The Villain Who Will Kill Me Is Too Handsome, It's Troublesome - Chapter 22

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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 22.
Peter’s fist clenched. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, and goosebumps erupted across his skin.
He’d already dismissed the servants. There was no one in this room but himself and Artiella. So who in the world was making that sound?
‘A phantom?’
Had they come to haunt him for the sins he’d committed in the past?
His Stepmother, who’d been obsessed with killing him. Had she come to mock him, seeking to settle a grudge for having done away with her pleas to spare her half-brother?
Perhaps, even in death, she’d been too consumed with the desire to destroy him to leave this world behind.
Peter opened his sweat-dampened hand as naturally as he could manage. Gripping the teacup firmly to keep from dropping it, he pretended to sip his tea while stealing glances at Artiella’s expression.
But Artiella seemed not to have heard anything at all—neither the strange voice nor the ugly thoughts racing through his mind.
“Do you still not believe?”
Artiella scratched her head, as if troubled by the question.
That even now, in this moment, he could find such a gesture endearing—it was proof his condition was serious. No wonder he was hearing things that weren’t there.
He barely managed to catch the teacup as it slipped from his grasp.
“Even if I wished to show you, you couldn’t possibly see it for yourself. But if you bring me any criminal, I can prove their crimes using the Holy Sword’s Power.”
Those jade-colored eyes turned fully toward him. Unobstructed by anyone’s interference.
Peter’s heart lurched violently again. Not from shock this time. It was yearning, and desire—words barely existed to describe it.
“No, there’s no need for that.”
He chose to ignore what his ears had perceived. It was surely an auditory illusion born from having the woman he’d desperately longed for standing right before him.
“Your word is enough. I trust you.”
He smiled with all the tenderness he could muster.
“Thank you.”
Artiella bowed respectfully.
“For the same reason, I can vouch for Duke Rupel’s soul. It is flawless, without a single blemish.”
Peter had to clench his teeth to maintain his smile.
“If you trust me, I hope you might also reconsider your misgivings about him.”
“Yes, I wish I could believe that. But what Percell and I saw was unmistakably the Duke.”
“I don’t think what Your Majesty witnessed was a mere illusion, either.”
“Are you suggesting another possibility? I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
What’s this?
Finally, the Emperor wasn’t turning hostile. Just four days ago, he’d been furious at the slightest defense of the Duke.
“Perhaps the late Duke had a blood relation he never found.”
“Judging by your expression, you’re not leaning toward a twin. Something else weighs more heavily on your mind.”
“Yes. Black Magic. There are actually signs of a curse.”
“Ah.”
Peter’s face twisted. He harbored a deep hatred for Black Mages.
The executed Empress—or rather, the Stepmother who’d tried to kill him—had been in league with Black Mages. When he became Emperor, he’d suppressed and eradicated the Empire’s Black Mages with near-genocidal fervor.
“Some of them survived?”
“A full council meeting of the priesthood will be held soon. I’ll gather information with the Holy Maiden. Of course, if we interrogate the Grand Duke directly, we’d get answers much faster.”
Having finished her response, Artiella glanced out the window to gauge the time. It was already dark outside.
So much time had passed that worry began to creep in.
“I’m not sure I can manage it well.”
“It won’t take long.”
“Still…”
“I’ll be back soon, so wait a little longer, all right?”
“Yes. I’ll hold on no matter what until you return. So please come back quickly.”
By Kirien, specifically.
‘I should have put him to sleep before I left.’
But Kirien and Bleo had vehemently objected, saying it would make her return too late, so she’d had no choice but to leave him awake.
It was beginning to feel like a poor decision.
‘Looks like I’m the one experiencing Separation Anxiety.’
The man’s face, struggling so hard to appear cheerful, kept coming back to her.
Getting back quickly seemed like it would be good for both their peace of mind.
But Peter didn’t answer.
Whether he’d had a change of heart about handing over the Grand Duke, or whether he still suspected the Duke—he just sat there, rigid and motionless.
“If it’s difficult to decide right now, I can bring you more evidence.”
Then Peter drew a sharp breath.
“No, there’s no need. I’ve already locked him in the Underground Dungeon.”
He rose from his seat first.
Artiella, following him up, flinched slightly.
‘The Bardo…’
Not a sound.
An ominous presence lurked nearby. Perhaps closer than expected.
* * *
Kirien stepped out of the Holy Maiden’s Residence once his confession was finished.
It was Bleo’s turn next. Since confession demanded absolute discretion, he yielded his place.
“How quiet it is.”
Stars had begun to glitter across the night sky.
The night he first met Artiella, the heavens had been just as clear, the stars just as brilliant. When her pale blonde hair, bound high, had tumbled down before his eyes, it felt like the stars themselves were pouring down.
When she rescued him from the Office Chamber, he’d thought a goddess had descended to earth.
The kindest savior in all the world.
He traced the spot on his wrist where the marks had vanished. This too must be a miracle she created. He was grateful not only for her generosity, but for her restraint in claiming no credit, in pretending she knew nothing of it.
‘Did the Holy Maiden truly mean what she said…?’
“There’s nothing better than love for maintaining a sound mind. Love. Not unrequited love.”
Heat flooded his face once more.
He buried his face in his hands. His entire body thrummed with the first heartbeat he’d ever truly felt. Perhaps even his Aura was trembling?
But such a thing would displease Artiella, or so they say…….
‘Hah, I’m really in deep.’
Truthfully, he had no confidence.
He possessed only a wealthy domain; in power and ability, he fell far short of her in nearly every regard. And on top of that, there was the fatal disadvantage of being marked by the Origin of Evil.
Yet his heart refused to settle.
He gazed down the silent road for a moment.
She’d said she would arrive before midnight. Why was she still not here? Had something gone wrong on the road? An ambush? Or perhaps a bridge had collapsed, or she’d been thrown from her horse.
Every conceivable accident that had ever befallen her on her travels flooded his mind.
Worst of all—
‘Is His Majesty not releasing her?’
Now he understood why the Emperor had left the position of Empress vacant all this time. And it terrified him.
Once, he would have yielded to anything.
Not anymore.
‘Could I… go fetch her?’
He knew the Emperor disliked him. What had once been mere wariness had now festered into outright hatred.
If he pressed his claim on Artiella, he would have no choice but to collide with the Emperor again and again.
He refused to lose. He wanted to tear down the Emperor himself if necessary, to gouge out those eyes that looked at Artiella. He knew it was impossible, and yet—
But just then.
“Ugh!”
A splitting headache crashed down on him without warning.
* * *
“Here it is.”
The entrance to the Underground Dungeon lay hidden within a crumbling building in a remote corner of the Imperial Palace.
“There were lackeys following that Grand Duke Yepel—or at least there seemed to be some attendants.”
“That’s right. We locked them up together. They always work as a team when they’re doing their dirty deeds.”
Artiella spoke as she explored the surroundings, her grip on the Bardo never loosening throughout the walk.
“This place seems difficult to escape from. There aren’t even any guards.”
“What? Percell!”
Peter called to his guard knight. Percell burst forward and, before anyone could stop him, shoved the iron gate open.
As the door swung wide, the reek of mold wafted up from the Underground Dungeon.
Along with a vicious cold.
“Watch out!”
Artiella hurried to block Percell.
But she was one step too late.
“Hack!”
A coiled mass of black energy erupted from the depths of the dungeon, striking Percell squarely in the solar plexus. He had no chance to properly wield his sword before flying backward.
“Who are you!”
Artiella drew her blade on instinct, wrapping herself in Aura.
The presence was profoundly black, foul, malevolent. And far too overwhelming. Peter could be heard collapsing under its weight.
‘Is this the Origin of Evil?’
The Bardo had indeed warned more urgently the closer they drew to the prison. Artiella tensed, fixing her gaze on the black miasma.
Then the presence slowly unfurled from its crouch.
Black hair, a face pale as fresh snow. And eyes the color of fresh blood.
She knew that face.
“Hello, Holy Sword’s bearer. It’s been a while.”
The most beautiful man she knew.
“Your Grace……?”
He smiled, a curve of the lips that shed all shyness to reveal something seductive, decadent.
“Well, the packaging is flawless, isn’t it, Origin of Evil?”
It was terrifying, but she forced herself to bluff anyway.

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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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