The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 93

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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 93
He gaped as if unable to believe what he was hearing, then swept his eyes over Arma from head to toe before settling into a composed expression and gently shaking the bell on the sofa table.
An attendant from outside entered the room.
“Is there something you require, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
He nodded calmly.
“My youngest brother appears to be unwell. Bring the physician at once.”
“Yes, Your Highness—”
“I want to be Emperor, so please cede the Crown Prince Position to me.”
Arma cut through Silvran’s rambling without hesitation and spoke his piece plainly.
The Emperor had told Arma to obtain Silvran’s consent.
No doubt it was meant as payment to him—who had lived all this time beneath the weight of a Crown Prince Position he’d never even held.
“…My brother has lost his mind, and thoroughly so. You there! Fetch Father’s personal physician this instant!”
“I wish to be Emperor.”
Silvran pressed the back of his hand to Arma’s forehead.
“No fever, which is odd. Perhaps something in what you ate disagreed with you. When the physician arrives, I’ll ask about today’s menu. I need to find out if there was any problem with the dishes—”
“Brother, I’m not joking. I want to be Emperor.”
At Arma’s calm yet firm words, Silvran’s theatrical fussing gave way to a frown.
Arma had always kept a step back from the machinations of the Imperial Capital, unwilling to entangle himself in their affairs.
“You want to be Emperor?”
“Yes. So please relinquish the Crown Prince Position.”
He silently brushed back the hair that had fallen across his face.
“You want to be Emperor, so I should surrender my position to you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you truly think that’s something to say to me?”
His eyes sharpened, fixing themselves on Arma. Arma met that gaze steadily.
“What sudden wind has blown this idea into your head?”
Silvran’s voice dropped lower, colored with curiosity.
“I’ve come to care for someone.”
Something flickered across Silvran’s eyes.
“Then surrender the Crown Prince Position.”
“……”
“You didn’t have much ambition for it anyway. I promise you a life of duties foregone and rights upheld.”
Silvran pressed down on his churning chest. An odd displeasure rose within him.
Though he’d never clung to the throne as Arma suggested, the seat felt as though it should belong to him and him alone.
Then Arma spoke, his expression tinged with awkwardness.
“From now on, I’ll call you brother faithfully, and I won’t avoid you or try to kill you.”
“…You were trying to kill me?”
“Sometimes.”
Arma answered without hesitation.
“This is a grave disappointment! I must think deeply on this matter. Don’t show your face around me for a while!”
Silvran’s jaw went slack, and after pointing an accusing finger at Arma, he trembled visibly before turning on his heel and leaving the reception room.
Arma furrowed his brow and exhaled a long sigh.
Even having left in such a manner, Arma knew well that Silvran would brood awhile before returning to talk again—so he made no move to stop his brother.
“I miss you, Rozelin.”
Arma thought of the dream—that inexplicable world he still saw these days—and spoke softly to himself with a tired expression, tilting his head back.
* * *
“A pleasant afternoon, Rozelin.”
“The moment I see you, my pleasant afternoon is ruined.”
“How unfortunate for you.”
“What’s unfortunate is that you don’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with sitting here at all.”
Geren Wilbrid, whose head had been shaking in mock disapproval, paused with his teacup halfway to his lips at the interruption.
He lifted his head with a smile, regarding the man who had so awkwardly inserted himself into their tea time.
“I heard the Duke had pressing matters to attend to, yet here you are with time to spare.”
“I have time enough to look after my daughter.”
At the father’s blunt words, Geren Wilbrid lowered his brows with what appeared to be genuine regret.
Rozelin regarded his insufferable face with indifference and brought her teacup to her lips.
“Anyone watching might think I’ve come to torment Rozelin.”
“I cannot leave my daughter alone with a man so deranged as to propose she become his daughter when her parents are both alive and well.”
As Cherti spoke through gritted teeth, Geren Wilbrid let out a low laugh.
“The child is clever enough that I find myself wanting her.”
“Rozelin is my daughter. Don’t covet her.”
“How can I not covet what tempts me so?”
Geren Wilbrid shrugged with a slight lift of his shoulders.
“She might very well come to me if she took a dislike to you.”
“That’s absurd. Do you think a Celestial Bond severs so easily?”
At the savage note in his voice, Geren Wilbrid set down the cup he’d been holding, rubbing his jaw.
“It seemed to sever quite easily enough before.”
Rozelin lifted her head quietly at the insinuation, her eyes finding Geren Wilbrid.
Catching her gaze, he flashed a grin and shrugged once more.
“You two seem to get on rather well.”
“We do.”
Rozelin answered with unwavering certainty.
At that, Cherti Bellion straightened his spine, his expression turning quite pleased.
“This time I seem to have fastened the button correctly, though I confess I’m growing jealous. Whatever shall I do?”
“I’m afraid I’d be unworthy of being your daughter.”
Rozelin shrugged with perfect composure.
The shameless remark made Geren Wilbrid pause before he burst into hearty laughter.
“The more I see of you, the more troublesome I find my own fondness for you.”
“I understand I’m charming, but you have a wife, so I’d prefer you refrain from such remarks.”
“Ah, not in that direction at all—put your mind at ease. I’m quite steadfast in my affections, I assure you.”
“Strange, then, that rumors speak of you sleeping in separate quarters.”
Rozelin let out a soft snort of amusement, and Geren Wilbrid laughed low, his shoulders rising in another shrug.
At the sight, Cherti Bellion’s eyes widened slightly.
“It’s a shame she won’t become my daughter, isn’t it?”
There was something between the two of them—a current he could not breach.
“Marquis Geren Wilbrid.”
Cherti Bellion gripped his daughter’s hand firmly and lifted his gaze.
“If you speak another meaningless word to my child, then—”
A pale poison mist seeped forth between his narrowed, fierce eyes, threatening only Geren Wilbrid.
Geren narrowed his eyes and drained the last of his black tea with deliberate calm.
“If your control over the Abyss has deteriorated this much, I wonder if you won’t end up killing Rozelin yourself before long.”
Geren Wilbrid’s green eyes grew cold as he spoke in a low murmur.
“When you’re angry, do you have no other way to respond than through the Abyss?”
“That was meant to threaten you.”
“Are you certain your threat won’t harm Rozelin?”
At Geren Wilbrid’s words, Cherti Bellion’s eyes hardened.
Though his dark, savage gaze met Geren’s, the latter remained utterly unmoved.
“Stop your foolish scheming to steal another man’s child. A creature as thoroughly rotten as you doesn’t deserve such a precious one.”
“That sounds like you’re saying she isn’t precious to you.”
“Ha, I’m Rozelin’s father. My house is nothing like yours, drowning in discord as it is. If you want so badly, why not have a child with the Marquess instead?”
“Coming from you, who stirred the social circles with rumors of discord not long ago, that’s rather rich.”
“Ha, true enough—having a child would be impossible. I hear the Marquess is prepared to file for divorce.”
“I hear your daughter means to leave the Empire.”
“No. She won’t.”
“That’s hardly something you can be certain of, is it?”
“You murky, rotten bastard—!”
“I’d rather not hear that from you.”
The two of them had begun to squabble like children.
Their voices were measured as they rehashed old grievances from their academy days, claiming the other felt the same—yet the argument was more childish than any quarrel of actual children.
Rozelin opened her mouth, her expression tired.
“Geren, why must you be childish too? This is tedious. In my next life, I’ll be your child, so please stop sulking like a child now.”
……
Geren Wilbrid’s eyes widened slightly at Rozelin’s words.
“Rozelin!”
Cherti Bellion called out to her, his expression wounded.
“Yes. And Father, what are you doing keeping a guest sitting here? Geren and I have matters to discuss, so please leave us.”
At Rozelin’s rebuke, both men fell silent at once.
“…I shall remain here and keep quiet.”
Cherti Bellion spoke softly, glancing at Rozelin with a wry smile.

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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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