The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 70

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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 70
Clang—!
The metallic shriek rang out even as Rozelin, hurled to the ground, pushed herself up on her hands.
“Ah…….”
“You lot—what’s the meaning of this!”
The boy threw himself at the grown men with feral intensity, despite their overwhelming size.
“…….”
Rozelin watched Arma move at a speed barely perceptible to the eye, and her own eyes widened.
He had the skill to kill even assassins of this caliber.
‘……I never knew he was this strong.’
The fact that he wasn’t hiding his power suggested he wasn’t wearing his mask at the moment.
Arma dispatched the assassins before him with brutal efficiency.
Rozelin was rising to her feet, brushing the dirt from her clothes after watching the skirmish, when it happened.
One of the men, who had seemed dead, stirred and grabbed a fallen blade from the ground—then lunged straight at Arma.
‘Ah, he’s done for.’
Even knowing it wasn’t so, the thought came to her, and she was already moving.
Thump—!
She shoved the boy aside with rough force, and in that same instant…….
Squelch.
The assassin’s blade, meant for Arma, sank into Rozelin’s ribs instead.
‘It hurts.’
The white-hot pain made her wince.
‘So this is Arma’s trauma.’
Had Rozelin not been there, Arma would have suffered a grave wound.
As she grappled him to the ground, rolling across the stone, Arma hurled his sword like a spear straight through the assassin’s skull.
Crunch.
The sound of something rupturing—like a melon split open.
‘Does the trauma disappear now? Well, I hope it does.’
The 2nd Prince, Yuldian, had mentioned it once.
Arma had developed a trauma after an assassination attempt, and for a long time afterward he couldn’t even hold a blade—had shut himself away completely.
‘I’ll call this debt repaid for helping him escape back then.’
So this time, she hoped he’d go his own way without the mask, without any of that weight.
“……Rozelin……?”
A voice trembled, barely holding together.
“Yes……, I’m fine……find yourself a good woman…….”
She’d meant to say more—something about letting her go—but her ribs burned too fiercely, and the words died in her throat.
“A physician! Get a physician! Is anyone there!!”
Rozelin clutched her aching side and slowly closed her eyes.
‘It’s just a graze, I think. I won’t die from this, will I?’
But her body had always been frail, and doubt crept in.
‘If I die, Father will dig tunnels.’
She tried to hold onto consciousness by picturing that grim, shadowed face, but her vision darkened swiftly.
“My lady! Lady Bellion! Rozelin!”
A cry, almost a scream, reached her ears.
‘So he could make that kind of sound.’
That was her last memory.
* * *
“Gasp……!”
As breath flooded back into her lungs, she lurched upright, clutching her ribs.
At the same instant, she heard the sharp intake of breath beside her, and a cry—almost a wail.
“Rozelin!”
She turned to see Cherti staring at her with hollow eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in ten days.
‘Ah……he’s grown dark again.’
Watching her father, who in her absence had become shadowed once more, Rozelin sighed.
It was understandable enough—the last ordeal had been her abduction, after all.
* * *
“……Rozelin.”
“Yes.”
“……I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be. This must be the hundredth time I’m saying it—but I’ll say it again anyway. I’m fine.”
She had returned to seventeen, to a different world.
And a day had passed.
Cherti refused to leave Rozelin’s side, and her grandfather and uncles were showing their faces three times a day.
Knock, knock.
The door swung open with the knock.
“How are you, my dear?”
Correction.
Four times a day.
“Yes, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Internal injuries can be more serious than they appear. Take care of yourself.”
She hadn’t even been in combat—where would internal injuries come from?
Rozelin had simply been kidnapped, provoked her captor during their conversation, exerted herself a bit, and then lost consciousness.
“The fact that you didn’t wake for a month means something was wrong.”
Rozelin closed her mouth without protest.
‘I can’t believe I was unconscious for a whole month.’
The news that a month had passed since she regained consciousness was simply unbelievable.
And during that month, Rozelin had been inside her past self’s body in another world.
One month.
She had lived there for a month.
A month had also passed here.
The time aligned perfectly.
‘So… while I was unconscious in my own world, my body here was remaining unconscious the entire time?’
Rozelin rubbed the bridge of her nose, her head beginning to ache.
She had only slightly furrowed her brow…
“Where does it hurt? I’ll summon the physician.”
“No, I’m all right.”
“You don’t look all right.”
“It’s just an itch.”
Rozelin let out a short sigh as she observed her father—now hypersensitive not only to her every gesture and movement but to even the smallest action.
“I really am fine, Father.”
“…I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not dead. I’ll let you know before I go.”
At Rozelin’s matter-of-fact words, Cherti’s brow furrowed.
“Don’t speak nonsense. Don’t even think of dying.”
“That’s right, my dear. If you die, I can’t handle this man. Do you know how many times he nearly lost control while you were unconscious?”
“Father.”
Cherti hurried to cut off Devon Bellion’s words.
Devon Bellion crossed his arms, let out a scoff, glanced at his youngest son, and sighed.
Rozelin observed Cherti thoughtfully, then shrugged.
She leaned her back against the headboard and opened her mouth at leisure.
“Grandfather, what about that one? Makruksa?”
At Rozelin’s question, Devon Bellion observed her for a moment before shrugging.
“The 3rd Prince said he would handle it himself. He’s confining him using his own Abyss.”
“His Abyss…?”
“Yes, he wouldn’t reveal what kind of Abyss it is. Only that he’s keeping him, and asked that you tell him when you wake.”
Devon Bellion’s distinctly colored tricolored eyes slowly swept across Rozelin.
“I’m at least glad you seem to be unharmed.”
He exhaled a breath of relief, then opened his mouth with a clearly reluctant expression.
“I know your body must be fatigued, but if you’re well enough, might we speak for a moment?”
“Yes, and as you can see, I’m perfectly well.”
“I apologize—your body must be exhausted.”
“My body is fine, so I can listen.”
“I’ve prepared a Vitality Tonic good for restoring vigor. Take it faithfully morning and evening.”
“Did you perhaps not hear me say my body is fine? In any case, thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. It’s only natural.”
Rozelin nodded slowly.
Devon Bellion sat in the chair the servants had brought.
Rozelin, who had been sitting comfortably on the bed, now felt slightly less at ease.
“Kaluta has drawn a line, saying he won’t consent to negotiations as an envoy without you. He said there’s no Kaluta who would enjoy himself while his close friend is in pain. So the atmosphere right now is rather tense.”
“…I see.”
They might say that much, but both sides have surely already done some behind-the-scenes work.
The bonds between nations aren’t so easily forged, after all.
“Tsk, animals with good instincts for what serves them.”
Devon clicked his tongue.
“Where is Kaluta?”
“He insisted on staying at your residence, so now he’s taken over the Annex.”
At Devon’s explanation, Rozelin nodded slowly.
From the imperial perspective, the royal court wouldn’t be pleased that Kaluta’s diplomatic mission—officially guests of The Empire—was lodged at the ducal manor.
Yet the reason they turned a blind eye to it was likely because Rozelin held the position of fiancée to the 3rd Prince and bore the title of “Diplomat.”
“I’ll arrange to meet with him.”
“No. You needn’t move. We’ll have him brought here instead.”
“Understood. How are things progressing with the trade agreement between us and Kaluta?”
At Rozelin’s question, Devon exchanged a glance with his youngest son.
“That’s gone better than expected, thanks to your prior coordination. Their refining skill truly is exceptional.”
Cherti spoke.
After collaborating with them once or twice, Cherti came to understand why Rozelin had recommended them.
For one thing, their mastery of minerals and grasp of their fundamental nature was remarkable.
They possessed an animal’s instinct for striking the precise temperature, and their sinewy arms—strong as a giant’s—wielded their hammers against iron with a technique that was far from ordinary.
“So everything is proceeding smoothly?”
“…Yes. At this rate, mass production should be possible within a short time.”
At Cherti’s affirmation, Rozelin nodded.
‘It seems I’ve handled most of it.’
Except for Makruksa.
Likely, no one save Rozelin currently knew who led Makruksa.
After all, she herself had never imagined that man could be their leader.
“Oh, what of the plague?”
Lost in thought, Rozelin suddenly lifted her head as if recalling Yuldian’s advance post, and asked.

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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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