That’s How I Became a Villainess - Chapter 4

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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 4

Bridget offered even a smile, composed and at ease.
Penelope, who had been crying while darting sidelong glances to gauge her friend’s sincerity, exhaled in relief at the sight of that smile.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say that. I knew you’d understand in the end. You’re kind, after all.”
……
She grasped both of Bridget’s hands.
“So… we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank goodness! You’re my most precious friend. You know that, don’t you?”
Penelope’s eyes, reddened from tears, crinkled now in laughter.
It was the artless smile of a child for whom good and evil blur together.
“I couldn’t sleep for days, terrified you’d be angry with me. The carriage ride here was exhausting because of it.”
As her anxiety lifted, fatigue claimed her; Penelope leaned back against the headboard, her movements slow and heavy.
She kept hold of Bridget’s hand still.
Their clasped hands seemed so tender between them, as if nothing had ever passed between these two.
“Shameless as it is, I’ll impose on you for just a few days. I’m sorry. But truly, only a few days. He’s promised to arrange lovely lodgings for me.”
Penelope boasted of this with bright cheer.
Entirely oblivious that such words might wound Bridget.
She had only just told Isaac she’d be staying with Penelope, but Bridget disliked prolonging the conversation and held her tongue.
For the revenge Bridget had planned, both Penelope and Isaac had to remain within her shadow.
“You should rest early, Penelope. Isaac asked me to use Purification Magic on you so you can rest comfortably.”
Penelope smiled, a touch shy.
“He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?”
Bridget drew Penelope to the bed without answering.
Then she laid her hand upon Penelope’s belly as she lay down.
White light seeped forth from beneath her palm.
Faint as winter breath, so dim that one would miss it without careful study—a small, delicate luminescence.
Bridget cleansed the malevolent energy clinging to Penelope’s body.
Or rather, she was purifying not Penelope herself, but the child within her womb.
‘Grow strong and healthy, little one, and come into this world whole.’
She harbored no intention of harming the child.
This child would be born safely.
By then, Penelope—who dreamed of using this child to satisfy her desires—would learn the truth.
That this child could achieve none of her intended purposes.
She would shatter the rosy future Penelope had imagined, utterly and without mercy.
Bridget gazed down at Penelope, now resting peacefully with eyes closed.
‘You won’t be alone in your descent into hell, Penelope. When you fall, the one you love—Isaac—will fall beside you.’

* * *

Back in her own room, Bridget leaned against the closed door and placed a hand over her heart.
She was truly beginning again now.
The moment she saw Isaac and Penelope descending from the carriage, her heart had surged with the thought that everything could restart from here, that she could begin anew.
If she could live again a life that had been in ruins, if in this life she could seize the things she had been forced to abandon before—
There was something she had to do, just as urgent as revenge itself.
‘Julian.’
She whispered his name only in her heart, not daring to speak it aloud, and a sigh heavy with longing escaped her.
When she closed her eyes, his anguished voice rose before her, vivid as memory could make it.
“I waited for you, Bridget. I’ve stood still from the moment you left, waiting for you.”
“Julian……”
She had thought his figure, appearing before her as death drew near, must be a phantom.
A hallucination born of yearning so deep it conjured false visions.
Yet she had been glad of it.
Glad to see him again, when she had believed she never would.
“If you had been unhappy, you should have sought me out. You should have come to me.”
“But you hate me.”
“No matter what you do, I could never hate you.”
“Don’t cry, Julian.”
Only when his hot tears touched her cheek did she know he was real.
Only then did his appearance truly register.
She wanted to ask.
Ask why he sat so far away on that impossibly high Royal Throne she could never reach, forgetting her, living in happiness.
Ask why he wasn’t ruling the world beneath his feet, basking in glory like never before.
So why did he look so utterly wretched?
The tyrant drunk on blood, the Iron-Blooded King infamous throughout the kingdom—and yet he looked devastatingly worn, nothing like the rumors.
Her heart ached seeing herself, pushing him with accusations of why he hadn’t simply sought her out if he was miserable, when she was the one who appeared truly lost.
She regretted it.
If only I hadn’t abandoned you.
How had every moment of her life become nothing but regret?
When she closed her eyes, the memory of that last day they’d faced each other blazed vivid and sharp.
Beneath long lashes, suppressed emotions lay compressed; a single tear escaped and fell.
‘This time, I’ll come to you.’

* * *

It had been three days since Penelope arrived at the Winston Viscount Manor.
The household staff had not adjusted to the situation at all.
“Penelope, is there anything uncomfortable? Nothing else you need?”
“Everything is wonderful right now.”
“Ah, being together like this feels like we’ve returned to childhood.”
A legitimate wife and a mistress could be this affectionate with each other.
Bridget seemed genuinely intent on living together with Penelope.
The servants gathered by the hearth in the kitchens during their breaks, chattering about this bewildering and extraordinary situation.
“I can’t fathom what’s happening to this household anymore.”
Everyone was confused.
“What could the mistress possibly be thinking? Is she truly not troubled?”
“She’s a refined lady, after all. They say a noblewoman’s virtue lies in not envying her husband’s lover. To show propriety in such circumstances—really, it’s a pitiable existence when you think about it.”
“Who knows how torn she is inside. It’s heartbreaking.”
The maids offered grand interpretations of Bridget’s unexpected response and even expressed admiration for her.
Though the situation was identical in both her past life and this one, everything seemed transfigured simply because Bridget’s attitude had changed.
Only Bridget, who knew the difference between her past and present lives, noticed how shallow public opinion operated.
Bridget didn’t find it particularly pleasing, but she recognized it had its uses.
Meanwhile, Penelope and Isaac received exactly as much reproach as Bridget received beautification and pity.
“That mistress truly astounds me. Even if the lady welcomes her, how brazen—to plant herself in this manor like it’s nothing?”
“If I’m being honest, the real problem is the master. Bad enough that he abandoned his bride the moment he married her, but to bring a woman here? Even if nobles don’t consider such things scandalous, come now—his wife’s own friend?”
“Exactly. Even if the mistress gave permission, shouldn’t he have taken her elsewhere?”
Amid the whispers, someone let out a heavy sigh.
“It feels like we’re the only ones suffering more.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The three people at the center of this affair seemed to go about their days as though nothing was amiss, yet the servants found themselves caught in the middle, barely able to breathe for the tension.
They could hardly treat the mistress who’d forced her way into a household with a legitimate wife coldly when Isaac himself—who paid their wages—stood firmly behind Penelope.
Yet taking Penelope’s side felt morally suspect, and they pitied Bridget.
But then again, Bridget was the one who’d created this bizarre situation in the first place, and there she was, friendly and intimate with Penelope as though they were sisters.
“Here I am, watching a wife and mistress live together, and this isn’t even a palace.”
“The Queen and her rival don’t live together at court either. They each have their own palaces.”
“Our master has nothing to envy the King for.”

* * *

The servants muttered such complaints behind closed doors, but whether they did or didn’t, these were turning out to be the finest days of Penelope’s life.
‘Coming here was the right choice.’
In truth, from the moment Penelope had decided to return home from Rucel, she’d wanted to come to this manor.
It was a place familiar 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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