The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 129

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Part 1, Side Story Episode 9
* * *
In Garren Wilbred’s life, there was scarcely such a thing as “impossible.”
Being what he was—not quite human—nearly everything he undertook rested on the foundation of possibility, and if something proved impossible, he simply remade it into something possible.
Short of twisting another’s fate by force or breathing life back into the dead, the word impossible held no meaning for him.
“…….”
And yet, for the first time in his existence, he stood before something impossible—something that had been impossible—and witnessed it with his own eyes.
He had obtained the medicine.
Obtaining it had not been particularly difficult.
One simply had to identify the seller, offer payment, and the thing was yours—and money was something he never lacked.
Even common nobles would have found it no hardship to procure.
The medicine was genuine, too. Many had taken it and been cured, after all.
And yet the medicine he had procured never reached Selena’s lips.
Had she died before he could bring it?
No. She had still been alive—at least, until the moment he placed it in her hands.
He reached out silently and grasped the letter that lay beneath the medicine he had obtained.
[If my brother dies, there will be no one to look after the Earldom, and that would be troublesome. Please give this to him instead. I know it’s a bother, but I’m asking one last time.]
What use was it to convey anything to someone already dead?
With a body that could barely move, she had managed to write only those few lines with a trembling hand—a will, of sorts.
Not a single word for him. Not even a whisper of resentment.
All that remained were a few sentences colored by concern for a brother who was already gone.
“……Selena.”
Disbelieving, he spoke her name softly, then pressed his fingers to the throat of the woman who no longer breathed.
There was no pulse.
“…….”
He had been explicit with her, after all. He had told her that being together would bring only unhappiness. That he could not give her what she desired.
Had this not been a marriage entered with full knowledge of that?
‘Had I been so troublesome?’
There had been times when he was, true enough—but whenever he drew a line, she yielded without complaint.
She never threw tantrums, never demanded, never wheedled.
She simply retreated, as always, with an apology.
Compared to the handful of tedious complications he had anticipated from marriage, she had proven far less vexing than he might have feared.
“……I should have told her once more that it was death.”
He spoke the words softly to himself.
He had known, of course—but perhaps he thought the illness had progressed so far that he might have confused her somehow.
“……I should have obtained two doses.”
He ran a rough hand through his hair, clutching the scrap of paper that could hardly be called a letter.
Even if he were not human, bringing the dead back to life was not a thing he could do.
He was not a god who commanded death itself; he knew nothing of breathing life back into what had once exhaled its final breath.
“Were there truly no people who would have been troubled by your death?”
His belated question met with no reply.
Of course it did. The dead do not speak—a truth that holds for any existence whatsoever.
Not for gods in their lofty heights, nor for demons.
“You said you had made your peace with it. I told you we should simply go on as we were, and yet……”
Garren Wilbred spoke his regret in a thin, measured voice, then set about preparing her funeral rites.
Throughout the funeral, no tears came. He had never truly understood what such an emotion was.
Yet when the rites were finished, Garren Wilbred lost all the interest he had ever possessed and found himself afflicted by a terrible, suffocating ennui.
“…….”
He would sit alone in her chambers, or trace the paths through books she had read while solitary in the mansion.
There was nothing particular he was thinking.
He simply happened to want rest, happened to notice these things, happened to feel bored—nothing more.
And so he found himself one day sitting in her study, methodically working through the business she had managed, processing each document in turn.
Beside the papers lay an old notebook.
In it she had jotted down, one by one, the tasks that needed doing—records of things she had looked up and learned, notes on the running of the household so she would not forget.
It was clear she had devoted herself entirely to mastering the domestic affairs with which she was unfamiliar.
‘Nothing has changed since her Academy days.’
For a considerable time he traced her footsteps: what she had thought, how she had tended the mansion.
Still, there was nothing—no particular thought.
But yes, there was nothing. He had simply discovered one thing, and finding that curiosity kindled, sought out the next, and the next after that.
Thus did several months pass, treading through her traces within that mansion.
Wait, has the sun already set?
One day, while organizing her belongings, he discovered a Diary.
He learned that the day she had asked him to stay with her for just a few days was the death anniversary of the Earl and his wife.
It was only after reading the Diary that he realized he’d been plagued by nightmares ever since the day the Earl and his wife died.
He also came to understand that she had abandoned all her hopes for him on that very day.
[I have to confess tomorrow, no matter what.]
[Confession successful!! Though he rejected me…….]
[I’ll try again next time!! It’s fine, I didn’t cry. He seemed bothered by people who cry anyway.]
[Argh, rejected again today!! Next time for sure!!]
[Why does he have to be so handsome and well-mannered, and smile at just anyone?! It’s infuriating. I absolutely must succeed next time!]
[Could it be that I can’t love because I’ve never experienced being loved? But I’ve never met anyone incapable of love. Because lately… he’s been genuinely smiling at me sometimes.]
[Someday I’ll understand what love is. I just wish… it could be him…….]
Every emotion she felt while confessing was recorded faithfully in those pages.
‘Did she think living together would make her fall in love with him?’
It was a pathetic hope, wasn’t it.
And yet in the end, she’d faced reality and perished.
[Maybe I should just divorce him outright.]
[He’s such a cold, heartless person. It wouldn’t hurt if he made time for me just once.]
[I’m the guilty one for falling for him first. Tomorrow I’m going to ask for a divorce. I’m going to be happy with someone who loves me!]
[He looked tired today, so I couldn’t bring it up. I’ll do it tomorrow.]
[I told Mother I was upset, and she said he’s unfamiliar with love because he’s clumsy at it. She told me to cheer up, but… I just can’t seem to…….]
The pages were filled with childish sullenness—complaints she’d never voiced aloud.
[……Mother, Father, I was wrong. Please come back.]
[I’m so lonely…….]
[……It wasn’t love after all. I should’ve just stayed at the Earldom.]
[Let’s break up. You’re… too much for me to handle.]
He glimpsed her true feelings for the first time—all those things she’d kept ruthlessly suppressed.
After that, there were no more entries.
After turning through many blank pages, he found a single passage at the end of the Notebook—written at some unknown time, yet unmistakably recent.
[You were right. I regret it. If I could turn back time, I would never love you again. I just want to be loved.]
That was the end.
“Love…….”
What was it?
Garren Wilbred looked slowly around him.
What had once been her room was in complete disarray.
Books and the Diary from her study lay scattered across the floor around where he sat hunched.
An abandoned medicine bottle, still full, rolled across the floor.
The room where he stayed—he who despised disorder with an almost obsessive aversion to filth—was a complete mess.
“Master, a telegram has arrived from the Imperial Capital. It’s an Imperial Order…… to pursue and capture Rozelin Bellion.”
“……An Imperial Order?”
“Yes. More than a year has already passed. It seems… you ought to put the lady to rest and resume your activities.”
His face contorted instinctively at the butler’s words.
‘Has that much time really gone by?’
He’d been buried in these stacks of books for an entire year without even noticing time passing?
It turned out that in the meantime, the throne had changed hands, and the daughter of House Bellion had become a fugitive.
“I’ve lost my mind.”
He hadn’t even noticed time slipping away.
He ran a rough hand through his hair.
‘If I had been kinder to her, would something have changed?’
Could he have avoided this ending?
But could he truly claim that he was the one who’d borne that gentleness she spoke of?
While he was lost in thought, she fled to the vicinity of the Marquessate. Without giving it much thought, he let her hide there.
She was exhausted, and hunting was far more enjoyable when the prey was in peak condition.
“You look quite weary. Rest here for a few days if you need to.”
“……I heard about the passing of the Marquess’s wife. That’s unfortunate.”
“Ah, yes. So it came to that. How did you end up in such a state?”
The woman with her characteristic flat, expressionless face that rarely shifted gazed at him quietly for a moment before speaking.
“I realized too late. I missed the chance to die with him, and I missed the chance to catch him.”
Catch what?
He didn’t need to ask. From what he could tell, there was only one thing she’d lost recently.
“So you do know love.”
“You’re getting married too, aren’t you? Why couldn’t I fall in love? Though it seems the Marquess’s wife was nursing an Unrequited Love.”
I found no answer to his listless tone. A light laugh and a nod would have sufficed.
“Don’t do that. It’s the worst.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Every chance you get, their face springs to mind unbidden. Words you wish you’d never said, or wondering if only you’d chosen differently… thoughts that are utterly useless now.”
Garren fell silent at the all-too-familiar habit. He’d had exactly those same thoughts while reading the Diary.
At his silence, Rozelin turned to look at his face, then let out a hollow laugh as if all the air had left it.
“Regret always comes too late, after you’ve lost it. We’re both fumbling fools who’ve made a mess of everything.”
“I don’t know what love is.”
“Love? There’s nothing grand about it. It’s when someone comes to mind when things are hard, or when you’d taken them for granted as always being there. It grows clearer with time. Eating together becomes comfortable. You find yourself tracing the traces they’ve left behind. That’s love.”
Nothing special, is it?
Rozelin added this with a light stretch, then rose from her seat.
“I’m grateful for your kindness.”
Garren watched Rozelin recede down the corridor, then turned toward Selena’s room as habit commanded.
The room bore the scattered marks of her absence everywhere he looked.
……
His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he surveyed the chaotic room.
Thump—he heard the sound of a heart that could not possibly exist within him falling.
Part 3. Garren (1) <End>

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————