The Villainess Duke Lady Hides Her Identity - Chapter 1

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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 1

The damp underground prayer chamber of the Temple.
A chamber that only the Pope could enter by his own permission, and which some called sacred—that underground prayer chamber.
By another name, the Penitence Chamber.
“My eldest daughter.”
Reponya was accustomed to everything that happened in this place.
The sight of Fretes, the Pope called most sacred and holy of all ages, holding a whip in his hands, and the priest curled tight in pain, swallowing his suffering in silence—all of it familiar.
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
The musty reek of mold pricked her nostrils. Nausea rose, but as it had for years, she swept it away along with the emotion itself.
She could no longer tell whether she was still human, or had become something like a doll, so thoroughly had she learned to accept even this horror.
Fretes threw the whip irritably into a corner and issued his command.
“Steal the Family Heirloom of the Kraytan Family and bring it to me.”
Here, his orders were absolute, and Reponya had no choice.
“You may use whatever means necessary.”
The Pope muttered absently as he used his Divine Power to heal the wounds on his own hands from wielding the whip—paying no mind whatsoever to the priest who had taken those lashes.
“My daughter.”
Whenever he gave an assignment, he always feigned a voice as if he were a god himself, full of tender benevolence.
“Should you be captured, die cleanly where you stand.”
He issued covert orders for his own profit, and committed acts that defied the will of God, yet still he possessed what was called Divine Power—the strength of God.
God is patient.
And distant, too.
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Reponya slowly lowered her eyes.
The Pope, having wiped his blood-stained hands with holy water, glanced at Reponya’s expressionless face and spoke.
“My daughter, you’ve come of age now. It’s time you lived independently.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, that’s right. Once you complete this mission, I shall grant you your independence.”
Reponya’s pupils trembled.
“You’ve grown now, so surely you can live well on your own. Once you finish this mission properly, I’ll provide you with whatever support you need so you can live as you wish.”
At the words “live as you wish,” her heart—quiet as if frozen for years—began to beat.
“My, what a doubtful expression.”
“Ah… I’m just… startled. Shocked. Independence… I’ve never even dreamed of such a thing.”
“Is that so? Then what would convince you? Would you believe me if I swore by the name of God?”
The greatest proof of trust that one who serves God could offer.
A contract sworn by God’s name was a terrifying oath—break it and all Divine Power vanished instantly.
“Here.”
Bright light poured from the Pope’s hand. It was proof that he was swearing by God’s name.
“In return, you must stake your own life.”
The Pope laughed.
“Fail the mission, and you shall die. Only then is it fair, don’t you think?”
She could stop this. She could refuse to do what the Pope commanded and simply stop.
Reponya bowed her head deeply.
“I stake my life.”
In this Penitence Chamber, where no sunlight ever touched, there was no God.

* * *

Five years old.
Reponya’s first memory was of the Poor House. The day her older sister was sold off because of the director and cried and cried.
Fearing she might be sold off to the same fate, Reponya fled to the Poor House, a relief facility established by the Empire for the protection of children.
But conditions there were no better. In what should have been a sanctuary for children, violence was routine and unrelenting.
In the mere five years since her birth, the days had been so terrible that she’d often thought death would be preferable, yet there was nowhere for the young Reponya to escape.
And then came the autumn of her fifth year, when the Harvest Festival arrived.
Reponya met Fretes, now Pope, for the first time. She clung to him, begging for her life, when he came to inspect the Poor House facilities.

‘Can you do anything for me? Promise me, and I’ll let you live as a human should.’

She should have run then.
If the place she was heading for was hell, it was all the same—hell to hell—so it hadn’t mattered. That complacency was her mistake.
Pope Fretes had taken several children from the Poor House, Reponya among them.
And he’d arranged a small mansion on the outskirts as their residence.
Good clothes. Warm baths. Bellies full so they wouldn’t go hungry.
By the time Reponya turned six, she’d learned much under the tutelage of teachers the Pope had hired, all supposedly for her education.
Noble etiquette. The vital points of the human body. How to wield a blade. Things far from ordinary.
The process was far from smooth. Any child who couldn’t keep pace with the curriculum was sent back to the Poor House, and Reponya trained desperately to avoid hell.
If you cried and refused to learn, they’d expel you, and you’d either die or be cast down to hell.
By that point, the children had stopped seeing each other as family or companions. They saw rivals to surpass, obstacles to overcome.
And when Reponya turned fifteen, she received her first assignment.

‘My dear first daughter. I have kept my promise to you and helped you live as a human. Now it is your turn to fulfill your promise. Simply leave this letter in the Cardinal’s quarters.’

Five years ago.
That was the beginning.
The Pope’s spy. A dog raised by the Pope.
That was the price of Reponya living like a human.
Those brothers and sisters who had failed the Pope’s missions three times or fled unable to bear it were all found as cold corpses.
In this Empire, there was nowhere to hide from the Pope, who held power rivaling even the Emperor himself.
Young Reponya received many assignments. She would clutch the Pope’s legs and weep that she couldn’t do it, and she was always punished.
The only saving grace was that she’d been an exemplary top student during her training, so she survived despite three failures without being executed.
Whether that could truly be called a saving grace was another matter.
But in the end, to survive, Reponya had no choice but to kill all her emotions and become the Pope’s hands and feet.

And now.
Reponya sat in her private safe house—a small cottage—and let out a sigh tinged with despair.
“Sigh.”
With her back against a chair and her head tilted back, a thick dossier rested on her face.
It contained information about the Kraytan Family.
“It’d be faster if I was reborn as a Kraytan daughter and just carried the Family Heirloom out myself than trying to steal it.”
The Kraytan Family. Guardians who protected the safety and peace of the Empire.
The Duke and both his sons could wield Aura, making them unquestionably the strongest family in the realm.
Those who wielded Aura aged far more slowly than ordinary people, living so long they could hardly be called human. Their fame had grown naturally.
So wealth, power, and strength—all were perfect.
The only opening she could find was that they’d lost their youngest daughter less than a year after her birth and were still searching for her.
Twenty years ago, the Duchess’s carriage had been attacked. They’d found the Duchess’s body, but the young daughter vanished without a trace.
Even now, twenty years later, they seemed to still be looking for her, clinging to the hope that she might be alive.
“Tsk. So many scammers have already claimed to be their daughter that it’ll be difficult to pose as one.”
Or so it was said—the Duke suspects first before believing anyone who claims to be his daughter. This method was best avoided.
“But I have to make it work somehow.”
It wasn’t even an assignment to hurt anyone—just stealing one Family Heirloom, and then she could live without ever seeing the Pope’s face again. It had to succeed.
She’d survived this long; she couldn’t die right before the finish.
Reponya slapped both her cheeks with her palms. The swollen skin stung sharply in an instant.
“First, I need to know what the Family Heirloom is.”
Then she could decide whether to hide it in a sack, tuck it into a pocket, or plan some other approach.
The Kraytan Ducal Residence had such tight security that even in disguise, she couldn’t get inside without a verified identity.
Creating a false identity was easy enough, but for now, she only wanted to scout and confirm the location of the Heirloom—not infiltrate.
“I have something prepared.”
Reponya opened a drawer and grabbed a small vial that had been rolling around inside.
A Shrinking Potion that would reduce her body to the size of a thumbnail when consumed.
She’d used it on a thieving job long ago, and at great expense, she’d purchased an extra vial and hidden it away.
‘This isn’t for a mission—I’ve been saving it in case I need to flee someday.’
But if she succeeded in this final task, there’d be no need to flee. She’d be free of the Pope at last.
‘Drink the Shrinking Potion, get small, slip into the Kraytan Residence, and confirm the location of the Family Heirloom first.’
Reponya uncorked the vial, looked over the documents one last time, and drained it in one clean gulp.
Gulp.
A tasteless liquid slid down her throat.
“……!!”
At the same moment, a searing pain consumed her body as if it were being burned alive.
“Gasp!”
What? Why is this happening?
Something was wrong.
She’d taken it before during her last mission, but it had never caused pain like this.
It felt as though her entire body had been thrown into a pit of fire.
“Ugh!”
Reponya clutched her chest and collapsed ungracefully. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Thump, thump, thump!
The world spun dizzily, her vision inverted. Breathing became difficult, and she couldn’t even stand properly on her own two feet.
Someone.
Someone help me.
Reponya stretched out her hand desperately.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the agony and cried out, but as always, no one came to help her.
And when Reponya regained consciousness and opened her eyes again.
“……What?”
Her eye level had changed, and the clothes she was wearing had become impossibly large. That wasn’t all—her hands and feet had shrunk too.
Moreover, on the back of her hand was a scar identical to one she’d received at five years old, fleeing the Poor House.
It was a scar from when she’d snuck over the Poor House’s fence at five years old and scraped the back of her hand, leaving an imprint shaped like the fence bars.
The scar had faded without leaving any trace afterward, but now that same pattern had reappeared on the back of her hand.
“What, what is this? My, my hands—why are they so small? Ahem, ah! Ah! My voice! Why is it like this! Ah! Ahhhhh!”
It wasn’t a partial transformation.
“What? What? My, my height—why is it like this! Why so small! What’s with my voice and my speech! A mirror! Where’s a mirror!”
Reponya had become a child.
Exactly as she had been at five years old, fleeing the Poor House.

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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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