Kill the Villainess [Novel] - Chapter 2

Helena practically threw herself in front of the Crown Prince as he lunged toward me. Then, with a timid expression, she bowed her head and nodded. Even that gesture was adorable, like a drenched puppy.

Satisfied with her response, he smiled before slowly returning to his carriage and taking his seat.

The dangling jewelry, the tightly laced corset, the slightly heavy makeup—everything felt suffocating.

I gazed out the window and steadied my breath.

Helena, with her inherently kind heart, always ended up at a disadvantage. But it didn’t matter. She had three of the most exceptional men in the world devoted to her. One outsider like me, who wished for nothing but death, refusing to love her wouldn’t make much difference.

Morning came.

It was perfect weather for hanging oneself.

In the end, I didn’t go through with it. There were several reasons, but the main one was simple: I couldn’t die that way.

It wasn’t just hanging—slitting my wrists, jumping from great heights, or even drinking poison wouldn’t work.

If I tried to hang myself, the beam or branch would snap. If I fired a gun, the gunpowder would misfire. If I drank poison, it would turn out to be defective and only put me to sleep.

In a world where supernatural phenomena were commonplace, causality seemed to interfere. My suicide attempts didn’t vanish entirely, but if they strayed too far from the “story,” they were rewritten as unfortunate accidents.

For example, if I stabbed myself in the stomach in front of others, a mysterious assailant would appear—only for me to miraculously survive with a “near miss.”

If I jumped from a rooftop, a stablehand below would catch me. Even if it was blatantly a suicide attempt, everyone assumed I’d simply lost my footing.

Supernatural problems required supernatural solutions. Back in Korea, I’d never even glanced at a tarot card, but if it meant dying, I’d try anything.

I discreetly asked my maid to find me a reputable fortune-teller.

Given my recent string of “accidents” and the Crown Prince’s cold treatment, she brightened at the idea of me going for a love reading. Whether she believed in divination or not, she seemed relieved I was doing something to lift my spirits.

“It’s a rare outing—why not dress up a little more?”

“I’m just seeing the fortune-teller and coming right back. What’s the point?”

“Oh, come now! Since we’re heading to the back alleys of the downtown area anyway, why not browse some dresses or jewelry? You could even stop for some sweet pastries.”

“You’re making it sound tempting. Do *you* have a craving for sweets?”

I teased her lightly as she fussed over my outfit and hair. Her face flushed bright red as she chirped back:

“You think I’m doing this just for pastries? Well—okay, maybe a little! But sweets really do lift one’s mood, you know? ……I just want you to feel better, my lady.”

Her smile was full of affection. A bittersweet feeling washed over me as I nodded silently while she knelt to help me into the shoes she’d picked out.

“There’s still plenty of time before sunset—no need to rush back.”

“Understood.”

“That’s my lady.”

Everyone in the mansion adored Eris. Had Eris loved them in return? I hoped so.

The streets were bustling with people. From the moment guns were mentioned in the novel, I knew this empire leaned closer to modernity than the Middle Ages.

All roads within the capital were paved with stone, and despite being a nation with an established state religion, magical engineering was so advanced that streetcars ran through the city and lampposts illuminated the night.

It was ironic—a country that persecuted mages for their faith had developed *magical* engineering—but those who studied it were called engineers, not mages. More akin to alchemists, really.

Whatever the case, generating energy akin to electricity without environmental risks was both fascinating and enviable from a modern Earthling’s perspective.

Of course, this level of civilization was unique to the empire that pioneered magical engineering. Smaller kingdoms lagged far behind—or perhaps the empire’s prosperity was built on exploiting them. Who knew?

Lost in thought while gazing out the carriage window, I barely noticed when we arrived at our destination: the back alleys of downtown. The knight opened the door for me.

Taking his hand as I stepped out, I surveyed the surroundings. Despite being called “back alleys,” it wasn’t gloomy at all—just lined with quaint little shops catering to commoners rather than lavish boutiques. Unlike Eris, *I* found this far more charming and interesting.

“Shall I wait here?”

“No, return to the mansion.”

“But my lady—wasn’t it dangerous last time? Going alone is risky.”

“Do I need to repeat myself? Leave.”

It wasn’t like I could die anyway. Having a family knight hovering around would only make it harder to ask what I needed to ask.

After hesitating briefly, he proposed a compromise: he’d patrol nearby and return to escort me when I was done. Seeing no point in arguing further, I agreed.

Then, slowly, I stepped into the shop before me.

Though clearly indoors, it had the feel of a tent or hut. My eyes were immediately drawn to shelves cluttered with mysterious trinkets—so much so that my hand instinctively reached out—

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you, my lady.”

Startled, I turned to see a woman with blood-red hair and pale skin gliding toward me. Her flowing black dress and shimmering jeweled necklace made her look less like a fortune-teller and more like a nobleman’s daughter.

“I came because I have a problem. If you’re truly skilled, you should already know what it is.”

“Of course, Lady Miserian—or should I call you *poor Outsider*?”

Stunned, I stared at her. She smiled brightly before taking my frozen hand and leading me down a dimly lit staircase to an underground chamber.

The eerie lighting and chilly air were overwhelming. She guided me to a sofa before settling onto a wooden chair opposite me.

“Since you know who I am, this should be easier. I want to return to where I originally belonged.”

“Outsider… that is no simple task. Your soul carries the scent of repeated attempts already.”

“Scent?”

“You tried tearing your own soul apart—but this world wouldn’t allow it.”

She retrieved herbs from a cabinet and stirred them into a large cauldron in the corner—looking more like a witch than a fortune-teller now.

Soon, she handed me a bowl filled with an unknown violet liquid that smelled utterly revolting.

“Drink.”

“How do I know what this is?”

“If it *were* poison, wouldn’t that be good news for you?”

*Ugh.* She had a point. Pinching my nose shut, I downed it in one gulp—only to gag violently at its horrid sourness. As I clamped a hand over my mouth, she chuckled and popped a sweet jelly between my lips.

“You may have guessed already—but I’m no mere fortune-teller.”

She peeled off her lace gloves and curled her fingers slightly. Instantly, intricate patterns flared across her skin like burning embers—reminiscent of Art Nouveau designs—before tiny flames flickered at her fingertips.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly, Outsider. I am Medea—the last witch of this land.”

A *witch*? Now *that* was interesting—she hadn’t appeared in the novel at all. Seeing my intrigued expression, she laughed softly behind her hand.

“You seem full of questions—so I shall answer two.”

“First: You said you’re the last witch here—are there none left? Or do others exist elsewhere?”

“I am the last in *this* empire. The rest fled persecution to distant lands—though our numbers were never large.”

“You don’t have surnames—do witches not bear descendants?”

“Some do—but rarely. Each individual’s existence is significant enough that we call one another by name alone… and consider ourselves sisters.”

I had more questions but held back. Medea kindly offered another jelly—rolling one dusted with white powder in her palm before asking:

“Is there any way for me to go back?”

“If you’re willing to embrace death as you’ve tried before… then yes, we can help. But encountering an Outsider is a first for me—I’ll need to consult my sisters.”

“How long will that take?”

“At least half a month—some live beyond this continent.” She sighed apologetically before adding: “And if you *don’t* wish to die…?”

“That isn’t something *I* can answer,” she cut in gently but firmly when my voice wavered on *die*. “You still don’t understand the difference between magic and theology.” She leaned forward slightly as if imparting sacred knowledge: “Theology is creation; magic is anomaly.” Her fingers traced symbols midair that shimmered briefly before vanishing like smoke: “To forge paths where none exist… you must seek answers from higher powers than mine.” A pause then quieter still—as though afraid even walls might overhear: “…Though whether such paths *exist*…?” She shook her head slowly before finishing softly but with finality: “…That isn’t something any witch could promise.”

I nodded briskly before pulling out prepared payment—which she refused until I insisted firmly:

“Consider it insurance against loose lips,” pushing coins toward her despite protests until finally relenting under stubborn silence from me: “…Your secrets are worth more than mine anyway.”

“If you insist on paying for my discretion… very well.” She pocketed them swiftly then added as an afterthought while scribbling something onto parchment: “…Keep mirrors close at hand once home—should news arrive unexpectedly.”

Since I was already here anyway… might as well visit that dessert shop my maid mentioned earlier?

The place lived up to its reputation—enormous and packed with people lining up outside despite its size making fatigue set in just looking at them all waiting there already… Maybe better just head back after all…?

But then someone jostled me hard enough that balance deserted high-heeled feet entirely—only for strong arms catching collapsing form effortlessly from behind before voice like velvet wrapped around startled ears:

“My! Are you quite alright?”

Black hair… dark skin…

I knew this man all too well despite never having met him properly until now–the High Priest Hybris whose devout prayers had once sincerely wished Eris straight into hell while pouring every ounce of divine power into saving Helena instead…

Unaware yet of how deeply he’d come to despise me in future timelines–here he stood offering clumsy concern with awkward smile meant kindly enough despite everything fate held in store between us both…