That’s How I Became a Villainess - Chapter 54

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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 54

‘I thought she’d come with me.’
He’d imagined walking in with Bridget on his arm, making a grand entrance.
It wasn’t strictly necessary, but the fact that she’d rushed to greet her husband first didn’t sit well with him.
‘That fool, and he calls himself my husband.’
He’d made her wait a little, yet off she went running to him.
Given everything he’d done, confining him to the Reception Hall for another week would barely be punishment enough.
“Go.”
Julian Blake swept from the room without hesitation.
But before he’d taken a single step into the corridor, he turned back and studied his reflection in the mirror.
Mildea offered him counsel.
“Your Highness, do you wish to dominate Isaac Winston’s presence before Bridget? If so, there is a more reliable method than studying the mirror again. It seems you’ve forgotten something.”
Julian Blake turned back to face Mildea with measured calm.
“Tell me what I’ve forgotten.”

* * *

Isaac was not bored.
He’d arrived at the Royal Palace earlier than scheduled and had been waiting for nearly half a day, yet he felt no displeasure whatsoever.
‘I’m actually stepping into the Royal Palace.’
A dream realized—how could mere waiting matter?
Besides, the Royal Palace was a feast for the eyes and ears.
Through the Reception Hall window, people passed by dressed as elaborately as fairies or butterflies.
They all seemed to be wearing garments with wings.
At the Winston Mansion, only Penelope had adorned herself so grandly, standing out like a single blossom; here at the Royal Palace, every direction bloomed with flowers.
‘What brings all these people here? What do they do?’
The Royal Palace, where legend said rivers of blood flowed daily from the tyrant king’s rages, seemed far more peaceful than he’d imagined. On the surface, at least.
Nobles rarely glimpsed on the streets seemed to congregate here.
‘And no feast is being held.’
Beyond the countless servants, the Royal Palace was full of people who commuted daily for business.
Stewards and ladies-in-waiting who oversaw servants of each palace, those who managed them, the guard knights, administrative officials from each ministry, senior officials and their attendants, and the king’s retinue—
The list went on endlessly if one enumerated it all.
There were also many nobles who came on business: matters of fiefs, taxes, inheritance disputes, and the like.
Isaac lamented that so many people moved through the Royal Palace as if it were their own home, while he had never been able to join their ranks.
He’d been admitted on a temporary pass.
Without Bridget, he’d never have received even that in his lifetime.
As the waiting stretched on, Isaac’s curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped out of the Reception Hall, skulking about like a mouse to explore various parts of the palace.
People gathered in small clusters at benches and tables scattered throughout the Royal Palace.
By listening intently as he wandered, he could eavesdrop on their conversations.
Isaac drifted from group to group, catching snatches of talk.
The hottest topic in the Royal Palace at the moment was Bridget herself.
“Can you believe His Highness took on a royal concubine?”
“Who would have guessed? We all thought he devoted himself solely to war and purges.”
“But what man with everything lacks interest in a woman? Wouldn’t you say? Haha!”
“I wonder what sort of person this concubine is?”
“Don’t you know? She’s been infamous recently. That dreadful gossip column, remember?”
“You mean that lady of the house who kept a mistress under the same roof? Didn’t they say the mistress was buried alive? There was talk of a tomb or something.”
“No, it wasn’t actually a live burial—apparently she built a cenotaph and cursed it instead.”
“Tsk, tsk, how extraordinary!”
“Strange how the women gathered in that household are all equally eccentric. The concubine engages in outrageous antics, the principal wife claims the king’s bedchamber—or should we call her the mistress instead?”
Isaac couldn’t interject into their mockery; he could only hide and strike his chest in frustration.
‘Penelope shouldn’t have done that!’
He moved away in agitation, only to hear Bridget’s name again in the next cluster.
“She’s certainly a vixen. How else could she have seduced His Highness the king?”
“The portrait in that gossip column made her look demure. But you know what? Women who pretend to be so proper transform completely in bed. Men say they’re bewitched by such women.”
“If she’s bewitched His Highness, she must have bewitched every other man too.”
“That’s exactly right. A woman with problems—what husband would stay faithful? They always look elsewhere. But our husband, well, he only has eyes for me, even now.”
“My, I heard your husband lost everything gambling at the gaming houses and you divorced him—did that all work out?”
“Oh, that… I’d almost forgotten it was so long ago. Ha ha, well, these things did happen, didn’t they?”
The noblewoman, caught in the act of diminishing Bridget while subtly elevating herself, flushed with embarrassment and quickly pivoted back to Bridget’s misfortunes.
Bridget made for a convenient target—a safe topic to change the subject whenever things grew awkward.
“But speaking of that Royal Concubine, they say she doesn’t even have one gift from His Majesty to her name, yet she’s already signed a concubine contract. Unbelievable.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be His Majesty’s favorite at the moment? And yet she’s being treated so coldly already?”
“Exactly. His Majesty seems to have brought her in merely for temporary diversion, and he’s already grown bored with her. I wonder how long she’ll last in the Royal Palace.”
Everyone had Bridget on the chopping block, carving her to pieces with gleeful precision.
They were simply the sort of people who found joy in condemning and mocking others.
But Isaac, listening to their words, felt a knot of unease tighten in his chest.
Just then, he spotted Bridget walking toward the Central Palace, where the Reception Hall lay.
Isaac hurried toward her and seized her wrist, pulling hard.
“You, come here for a moment.”
“What! Who—!”
Bridget, grabbed without warning and dragged along by sheer force, nearly cried out before recognizing him.
In the shadow beneath her feet, the Black Knight stirred—so subtly that no one else noticed.
Once Bridget recognized Isaac, she forced herself to calm down.
“You startled me. What are you doing?”
“No questions. Just come.”
Isaac walked briskly into the Reception Hall and closed the door behind them.
For now, this was the quietest place in the Royal Palace.
“Let go!”
Bridget wrenched her wrist free from Isaac’s grip, her brow furrowed.
He’d held her so tightly while dragging her that red marks now bloomed across her skin.
Isaac paid no attention to her discomfort.
“What have you been doing here in the Royal Palace all this time?”
“What are you talking about?”
“A Royal Concubine should naturally receive gifts from His Majesty—and you haven’t received a single one? You should have captivated him completely! Are you being as foolish with him as you were with me?”
“What?”
“Stop clinging to your pride and pretending to be noble! For once, try to understand your own position. Do you hear me?”
“…Ha.”
Bridget didn’t answer. There was no point in responding.
Isaac raked his eyes over her from head to toe.
“When did you have that dress made? You look like this precisely because you go around in these outdated, provincial rags. Look out the window! See how others adorn themselves! If you lack natural beauty, you have to work at it afterwards—”
Bang!
The sudden, tremendous crash cut Isaac’s words short.
“Uh—what?”
Isaac stared at the heavy Reception Hall door that had just scraped past his back, his face gone pale as he stumbled backward.
“Wh-what—!”
“Ah. Still alive, then?”
Julian Blake emerged from behind the flying door, a malicious smile playing across his lips.
Beside him, Mildea exhaled quietly in resignation.
“Y-Your Majesty…”
Isaac trembled as he prostrated himself before Julian.
Julian was seething with fury.
He’d come running after receiving a danger signal from the Black Knight hidden in Bridget’s shadow.
It was dormant by nature, but it responded whenever it sensed fear in its host.
The signal had been brief, but it was enough to ignite his rage.
His gaze swept over Bridget before stopping at her wrist, where the red marks stood out against her skin.
Bridget instinctively squeezed her eyes shut as Magical Energy erupted explosively from Julian’s body.
‘…!’
Even those who couldn’t see Magical Energy felt it.
The air grew heavy and suffocating, pressed down by the crushing weight of his power.
“Ugh!”
Isaac, pressed flat against the ground, let out a groan.
Julian leaned down toward Isaac’s head and asked quietly.
“Who told you my woman was lacking?”
“I—I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t make me ask twice. It makes me want to kill you.”

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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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