The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 141

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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 11
“When are you planning to go to the Imperial Capital?”
“Once I’ve set the Estate Territory in order, I’ll head there.”
“When will that be?”
“I’ll need a year. There’s the matter of registering you as my daughter, after all.”
Rozelin’s brow furrowed.
She didn’t have time to idle away a whole year like that. Her mind wasn’t settled enough for such leisure.
Each day felt rushed, and stuck here in the Marquis Territory where news from the Imperial Capital arrived late, she felt utterly stifled.
“There’s no need to be so anxious about it.”
Garren Wilbred reached out and gently tousled Rozelin’s hair.
The careful arrangement she’d managed to coax into place by scrambling onto the vanity crumbled in an instant.
“Ugh.”
She gave up.
Rozelin abandoned all pretense of neatness.
She’d never been altruistic enough to fret over someone else’s life anyway, and her dealings with Garren Wilbred were nothing but a transaction.
‘Still, it’s strange how far I’ve come with this.’
When she glanced up at Garren, he smiled warmly.
“Let’s eat something before we go.”
“Where?”
“To see Selena.”
So this was why they say late-blooming romance is dangerous.
The man was utterly smitten.
His expression was relaxed, his manner leisurely, yet beneath it all his voice carried a thin thread of anxiety.
“You’re always so eager when there’s something to do.”
“I’d rather not hear that from you.”
……
Rozelin had nothing left to say; she simply closed her mouth.
It irritated her.
* * *
“Come now, place your faith in the Binac Faith. The hour of salvation has arrived, so with deep devotion, pray earnestly…….”
The preaching of what sounded like a heretical sect drifted from the crowded Town Square, and Rozelin’s eyes narrowed.
“Is that the Binac Faith? The one that wretched father of mine eliminated?”
“Ah, yes…… Despite repeated warnings, they refused to leave the Domain, and since your father was so hesitant, we had no choice but to resort to somewhat violent methods.”
So they’d either been killed or beaten and driven out—one or the other.
Of course, since Rozelin had never heard a whisper of any survivors, it seemed safe to assume there were none.
“It seems their influence has grown far larger than before. Back then, they were little more than a small congregation.”
Garren Wilbred narrowed his eyes, watching them pass with clear displeasure.
“……And now, as I feared, something troublesome has gotten mixed up in this as well.”
Rozelin tilted her head at the soft murmur in Garren’s voice.
“What did you say?”
“Merely thinking aloud.”
It was rather bold of him to mutter loud enough for her to hear and then call it mere muttering.
“In any case, if they’ve touched you, I can’t simply leave this alone.”
“Right. Definitely not.”
Rozelin nodded firmly, and she and Garren Wilbred were passing through the Town Square when it happened.
“There, you lovely girl in that beautiful dress!”
Rozelin rubbed the back of her neck, walking peacefully down the street.
“Yes, you—the tiny lady in the Navy One-Piece Dress walking beside that splendid father figure!”
Rozelin stopped dead in her tracks.
A tiny lady in a Navy One-Piece Dress.
There was no avoiding the description.
‘Somehow this feels like something similar happened not long ago.’
Rozelin turned around slowly, wearing an expression of dread.
“Good day to you, tiny lady.”
Watching the boy who appeared to be in his teens burst through the crowd, Rozelin’s brow narrowed.
‘He looks about the same age as that so-called saint girl…….’
The boy in black priestly robes strode forward with an open smile and knelt before her without hesitation.
“I am Bizeros, the fourteenth holy apostle serving the Binac Faith, and I…….”
The boy looked up at Rozelin’s face, and he went pale.
“I’m not interested.”
Rozelin said what she had to say regardless.
“……What?”
“I have no money. I’m not buying, not selling, not believing.”
“Uh…….”
Rozelin’s lips moved without her even glancing at the young priest, who gaped like a fish in response.
Garren Wilbred, meanwhile, turned his head away, his shoulders trembling as he fought back laughter.
“W-well, money is no matter. Binac has instructed us to p-perform a Miracle for this p-pitiful devotee.”
Pitiful? Who’s pitiful?
‘Me?’
Did she still look like a beggar?
But before that—why was she shaking so much at the word “pitiful”?
“Do you perhaps have a wish?”
The young priest’s lips worked diligently as he noticed the stares fixed on Rozelin and spoke with careful concern.
“Whatever wish you might have, Binac will surely grant it for you.”
“No.”
Rozelin glanced dismissively at the priest, who spoke with his hands clasped against his chest, his tone flat.
He’d clearly meant to sound stern, but his small frame, round cheeks, and childish voice stripped away any gravity.
“What?”
“I’m not pitiful. And if I had a wish, I’d make it happen myself.”
Rozelin answered curtly, then pushed her small legs hard and spun around.
“Stop meddling where you don’t belong.”
“But…….”
“If a wish could come true through prayer, it would’ve happened long ago. I don’t believe in gods.”
Rozelin scoffed and moved toward Garren Wilbred, seizing his sleeve.
“Let’s go, you wretched father.”
“Then I’d suggest you seek another recipient for the Heretical Magic,” Garren Wilbred said smoothly, landing a perfect blow.
He delivered it with such calm precision that Rozelin had no response.
Led along by Rozelin’s small hand, Garren Wilbred let out a quiet laugh.
“This way.”
The alley grew narrower and more cramped as they walked deeper, making her frown.
“Does the countess have to pass through an alley like this to get there?”
The moment Rozelin asked, Garren Wilbred stopped in front of a shabby flower shop tucked into the alley.
“Might I buy a bunch of flowers?”
“……Flowers?”
“Ah, you mentioned before that you like the flowers sold only here.”
Not interested.
The creature inside her was thousands of years old, and here he was playing the sentimental fool.
Rozelin’s expression twisted into something that looked like she was chewing on something bitter.
* * *
Slurp—.
Rozelin sat in the tea house, blankly sucking the Orange Juice through a straw.
“Ah, so you’re the young lady of Count Hyde. I thought there was something unusual about you, but……it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Garren Wilbred of the Wilbred Marquis household.”
‘How irritating.’
Rozelin reached out and crunched on a cookie while thinking.
She’d lost count of how many times she’d had this thought today.
The man who’d been complaining about a headache from Domain matters had ridden through the night in a carriage, bought flowers at a flower shop, and now brought her to a tea house under the guise of chance meeting—all with remarkable smoothness.
Even a serpent crossing a wall would stumble more awkwardly than this.
Rozelin’s irritation at this supposedly cheerful man was bubbling up inside her to the point where she wanted to sabotage him.
‘Why did I even have to come here?’
If this was the kind of visit he wanted, he could’ve come alone.
Rozelin raised her hand and ordered an Apple Juice instead of the Orange Juice, her brow furrowing.
“Oh, so you’re the young Lord Wilbred. It’s been a while since we last met after the Academy. It’s wonderful to see you.”
The woman with water-colored hair was more beautiful and youthful than Rozelin remembered.
‘……The Marquise really does deserve that reputation.’
Being drawn into this smooth man’s scheme annoyed her to no end.
And beyond that…….
‘It’s startlingly frightening how much Perception Alteration has changed this world.’
At this point, she almost wanted to examine whether she herself had been subject to it.
Rozelin thought this through, her eyes moving slowly.
‘……There are quite a lot of Binac Faith people here too.’
They appeared sporadically in the tea houses, and wanderers passed through the streets with regularity.
People wearing bracelets or necklaces engraved with the Binac Faith’s insignia were hardly uncommon.
They seemed to be believers.
‘……Something about this feels off.’
Of course, the Empire didn’t force a single religion upon its people.
But in the time when Rozelin lived, the Temple with its High Priest had been the greatest religious power.
Yet she found it hard to believe that heretics infiltrating in this manner would be entirely benign.
‘Garren seems to have had his hand in more than I expected.’
Rozelin watched them conversing in warm harmony, their faces alight with gentle smiles, while she bit into a strawberry jam cookie and pondered.

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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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