The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 86

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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 86
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The first thing Rozelin saw when she opened her eyes after burning with fever was some man.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rozelin of Bellion.”
“……How strange—we truly are meeting for the first time.”
Rozelin regarded this man, whom she had never encountered in either her past life or this one, with a distinctly reluctant expression.
“I heard your health was not what it should be, so I came to pay my respects.”
“Well, that’s kind of you, but…….”
Rozelin surveyed the white-haired man before her slowly, eyes narrowed to slits.
He wore pristine priestly vestments, though he had the appearance of someone rather disheveled.
Like a researcher locked away in some laboratory after years of work, his spotless priestly robes hung loosely on him, and his hair stuck up in wild tufts, as though he’d just woken from sleep.
Heavy dark circles shadowed the skin beneath his eyes, and exhaustion seemed to emanate from his entire frame.
Between his snow-white hair and the pale grey of his irises, the man appeared monochromatic—colorless and uniform.
Save for the jet-black pupils, black was scarcely visible anywhere about him.
His long hair was twisted into a single braid that hung past his priestly robes, and even generously judged, he looked like a man in his thirties who had been ground down mercilessly by work.
The Light Blue Gemstone Necklace hung about his neck caught her eye especially.
Had he not worn piercings on his lips and ears and elsewhere, she would have taken him for someone utterly unremarkable—so austere and plain was his appearance.
“My appearance is rather a mess, I’m afraid. I do apologize.”
With a weary expression, he laughed weakly, a hollow sound, before speaking.
“The Bellion household sent word in the dead of night, threatening to cut off all support if their young lady were to die…….”
“……Ah.”
So he too was a tragic salaryman of this cruel world.
The thought crossed Rozelin’s mind in that moment.
“Do you know me?”
“Are you not a Priest?”
“That’s correct.”
The man laughed lightly, then scratched the back of his head before curling his lips into a gentle smile.
“I am Irbon, the High Priest. Though I’ve only held the position for five years, so I’m still something of a novice at it.”
Rozelin went very still.
High Priest Irbon.
Though she was seeing his face for the first time, she had heard no shortage of rumors about him.
“I see…….”
Rozelin replied flatly to his subdued tone, her voice dripping with indifference.
“Is false modesty the fashion these days?”
She couldn’t fathom why everyone she encountered insisted on hiding their true nature.
‘The High Priest surely isn’t naturally like this.’
At Rozelin’s words, the High Priest tilted his head with a puzzled “Yes?” before his expression grew melancholy and his head sank low.
“You’re terribly cold, my lady. I myself was forcibly roused at dawn by your father’s knights and transported here against my will.”
“And you were handsomely compensated for the trouble.”
“……Well, I suppose that’s fair.”
The High Priest laughed awkwardly at Rozelin’s cutting remark.
In truth, this High Priest was the most deranged person Rozelin knew.
It hadn’t been openly displayed yet—they were keeping it quiet—but he was an addict.
An addict to what, you ask?
Gambling.
Alcohol.
Nicotine.
Money.
In short, he indulged in every vice imaginable.
The High Priest was traditionally selected from those whom God favored most greatly—those possessed of the greatest Healing Abyss—but unfortunately, this particular High Priest was this man.
Mad for gambling, mad for drink, mad for cigarettes.
This was a man for whom money mattered more than women, more than honor.
And the High Priest……gambled away money meant to operate the Temple.
He had surely rushed here in desperation expecting to scrape together some modest payment.
“How much did you lose this time, that you came rushing here at dawn?”
“……My, I’ve heard rumors that you leave quite perceptive traces of insight, but it seems there’s nothing that escapes you.”
He scratched his disheveled hair with a rueful expression.
As Rozelin stared at him with the gaze one reserves for utterly hopeless souls, Irbon, the High Priest, opened his mouth with a shabby smile.
“I lost rather significantly this time. Half of the Temple’s operating funds for this cycle…….”
Of course he had.
To put it bluntly, this man would do anything for money—it made no difference whether the task was criminal or virtuous.
Conversely, with enough coin, he became remarkably loyal.
He was a hedonist of a different stripe than Geren—one who valued his money more than his own life.
If you paid him well enough, he deployed his talents without hesitation, and so long as your purse was deep, his loyalty held firm.
In short, he was a man to be used according to circumstance.
“Do you need money?”
“Well, what do you think?”
“How much?”
“Mm, quite a bit, actually?”
Quite a bit. What did that even mean?
Rozelin rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
How such a corrupt wretch had managed to become High Priest despite his nature—that was the real puzzle.
First, it was due to his Healing Abyss, which was incomparably more potent than anyone else’s.
Yet even accounting for that, there were other candidates comparable to him among the Temple’s ranks.
Surely the previous High Priest and the senior priests were well aware of his defects.
And yet he had ascended without opposition.
The reason lay in another Abyss he possessed.
There were Abysses that bloomed naturally from birth, and there were Abysses acquired through certain conditions in later life.
What made him uniquely suited for the High Priesthood was that he commanded two distinct Abysses.
One was acquired in his later years.
The other had blossomed innately within him.
He wielded a formidable Defense Abyss.
That was why, despite his slovenly appearance and carrying vast sums of coin, his body bore not a single scar.
And it was largely thanks to the High Priest’s efforts that the Empire had fared as well as it had during the war with Kaluta.
‘Now that I think about it, there was quite a prestigious horse race around this time.’
The first prize was substantial, yet no one had claimed it.
“Has something come up requiring large sums? Perhaps you’re considering placing bets on a high-stakes horse race.”
“……Our lady certainly knows a great deal, doesn’t she?”
The High Priest’s mood seemed to sour slightly, and he opened his mouth with a thin smile.
“What if I helped you earn a fortune?”
“……Mm?”
“I’ll lend you money too. If you win at the races, return what you borrowed; if you lose, you needn’t repay a thing.”
This was a method Rozelin had intended to use herself to amass wealth, but burdening this man with debt struck her as not entirely disadvantageous either.
“Hmm, you wish to strike a bargain with me? What is it you want?”
He pushed his spectacles up with a click, asking.
“First: your cooperation with Father’s experiments. He’s developing a new product—just keep quiet and lend your support.”
“And second?”
“Yes, the other thing is…….”
Rozelin smiled.
“Become my subordinate.”
“……Ha, you’re asking me—of all people—to become your subordinate?”
“That’s right. I need someone I can trust as both a bodyguard and a capable hand, and you’re a master of disguise, after all.”
At Rozelin’s arrogant words, the High Priest’s eyes grew sharp and dangerous.
“And here I thought we’d only just met—speaking so freely, crossing every line.”
Rozelin rose from the bed, opened a wardrobe, and began pulling out objects one by one, dropping them onto the floor with dull thuds. They were gleaming Gold Bars.
As the pile grew past thirty, the High Priest’s mouth fell open in silent shock.
“Ah, this is tedious. Take all the Gold Bars in here.”
Rozelin gestured dismissively with her head.
“……Ahem.”
He suppressed the corners of his mouth as they twitched upward, then crept forward and surveyed the Gold Bars scattered across the floor and within the wardrobe, before breaking into a broad grin.
“Ahem, if one invests all this wisely, one could become fabulously wealthy, couldn’t one?”
“In the horse race next week, bet everything on number seven……no, actually, on a beige-coated horse named Bisan.”
“……Bisan? Isn’t that the horse retiring this season? I heard its record’s been dismal, and they’re sending it out one last time before it’s put down…….”
The High Priest furrowed his brow in objection.
Rozelin recalled information quite similar to what she already knew, and nodded.
The Empire held one large, legally sanctioned horse race each year.
It could be thought of as one of the state-sponsored festivals—accessible to everyone from nobility to commoners alike.
So during this season, information about the competing horses circulated quietly through various channels.
“Yes, invest everything in that.”
“But no diversification? Even at this scale, if you just diversified…….”
“I’m leaving.”
Since the Empire-wide festival allowed anyone to participate, the stakes were substantial.
There were rare stories of people who’d wagered on promising horses and completely turned their lives around—which meant that by this season, almost everyone who’d come of age would place at least a modest bet.
“No, but what if we lose everything like this…?”
“My dad and grandfather have plenty of money.”
At Rozelin’s thoughtless remark—the kind only a silver spoon could make—Irbon’s expression turned bemused.
“You’ve got nothing to lose, anyway, haven’t you? If you don’t owe it, you don’t have to repay it. If you want to bet, just place your own wager separately.”
“…Well, I suppose that’s true… All right, I understand.”
Since her words weren’t entirely without merit, he set out from the manor with a reluctant expression, Gold Bars in hand.
And not long after,
“Master~! What can this humble servant help you with?”
Irbon arrived before Rozelin, his face rosy and plump with good health—no dark circles—beaming cheerfully.

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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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