That’s How I Became a Villainess - Chapter 38

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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 38

It was a word Bridget had never expected to hear herself say.
“Business Investment?”
“Yes, a business investment.”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden? What do you know about business?”
Isaac was right.
Bridget knew nothing of business.
She understood nothing about how ventures operated, which enterprises held investment potential, which did not—none of it.
But she knew which business would set the kingdom ablaze in the near future that was rapidly approaching.
“You’re right, I don’t know much. I heard it from the nobles—the ones with their fingers on the pulse of information have been investing in Cartania Kingdom’s trade ventures. Something about opening new trade routes, I think. You’d know more about such things, wouldn’t you?”
Bridget spoke with practiced ease, flattering Isaac without laying it on too thick or too thin.
“There’s a merchant vessel setting sail soon, I hear. I’d be grateful if you’d look into it and put an investment in my name.”
“I never took you for someone interested in investments. And to remember such details from gossip, no less. Is that all you heard?”
Isaac’s mind began turning rapidly.
When it came to business, his calculations were sharp.
‘New trade routes? If that’s true, it could be enormous.’
How had Bridget come by such privileged information?
Had she learned of it through her connection with the Countess Spencer?
Isaac resolved to gather more information at once.
News was difficult to come by, but once you knew something existed, digging up the details was far easier.
Having Bridget invest in whatever venture this was wouldn’t be hard.
A sum generous enough to satisfy appearances would suffice.
But if this was truly reliable information that could multiply their wealth, he couldn’t stop there.
“I’ll look into it. Right away.”
He bounded down the stairs in haste.
Watching his retreating figure, Bridget let out a soft laugh.
‘For a man who has only wealth to his name, wealth is the only thing you can take from him.’
During the divorce proceedings, Bridget had not been the only one haunting the Courtroom.
Countless others had come and gone.
The judges had taken cases in whatever order they arrived, regardless of type.
So criminal and civil suits unfolded haphazardly in the same courtroom.
While waiting for her case to be called, Bridget had listened to people squabbling and pointing fingers at each other in the seats beside her.
They had been so loud she couldn’t help but hear.
The trials of those who had lost their investment in Cartania Kingdom’s trade ventures overlapped in timing with Bridget’s own divorce proceedings.
Somehow she had witnessed both the beginning and end of those trials.
Just as the people involved had come to know every detail of Bridget’s case and offered unsolicited advice, Bridget had heard enough of their trial to know it all by heart.
Cartania Kingdom’s trade venture had been a legendary failure that had ruined countless nobles—a disaster that would echo through history.
‘Once the war swept away the trade routes and harbors they had monopolized.’
There is no profit in war.

* * *

Back in her room, Bridget finally allowed herself to exhale.
‘Exhausting.’
Yet there was a thrill in watching every piece of her plan fall into place.
Penelope, dragged away looking pathetic.
Isaac, rushing off in a frenzy at the whisper of investment returns.
And the public sentiment, growing uglier by the hour.
Satisfying, but not yet complete.
Bridget summoned Anna.
Anna was still seething over what had happened moments before.
“It’s obvious who the culprit is, yet the mistress still won’t cast her out? Did you see her? Shameless thing, shrieking and wailing like that.”
Bridget smiled faintly.
“What, my lady? You’re laughing? What terrible curse do you think that woman cast, that you can be so unbothered? Good heavens.”
“Isn’t it better than letting myself wallow in misery?”
“Well, I suppose, but…”
“Don’t worry. Curses like that don’t work on me.”
“Truly?”
It was no secret that Bridget possessed a Purification Ability.
Anna laughed brightly, as if reassured.
Bridget pressed a letter into her hands.
“Will you run an errand for me?”
Anna’s eyes widened.
Letter-carrying was usually the work of pages and messengers.
To entrust such a task to her personal attendant meant the contents were either critically important or required absolute discretion.
“I’ll see it done.”
That night, after the household had gone dark, Anna slipped out of Winston Manor unnoticed.
She made her way to a decrepit printing press at the far end of Market Street.
Printing presses burned their lights late into the night.
News that shook the world waited for no clock.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Royal Palace, Millea turned over Bridget’s words in her mind.
‘She said she had something planned. I don’t know what she’s attempting, but…if it takes only a day to unfold, I suppose I can afford to watch.’
The situation was too ambiguous for the Royal Court to act decisively.
There had been no riots or uprisings yet.
If they were to hunt down those spreading seditious gossip about the king and execute them, that would merely mean severing the scapegoat Linchester had raised.
In circumstances like these, further bloodshed risked pouring fuel on the people’s discontent with tyranny—a danger requiring great caution.
So allowing Bridget her claim that everything would change by tomorrow was hardly an act of patience; it was simply waiting to see.
‘Fundamentally, no amount of ink can reverse His Majesty’s reputation. At best, she might compose flattering prose to polish and praise him…. But the people are not fools.’
Julian’s tyranny was a fact.
Even if he had killed Earl Kensington to save Bridget, and even if the Earl had been a villain in truth, that fact remained unchanged.
The evidence of Kensington’s corruption had been turned over to the judicial authorities.
The truth would soon be laid bare, but by then the people’s resentment would have reached the heavens.
Julian could not be defended by anything.
It seemed Bridget’s effort to make Julian appear a righteous king who had purged corruption would come to nothing.
‘There’s nothing Bridget can do. And nothing I can do either.’
Millea loved Julian and wished no harm to befall him.
Yet separate from that affection, she judged him with cold clarity.
‘His Majesty is not suited to be king. He cannot wield power in this manner.’
That he was a tyrant was an undeniable truth.
She remained at his side, ministering to him despite her disapproval of his tyranny, because a mother cannot abandon her child.
Not even one she knows will soon die.
Millea could not prevent his death.
She only wished to let him burn through his final flame without regret, to die with all his brightness spent.
That was why she stayed.
Now that she had settled her vendetta against Josephine, she harbored only a wish to live as a shadow—to close her eyes, cover her ears, and pass her remaining days in peace.
Even if the people rose up, it would be no great concern.
She would need only to crouch within the palace walls and endure until the last grains of sand in Julian’s hourglass had fallen.
Yet what fueled her rage was not concern for the realm—it was Linchester.
He was not clean enough to cast a stone at Julian.
No matter how inhuman Julian’s deeds, they could never rival Linchester’s own.
That such a man would resort to this sordid scheme to bring Julian down was unbearable.
‘Only God has the right to punish His Majesty. Not another demon.’
Millea pressed her throbbing temples with both hands.
And in that moment, she felt not a shred of expectation toward Bridget.
Lost in the currents of daily life, Millea soon forgot that Bridget had even claimed to attempt anything at all.
So when the palace servants placed a copy of the Gossip Gazette before her the next morning, she nearly fainted.
Millea’s hands trembled as she read through the pages.
She tore through the paper without noticing, her eyes wide and unblinking, scanning the text again and again, until she clutched her brow and sank onto the sofa as though her legs had given way.
“Are you unwell?”
The maid who had delivered the Gossip Gazette steadied her, anticipating just such a reaction.
Millea, who ordinarily disliked the touch of others, found herself leaning heavily on the servant’s support.
‘Bridget… what have you done….’

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, even as she carried out that shocking deed.

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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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