The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 18: The Locked Room

For the past few days, I had lived a surprisingly free life.

It wasn’t luxurious, but I ate decent meals and didn’t have to concern myself with etiquette.

Not that I went out riding into the city, abusing servants, or staggering around drunk and high, causing mayhem.

No, I merely sipped modest drinks, read books, and feigned composure while indulging in a touch of despair within the confines of my limited freedom.

There were no servants blocking my way to the music room anymore. When I felt stifled, I played the piano or fiddled with some unknown stringed instruments.

It was enjoyable.

I bathed with Alina, played simple games, and even held a small concert with her as my sole audience.

But happiness, as it always does, slipped away all too quickly.

The Duke’s family returned from their picnic.

Though, considering they’d stayed overnight at the villa, calling it a picnic seemed like a stretch. But what could I say? If they insisted it was a picnic, so be it.

Upon her return, the Duchess immediately summoned me.

The servants had rushed to report my “misdeeds,” begging her to address the matter.

The room she called me to was surprisingly small for this massive mansion. It barely fit the table and two sofas in the center, embodying the very definition of “a confined space.”

“Have a seat,” she said.

The Duchess sat gracefully, her movements as polished as ever. She delicately picked up some tea leaves with tongs, placed them in her cup, and poured steaming water over them.

As the tea steeped, its fragrance spread, dense and suffocating, like perfume that was far too strong.

“What tea would you like?” she asked.

“I’d prefer coffee,” I replied curtly.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have any,” she said, not missing a beat.

She added a strange, white bud into my cup and poured hot water over it. The jasmine tea blossomed, the flower unfurling gracefully in the steaming liquid.

I took the cup, inhaled the scent, and drank carefully, making sure not to make a sound. The petals that entered my mouth tasted bland.

“We had a delightful time,” she began, “a rare moment of leisure, free from rigid schedules. Even my husband seemed pleased to see the children enjoying themselves.”

She spoke as if she were still there, her expression brimming with a happiness that felt foreign to me.

“It was wonderful, truly. Such a feeling is something I haven’t experienced since your arrival.”

“How unfortunate,” I replied, “I didn’t choose to come here, after all.”

“True. When your father suddenly went mad, claiming he had a daughter he’d never known about and insisting she be brought here, I was just as taken aback.”

Her gaze grew cold, the kind of icy resolve an executioner displays right before the blade falls.

“Child, it may seem unfair, but I find you intolerable.”

I raised my cup and sipped the tea.

Tea, I mused, tasted best when it had cooled slightly, its warmth still lingering.

“It’s hardly a revelation, is it?”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I dislike everything about you—your unnatural demeanor, your refusal to submit to me.”

I didn’t respond. There was no point. This was simply a performance to reprimand me, to chastise and punish.

A miracle wouldn’t occur. The Duke wouldn’t burst in to save me.

Everything in this mansion operated under tacit agreements and convenient compromises.

I had crossed the invisible line of what was deemed “acceptable,” and now the Duchess had every reason to reprimand me.

“While we were away, you seem to have caused quite the scandal.”

I ignored her words, focusing on my tea.

Having finished my cup, I poured more hot water from the teapot, waiting for the tea to steep again.

“I don’t know what the servants said to you,” she continued, “but blinding a man and turning him mute simply for a slip of the tongue?”

She clicked her tongue softly. “His tongue couldn’t be reattached, but at least his sight was restored. We should be grateful for small mercies, I suppose.”

So the man could see again. I had suspected as much. In a world where noses and bones could be healed in an instant, restoring vision was hardly impossible.

Still, it was fortunate that the filthy tongue couldn’t waggle insults anymore. Stomping on it until it was unrecognizable had been worth the effort.

“Tell me, Marisela, are all children who crawl up from the gutter as cruel as you?”

I shook my head silently.

For some reason, my lips refused to move.

Raphael’s face flashed through my mind—

The boy from the orphanage who once declared he’d become a knight.

I wondered if he’d succeeded by now.

No, it hadn’t even been a year. It would take much longer than that.

Or maybe he’d bring one of those clumsy embroideries of his as an excuse to come find me.

He’d chased away the bullies at the orphanage with his fiery temper. Maybe now, he’d storm into this mansion and drag me out.

A foolish dream, but one that crossed my mind nonetheless.

The room felt unbearably stifling.

The dim, yellow light from the oversized chandelier above was oppressive.

Heavy curtains shrouded the windows, letting in not a single ray of sunlight.

The sofas were black. The table was black.

Though it was just the Duchess and me in this cramped room, it felt suffocatingly small.

“The butler tried to dissuade me, calling it a misunderstanding. But he also admitted that a child like you needs discipline,” she said with a mocking emphasis on “misunderstanding.”

I nodded without a word.

Her face wrinkled slightly in irritation. She disliked my silent compliance.

At least she wasn’t using a cane to strike me—small mercies.

“We’ve decided to lock you in a small tower. It’s the perfect punishment for someone as insolent as you, who dared to wreak havoc while we were away.”

Again, I nodded.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t meet her gaze. I merely poured hot water into my cup and waited for the tea to steep.

“Marisela, have you already forgotten?” she snapped in a harsh voice. “When spoken to, you’re to reply with words, not gestures.”

When I didn’t respond, she lightly slapped my cheek.

It didn’t hurt.

She’d likely remembered the time she struck me with all her strength, sending me flying. That memory must’ve left a mark on her as well.

The issue was that I had been intentionally holding the hot teapot.

The boiling water spilled over my thigh.

The Duchess, startled, hurried to her feet, calling for help.

That’s when I finally spoke.

“I’m not Marisela.”

Her expression froze, shifting into one of confusion.

For a brief moment, concern flashed across her face before it was overtaken by anger.

Was it my faint smile that provoked her? Did she think I was mocking her?

In truth, I wasn’t mocking her at all. It was just… everything was playing out exactly as I expected, and the predictability of it all amused me.

The Duchess’ face turned red. She bit her lip, struggling to maintain a facade of authority, her voice trembling as she spat out, “Has the boiling water fried your brain?”

“I’m still just the wretched bookworm Marie from the orphanage,” I retorted. “Not Marisela Vitelsbach, the bastard daughter of this accursed Duke’s concubine. I’m not the fool dressed in suffocating clothes, slapped, beaten with a cane, and scalded with hot water while pretending none of it bothers her.”

The Duchess’ venomous expression crumbled at my outburst, a mix of self-contradiction and truth that even I couldn’t fully explain.

Perhaps guilt was gnawing at her, though she’d convinced herself that tormenting me was a way of punishing my mother, who was long dead.

She was mistaken.

I was just… nothing.

“…You are the Duke’s daughter, Marisela. Marisela Vitelsbach,” she said, her voice shaking.

She called me by the name she had once told me never to dream of hearing.

“The piano your father ordered will arrive in two weeks. By then, I expect you will have reflected enough. You’ll be released when it arrives.”

With that, she fled the stifling room, saying she’d fetch the healer.

I was left alone in the suffocating space once more.

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