The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 52

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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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Episode 52
Rozelin exhaled a short sigh.
“I’m going to rest for a bit. My head is aching.”
“Ah, yes. Go ahead. Shall I call a physician?”
Ever since that day, her head and eyes had been troubling her on and off.
‘Why is this happening again?’
She grimaced and pressed her temples with the heel of her hand. At her slight nod, the maid beside her stepped forward.
“Miss, allow me to escort you to your quarters.”
“…Very well.”
The moment she took a step, the world lurched into a spin.
‘What’s wrong with this wretched body…’
A voice like a scream called her name, but Rozelin couldn’t answer before collapsing outright.
What a pathetic, fragile vessel she had become.
* * *
“…What is this?”
When Rozelin’s eyes snapped open, no amount of rubbing could clear the haze before her, and she frowned slightly.
Crackle.
At the faint sound, Rozelin’s body gave a violent start.
She drew her brows together and breathed deeply.
Her body tensed instinctively.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
There are certain things that stir up unpleasant memories.
Rozelin’s years in hiding had never been pleasant. If she dug deep enough, there might have been good moments, but nothing beyond that.
Moreover, Rozelin was objectively beautiful, which meant there were many who sought her out.
Yet she had survived nonetheless.
But there were certain things even she could not escape.
Such as the time when she was dragged into the Imperial Palace and her freedom was stripped away.
“I wonder—don’t you ever wish to hear what sound a person makes when you pluck out their eyes, noble lady?”
“…”
“I’m curious, you see. Whether that proud lady who slipped through so many fingers might beg me for her life.”
“From that vulgar, cheap tongue of yours, I can guess why you’re rotting in this foul, filthy Underground Dungeon. It suits you perfectly, I’d say.”
Even under relentless and sinister torture, Rozelin laughed at her tormentor openly.
“…Kgh! Your life hangs on these dirty, contemptible hands, and still you dare show such insolence! I could kill you whenever I please! Whenever I please!”
“No, you cannot. The Emperor won’t allow it. If you killed me, you’d be flayed alive for it.”
Sometimes she laughed like someone unhinged.
“Should I spell it out for someone as stupid as you? Even like this, I’m still above a wretch like you—you exist in the gutter, far deeper than I ever could.”
“You—you bastard! Do you know who I am? Here, I am a god! You will all grovel before me and beg for your lives! If you just confess what you know! You will…!”
“Hah, being the king rat in the sewer suits you well. Do enjoy it for as long as you can.”
Sometimes she cut straight to the heart of what angered him.
“Filthy creature, do you think I don’t know how you and your kind survive out there! Come now, let’s see how long you can keep that proud chin held high…!”
“Every word from your mouth reeks of the sewer. And I have no reason to entertain a wretch like you.”
Thud.
That day, Rozelin lost one eye and cauterized the wound with heated iron.
“…Er, are you quite all right?”
Haunting memories could surface from a voice alone.
Rozelin clenched her jaw and blinked once.
“Your vision is a bit hazy at present, isn’t it? It’s a lingering effect. The burn was quite the shock, it seems.”
“…”
“Have you suffered burns before? Your body shows no outward marks, but sometimes when there is trauma connected to fire, the mind may produce strange reactions even when the body is unharmed. Rest assured—you’ll be fine once you’ve calmed yourself.”
That familiar voice was smoother than she remembered, with none of the rough edge and metallic rasp it once had.
“You… who are you?”
“Ah, I am Asidore, a mid-rank priest dispatched here from the Temple by imperial order.”
Asidore.
Only then did Rozelin give a small smile and lift her shoulders slightly.
“I see. Thank you for helping me.”
“Not at all—as a servant of the divine, it is only my duty.”
“A servant of the divine, you say…”
Rozelin murmured low, turning the memory over in her mind.
People say that the human mind tends to discard unpleasant memories quickly, but Rozelin had always been the opposite.
The worse the memory, the longer she held onto it.
Turn it over and over, again and again, all to seize that one fleeting moment and wring the life from it.
It was a held breath, a vigil for the day of vengeance that might arrive without warning.
In the world Rozelin remembered, Asidore had worked as a torturer in the Underground Dungeon under the name Sing.
A torturer who could never ascend to the surface.
Sing possessed the Abyss of Healing despite his work as a torturer—a remarkable talent in a grotesquely disfigured man.
He was burned, devastated. The skin across his entire body had melted away into ruin, and the damage had reached his vocal cords; his voice carried a perpetual rasp, as if metal scraped against his throat and phlegm rattled beneath each word.
Quite a horrifying sight, in short.
‘He was a priest once.’
She had suspected as much.
Most who devoted themselves to the Temple possessed the Abyss of Healing.
And the stronger one’s Divine Power, the more potent the Abyss became.
Ordinarily, the Abyss awakened in individuals through innate talent alone.
Yet there was one exception—an Abyss one could receive even without natural aptitude: the Abyss of Healing.
Even so, not everyone could obtain it. One needed Divine Power to devote oneself to the Temple, and only upon becoming a Child of God through that devotion could one receive it.
“It’s rather a pity I cannot see the face of one who has helped me so.”
She had wanted to know what he looked like before.
“You’ll be able to see soon enough. Simply rest without worry, sleep through the night, and you’ll be recovered when you wake.”
“Yes, I do look forward to that.”
Rozelin answered at her leisure, her head turning slowly.
‘Now that I think of it, there was a priest sentenced to burning.’
The charge had been clear enough.
‘He had dabbled in Forbidden Sorcery.’
Capital punishment typically took only two forms: hanging and beheading.
Hanging was usually inflicted on the nobility, beheading on commoners.
Burning, among these, was the penalty prescribed for those who reached toward forbidden dark magic or black sorcery—the evil depths.
‘That he survived it at all is remarkable.’
He had preserved his stubborn life only to become a torturer who would never see daylight again.
His disposition would have every right to be foul.
“But you mentioned an imperial decree a moment ago. Isn’t this a duke’s residence?”
“Yes, this is the Imperial Capital. You received orders to present yourself before His Majesty and were traveling here when you collapsed… You don’t remember?”
Rozelin’s brow furrowed.
‘Ah, that’s right.’
She rubbed her temples slowly with her palm. Her mind seemed rather scattered lately.
“How many days has it been?”
“Today marks the fourth day.”
“…My father must be in an uproar.”
Rozelin recalled how she’d soothed Cherti when he’d rushed away like a tragic heroine, and she sank under the weight of exhaustion.
“Then I shall take my leave. In truth, there was little I could do beyond restoring your strength. Should you need anything, there’s a bell-pull beside the side table—simply pull it.”
Rozelin nodded at the explanation. Revenge or anything else—first the body had to heal before anything could be done.
Click.
The door closed.
‘What remains is the disappearance case.’
It was time for the culprit to emerge.
The disappearance and the arson cases shared the same root.
Once the arson began in earnest, the perpetrator behind the disappearances would soon follow suit.
‘I wonder what became of the plague.’
Rozelin was exhaling in frustration when it happened.
Click.
The sound of a doorknob turning reached her ears.
Rozelin’s body went rigid.
Blindness had become something like a trauma for her now.
The torturer Sing had possessed a particularly vile nature.
He had delighted in the terror that seized sightless prisoners.
And Rozelin had made it her quiet business never to afford him that pleasure.
Someone drew near and stopped abruptly beside her bed.
……
In silence, with no gesture following, not even the faintest rustle of movement reached her.
Then Rozelin felt a large, warm hand settle upon her forehead.
It swept slowly across her cheek and tidied her disheveled hair in a single motion before withdrawing gradually.
‘Who is this?’
Rozelin pretended to sleep to keep from revealing that she was awake.
The careful touch of his hand did not feel as though he meant to cause her harm.
“Rozelin….”
The moment his hand grasped hers, a voice echoed in her mind and a vision bloomed before her—her eyes widened behind closed lids.

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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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