The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 130

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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 2 Prologue
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Nothing ever works out in this life, Rozelin thought, crouched before a dented tin cup, her eyes hollow with the weight of that knowledge.
‘So begging really is begging.’
Her eyes had grown heavy and distant during her first attempt at asking for alms.
Who could have imagined it?
That she would one day walk these streets begging alongside vagrant children.
And in the body of a child, no less—some seven or eight years old, by the look of it.
“Think of it as a form of Resurrection Abyss. After death, you return to the past and inhabit another’s body to live once more. That’s what the Abyss grants.”
Sansar’s words echoed in her mind.
So she had successfully undergone a Regression, it seemed—only to find herself inhabiting the body of a beggar.
‘In this state, I can’t possibly reach the Duke’s Estate.’
Rozelin’s eyes drifted, unfocused.
“What do I gain from helping you?”
“I told you already. In the next life, I’ll become your daughter.”
“……I’d like to believe that was a joke.”
“Why? Wasn’t that your wish? I can at least grant you a daughter in another world.”
“It’s just that you don’t know what body you’ll end up in, so you need my help either way, don’t you?”
Rozelin’s hands clenched into fists.
‘I commend my past self for that.’
It had been wise to lay down that insurance policy, however it might unfold.
She lowered her gaze. The ragged clothes, the grime, the filth—none of it felt real to her yet.
“Rose, we’re not making anything here. Let’s move to that spot. If we don’t meet quota today, we’ll go hungry again.”
“Oh, um……. Right.”
With no sense of her surroundings, she had no choice but to let the girl lead her by the wrist, stumbling along in her wake.
Her mind, meanwhile, was in complete chaos.
‘So where am I, exactly…….’
She was a beggar now.
A beggar with not a single coin to her name, no connections, nothing.
And the moment she recognized that fact, her eyes began to burn—
—though no tears fell.
‘Well. This is splendid ruin.’
Garren Wilbred seemed to be her only lifeline now.
‘If I could just find a newspaper, I could gauge the timeframe at least…….’
But even newspapers were luxuries for beggars.
‘The most urgent thing is to reach Garren Wilbred, explain my situation, gain his help, and establish a connection to the Duke’s Estate.’
That was the whole reason she had come back in the first place.
‘To avoid making the same mistakes again.’
Her wrist was grabbed and she was pulled through the alley into a more populated area—what appeared to be an old Central Square, its plaza broad and busy with foot traffic.
‘But this isn’t the capital.’
She looked around in confusion until she spotted a notice board in the village square. The moment she read it, she understood exactly where she was.
The Wilbred Marquessate.
Not the worst outcome, but far from the best—an awkward, middling place to land.
‘How long does it take to get from the Wilbred Marquessate to the Bellion Duchy……?’
The Wilbred Marquessate lay in the west, in the southwestern region—toward the south.
And the Duchy was in the north—the very far north.
At the northernmost extreme. Even by carriage, it would take at least a month—far beyond the capital.
But no carriage on these roads traveled such distances. A month’s journey was only possible with a nobleman’s personal coach…….
‘At minimum, two to three months.’
“Here, sit here. Rose, something’s off about you today. Why are you staring like that?”
Who wouldn’t be dazed after dying and suddenly being told to beg for alms?
Rozelin simply nodded, unable to voice her thoughts.
As the girl drifted away to try another spot, Rozelin hugged her knees to her chest where she crouched, unmoving.
She stared at the empty tin cup before her, and the feeling was strange.
That Rozelin Bellion—the name once feared across the land—was now begging on a street corner.
“……Good heavens, look at that girl. She’s been sitting there like that for almost an hour.”
“I’ve never seen her face around here before…….”
“Tsk, another one? Those street vagrants the Binac Faith sponsors.”
“They do good work, but I don’t understand why they act so miserable about it.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t help the poor, I’m telling you.”
“Look at that vacant stare on her face.”
“……Yes. Such a pitiable expression.”
Passersby gossiped amongst themselves as if watching a curiosity, then gradually approached and tossed a few coins into the dented tin cup.
Of course, none of this reached Rozelin’s ears as she sat lost in thought.
Clink, clink.
Even as the coins fell with a clear ringing sound, Rozelin remained sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest.
‘I need to find Garren first, that’s settled.’
Going to him and explaining the situation would be the first step.
‘If my memory is correct, this is the past of my original world.’
Which meant the Wilbred Marquess of this timeline would have no connection to Rozelin whatsoever.
Since he wouldn’t remember her, the odds were high she’d have to start from scratch.
‘What do I even say to convince him?’
In truth, Rozelin didn’t know what Garren Wilbred actually liked.
At most, being a marquess’s wife.
And perhaps—business matters? That sort of thing?
An interesting person capable of capturing his interest?
Unfortunately, the current Rozelin fit none of these categories.
There was no reason for the Wilbred Marquess to take in a street vagabond.
Conversely, it would have been the same if the roles were reversed. Had she known nothing at that time, she doubted she would have helped Garren Wilbred if he’d suddenly asked for assistance.
‘Perhaps by telling him about a business that will prosper in the future?’
But truthfully, Garren Wilbred had a natural instinct for business and managed his affairs well enough without such information.
So future knowledge might not be as valuable a proposition as all that.
“Come now, everyone embrace the Binac Faith and walk the path of salvation together.”
“Oh, it’s the Saint Maiden.”
“Our Binac Order looks after the safety of our citizens and brings peace and wellbeing to the home. Unto the faithful, blessings descend—eternal life and good fortune.”
While Rozelin’s mind wandered, a woman in black priestly robes stepped forward into the Central Square and began to speak, her hands clasped in prayer.
At that, crowds began pouring in from all directions.
“……What is this?”
Only when Rozelin saw the throng of people did she snap out of her reverie.
‘The Binac Faith……?’
Was there a religious order by that name?
Of course, since this is the past, it’s from when I was young, so I might not remember…….
‘Something about this name smells like a cult.’
It felt like the kind of intuition Garren Wilbred would have.
……The Binac Order.
‘Come to think of it, those people just now were talking about benefactors of street vagabonds or something.’
She couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Looking down, she saw the tin cup with a dozen coins rolling around inside it.
‘I don’t know what the quota actually is…….’
Either way, Rozelin was certain that even this amount fell far short of whatever quota had been set.
‘920 Olang…….’
That was enough to buy a stale bun from a bakery.
‘…….’
She stared down at the mostly empty tin cup with displeasure.
‘Never mind, I’ll just ask that wretch Garren to donate something.’
Even if he didn’t remember her, surely he’d grudgingly spare a few coins out of sheer annoyance.
Rozelin clutched the tin cup to her chest, sprang to her feet, and tried to push through the crowd to leave the square.
“I am so overjoyed to see so many faithful followers of Binac today.”
But the throng that had gathered near her made it nearly impossible to slip away.
“Ah, a divine revelation has come to me. I shall show you a miracle through the sacred power of our god.”
“Ugh…….”
They were pressed together far too tightly—not like penguins huddled for warmth on a frozen mountain peak in the far north, but nearly as suffocating.
“Ah, Binac wishes to save this poor child. You there, young believer.”
Rozelin twisted and turned, desperately squeezing through the narrow gaps between bodies.
Was it her small stature?
By now one would think they’d step aside, yet they made no move to do so.
“……You there, little girl believer?”
‘How do I get out of here?’
She could probably escape if she abandoned the tin cup, but since it wasn’t hers, she felt uneasy about it.
“Wait, wait……! Young female believer with the tin cup!”
At the sound of the voice trembling with tears, Rozelin found herself stopping without thinking.
‘A tin cup?’
The moment that word surfaced in her mind, she lifted her head, and she felt eyes fixed on her from all around.
‘……A child?’
Up close, the Saint Maiden appeared quite young.
Of course, she seemed a little older than Rozelin was now—but still, she looked to be around twelve years old.
“You called for me?”
“Yes, please come this way. The Binac Faith says they will grant you the miracle you so desperately desire.”
Rozelin stared at the child.
Behind the child stood two figures shrouded in deep black robes.
On the surface they looked like mere attendants or servants to the Saint Maiden, but something about them felt odd.
The child’s clothes and the robes worn by the two figures bore an unusual symbol—a cross embedded atop a five-pointed star.
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Why grant it all of a sudden?”
“Because it is the ideal world that the Binac Faith pursues—to bring blessings to the unfortunate, happiness within nightmares, and salvation to earnest prayers.”
Rozelin blinked.
The pious-looking child then seized her wrist and pulled her onto a small platform, smiling.
“You have difficulty with your legs. You injured them long ago.”
“I did?”
“Yes, and the Faith will heal them for you. That was your wish, wasn’t it?”
“That’s not it.”
What was this about legs when hers were perfectly fine?
Rozelin answered flatly.
“My wish is for this tin cup to be filled with coins. And for the record, my legs are healthy.”
To demonstrate that her legs were sound, Rozelin put force into them and stomped her foot hard—Bang.
Crack—
‘……Crack?’
Creak—
In the blink of an eye, her body swayed violently, and with a splitting crackle of wood, the platform let out a tremendous crash and collapsed entirely.
“Kyaaaaahhh!!”
“…….”
“…….”
The Saint Maiden, who had screamed, rolled across the floor with Rozelin as silence descended over the square.
“My Rose. After you die, you will become stronger than any Kaluta.”
At that moment, words her old friend Sansar had spoken in a dream came back to her.
‘……This is way too strong, even for getting stronger.’
Sitting on the cold floor, Rozelin found it didn’t feel cold at all, and she opened her mouth with composure.
“……It seems my insolence displeased the Binac Faith, and divine punishment was dealt. Please accept this money and lift your displeasure…….”
After finishing these words, Rozelin set down the coin cup she’d been holding and ran at full speed toward Garren Wilbred’s estate.
Bang—!
In less than ten seconds, Rozelin fled the square at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
Leaving behind only 920 Olang in donations.
……The moment she opened her eyes, she wanted to correct what she’d been thinking.
Having died and come back to life, she’d become absurdly strong—strong enough to break other people’s property, a wretched beggar of a girl.

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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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