The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 131

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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, Episode 1
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Rozelin was deeply flustered. She’d been running without pause for what felt like ten minutes, yet her breath hadn’t even quickened.
‘……How strange.’
What had it been like before?
The slightest exertion would bring on fever, the merest chill would leave her battling infection or sickness. Her body had been so weak that she’d faint at the slightest provocation.
It must have been frustrating for those who watched her, but Rozelin herself had been desperately frustrated.
Yet now, how different it was.
Her body had never felt so light.
Each step came effortlessly, her legs obeyed without hesitation, and the landscape blurred past in her wake as she ran.
The sheer satisfaction of it drove her onward without rest, even as her breath rose to her throat, and she found herself lost in thought.
‘But then……why did I end up in the Wilbred Marquis Territory instead of the Imperial Capital?’
She’d hoped for at least the Ducal Capital, somewhere that would make it easy to contact allies or gather information.
The Imperial Capital was somewhere Garren Wilbred frequented.
‘……But was the Wilbred Mansion always like this?’
This shabby, this poorly maintained?
Rozelin knew Garren Wilbred’s character well.
After enough conversation, after enough bickering back and forth, a person’s true nature inevitably reveals itself.
Garren Wilbred’s nature bordered on obsessive.
He detested filth, and was equally unimpressed by noise.
‘Though this is my first visit to the Marquis Territory…….’
Usually, a look at his residence in the Imperial Capital would tell you everything about his character.
And so Rozelin felt an odd sense of discord about the situation.
She slowed her pace and looked around carefully.
‘He married the Marchioness, didn’t he…….’
If her memory served, there was a fair chance he’d be deep in newlywed bliss about now.
‘I don’t see the Marchioness either.’
She’d heard the Marchioness had a hobby of tending the gardens.
After some deliberation, Rozelin ventured closer, and the guards stationed before the gate turned to look at her.
“What’s this, little one? This is no place for you to wander about freely. Unless you fancy a beating, be on your way.”
“I’ve come to see the Wilbred Marquis. If I could have a word relayed to him, perhaps you’d let me inside?”
“Tsk, didn’t you hear what I just said? This is where the lord resides. Begone.”
“Then I’d be grateful if you’d at least deliver a message to him.”
Rozelin spoke steadily, her tone measured.
The arrogance in their manner, the contempt in their gaze—it pricked her pride.
Yet at the same time, she reminded herself they were merely doing their duty.
A scrawny, bedraggled beggar-child turning up asking to see the master didn’t look reasonable from any angle.
No matter how sharp her tone was.
“Tell him someone from the Bellion Family Estate has come calling.”
Rozelin lifted her chin, her face the very picture of arrogance as she spoke.
Of course, there was no dignity in the words when spoken by a gaunt child in threadbare clothes, barely clothed against the chill—but the tone was unmistakable.
“……The Bellion Family Estate?”
“Look, you may be some beggar spouting tales you overheard, but the lord doesn’t meet with just anyone who——”
“Listen.”
Rozelin’s expression hardened, her brow creasing sharply before settling into cold rigidity.
In that iron visage lay barely concealed irritation, and her gaze was one accustomed to looking down on others with contempt.
“I’ve given a single order: go and relay the message. Do my words amuse you?”
“But, we’ve not confirmed your station…….”
“I’m of the Distant Branch of the Bellion Family. I’ve come to request the Marquis’s assistance.”
For now, since she had nothing else to sell, she’d sell the Bellion name itself.
Once Garren appeared, they could align their story.
Given how much Garren enjoyed intrigue, merely satisfying his curiosity would ensure he didn’t cast her out immediately.
I crossed my arms and gave a small nod.
“Any further questions?”
“……Ah, no. No, sir. I’ll deliver the message at once.”
The two guards exchanged glances, their faces uncertain, yet they answered with formal deference. This much was natural enough.
None of them wished to be accused of insulting nobility.
One of them, still hesitant to the last, finally turned and made his way inside.
For someone claiming to be of the Distant Branch of a ducal house, her appearance was remarkably shabby—matted hair as if unwashed for a month, cheeks smudged with grime. Rozelin herself could hardly deny it.
Yet it was also too bold, too arrogant to dismiss her as no noble at all. Her bearing was impeccably upright, and her gaze carried the unmistakable habit of looking down on others.
A guard had to be perceptive.
Being the first to greet visitors, they had to judge whether to welcome someone as a “guest” or turn them away as an “uninvited caller.”
“I beg your pardon, but your appearance is rather…….”
The remaining guard, still uncertain, asked carefully.
“I’ll be telling the Marquis about this anyway, so I’d suggest you not worry about it.”
Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how to explain it myself.
‘I’m hungry.’
Rozelin thought this while repeatedly clenching and unclenching her small fists.
‘The weather is this cold, yet I don’t feel cold at all.’
The Abyss that Sansar had spoken of—the one you could only obtain through death—was clearly this healthy body.
‘Do the people of Kaluta always feel like this?’
Just by lightly dragging her feet, she’d shattered a platform, and even running at full speed without pause for over ten minutes left her unburdened by exhaustion.
Having spent a lifetime bound to medicine, this sensation was utterly foreign and novel to Rozelin.
‘Is the name Rose just a coincidence?’
Her own real nickname had been Rose, after all.
‘Dealing with that smooth-tongued man again—how exhausting.’
He would smile irritably and subtly pry, fishing for information bit by bit.
“Miss, his Lordship has ordered me to bring you to him.”
“Ah, I see.”
I nodded and followed the guard.
The closer I drew, the stronger my sense of discord grew.
The garden wasn’t entirely neglected, yet it couldn’t be called particularly well-maintained either.
The mansion’s doors didn’t seem to match the refined tastes of the noble Marquis at all.
‘About twenty years ago, perhaps?’
Even so, it didn’t suit that man’s aesthetic.
It looked rather aged, and to put it bluntly…… somewhat provincial.
Rozelin moved her short legs briskly as she entered the mansion, scratching her cheek with an odd expression.
‘Has he only recently inherited the marquis title?’
If so, it was quite possible he hadn’t yet had the chance to renovate or remake the estate.
After all, the interior was filled with what looked like antiques from a sixty-year-old grandfather’s collection, giving the whole place an air of antiquity.
It clashed entirely with that elegant, refined man’s taste.
“…….”
Rozelin’s eyes darted about as she followed behind.
Why did a faintly unsettling feeling well up from her lower back?
‘Surely I haven’t traveled too far back in time?’
If I’d fallen into some mad world where no one existed…….
A chill crept up her spine, and Rozelin trembled involuntarily.
‘That can’t be it.’
Rozelin shook her head firmly.
“This way, Miss.”
“All right.”
“I should mention beforehand that his Lordship’s health is not good at present. I would be grateful if you would exercise caution.”
“……Not well? What do you mean, and where?”
Had that man caught a cold or something?
“A chronic illness, miss.”
“……I see.”
A chronic illness?
Why would he have that?
He seemed like the sort of man who would come back to life over and over, even unto death.
“……Understood.”
Though troubled, I gave my answer.
‘……Why?’
A chronic illness, no less.
How old was that man anyway?
‘Could it be that in the old days, he was sickly like me……?’
I watched quietly as the guard gave a soft knock and announced his arrival.
“Come in.”
Hmm? Something feels off.
As I sensed this, the door opened.
The guard who had led the way watched me enter, then quietly closed the door behind me.
And the moment Rozelin stepped inside, she froze.
“So you said you came from the Bellion Family Estate?”
“…I’m sorry?”
“I’ve never heard of the Distant Branch, but might I ask who you are?”
And who exactly are you?
Rozelin stared at the old man—his hair white as snow, his bearing dignified and warm, his gaze kind—and found herself standing with her mouth agape.

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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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