Kill the Villainess [Novel] - Chapter 7

When Emma finally spotted Eris wandering in the distance in her nightgown, her breath caught as if her heart might burst. She rushed forward on creaking legs to grab hold of her.

Eris stood there unfocused, tears streaming down her face.

“I want to go home.”

“But young mistress, your home is right here.”

“I want to go home… Mommy… Mommy…”

“Your mother, the madam, she’s—”

“Mommy, I want kimchi fried rice…”

Only then did Emma truly understand. Her young mistress would never return.

The person before her wasn’t the diligent, arrogant yet lovable Eris she knew. Just a lost child suffering in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. The realization came too late, and for that, Emma was sorry.

When the girl began clawing at herself, Emma wrapped her in a full embrace and whispered:

“It’s okay, everything will be okay.” Even as the child scratched her arms and head, she didn’t let go. “I’ll stay by your side.” She repeated those words over and over until the night faded to white.

“Young mistress… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Was there truly nothing in this world that could have kept you here?

* * *

I didn’t want to do anything, but the novel wouldn’t leave me alone. The maids acted as if mold would grow on me if I stayed still, busily washing and dressing me.

When I said I wasn’t hungry, they brandished spoons and forks, telling me to just open my mouth like a three-year-old. With no choice, I forced down a few bites.

These past few days, the maids had been restless, fearing I might drop dead any moment. Not surprising after the scene I’d caused at the Imperial Palace—expecting rumors not to spread was laughable.

By now, high society was probably throwing parties over the Crown Prince slapping me. They only obeyed out of fear—no one in noble circles genuinely cared for Eris.

According to the novel’s description, she was a woman who lived and died by her pride. The real Eris would have thrown a fit by now.

Strangely, everyone here seemed more worried about why I was so quiet. They even checked my temperature, asking if I was ill.

Honestly, getting slapped still stung. Part of me wanted to storm the palace—bash the Crown Prince’s head in with a club while he slept. But then I’d remember how the Marquis had held my hand.

Was it because his hands were similar in size to my father’s? I’d hardly held my dad’s hand while alive. Maybe that was why. Had I known, I would’ve held his hand more before coming here.

When idle, thoughts of family surfaced. People only regret after losing things—how true that was. We weren’t on bad terms, but not particularly close either. Or more accurately, I’d grown sick of home.

Back then, I resented my parents’ expectations. If they had expectations, they should’ve shown interest too. They left me alone assuming I’d manage, yet scolded me when I failed—never doing the same to my younger brother three years my junior.

I wanted to study music. I had talent and good grades. The only thing missing was money—the most crucial part. Instead of my dream school, I applied to an affordable national university for a major I didn’t even want.

Still, I studied relentlessly for scholarships and took odd jobs for pocket money. Hearing “we can’t afford it” daily made this seem normal.

Then my brother failed his college entrance exam.

His reason? He “narrowly missed” his desired major. My parents paid for his cram school and tuition when he retook the exam.

I hated them for it. Their leniency toward him felt like favoritism.

I worked fiercely to land a job and moved out early. Reluctantly called on holidays but never visited. Sent cash for birthdays—figured I owed them that much for raising me.

I thought we could reunite anytime I wanted. Maybe that’s why I acted cold—knowing they’d wait for me.

Had I known this would happen, I would’ve caved when they texted about making my favorite dishes. Had I known, I wouldn’t have brushed off birthday gift questions. Always feeling deprived, yet realizing now I gave them nothing either.

My brother got all the affection—even simple things like massages or chores were his domain. When we had chicken, my parents ate other parts so we could have drumsticks.

Maybe favoring him was natural. If we meet again, I’ll be warmer. The belated regret choked me.

Homesick and miserable, the palace now demanded I come for dress fittings with the Crown Prince for the upcoming Knight Inauguration Ceremony—a major event even in the novel’s plot. As his fiancée, my attendance was obligatory.

My mind understood, but my heart didn’t. The palace housed the Crown Prince who slapped me without remorse or punishment while flirting with Helena.

Could I control my expression seeing him at a crowded ceremony? Let alone alone? If we met now, his corpse would likely be at my feet when I regained my senses.

With the resignation of livestock headed to slaughter, I boarded the carriage. Might as well get the beating over with first.

Trying to mentally prepare myself, I gazed outside—everyone but me seemed cheerful along the road. They all looked so happy…

…Why should I be the one suffering? The thought struck suddenly. Why endure this? What crime did I commit to deserve standing beside my slapper with a smile?

“Stop the carriage.”

“Pardon?”

“Didn’t you hear? Stop this carriage now!”

The carriage jerked to a halt. Before the knight could react, I bolted out. The heels were slightly high but manageable—I’d worn worse in Korea.

I dashed into narrow alleys to lose my pursuers. Breath ragged enough to vomit, yet laughter bubbled up.

Should I disappear forever? If I kept running, maybe they’d give up eventually. And if this world abandoned me… could I go home then? My eyes burned.

Let me go. Give up on me. This world only needs Helena anyway.

“There she is! Catch the young lady!”

The knights’ shouts quickened my pulse. Kicking off my heels, I fled barefoot up and down staircases.

I didn’t want to be caught—that meant being dragged to the palace. Or worse, hauled home only to be delivered there tomorrow. The thought alone turned my stomach.

Frantically searching for hiding spots, someone suddenly yanked my hand. Swallowing a scream, I faced a grubby-looking girl who pressed a finger to her lips.

“Unnie, running away?” she whispered between pants.

“Hah… what?”

“Tch, wanna hide or not?”

When I numbly nodded, she giggled and whistled. Children materialized from alleyways as she pulled me along while they scattered with military precision—some playing jump rope, others noisily chasing each other to block sightlines as I was shoved into a house.

The door shut behind us as she beamed and extended a hand: “Payment please. You saw how many kids came running~ Don’t even think about offering snacks instead.”

“Ah, well—”

Flustered, I patted my waist but found no pockets in the fluttering dress.

Her disappointed expression made me hesitate before removing a jeweled earring and handing it over. Her face lit up instantly.

“If they track me down and accuse you of theft, that’s your problem,” I warned. “Use it well.”

“No worries miss! We’re professionals!”

A clatter outside made her wince before pushing me into a corner as someone entered—not my family’s knights but a man she greeted familiarly.

Brown hair, brown eyes, indistinct features—the most generic “extra” face in this novel full of dazzling looks.

Ignoring her chatter, he stared at the floor before suddenly asking:

“Who’s here?”

“Huh?”

“Who did you bring?”

“Brought who~? In this dusty dump—”

As she lied shamelessly, the sighing man strode directly to the wardrobe where I hid. Though I closed my peeking eyes and covered my mouth with bated breath, he didn’t hesitate:

“Come out.”

“Oppa!”

He opened the wardrobe doors looking down at me with tired—not contemptuous—eyes. Not wanting to wrestle with this pale-faced man, I clicked my tongue and stepped out.

He extended a hand toward the girl who blinked innocently until his eyebrow arched sharply.

Grumbling, she placed my earring in his palm which he returned to me:

“Take it back.”

“But I saved that unnie!”

“Quiet. You know nothing good comes from noble entanglements.”

“But—”

Watching him soothe her protests, I tossed the earring back. Catching it reflexively, he stared at me blankly.