The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 11

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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 11
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“…I’m sorry I couldn’t see you out, my lady.”
“….”
“…See you again soon.”
Roserin offered him a faint smile and nodded at his anxious words, then lowered her head in farewell.
She turned and followed a servant down a long, ornate corridor.
Tap, tap, tap.
With each step she took, eyes swiveled toward her.
Roserin clicked her tongue at such a basic lack of discretion.
“My, where are you hurrying off to in such a rush?”
At the sudden voice, Roserin stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes widened and she whipped her head toward the source of the sound.
* * *
“G-good afternoon, Father.”
“Ah… there you are, my youngest.”
The Emperor wore a mischievous smile wholly at odds with his years, and Arma laughed awkwardly, scratching his cheek with a white-gloved hand.
“Yes, Father. I trust you have been well?”
“Well? When my children only show their faces when they need something, what wellness could there be?”
“…Ha ha, my apologies. I shall visit more often.”
The Emperor shrugged, thinking how easily the boy spoke hollow words.
“I’ve had everyone step back, so let’s drop the tedious act, shall we?”
Arma blinked once, then smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That… I’m afraid I’m too dim-witted to understand what you’re saying, Father…”
“…Truly a dull one, aren’t you.”
The Emperor waved his hand dismissively through the air.
A faint presence above the ceiling vanished at once.
With a vacant expression, Arma approached the curtains and drew them closed with deliberate slowness.
“So then, my youngest, I never summoned you—what brings you here?”
Once the curtains were drawn, the study plunged into shadow.
Only a thin shaft of light through the gap and the chandelier illuminated the room.
The young man who had drawn the curtains turned slowly. Backlit and cloaked in deep shadow, his boyish face smiled quietly.
He swept his hair back with his hand in a leisurely motion.
Without his bangs, his face no longer held the innocent, sun-bright quality of a young boy.
Instead, there emerged a youth with an almost cynical air.
All from simply pushing his hair back and shifting his expression slightly.
Rather than answer the Emperor’s question, Arma went directly to a small tea station in the corner of the study.
After a moment, he returned with a steaming kettle and sat across from the Emperor, crossing his legs on the sofa.
He poured tea into a cup still stained with red lipstick, set the kettle down, and lifted the cup to his lips.
“What did you discuss with my lady?”
Holding the teacup, Arma smiled enigmatically and asked in a low voice.
“She wants to dissolve the engagement.”
“And?”
“I told her to do so.”
“…”
Arma paused, the cup halfway to his lips above the red lipstick stain.
“Why?”
“She said she would give me something I need. Once I confirmed the goods were legitimate, I agreed to let her have her way.”
The Emperor chuckled softly at Arma’s eyes—sharp as frost, cold as winter.
“She held more value to me than you do now. That is all.”
The Emperor tilted his teacup with ease as he spoke.
“What proposition did she make?”
After a moment of silence, Arma tilted his cup and asked at last.
The Emperor reached toward the teapot Arma had brought.
“Well, I decided not to tell you that.”
The moment the Emperor’s cup filled, Arma opened his mouth.
“Since you’re drinking the tea I brewed, you should tell me.”
“…Isn’t that rather underhanded?”
“You were underhanded first.”
“Negotiations with Kaluta and an investigation into the disappearance case.”
Clink.
At the Emperor’s brief word, Arma set down his glass.
The Emperor observed the red lipstick smudged on his lips with studied indifference, shrugging easily.
“The Lady has grown rather strange.”
Once, she would have been too embarrassed to meet his gaze for even a moment.
Yet all day today she had looked directly into Arma’s eyes without flinching.
And unlike usual, her words had not stumbled; she had spoken with clear precision, and her smile had lost its familiar shyness.
“True. But it hardly matters, so long as it does no harm.”
Arma drew his thumb slowly across his lower lip.
The lipstick from the teacup transferred faintly, spreading slightly across his lips and lending a glimmer of color to his pale features.
“Next month, I intend to include the Lady Belion in the diplomatic delegation to Kaluta.”
“I will go as well.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed.
“Youngest, if you go, you become the one in charge. Do you understand what that means?”
The Emperor, chin resting on his hand, asked with cool indifference.
He already knew why Arma played at being so dim-witted.
In truth, Arma was the one who resembled him most, and he knew him just as well for it.
“I have little interest in the throne’s left seat.”
Arma let out a dry laugh.
“From the Lady’s perspective, you are truly a man of no appeal whatsoever.”
At the Emperor’s laugh-tinged voice, Arma’s brow darkened.
“I’m afraid you cannot go, however.”
Arma’s gaze locked onto the Emperor.
Cold and frost-sharp, it held such an ominous edge that the Emperor smiled with the satisfaction of a sated predator.
Among his three children, one had turned out quite exceptional—bearing his mark unmistakably. How could he be anything but pleased?
“The Lady has already named the person she wishes to accompany her.”
“……Who is that.”
“Yuldian.”
Arma’s eyes widened slightly.
“Your brother will go to the delegation in your stead.”
At his words, the young man’s face hardened, and the Emperor’s laughter deepened.
* * *
“I like this. Everything over there as well.”
“And these jewels—shall I take them too?”
“Those as well.”
The most expensive boutique in the empire.
Pleuers Boutique.
And its proprietor, Pleuers, was practically bouncing on air.
Just thirty minutes ago, her mood had been abysmal.
Two nobles had appeared without appointment at a shop that operated on a 100% reservation basis alone.
Yet her mood had turned around in an instant.
The two visitors had seemed like hot potatoes of intrigue—the sort that stoked curiosity—and beyond that……
They had placed orders with such refreshing enthusiasm.
Roserin Belion, the empire’s sole Lady, whose standing in society rose and fell with notorious unpredictability, and……
Garren Wilbrid, a marquess whose every venture struck gold, whose smile was always pleasant yet concealed his thoughts behind an air of pleasant obscurity.
Two people with no connection appearing together at her shop was gossip Pleuers could not afford to miss.
Most astonishing of all was that the stammering, sickly, timid, and frail Lady bore no resemblance whatsoever to the rumors.
She who was said to wear only shabby, tattered dresses had entered the boutique in a sleek black dress, escorted by Wilbrid, and wore it with ease.
Unlike the rumors that she could never lift her head before anyone, she moved with the assured bearing of a haughty aristocrat raised wanting for nothing.
Roserin had entered the shop with such confidence, yet unlike other nobles, she showed no fastidious temperament.
She had simply looked leisurely about the interior upon entering, then pointed at items that caught her eye with one finger, requesting purchase after purchase.
Since even a single dress commanded prices ranging from hundreds to thousands of Olang, sometimes reaching eight figures, Pleuers’ spirits naturally soared.
But as the number of garments to be purchased surpassed ten, her gratitude had given way to awe, and now past twenty, she was beginning to feel distinctly nervous.
The total of clothes and accessories selected with an eye toward the most expensive items had long since crossed into eight figures.
“This one is rather nice too.”
Roserin murmured softly and nodded, whereupon the staff moved with swift precision.
Already, the garments she had agreed to purchase filled five clothing racks completely.
From gowns for banquets to day dresses, from outdoor wear to even prototypes—negligees and nightgowns—carefully selected by type, she had moved on to shoes and accessories by the handful.
“You mean to purchase all of this?”
Garren Wilbrid asked with a smile, and Pleuers, who had been mentally tallying figures in her head, glanced at him tentatively.
Roserin raised one eyebrow in a sharp arc, then broke into a quiet laugh and opened her mouth to speak.

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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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