Kill the Villainess [Novel] - Chapter 5

But no matter how I thought about it, locking someone up for being “out of their mind” was one thing—at this point, it seemed unlikely Eris would end up hanged. To avoid suspicion, I had to at least mimic her behavior.

What would Eris have said? How would she have acted? I was about to seriously ponder this when the Crown Prince grabbed Helena’s wrist to leave. Unable to hold back, I stopped them with words. Letting them walk away like this would leave me too resentful to sleep.

“Your Highness, your engagement wasn’t with me but with House Miserian. Likewise, I’m not marrying you—I’m marrying the imperial family. Whether you wish it or not, this marriage will proceed.”

Eris would have salvaged her pride like this.

At least, that’s how I understood her. A naive girl who still hoped for a fairytale ending where he’d eventually choose her.

The Crown Prince halted at my words and turned. His face was openly mocking.

“‘The imperial family, not me’? How amusing. Not long ago, you claimed to love me and wanted this marriage. Is this your true self now?”

The real Eris really went all out, huh? My cheek still stung, but I suddenly felt drained. Had Eris truly loved the Crown Prince?

In the novel’s later chapters, Helena denied it was love—but Helena didn’t know Eris. At least, that’s how I saw it. And I didn’t know Eris either.

Though I didn’t know her, if her feelings had been genuine, I wanted to honor them.

“I did love you. Not anymore.”

When I met his gaze and spoke, the Crown Prince seemed oddly flustered. For some reason, he looked almost boyish. Well, everyone here was younger than me. Realizing I’d only lose in a fight, I sighed and added,

“…I mentioned the imperial family because this engagement wasn’t my choice—it was arranged by my father and His Majesty. If you wish to break it off, don’t take it out on me. Petition His Majesty instead. Given this commotion, I’m sure word has already reached him.”

His face stiffened—apparently, even he feared his father. Shaking his head, he left. As I stood by the carriage, the knight who saw my face looked slightly startled. Hesitating briefly, he avoided mentioning my appearance and instead delivered worse news.

“Sir Cazar is inside.”

One problem leaves, another arrives. I felt like lying under the carriage wheels.

Iason’s greeting froze when he saw me. My injuries must’ve been obvious. Before he could lighten the mood with some inane joke—which would’ve made me murderous—I cut in.

“Don’t mind it. This has nothing to do with you, Sir.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Speaking of which, why are you in this carriage?”

Iason leaned back comfortably, crossing and swinging one leg.

Despite the carriage’s spaciousness, his large frame made it feel cramped.

“Regarding the knight inauguration ceremony, Duke Cazar wished to consult the marquis. With no spare hands at home, I hitched a ride. Frankly, I’m sick of horses after my travels. Can’t stand the sight of them for a while.”

“Someone of your standing could’ve requested an imperial carriage.”

“Imperial carriages lack such beautiful company.”

Even as I made a disgusted face, he kept smiling and chatting. His shamelessness was almost impressive—no wonder he could charm villagers and flirt with passing women alike. Avoiding his sleazy gaze, I asked,

“No more adventures?”

“Hmm. Though he desired it, having slain nature’s mother—the dragon—I’ll lay low in the capital for now. Certain dragons… dislike me.”

“‘He desired it’?” I’d only asked hoping he’d disappear, but his answer intrigued me. The novel merely stated he’d returned to see Helena—this backstory was new.

Iason was born under a high priest’s prophecy that he’d become the “Dragon Slayer.”

Though House Cazar traditionally produced generals, the prophecy subjected him to brutal training from childhood.

The novel began after his return from slaying the dragon—understandable for a romance where Helena was a palace maid.

The premise was that Helena saw past his role as a weapon, making him fall for her.

“We’ve time before reaching the marquis’s estate. Tell me more.”

“…Surprising. I thought you’d be indifferent.”

His momentarily startled expression quickly melted back into a smug smile.

His butter-smooth charm was nauseating, so I replied colder.

“I’m not interested. I just don’t want you questioning me. At least while you’re talking, you won’t pester me with trivialities.”

“How cruel… Very well. Whatever your motives, I can’t refuse a lady’s request.”

Where to begin? My prophecy’s fame spreads beyond the empire, so I’ll skip that. To kill the dragon, I trained relentlessly—sword in hand since I could walk, without rest.

I once resented my parents… but now? I think they did it to protect me. Without Helena, I might’ve realized too late and regretted it.

I knew I’d become the Dragon Slayer—but not when or how. My family wanted me as a knight, but I… saw differently.

I feared dragons might attack where I stayed due to the prophecy. So I wandered—partly to grow stronger… but looking back?

There was another reason. An uncertainty in my heart—perhaps I left to abandon it. Maybe I thought dying wouldn’t be so bad… Yet here I am—alive in heart and body.

My travels brought many bonds. Good years. The best? Undoubtedly… the dragon. *chuckles* You seem surprised.

…Thought I’d say ‘princess’? No—how did that rumor reach here? *ahem* Like a fairy tale—crossing swamps and mountains, rivers and fields—the dragon was colossal.

Doubted I’d ever see a living thing so vast again. Later learned: its size mirrored my fear and burden.

That’s when it hit me—I’d been terrified all along. Wanted to live, to flee—found it all unjust.

Why train alone while others played? Why wander when I wanted home?

Yes—laughable, but facing the dragon finally let me complain. Maybe because I thought it truly might be my end—even if victorious, returning unharmed seemed impossible.

Yet the dragon spoke with sorrowful calm:

*”For me, it was but a moment—yet waiting for you felt an eternity.”*

*”You knew I’d come?”*

Lowering my blade, I asked. The dragon revealed: not gods but dragons delivered the prophecy—it had subtly manipulated the priest to orchestrate its death.

Normally forbidden by causality’s laws—but as nature’s supreme creation who paid sufficient price—it succeeded.

Then silence.

What I’d seen wasn’t the dragon—but my own fear of it—so it vanished without trace… leaving me to pierce its heart.

When my blade struck home—the earth shook… and life returned to me.

A good story—but hardly relatable. Not that there was much *to* relate to—or rather, I lacked enough interest in him to bother empathizing.

Instead, another detail stood out: *manipulating a priest* to die—and causality forbidding it—seemed like a potential lead.

Apologizing inwardly to the sentimental Iason, I patted his hand and asked:

“Do you know which priest was manipulated? And what ‘forbidden by causality’ means?”

“If you mean Priest Matheus—he retired to his homeland… As for causality? Even I don’t know. The dragon answered no questions—not that human minds could grasp such things anyway…”

Pressing further might raise suspicion, so I nodded vaguely—this warranted investigation later. One perk of the empire: its thriving (and legal) private investigation culture.

Iason studied my thoughtful expression before asking:

“…You’re not using informal speech.”

“We’re not close enough for that—nor distant enough for rudeness.”

Bracing for another “friendship” spiel, my icy tone made him pout like a scolded puppy—though being no actual dog, it had little effect.

Arriving at the estate, he exited first and offered his hand. Reluctant but bound by etiquette, I reached out—only for him to grip tightly.

“Don’t resent them too much. Raised solely in the palace without peers—they’re just awkward.”

“That excuse expired with their childhood.”

So much for blood being thicker than water—here he was defending Helena and the Crown Prince mid-sentence.

Few could strike a marquis’s daughter—he surely knew who did this yet lectured *me*, the victim?

Even children get scolded for hurting “friends”—yet here he was excusing grown adults.

“Father will be in his study. May your business conclude smoothly.”

Shaking off his hand like filth, I curtsied slightly.

*I followed etiquette—now you.*

Fortunately, he took the hint—bowing with a wry smile and bent arm.

“…Farewell, Lady Miserian.”