The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 67: My Prince (1)

Karmic opportunity is best when it's meticulously hidden somewhere to be savored.

Much like the inner elixir of a spiritual creature hidden in a gloomy cave in martial arts novels contributes greatly to the increase in one's inner strength.

The karmic opportunity residing in the warehouse where the Knight Commander, a fabled creature, resides in Histania boasted the finest flavor.

Especially so, stealing the karmic opportunity of someone who will become an enemy later has the tastiest reward without any backlash.

Demonic sword Tirbing.

It's the weapon wielded by the Greedy Archbishop, who instigated a massacre in the capital.

In the middle of the novel, there is an episode where Malik escorts the cursed sword, but it ends in tragedy due to a heretic spy.

As a result, Malik was robbed of the sword, and the Greedy Archbishop used it as a vicious weapon to kill the Mage Tower Master.

The effect of Tirbing was nothing special.

It could cut through magic.

Sharper than any other sword.

Only enhanced the efficiency of sword energy.

The problem was that it cut too well, but aside from that, it was an unremarkable sword without any particularly impressive effects.

It wasn't a holy sword with an ego that incessantly gave advice, nor did it have the ability to pass down ancient skills; however, it was a sword with unparalleled cutting power.

It did come with a penalty, however, as the aura of dark magic it emitted could drive its user insane, making it the perfect weapon for the heretics who enjoyed madness.

And coincidentally, it was also highly suitable for me, who had a natural resistance to dark magic.

I intended to ignore it because it felt somewhat creepy…

-Ricardo… the sword sucks.

-But miss, it’s the sword you said you were going to gift to Michail, purchased for 100,000 gold…?

-When?

-When you were at the Royal Academy.

-Why does Ricardo have it, then?

-It looked nice, so I stole it.

-Oh… good sleight of hand! But… it sucks.

Provoked by the young lady's taunts, I made up my mind to steal it.

I felt uncomfortable that it was a gift intended for Michail, and it had to look a bit grand at least, so that the lady could take pride in our house butler using a demonic sword.

I decided to steal the karmic opportunity, certain that the lady would be ashamed if I carried around a flimsy sword made by dwarves.

It was absolutely not because of the petty vengeance I felt for Rowen's strange request; I just thought it was time I received some compensation for psychological damage. That's why I came. [‘Poison Resistance' resists the deadly toxicity of ‘Potion of Stealth.']

A potion focused solely on the efficiency of stealth.

It was my own creation.

Although it was a potion with a fierce toxicity that would certainly kill Yuria, who specializes in divine power, even with the slightest consumption, thanks to my steadily built-up resistance to poison from a young age, I was the only person able to drink it.

A unique potion that only I could make and consume.

Despite its fatal flaw that the effect would wear off with the use of aura, this potion allowed me to effortlessly obtain Tirbing.

The sword had a black blade.

Sleek and well-crafted.

Being a cursed sword, it seemed to have an aristocratic air.

To an ordinary person, it would seem like a very beautiful sword, one strong enough to draw one to touch it. I left the mansion with a satisfied smile, pleased with the sword's strong aura.

It would be troublesome to be caught by the homeowner.

As I climbed onto the roof to run away without paying…

-How about apologizing to Hanna?

An intriguing melodrama unfolded underneath the roof.

*

Hanna was crying.

"Why are you doing this to me…"

Clutching her fists tightly, Hanna, full of resentment, hurled her pent-up emotions at her father.

She had been engrossed in thought after reading the letter.

Asking why he's leaving her be now.

Questioning why her father who ignored her all this time is suddenly seeking her now.

"You said you didn't need a daughter like me… always treating me like dirt, and now you’re doing this… Why!"

"I’ve never treated you like dirt."

Hanna scoffed.

"You say you never did? Then why did you ignore my sparring every time?"

"…Because your brother has the talent to lead Histania…"

"That damn talent. I'm sick of hearing about it."

Distraught, Rowen carefully began to speak, but to the tearful Hanna, full of indignation, it was as if she heard nothing.

She hated everything.

Standing in this detestable mansion.

Having a father she couldn't communicate with.

She despised her father to the point where the proud name Histania now felt shameful.

The grinding noise of clenching teeth came from Hanna.

"I thought maybe… I opened the letter thinking maybe, just maybe."

Thud. Hanna's tears fell onto the discarded letter.

The letter from her stubborn father, blurred by her tears, soaked in Rowen’s words.

"I thought maybe you would have changed. Proud of you. Congratulations. Even if it wasn’t warm words like these, I thought you'd at least say sorry."

"But what is this… what is this!"

Hanna's screams echoed through the silent mansion.

She expressed her grief to Rowen, the heavy words she’d never said in her life. She felt foolish for having even a sliver of hope that her father would change if she showed how she'd changed herself.

Rowen listened in silence to his daughter's resentment.

‘The best choice.'

That was the conclusion Rowen arrived at.

‘You haven’t seen that illusion.'

An excuse that Rowen couldn’t tell Hanna, his only refuge to rationalize his own mistakes.

However.

Seeing his daughter's tearful face made him wonder if something was wrong.

The thought that his selfishness, which had only considered the best, might have pushed Hanna to the brink, started to gnaw at Rowen’s mind.

If only he had trusted Hanna.

The terrifying thought that perhaps if he had been just a little warmer as a father, he could have avoided what the blue window had shown, tormented Rowen's mind.

Rowen furrowed his brows deeply in thought.

He always believed he was right.

Rowen had deceived himself into thinking that Hanna was just too young to go along with his choices.

‘I am always right… Just as all of my choices have been.'

While his convictions were ready to scream at Hanna to give up the sword immediately, there was hesitation deep within, quieting his quivering lips.

Rowen struggled to articulate his thoughts.

"It's all for your sake. You may not understand now, but later…"

Hanna glared back at Rowen.

"What's for my sake?"

"…"

"What do you mean it's for my sake… Is disregarding me for not having talent for my sake? Is crushing your own daughter who is growing and thriving for my sake?"

Hanna could not comprehend Rowen.

As a child, she tried to understand and hold back the tears, justifying it by the thought that her brother had superior talent. But now, having outshone her brother with her achievements, she could not understand the father who was trying to stop her.

She didn't want to understand.

She had no intention to follow.

Having lived all her life under the shadow of her father's disdain, the years spent glancing at her family's faces at the table, where she forced herself to swallow down the food until she felt sick.

Why… not even once did he consider her opinion?

Facing the unchanging image of her father, Hanna spoke with a voice drained of hope.

"Some butler from the remote areas mentioned it."

"…"

"He said I have talent."

It was a phrase she had never heard from her family, but from a man she had just met.

At that time, it seemed like nonsense.

She thought he was utterly insane.

But now that she thought about it, he was like a prince from a fairy tale who had allowed her to hold on.

Being trapped in darkness, only knowing how to blame oneself, and then someone offers a glimmer of light—this presence made Hanna's heart heavy with emotion.

Was this feeling now love? Or perhaps at this moment, she desperately longed to see that man.

She wanted to tell him it was unfair.

She wanted to ask if she was doing well.

With tears welling up, Hanna spoke to Rowen. She clenched her teeth saying there was someone who was a hundred times better than him.

"He said I have talent… He asked if I would believe him if he said he could make me win against a person who seemed unbeatable… That’s what he said."

"At first, I thought he was insane. I thought he was just after money and saying things that sounded good. But do you know what was even more unfair?"

Looking straight at Rowen, Hanna continued,

"I was laughing with joy at the blatantly obvious lie… like a madwoman."

Clang.

Hanna dropped the sword emblazoned with the Histania crest onto the floor and said,

"Do you think this is right, Dad…?"

Hanna's shoulders were shaking. Rubbing her teary eyes and sobbing, Hanna couldn't say any more, overwhelmed with emotion.

Claiming it was all for her sake.

Yet, it made her feel like she was suffocating to death.

Hanna felt an unbearable tightness in her chest.

"Do you know that…?"

Hanna recalled memories flashing through her mind.

"The first time I met him, he told me…"

Holding back her breathless sobs, Hanna barely managed to get the words out.

"He said swinging the sword would have killed me. He knew I was starving for praise, and thought maybe someday I'd rush to my death just to get a bit of attention…"

She had thought that wouldn't apply to her. But peering deep within herself, Hanna had to admit,

"I thought it was a lie… but back then, it seems like… I really could have done that."

With eyes full of certainty, Hanna looked into the void and said,

[Would you like to view it?]

Hanna felt as if she might never see her father again.

"I don't know what you want, Dad. But… what if."

Hanna let out a deep sigh,

"If I die…"

Then she threw words sharp as knives at Rowen,

"It would be you who killed me."

Rowen's face turned ice cold.

Not realizing anything was amiss until he saw Hanna's tear-streaked face,

But the damage was already done.

Rowen, with a trembling voice, said to Hanna,

"Even so… I… did it for you…"

"Stop it!"

Malik clenched his fist and shouted at Rowen. He didn't want to show this disgraceful scene any longer.

Knowing he was at fault for turning a blind eye, Malik didn't want to see Hanna hurt anymore.

Bracing himself for his father’s wrath and taking a deep breath,

-Crack…!

Thump-thud-bang!

A familiar-faced man dropped from the ceiling. Malik looked at the man before him with startled eyes.

The red-haired man sitting down, looking confused as if he hadn't expected this to happen, while Malik responded with a stunned expression.

The man who had fallen from the ceiling muttered,

"What kind of ceiling is this weak…"

After spitting out the irritated words, he slowly observed everyone present in the office.

Glaring at Rowen.

Smiling at Malik.

Winking at Hanna.

The man scratched his head and then, looking at Rowen's face, smiled brightly,

"Sir, would you like to be buried in a sunny spot?"

Hanna's heart skipped a beat.

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