The Villainess Builds a Department Store - Chapter 80

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

The Villainess Establishes a Department Store

Chapter 80

He said let’s sit for a while, but Bastian showed no interest in his share of juice and dessert, just clenching and unclenching his hands while staring off into the distance.

He’s completely out of it.

I could easily guess why Bastian was reacting this way. It wasn’t that I wasn’t bewildered, but I could understand it well enough.

At his growing age, the only women around him were noblewomen who came as customers or older female colleagues at the shop. I was the only girl his age, and objectively speaking, I was pretty. That’s how it was described in the original work, and since I was Mother’s daughter, it was natural that I’d be beautiful.

Moreover, I had already helped Bastian in various ways, big and small. Since he at least had favorable feelings toward me, it was quite natural for Bastian to develop feelings for me and for those emotions to grow into his first innocent love.

Like a supporting villain who builds up all the narrative in place of the female protagonist, then wails about why he likes me instead of the heroine… Huh?

Wait, wait a minute.

It’s not “like” – this is exactly what I look like right now, isn’t it?

Gulp. The tea that had been smoothly going down my throat until just moments ago suddenly felt like it had turned into cold, lumpy oatmeal stuck in my throat.

‘This can’t be!’

The scope of my assistance was only supposed to extend to Bastian safely establishing his department store and meeting the female protagonist. I don’t want any deep narrative or relationships.

This won’t do. From now on, I need to distance myself from Bastian, look down on him for being from a poor background, and also…

‘But how am I supposed to do that!’

The moment my eyes met Bastian’s, I despaired. The instant I tried to ignore, despise, and look down on him, the image of him risking his life to steal a piece of bread flashed before my eyes. And the sight of him trying to adapt to shop work by taking notes that filled his notebook, and also…

‘How can I hate such a kid!’

Then someone inside me whispered.

‘He’s just a second male lead who won’t end up with the female protagonist anyway, so what’s wrong with me taking him?’

…That was quite a reasonable point.

Right? There was no need to push him away or worry unnecessarily while sobbing ‘Why does he like me instead of the heroine!’

Then the problem now is what comes next.

So, do I actually like Bastian?

This young kid?

Bastian was handsome. Even without the objective description from the original work, seeing how I smiled every time I looked at him despite having grown up seeing only the finest things, he was truly devastatingly handsome.

But does that mean my heart races and flutters when I look at him… Well.

Unless he suddenly appeared having aged to my real age one day, I don’t think I’d feel much excitement.

Right, it’s not that I don’t think I’d feel excitement – it’s natural that I can’t feel it.

So what happened earlier was just from being startled, from how Bastian had suddenly grown each time I encountered him, so it was a reaction from feeling unfamiliar.

That must be it.

As proof, I was confident I could dance with Bastian without any problem.

The cafes on Pearl Street were famous for always having music. Though the cafes didn’t hire them separately, the more skilled and presentable musicians from the street would gather in small groups to harmonize with each other and receive tips from customers in return.

For the cafes, it wasn’t bad at all since people would be drawn by the music and sit down, then sit again after getting tired from dancing, and if they hit it off, a single drink could turn into a full-course meal.

Just like right now.

“Bastian, shall we dance too?”

Pfft, Bastian spat out the juice he was drinking.

“Dance? Who, you and me?”

“Yes. Don’t tell me you can’t dance? Then I’ll teach you.”

Dancing with this kid won’t make my heart race. It won’t affect me at all. It won’t.

I needed confirmation and proof. I stubbornly dragged Bastian along.

Bastian, who was pulled out by me, frowned as if unwilling but obediently took the hand I offered.

A slightly fast 3/4 time violin piece began and people started stepping to the lively rhythm.

Though it was simple movement that even first-time dancers could follow without difficulty, Bastian stared seriously at the floor – more precisely, only at my feet.

As if worried he might accidentally step on them.

‘When I look closely, he’s quite caring…’

Though he always snapped “Are you crazy? Are you sane?” and cynically made sarcastic remarks while scowling, Bastian was essentially a kind and sincere young boy.

It would be nice if more people could recognize that fact.

So if Bastian could show a few more people what a wonderful person he is, if those people could recognize his true value, that would be really nice.

While thinking such thoughts and moving my body, the dance piece had ended before I knew it.

I tried to return to our seats, but in the meantime, an employee had cleared the table and another couple was now sitting where we had been.

We had no choice but to move our steps again to find somewhere to spend time.

“I noticed earlier that you dance well.”

“I’m good at anything physical.”

“Yes, yes. How impressive.”

I take back about half of what I said about his good nature.

Walking aimlessly along the street, we eventually came upon a shop dealing in accessories. Through the glass window, sparkling jewels displayed price tags as enormous as their brilliance.

How pretty. These are jewels that are also in Mother’s jewelry box.

I was just having that thought while blankly admiring the jewels when it happened.

“What would it feel like to be able to buy things like that without a care?”

Bastian, whose face was flushed perhaps from the vigorous movement earlier, casually threw out such a question.

* * *

‘I really hate this street.’

The moment he saw Adelaide’s profile as she looked at the jewels with completely uninterested eyes, Bastian came to loathe Pearl Gallery terribly.

This glamorous and luxurious street kept hectoring him not to forget what his surname was.

After those people he hated to even call parents had arbitrarily come and caused a disturbance, he often woke up from nightmares.

In his dreams, people pointed fingers at him. How dare something so lowly try to live with its feet planted in Pearl Gallery without knowing its place.

It wasn’t just people. The street, the glass ceiling, the uniform-style streetlamps, the elegant and delicate brass signs all joined voices to condemn him.

Saying that something as dirty and lowly as him had no right to be here. That he didn’t belong. To get lost.

On nights when he woke up thrashing from nightmares, Bastian would suffer in such terrible suffocation that he couldn’t even breathe, clutching at his chest.

It was as if even the air rejected him.

But Adele, she who suited this street more than anyone, endlessly extended her hand to him. She suggested they explore the streets and shops together and constantly tried to feed him the food of this place.

Because of that, he kept trying to forget who she was, what her surname was.

It was the same just now. Just because they had danced together face to face once, he had almost made that mistake again, and Adelaide’s face reflected in the glass window harshly scolded him.

Don’t forget. You’re nothing but a lowly orphan bastard named Bastian, and Adele is de Charmeuze.

Just as he was trying to stuff that fact back into his head.

“You can tell me later.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————