The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 43: Two Guests (1)

Three weeks had passed.

It was a time that felt short if considered brief, and long if thought extended, rapidly changing the once awkward silence that had settled between us.

We spent a week without words, in awkward silence.

Another week went by with the exchange of stiff greetings.

During the final week, we faced each other and had serious conversations.

I apologized for the terrible incident that had occurred, thanked her, and we talked about my arm.

As we continued talking, the young lady's tears became more frequent, but the awkwardness between us began to subside.

She cried looking at the arm.

She cried seeing a forced smile.

She even cried looking at the night stars.

As if she had become a man in the throes of a midlife crisis with heightened sensitivity, the young lady began to regain her smile as the time spent talking and facing each other increased.

That day, the young lady said she would cut back on swearing and being picky with side dishes. And that she was truly sorry.

We got to know each other better and made sincere apologies.

The young lady confronted my arm once more, saying that now was the only chance; her hands shaking, she slowly unraveled the bandage and looked at my arm.

I can’t forget the expression on her face, still drenched in shock.

"Did I…did I do this?"

"I…"

After a moment, the young lady, who had kept her mouth tightly shut, nodded her head and covered her face with her hands and wept.

The young lady had gradually returned.

Not to the dejected person she had been, but as Olivia, the bold and food-loving villainess.

While she hadn't turned bad like in the past.

"Ricardo, what do you want to eat?"

She had become a magnanimous villainess who gave the choice to pick the menu.

Although she still welled up with tears at the sight of my face, and if I scratched an itchy arm, she would murmur in startled eyes, ‘Does it hurt?’ But the lady of three weeks ago and now seemed much changed.

She wasn't the lady who was deflated but the bold lady.

I liked that better.

I preferred the lady who was a bit shameless, speaking her mind and asking for what she wanted, rather than hiding guiltily in her room.

Because I had been hiding the scar on my hand for fear of the suffocating mood, perhaps something like this isn’t so bad.

*

In the serene room of the young lady.

Sitting on the bed, she furrowed her eyebrows and concentrated on one spot.

Like a surgeon in an operating room, she held a cotton swab in one hand and an ointment in another, her intense gaze fixed as she focused.

I was reminded of what the adults used to say.

If she had studied that much, she would have gone to Seoul National University, they said. If the young lady had focused on her studies as she was now, she would have easily topped her class.

At the School of Magic, she was first in practical exams, last in written.

With a cotton swab full of ointment, the young lady hiccupped.

"Burrp."

Biting her lip and concentrating, the young lady's hand trembled as she spoke to me.

"If it hurts, tell me."

"Ah…"

"Yikes!"

Before even making contact, when I said it hurt, the young lady jerked her shoulders. I laughed at her reaction.

"You haven't even touched yet."

"That…really?"

"Sigh."

The young lady took a deep breath and focused on her bandaged right hand.

With an expression as if she would cry if she touched the wound, she was focusing on the injury. It was almost maddening to tease her.

I held the corners of my twitching mouth and looked at the sparkling right hand.

Only white ointment was visible, not the black scars. The concern was excessive, and I laughed.

"Lady."

"Be quiet. I'm concentrating."

"If you apply so much, it might get into the steak tonight for dinner."

She flinched. At the mention of food, the young lady stopped her hand, nodded awkwardly, and spun hopeful thoughts.

"The meat is injured too, so if you apply the ointment, it might grow."

"Please, make sense."

"No?"

"Yes."

The young lady made a dejected face and muttered softly, ‘Then I’ll just eat it a little less tasty.’

The young lady was generously applying ointment on my arm.

Applying too much on one spot.

Applying even where there was nothing wrong.

To my eyes, there was no more space to apply, but to her eyes, it still seemed insufficient.

Like a bubble bath, the sticky ointment began to pile as she was reaching for a yet unopened ointment from the first aid kit.

The young lady murmured.

"It shouldn’t hurt."

"It doesn't hurt."

"Still…"

Applying the ointment even in spots that weren't injured, she said.

"It shouldn’t hurt."

She didn't pay attention to my words.

Touching the wound carelessly, she watched my reaction intensely, and when I flinched because it tickled, she looked crestfallen. ‘It shouldn't hurt, right?' she would mumble to herself.

Applying ointment to a rotting skin from dark magic was meaningless, but because I liked the touch of the young lady's hands full of care, I offered my arm to her.

I remember that time when I showed her the wounds properly, the next day. She spoke to me seriously, and I thought my heart would burst from the tremors.

"Take it off."

"What?"

In that instant, a profane thought crossed my mind, causing an internal struggle, but the young lady, with her eyes tightly closed, said to me.

"I'm going to look at the arm. Take off your clothes."

"Are you talking about the arm?"

I awkwardly hid my arm behind my back, but the lady's stubbornness, having realized everything, couldn't be bent. If I didn't show her, she might lie in bed all day and be gloomy, saying, ‘I am a bad girl…' so how could I refuse?

When I rolled up my sleeves, the young lady, wiping the tears that had welled up in her eyes, bravely said.

"I will apply the medication."

She spoke so decisively.

Reluctantly, I showed my arm to her, and right there, she began to apply the ointment while crying.

"Huh…Huh…"

"Why are you crying again?"

"It's disgusting…and it looks so painful…"

From then on, showing my hand to the young lady became a daily routine.

When she brought chocolate, and took out a gold coin from her chest pocket, she told me to buy ointment, of course, the warmly heated coin is well stored in my drawer.

I keep the gold coin with a deep story from being given to someone else. Certainly not for any perverse reason.

"That's enough."

The young lady wrapped up with a satisfied smile.

"Hee…!"

With a proud posture, she showed the hand that had been wrapped with the bandage. I looked at the masterpiece infused with the young lady's soul with an indifferent smile.

"What is this?"

"Treatment."

"As a treatment, isn't it wrapped too thick? If the maid sees it, she would think you have broken your arm."

The clumsily wrapped bandage looked as thick as a cast. It looked like I could nail something with my arm because of how much the young lady had layered it.

"Hihi…"

She wore an expression of pride that it was hard to complain.

The young lady picked up a pen and began to draw on the bandage.

"What are you doing?"

"Magic spell."

"For a magic spell, the drawing looks rather hopeless."

"Be quiet. I’m focusing."

The young lady swiftly drew on the bandage.

An orc and a goblin.

She left a gracious message, [Get well soon], but I couldn’t quite get used to this monster family portrait.

I looked at the orc with a fierce expression and said.

"Is this, by any chance, me?"

The young lady nodded vehemently.

"Yes."

"…"

I wanted to flick her on the forehead.

I then pointed to the goblin with an unnervingly ample bosom. It reminded me of the goblin’s provocative design containing the young lady’s emergency fund.

When I pointed with my finger, the corners of the young lady’s mouth rose.

"Is this supposed to be you?"

She nodded just the same. She looked at me with bright, expectant eyes, as though awaiting an appraisal of the masterpiece she had invested her artistic soul into.

"How was it?"

I turned my head toward the window.

"Why don't you answer?"

"…"

"Are you too astonished because it's so well drawn?"

Giving false hope to someone with a desperate lack of talent should not be done. What if she mistakes this opportunity as a sign she has artistic talent and decides to become a painter? My pride wouldn't allow me to offer such light praise for talents that were, in actuality, despairing.

The young lady stared at me intently.

Pouting her lips, she gave me a threatening glare without uttering a word, and I spoke with slurring diction.

"It's…well drawn."

"Right?"

"Yes, the goblin and…"

‘Ah… I made a mistake.'

The young lady frowned.

"That’s not a goblin…"

Disappointed, the young lady hung her head low.

I tried to offer her some consolation.

"It's a good thing you don't have high aspirations for art."

The young lady threw the pen.

***

The warm sunlight entered my eyes.

Today, the mansion's garden was once again sunny.

The young lady sat in a chair outside after a long time inside.

She came to attend to me as I practiced swordsmanship, saying it would be a problem if I got hurt. She declared herself my medic and graced me with her noble presence.

I swung my sword vigorously in front of the young lady. I thought it best to show her flashy swordsmanship if I was going to show off anyway.

Whoosh, whoosh. The sound of slicing the air resounded through the mansion's garden.

As I showed off my sword skill, leaving afterimages in the air while channeling aura into the blade, the young lady clapped, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Oh…!"

I wiped the sweat from my brow like a protagonist in a romance novel while making an artificial sound of breath.

"Hoo… How was that?"

The young lady looked at me with unimpressed eyes, focusing instead on my right arm rather than my swordsmanship.

I thought she would be pleased when I heard the clapping, but she just looked on with disinterested eyes and a perfunctory clap.

The young lady then said to me.

"Don’t you have something like Meteor?"

"No."

"What about a whizzing laser?"

"That's impossible."

"Boring."

The young lady had struck a blow to a man's pride. Bored, she patted her full belly.

"Can't you do something like split a mountain or even the sky?"

"Even a Swordmaster can't do that."

The young lady stared at me intently.

"Can’t Ricardo do it?"

"Well… That’s…”

She was asking me to demonstrate sword techniques that not even a Swordmaster could perform. I felt a switch being pressed in me, provoked and my pride challenged by the young lady.

The young lady left one more comment, "Ah, boring," then leaned back in her chair lazily, showing a nonchalant demeanor.

"I’m hungry."

The young lady who had touched my pride.

This won’t do.

Even if it means fainting, I must hear her say, "Oh…! That's amazing." If it ends like this, I’m sure to be remembered by the young lady only as a butler who uses a kitchen knife well.

I raised my aura.

[Limit Break (L) tests the limits of your aura.]

Seeing my sword glowing red like the sun, the young lady's eyes sparkled.

"Can you see it?"

"Oh…"

The young lady showed an interested reaction. Just as I was about to gather more aura into my sword,

"Oh…"

"Oh…"

I heard familiar voices of a man and a woman.

Two people with bright brown hair.

They were uninvited guests.

I laid down my sword and looked at the two men and women standing at the entrance, watching me quietly.

"Hanna?"

The Histania siblings stood side by side at the entrance of the mansion.

Hanna held a bandaged sword and a bundle of presents as she smiled warmly at me.

"It's me. Butler."

They were guests I hadn't seen for a while.

"I came because I was hungry."

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