The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 19

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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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Chapter 19
Rozelin’s eyes had widened with genuine astonishment, vast and unblinking.
Her expression was one of sincere shock.
“……Your granddaughter?”
“……Ah, yes.”
Rozelin blinked and answered.
She had never, not once in all her days, questioned whether she was truly an illegitimate child of the Bellion Family.
“Why wouldn’t I be an illegitimate child? It’s clearly written in the registry…….”
“And it’s written there correctly. You are my one and only granddaughter, and Cherti Bellion’s sole daughter—that much is true.”
Devon, who had been pursing his lips to elaborate, placed a cigar between his teeth instead.
He had decided this was a matter best left unspoken before a third party.
“Ask your father for the details.”
Rozelin nodded slowly.
Even she thought this was not the sort of thing one wished to hear from another’s lips.
‘Why, exactly?’
Now that she thought about it—why had she ever come to believe she was illegitimate?
Rozelin pondered this.
‘Father never told me directly.’
They had rarely faced each other, after all.
And yet as a child, Rozelin had searched endlessly for reasons.
Why her father despised her, why he loathed her.
“So then…… this old grandfather hasn’t received your answer yet.”
At the sound of his voice, Rozelin snapped back from her thoughts and nodded.
“Yes.”
It was a lie.
She had no such ability.
But claiming she possessed the Abyss—the power to see futures—would make her work considerably easier, and so she had settled on that course.
“As I thought.”
“Yes.”
Devon Bellion nodded with satisfaction.
“But grandfather.”
“Mm?”
Devon Bellion’s head came up eagerly at finally hearing that proper form of address.
“What is it? Do you have a request for me?”
“Yes.”
“Speak freely.”
Rozelin offered a small, polite word of thanks with an expressionless face, then opened her mouth.
“Would you mind putting out that cigar? The smell is rather bothersome.”
At Rozelin’s words, the cigar Devon held dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
Caught off-guard by an answer he had not anticipated, his fingers went slack.
He quickly pressed his foot against it to extinguish it, unwilling to show his discomposure.
When Devon lifted his head again with composed dignity, a thin veil of contempt flickered across Rozelin’s features.
It was the expression one might wear upon witnessing some pitiful adult spitting on the sidewalk in broad daylight.
He let out an awkward sigh and lowered his gaze.
* * *
Cherti Bellion had seldom attended formal gatherings.
Save for the one occasion when, after his coming-of-age ceremony, he had been forcibly dragged to a ball and stood there immobile as a monument.
Despite being well past forty, he could count on one hand the number of times he had attended such functions or moved in social circles at all.
For this reason, Rozelin Bellion had likewise never undergone a proper debutante presentation.
There was no one to attend to such details with care, and moreover, she herself harbored little interest in such matters.
Most significantly, she had been chronically ill since childhood, and her father had always disapproved of her going anywhere at all.
Rozelin lowered her gaze and began unfolding letters one by one—each creased and crumpled as though it had been balled up in frustration.
[Rozelin, I heard you’re attending the gathering in the Imperial Capital. If the seat beside you should happen to be empty……]
[Since I never had a proper debutante and I’m anxious about it, would it be alright if we went to this gathering together…….]
[How about attending the gathering with me? I worry that if you went alone, something might happen…….]
[I’m afraid you might collapse again. Would you consider going to the gathering with me? Of course, I’m probably a burden to you, so you can refuse. But if it would help, I could have you wear more Control Devices for safety…… Damn it…….]
[I’m sorry, but this gathering I’m going to with
father.
…….]
The pile before her was filled with papers crumpled and creased in precisely this manner.
And the butler Din had come this afternoon to deliver it to her.
Rozelin exhaled slowly.
‘What’s the point of wearing more Control Devices?’
Control Devices weren’t beneficial for Ability Users.
They forcibly suppressed one’s power, and the more you wore them, the more excruciating the Abyss became—or so she’d heard.
A sensation of strength draining bit by bit, leaving you hollowed out.
Considering such things, the Emperor, the Duke of Bellion, and her father—all wearing multiple Control Devices with unflappable composure—were truly formidable people.
‘Perhaps that’s why Father’s face always looks so haggard.’
In the final letter, the word “father” was almost scribbled over entirely.
She knew he wasn’t indecisive by nature; if anything, he was far too cautious.
‘Though I suppose if he weren’t careful, his ability would be lethal.’
Yet here he was, having drafted over ten letters only to crumple them all and throw them away.
‘Like love letters, no less.’
Incidentally, Rozelin hadn’t received a single one of them.
Looking back now, it seemed her father wasn’t entirely at ease either.
And Rozelin found the whole thing deeply frustrating.
So without further deliberation, she made straight for her father.
Despite being the heir to the Bellion Family Estate, he stubbornly insisted on a room in the basement.
Of course, she’d heard he hadn’t chosen to become heir willingly.
The eldest was a blood-mad berserker, forever chasing wars; the second was a reckless drunk who never set foot in the house—so her father was all that remained.
‘As if he were a mole or something, living down there.’
Which meant they hardly ever met.
Cherti Bellion rarely emerged from the basement, and Rozelin had no reason to venture into that pit.
She descended the dim basement stairs with a grimace.
‘No wonder it feels so oppressive—a person living in a place like this.’
She clicked her tongue and shook her head with disapproval.
As she went deeper, the light at least brightened, as if someone actually dwelled there.
The cool air of the basement rose to meet her. It had originally been a converted dungeon.
She’d heard the new dungeon had been moved beneath the annex.
Passing through corridors still thick with that characteristic basement dampness, she traced her memory and located his room.
She pressed her ear lightly against the door to sense any presence, then knocked a couple of times.
“Go away. You’re bothering me.”
……
Rozelin’s eyes widened slightly.
Without a response, she knocked again.
“I said get out! Don’t be such a pain—if you want to rot away addicted to something, then find somewhere else…!”
The door swung open.
Cherti Bellion, his face contorted as he raised his voice, suddenly went slack-jawed, his eyes widening.
“Somewhere… somewhere…”
Seeing Rozelin’s composed face, he stumbled over his words.
“Somewhere safe to train. Without… without killing.”
His mouth, which had been rambling frantically in an attempt at damage control, produced something utterly bizarre.
Cherti wanted to strike his own lips and quickly opened them again.
“…What brings you here? Haven’t I always told you not to carelessly come down to a place like this? If you catch something and spend days complaining and ill, it’ll be such a nuisance…”
Cherti was seized by the urge to bite his own tongue.
When he grew tense, stray thoughts tumbled out without any way to stop them.
That’s why he found words more manageable than speech.
Letters were easier than conversation, and reading books was preferable to attending lectures.
Because a letter could be written, considered at length, carefully weighed, and then sent.
“So Father has worried since I was young and sickly that I might fall ill from the bad basement air?”
Rozelin, watching him with an expressionless face, laid it bare.
At that, Cherti faltered.
……
“I thought you wanted me to leave because you dislike me.”
“…That was just a slip of the tongue.”
Cherti Bellion’s lips trembled, then he closed his mouth again, realizing that anything he said would sound off.
He wanted to be a perfect parent to his daughter—wanting for nothing.
But he’d bungled everything.
All of it.
“Should I keep standing here, or may I come in?”
“……All right.”
He nodded and turned to face his own room, only to recoil slightly at the sight of it in complete disarray. Steadying himself, he planted his feet firmly in the doorway.
“No, let’s go upstairs instead.”
“I’d rather stay here. I’m exhausted.”
“Then the sitting room next door——”
His lips had begun to move when he recalled the countless toxins stored in that sitting room, and he closed his mouth again.
“Never mind.”
He thought quickly.
But the basement held little besides his own quarters and that sitting room.
Next to it was the laboratory.
Beyond that, the training hall where he practiced controlling the Abyss.
And then there was the bleak dining area.
‘And next to that… where the poisons are kept……’
Cherti’s face darkened as the thought took hold.
There was nowhere suitable to take a child.

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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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