The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 124

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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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Part 1, Side Story 4
Part 2.
‘At last….’
At last…….
The man strode urgently down the dark corridor, his pace quickening with each step.
Jet-black hair and vivid blue eyes glinted in the shadows.
‘I’ve handled everything.’
He’d dealt with Marlux entirely, securing the position of leader.
He’d even arranged a substitute to mount the gallows in Rozelin’s place.
He’d negotiated with Elder Brother to some extent and tidied up all the troublesome details.
‘I never expected Elder Brother to be under brainwashing, but….’
His brow furrowed.
He’d always thought his brother showed little interest in the Imperial Throne, yet the man had become quite obsessed—apparently there was a reason for it.
Whatever type of brainwashing had taken hold and for how long remained unclear, but since he’d forced a counteraction, there would be aftereffects at worst, though no major problems for a while.
‘What bothers me is that Baron Robert and Marquis Wilbred both went down before I did….’
Tsk.
The man, Arma, clicked his tongue inwardly and quickened his pace further.
The fact that Marquis Wilbred still hadn’t emerged made him even more uneasy.
He understood why Elder Brother had sent Baron Robert.
His brother had always treated him curtly while secretly favoring him quite well, so hearing the rumor of his death couldn’t have pleased him. The man would have seen no reason to treat a condemned prisoner kindly.
There was little point in showing mercy to someone about to die anyway.
‘I should have told Elder Brother beforehand.’
He’d deliberately avoided mentioning Rozelin’s survival to spare himself the trouble, never imagining the situation would become this tangled and convoluted.
He hadn’t anticipated that Rozelin would evade his pursuit so skillfully either.
After parting with Rozelin, Arma had gone into hiding as planned.
It had been decided from the start, so there was nothing remarkable about it. What deviated from the plan was only his current pursuit—having begun the chase belatedly and tracked her to this place.
Yet….
“……It’s fine now. Everything will be fine, Rozelin.”
Arma muttered softly, running a hand across his face.
For some reason, the unease that had plagued him wouldn’t lift.
Baron Robert was one thing, but Marquis Wilbred—that man’s thoughts remained utterly inscrutable.
After leaving Rozelin, the more time passed, the more he felt this was wrong.
Rozelin bearing the charge of regicide had never been part of the plan.
Yet if he claimed he hadn’t seen it coming at all…well, that would be a lie.
Rozelin had many enemies.
To survive alone, she’d sold information about numerous nobles, provoked them, played tug-of-war with their ambitions, and made fools of them.
She’d formed no true allies and submitted to no one’s authority either.
Maintaining a precarious balance meant she’d traded safety for a multitude of enemies.
Besides, she’d had contact with Marlux.
From the moment Rozelin left the Duchy, she’d already been like a candle flame dancing before the wind for quite some time.
All that time, she’d maintained a fragile equilibrium, and Arma had been her small windbreak; but the instant he vanished, the gentle breezes that had lingered at her side would inevitably become a tempest, sweeping down upon her with full force.
Had regicide not been the charge, there would easily have been dozens of other crimes to heap upon Rozelin.
Among them, regicide was simply the gravest accusation they’d chosen to level against her.
Yes.
Arma had abandoned Rozelin.
Knowing all the while that alone, she would ultimately snuff out that pale, flickering light.
Her voice insisting she could manage by herself sometimes grated against him.
Those moments when his resolve wavered—he refused to believe in them.
Because Arma harbored a far grander and more ancient vendetta, nurtured since childhood.
He had no desire to inherit the Imperial Throne.
So he’d ended their childhood game and feigned death to renounce his succession rights, thereby successfully escaping that burden.
At first, he felt nothing at all.
He’d believed he felt nothing whatsoever.
But once every two weeks.
On the days he visited Rozelin’s home, he found himself pointlessly wandering the streets for no good reason.
He’d already been foolish enough to linger before her house, though she’d long since moved away and gone.
After repeating that nonsense for a month or two, he’d become so exasperated with himself that he’d stopped.
Then one day, he spotted a wool blanket being sold on the street and suddenly thought of Rozelin.
It was around that time that curiosity about Rozelin had sparked him to begin investigating her.
But Rozelin had hidden and fled far better than he’d expected, so while he could occasionally find traces of her, discovering her actual whereabouts proved quite difficult.
Everywhere she went, assassins and Marlux pursued her relentlessly.
It became an obstacle.
By then, he needed subordinates who would move at his command—hands and feet he could trust.
Money was needed for various undertakings, so new ventures had to be launched.
Tired of the nuisances in his way, he decided to simply take Marlux for himself.
He abandoned his position as a Marlux executive and reorganized everything from the bottom up.
After restructuring the organization and recruiting new personnel, he began pursuing Rozelin in earnest—killing two birds with one stone.
Looking back, it might have all been excuses.
He didn’t know why he was chasing her.
He simply did.
At first it was curiosity, then stubbornness, and after that—something like obsession.
He searched and searched and searched… until, at the end of that endless pursuit, the last place he found was a cottage.
The cottage where Garren Wilbred had taken Rozelin to the Imperial Capital.
The first few weeks, he was curious about how she was faring, wanting to know if she was managing well.
He’d heard she was rather skilled at eluding pursuit, but when he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of her, a flicker of pride stirred in him.
Later, watching her collect prescriptions regularly, he felt oddly relieved—at least she seemed to be living decently.
But when he lost track of her again after that, it frustrated him to no end.
Eventually, he was chasing her without even knowing his own reasons anymore.
After months of this, he felt as though he needed to see that face at least once.
‘Why did I come this far?’
So even now, having tracked Rozelin down to the Basement Dungeon, Arma couldn’t quite understand his own motivations.
He finished descending the stairs, let out a hollow laugh, and scrubbed his face with an impatient hand.
‘I’ll understand once I see her face.’
Some answer would present itself.
His heart was pounding.
Whether it was anticipation, or tension, or perhaps fear—he couldn’t tell.
‘Will she be angry? Or…’
No matter how hard he tried, Arma couldn’t imagine Rozelin crying, and he shook his head.
‘An apology first, at least…’
But he had no idea how to word that apology.
This was Rozelin, after all.
A woman who rarely showed emotional fluctuation; she might simply say it was fine, as she always did.
Or… she might hold it against him, since she’d suffered because of him.
Either way, Arma felt he needed to take responsibility for her.
Whether by apologizing or by ensuring her future life would be comfortable.
Arma clenched and unclenched his fists several times before forcing open the tightly sealed iron door. Then he strode decisively inside.
Whoosh—!
Arma’s eyes flew wide as a wall of flame came rushing toward him.
“…Fire?”
The blaze that surged right up to his face billowed and began to swallow him whole.
“Rozelin!”
Startled by the oppressive heat filling the Basement Dungeon, Arma frantically swept his hand through the air, and Darkness poured forth from his fingertips—spreading wide, it devoured the flames in an instant.
“Rozelin…”
Having absorbed all the fire that filled the dungeon into a deep, consuming darkness, Arma stepped inside with no sign of strain.
“…Lin?”
His quick stride slowed.
“…Rozelin.”
There was Rozelin in the Basement Dungeon.
Yes.
Truly there.
Collapsed on the hard floor, charred completely black, her pale skin visible here and there already turned cold.
It wasn’t hard to identify her as Rozelin.
There was no other female death row inmate in this dungeon.
“…Rozelin. Rozelin, Rozelin.”
Thud.
Arma crumpled to his knees, reaching out to grip the metal bars.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
In that instant, nothing existed there anymore.
Erasing the bars one by one, Arma then crawled forward on his hands and knees like a beast and carefully gathered the charred remains into his arms.
“Rozelin?”
Arma shook his head, then drew what was presumed to be Rozelin’s head into his arms and called her name in a daze.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I… I was delayed. I… I have so much to apologize for. Rozelin….”
He slowly bent his head, cradling what he held against his chest.
What lay in his arms was no longer living—could scarcely be called a person at all.
Arma, who had been mumbling softly while denying reality, suddenly went rigid, and then his face contorted as a bestial scream tore from his throat.

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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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