That’s How I Became a Villainess - Chapter 15

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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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Episode 15

Days of unbearable tension followed one after another.
When the servants slept, Isaac and Penelope would disappear into various corners of the Manor, marking their territory in secret trysts throughout the night.
One evening, when Bridget returned from a sleepless walk, she passed Penelope in the hallway—barely clothed, breathless—heading the opposite direction.
“Oh, Bridget! You’re still awake? Look at me. Isaac wouldn’t let me go all night, so I’m making my escape!”
Her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed, Penelope laughed like a child.
Isaac followed close behind, equally undressed, caught in the same indecent game of chase.
The moment he spotted Bridget, his expression darkened.
“What are you doing wandering around at this hour?”
“If the servants see us like this, it won’t reflect well on the household.”
She spoke reluctantly, moved only by a bare sense of responsibility. His gaze turned razor-sharp, cutting toward her.
“You’re lecturing me in my own Manor? Isn’t this just jealousy? That’s pathetic of you.”
Jealousy? Pathetic?
‘……’
A crack formed in the composed expression Bridget had maintained so carefully.
She’d been telling herself to endure just a little longer, until Mileah made contact.
But this—
‘This is the limit.’
She had no desire to participate in their juvenile theatrics.
The fact that she even felt anger at such vulgar provocation wounded her pride.
Yet Isaac deliberately jabbed her in the ribs.
The next evening.
The servants were asleep, and Isaac and Penelope were still occupied in Penelope’s Second Floor Room when Bridget quietly slipped out of her own.
She made her way to the Lobby.
The central Staircase was lined with portraits hanging on the walls.
Picture frames displaying the late Earl Winston, his wife, relatives, and acquaintances decorated the space.
The varnished surface of the paintings gleamed softly in the moonlight.
Bridget stopped before the largest portrait—that of the late Earl Winston.
‘Let me show you what shameful deeds your son commits to disgrace our family, Father.’
Bridget extended her hand.
With a faint luminescence, black mist poured forth from within her Shadow.
It clung to the portrait and gradually took root, condensing and thickening.
Bridget possessed a secret she had never revealed to anyone.
Her power was not limited to purifying Magical Energy.
She could store Magical Energy within shadows and extract what she had stored—both abilities were part of her gift.
Whisper.
Throughout the day, Bridget had accumulated a considerable amount of Magical Energy and stored it within her Shadow.
The mass writhed and clung to the portrait, growing denser, coalescing into something more solid.
Remarkably, the formation began to mimic the likeness of the late Earl Winston in the portrait.
‘Magical Energy that adheres to objects sometimes mimics their shape.’
It was a phenomenon that could occur when Magical Energy condensed over long periods in darkness.
The Lobby was neither particularly dark nor rich in Magical Energy.
Ordinarily, such tangible forms should not manifest in a place like this.
Yet through Bridget’s ability, the portrait accumulated Magical Energy as though it had been concentrated there for ages, giving it physical form.
It could not cause direct physical harm to a person.
But it could produce something mildly entertaining.
Bridget glanced once at the dark mass now bearing the silhouette of the late Earl Winston, then returned to her room.
Soon after, footsteps approached—Penelope and Isaac, now indulging in the pleasures of the hour, drew near.
“Where should we go tonight?”
Isaac’s question came sticky with need, and Penelope playfully struck his chest.
“Such a sly one.”
“I like how your voice echoes through these wide spaces.”
“Is that so? Why?”
“It feels like we’re alone in the world.”
Isaac pulled Penelope close, drawing her skirt up past her thighs.
She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist.
“Then this place will do nicely.”
A spacious hall where sound carried just right. The Lobby was perfect.
Isaac pulled Penelope close and held her tight.
He drew down the waistband of his trousers.
“Once daylight comes, the servants will be passing through here constantly. They won’t suspect a thing about what we’ve done in this spot.”
The thrill of committing such an intimate act in a place crowded with people during the day excited them both.
The thought of Bridget knowing all about it yet pretending ignorance amused them all the more.
“Oh! Don’t be so rough. You’ll startle the baby inside me.”
“Has it grown that much already? Your belly’s still flat.”
“The doctor said… ah, still, don’t be too vigorous… haha, it tickles!”
“My child won’t be so fragile as all that. It’s fine.”
Isaac and Penelope leaned against the Staircase wall, desperately devouring each other.
Penelope’s back and head bumped softly, thump-thump, against the picture frame.
It was the former Viscount Winston’s portrait.
“Well, my father is watching over the production of our heir from up close. I’d best give it my all.”
“You’re impossible!”
Isaac chuckled, and Penelope swatted his shoulder.
Their ragged breathing intertwined in the darkness.
A low, hollow sound drifted through the air.
Something felt unsettling.
Penelope gripped Isaac tighter.
“Isn’t it suddenly cold?”
Though it was near the end of winter, the nights were still bitterly chill.
Normally, when they clung together like this, their bodies would grow so warm with sweat that even the cold felt welcome.
But now, despite holding each other, gooseflesh crept across her skin.
“I’ll warm you up more.”
Thinking Penelope was playing coy, Isaac patted her lower back and continued as before.
The hollow sound came again.
“No, truly—doesn’t the air feel strange? And I keep getting chills.”
“What exactly are you talking about— gasp!”
Isaac felt something dark whisk past his side and shuddered violently.
“Did you see that? Just now?”
“See what? Really now, are you trying to frighten me?”
Perhaps it was nothing.
Isaac moved to continue.
“Ah, I’ve lost the mood. Help me out, Penelope.”
The hollow sound echoed again.
“There! Just then again!”
Isaac hunched his shoulders and peered frantically left and right.
“What exactly are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, truly…”
The hollow sound persisted.
Then a dark silhouette suddenly materialized above Penelope’s head.
“Ahhhhh!”
Isaac screamed and shoved Penelope away.
“Oof!”
Instead of Penelope, who had her back against the wall, Isaac himself recoiled violently.
“Isaac, careful!”
“Ahhhhh! A ghost! A g-ghost! Ahhhhh!”
Isaac tumbled to the floor and flailed, pointing behind Penelope.
A black shadow in the shape of the former Viscount Winston’s silhouette lunged from the picture frame toward Isaac.
Penelope’s eyes caught a glimpse of it too.
“Ahhhhh!”
“Ahhhhh!”
Both of them screamed and bolted in opposite directions.
Isaac scrambled backward on his seat and tumbled straight down the Staircase.
The crash of his body striking step after step echoed through the Manor, his shrieks piercing the night.
At the commotion, the butler and servants came tearing out in their nightclothes, panic-stricken.
“What on earth is happening!”
“What is it? What’s going on?”
The servants holding the candlesticks stood frozen, their mouths agape.
Penelope huddled in the corner of the staircase, trembling, her clothes disheveled and torn.
At the sight of the servants, she let out a sharp cry and pulled her fallen garments up to cover her exposed body.
At the foot of the stairs, Isaac lay sprawled in an unseemly posture, his lower half completely exposed.
“Ah… ah……”
“M-master?”
Isaac, who had been groaning, regained his senses at the butler’s voice.
The light was blinding.
Shielding his eyes with his hand and squinting upward, he saw countless gazes fixed upon him.
Or more precisely, upon his lower half.
“Good God! Everyone look away! I said look away!”
Isaac hastily covered the offending area.
The servants turned away, tittering.
Isaac scrambled to his feet, shoved past the servants, and bounded up the stairs.
He had tumbled down them, yet felt no pain.
The butler shouted after the fleeing Isaac and Penelope.
“Shall I fetch a physician? Sir? Miss?”
Neither of them answered.

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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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