monopoly on exclusive weapon craftsmanship, there was nothing I could do but endure such treatment.

“Hey. If you don’t want to work, then don’t.”
“If you stopped coming, I could avoid working.”

Each subsequent meeting saw increasingly blunt exchanges, until by the time the weapon was completed, we’d replaced greetings with mutual curses.
I wondered why the Duke had assigned such an unfriendly person to serve him.

“She’s my daughter. Pretty and intelligent, wouldn’t you say? Of course, Logan Ortega is capable and impressive as well. Far more so than Prince Dominic.”

The cunning Ludovisi Representative seemed intent on pairing his daughter with me instead of that narcissistic prince.
What good is a pretty face when every word out of her mouth lands like artillery fire?

“My lady, wouldn’t you say I’m handsome at least?”
“Handsome? You just look like you owe unpaid fines to me.”

Not long ago, I had witnessed a man who flirted so carelessly have his very personhood annihilated before my eyes, so I had assumed that was simply his nature.
Lost in recollection, Logan observed Octavia’s retreating figure and pondered.
‘Yet why doesn’t she curse at me?’
Why does she seem different with me?
Then our eyes met as she turned to look back at me.
“What are you staring at?”
I threw out my usual sharp remark, but she merely offered a gentle smile that reached her eyes.
Suddenly I had become the madman picking a fight with a woman who was simply admiring flowers.
“Seeing Prince Jeriel troubled me. You must have worried so much.”
“Huh?”
My combative posture crumbled.
Flustered by her unexpected empathy and comfort, I approached her with my hair disheveled.
“Why are you speaking casually?”
“Weren’t we already on casual terms?”
She let out a soft laugh.
‘What the hell?’
As my profanities lost their bite, so too did my will to attack her over matters of social standing.
I, who had never yielded to any of her curses and insults, now felt an overwhelming sense of defeat.
‘Why is she being kind to me?’
In that moment of confusion, she caressed the roses bathed in warm autumn sunlight and asked.
“May I pick some flowers? I’d like to visit Prince Jeriel.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I, who had just given permission for a garden that wasn’t even mine, bit my lip and exhaled a sigh.
“You want to see Jeriel? Usually people would….”
Given his disfigured appearance and the tainted aura of shadow corruption, I had assumed she would recoil from it.
But her expression showed no such hesitation.
“Of course. The Prince is convalescing here, isn’t he? I want to visit him often so he won’t feel lonely or bored.”
Could it be that she’s only kind to children?
Octavia, who had been picking flowers, turned to face me once more in my bewilderment.
“Is Saint Uriana’s healing actually effective?”
Had she asked this from the beginning, I would have deemed it blasphemous and presumptuous.
“The source of the shadow appears to be extraordinarily powerful. I suspect it may be a subordinate of the sealed Chaos Demon God.”
Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have explained things so kindly.
“But isn’t that what those who fail their missions always say? ‘The enemy was too strong.'”
Octavia, holding the flowers, tilted her head slowly as she continued.
“As a commander, what judgment would you make upon hearing such a report?”
“I would reorganize my forces with stronger subordinates and send them out.”
“Then why doesn’t the Kingdom’s Holy Temple Society make such a judgment? They could seek aid from the Order Society’s Saints of the Imperial Church.”
“That’s because the Saint is strong enough to face the Chaos Demon God….”
Unable to bear the subtle gaze directed at me, I turned my head away—then my eyes widened.
‘A Saint so powerful, yet unable to resolve shadow consumption syndrome?’
I had awakened to the contradiction that had been shrouded in absolute sanctity all this time.
Octavia spoke, confronting a problem she had never questioned because of the other’s status as the Order God’s representative.
“Saint Uriana is losing her divine power.”
Her assertion had already become an irrefutable truth.
Since I had already recognized the contradiction, there was no need to engage in futile debate.
“Distrust of the Imperial Church, a Crown Princess hiding the Prince’s illness for fear of exposing weakness during the succession struggle, a Temple concealing its incompetence, those seeking opportunity, and meaningless repeated healings—these will become Prince Jeriel’s cause of death.”
“How dare you speak of Jeriel dying?”
Logan fell silent.
It was because I saw the tremor in her eyes.
This terrifying woman who would soothe with empathy before suddenly striking with logic was now wearing an expression of genuine sorrow.
“To twist a predetermined fate, you must step forward.”
The only person who didn’t affect favorability ratings.
She was determined to save Prince Jeriel by any means necessary.
Of course, all of this was also a path to save herself from being branded a perpetrator and executed in the future.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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