That’s How I Became a Villainess - Chapter 24

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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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Chapter 24

How could there be otherwise?
Milea chose her words carefully, speaking in measured tones, but Bridget needed no explanation from her lips to recognize the gravity of Julian’s condition.
He had become a breeding ground for Dark Magic, scarcely distinguishable from the Shadow Knights he commanded.
Could one truly call him human—this husk that exhaled Dark Magic in place of breath, stripped of all vitality?
‘The Shadow Curse certainly plays a role in his affinity for Dark Magic, but….’
Dark Magic was fundamentally the mark of misfortune he harbored.
“Before, I had no time to perform Purification before we were driven out, so there was nothing I could do. Please arrange for me to see Your Highness again. I’ll do everything in my power.”
“Yes. So we can see each other again.”
Milea murmured the words with pointed significance.
She had spent quite a long time with Julian in the private chamber—so why hadn’t Bridget purified him then?
The stray thought that had briefly pulled her aside now circled back to the present.
What on earth had the two of them been doing during that time?
Once more, her suspicious gaze settled on the wound at Bridget’s lips.
A fresh scab, different from what had been there this morning—a suspicious mark newly formed on that injury.
“……I’ll speak to His Highness about it once he’s had time to clear his head.”

* * *

‘Where am I?’
Julian gazed blankly at his surroundings.
He stood in the Royal Palace’s Grand Hall, stained with blood.
From the entrance to the throne itself, the floor lay drenched red with the blood of countless fallen.
Without emotion, Julian stepped over the corpses scattered beneath his feet, making his way toward the throne.
He trampled over Josephine’s body, and then that of his half-brother who had sat upon the throne until moments before.
At last reaching the throne, he collapsed into it.
The Crown hung precariously on the armrest; he batted it away irritably, and the beautiful coronet, symbol of kingly glory, tumbled lifelessly to the floor and rolled.
‘I thought I’d feel relieved.’
But he didn’t. And that was what drove him mad.
What was this hollow emptiness?
‘It feels like I’ve lost something.’
The moment he recognized it, his chest lurched. He lifted his gaze, scanning the space around him.
He had lost something. He had misplaced something vital, something irreplaceable.
He’d thought it was the throne—but now that he sat upon it, he knew it wasn’t.
‘Where did it go? I have to find it.’
He rose from the throne and began to search frantically, running in every direction.
‘What did I lose? What was it?’
His breathing quickened, and suddenly tears spilled down his face.
‘I have to find it. I can’t live without it.’
What was this thing he couldn’t exist without?
He didn’t know—but the mere thought of having lost it tore his heart apart.
‘Please…….’
Desperation and anxiety consumed him. Like a madman, he wailed and thrashed, wandering in all directions.
Then, at last, it came to him.
Bridget.
“Gasp!”
Julian’s breath came in gasps as he bolted upright in bed.
Somehow the setting had changed to a bedchamber.
Or had it been a bedchamber from the start?
His sleep had been so shallow that the line between dream and reality blurred.
“Hah……. How many times is this?”
The moment he recognized it as a dream, a wave of emptiness washed over him.
He clutched at his still-pounding chest and collapsed back onto the bed.
“That fool of a woman who sold me out, who tried to kill me.”
She deserved death. She had driven him to ruin. He had every justification for his vengeance.
And yet—instead of killing her, he had saved her and brought her to his bedchamber.
‘So don’t let yourself drift into dreams like this again.’
He laughed bitterly at himself, imagining how wronged the dead would feel if they knew what a spineless coward he was.
“Your Highness. I’m coming in.”
After a brief knock, Milea’s voice drifted through the door.
As always, she didn’t wait for permission—she simply entered Julian’s bedchamber.
“You’re awake, then. You didn’t make a sound. The sun’s already high. You need to eat something.”
Milea set a tray of food on the table and drew back the curtains.
The dark room flooded with light in an instant.
“Milea, it’s blinding.”
Julian winced and turned away, but Milea thrust the tray before him.
“Eat. I made it myself.”
Because Julian didn’t trust the cooks, Milea prepared his meals with her own hands.
While noblewomen learned to paint and hunt, they never learned to cook—yet Milea had learned to cook solely for Julian.
“I have no appetite at this hour.”
“And it’s not as if there’s a better hour to have one, is there? Just eat. If I can’t even manage to feed you properly, there’s no reason for me to be here.”
It was a gentle threat—abandon her duties as lady’s maid and leave.
Julian forced his leaden body upright and picked up the utensils.
“Finish it all. Every chickpea was cooked by my own hands for you.”
……
Milea watched him with an unyielding expression as he chewed and swallowed.
“Lately you don’t run to your son.”
For the past month, Milea had brought Julian lunch and dinner, then hurried home to her own family, returning only in the morning.
Her days had grown impossibly crowded—with dying sons in both her household and at court.
Though Julian spoke to her bluntly, as if reproaching her, Milea easily understood that he was asking after Eric.
“Eric’s improved considerably. Sometimes he still cries out suddenly and falls into terror, but he’s managing far better than before. Well enough that he hardly needs me now. He’s a grown man capable of looking after himself.”
The last words carried a barb. Julian let out a hollow laugh.
“A whelp cowering in fear of death—hardly a man.”
Milea wanted to say that fearing death wasn’t a sign of weakness, but rather a mark of being human. She said nothing.
To speak that way would suggest that Julian, who feared nothing, was something other than human.
“As I’ve said before, Eric’s recovery is thanks to Bridget.”
Julian’s hand, holding the utensil, went still.
The crushed chickpea in his mouth felt rough as sand.
“Didn’t I bring Bridget here because her abilities intrigued me?”
……
No. Bringing Bridget had been an accident.
He’d been watching her linger near Milea, curious and cautious, when chance had sparked something unforeseen.
He hadn’t kept her alive to become some other man’s plaything.
A woman he’d spared with his own clemency, kept breathing by his own mercy—he could not abide her being trampled underfoot.
Julian simply could not tolerate his own generosity and forbearance being disgraced.
“Summon her and order her to Purify the unclean things that have attached themselves to you. You suffer from nightmares almost constantly.”
Julian gave a short, bitter laugh.
“And whose fault is that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“……Eric still hasn’t recovered, you say. If her abilities were truly effective, he should be well by now.”
“Bridget says the remaining symptoms will fade with time. Since she helped him past the worst of it, that alone should be——”
“How unfortunate. I haven’t much time left.”
Julian, as if suddenly sickened by the taste, pushed the half-eaten plate away and rose from the bed.
Out of habit, he reached for a bottle and drank.
Only Julian himself and Milea, who attended him so closely, truly knew how few days remained to him.
“Perhaps I’ll feel the effect just as they’re nailing shut my coffin?”
“Your Highness.”
“How comforting that would be. I could sleep soundly enough in the grave.”
He finished his barb with a sharp gesture dismissing her from the room.
“Leave me alone.”
His expression had turned frigid.
Milea, tense under the weight of his volatile moods, swallowed her sigh. She cursed herself for speaking carelessly.
“I’ve misspoken, Your Highness.”
“Enough. Now go.”
“I’ll return to clear the dishes later.”
Milea turned to leave, then paused at the threshold to add a few words with quiet earnestness.
“I’ve seen Bridget’s abilities with my own eyes, and I know they’re remarkable. If you understand a parent’s heart breaking at the thought of losing her, I’m begging you to consider it—just once—before she leaves.”
Julian turned from the window, pausing as his gaze settled on Milea.
“She’s leaving? To where? Why?”
Why. ‘To where?’ was natural enough, but ‘why?’ carried an odd note.
Then again, there was much about this situation that felt unnaturally arranged—from the moment Bridget arrived at the Royal Palace to the bloodstains that had dried at the corners of her mouth.
“As I said, once she’s recovered, she’ll return to the Winston Estate. It’s her home, after all.”
“She’d go back to him after what he’s done to her?”

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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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