The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 19: The Tower

The tower was no place for anyone, especially a girl who couldn’t even touch its ceiling, yet here I was.

I suppose one benefit was not having to see the Duchess or the rest of the Duke’s household. That alone might earn this prison some small points.

But I wasn’t Rapunzel. No matter how brightly the city’s lights sparkled below, I couldn’t imagine it as some beautiful, idyllic place.

Instead, my mind wandered to the lives of those hidden in the shadows of those glowing buildings, the dark alleys between the shining façades.

If I stared long enough, would I see the people I used to know? Unlikely. It had taken days by carriage to reach here.

About a month ago, I’d mentioned wanting to visit the lake where I once played with my mother. 

They’d told me to wait until I was older. At this rate, visiting her grave seemed impossibly far off.

At least my mother left behind a gravestone and ashes. The Proxy Manager had left me nothing but this crude ring around my neck.

Why am I dwelling on this? It’s simple.

There’s no illusion that some bright new life awaits me outside this tower. No faint hope that freedom lies beyond its confines.

Yet, a small spark of hope did flicker within me—three days from now, the piano ordered by the Duke was set to arrive.

No more sneaking a few stolen minutes with an instrument after the Duchess’ grueling, soul-crushing lessons. Soon, I’d have a proper piano and be released from this accursed tower.

The days of being cooped up here, like a hen laying eggs in a cramped cage, would finally end.

Though, I suppose the only thing better about my situation was that I wouldn’t be slaughtered for failing to lay eggs.

They called this tower a prison, but it wasn’t much different from my life in the mansion.

Even when Eileen—yes, that brat who broke my nose—came to pity me, I could only laugh bitterly.

Libian also came, telling me to endure it just a little longer, as if being trapped here was somehow worse than living in the mansion.

It’s suffocating, both there and here.

The only difference is that I can’t even walk through the gardens outside my door.

But I can endure this.

If the nobles find this place harsh, what must they think of the distant slums? Even the towns where commoners live must seem dirty and miserable to them.

“Your meal is here.”

A man with a hooked nose ascended the spiraling stairs, carrying a tray piled with food.

For a world filled with magic, you’d think they’d have some kind of elevator. But no—just the endless, winding staircase.

“How is Alina these days?” I asked as I took the heavy tray and placed it on the table.

The man hesitated, as if unsure how to answer.

“She’s been quite busy lately. It’s hard to see her around,” he finally said before bowing politely and descending the stairs.

The servants who came to the tower were always impeccably polite. None of them ignored or disrespected me, likely handpicked by the butler. 

Yet, when I asked about Alina, they always hesitated before saying she was busy.

That faint unease grew into a nagging thought: I wanted to leave this place. But there seemed to be no way out other than jumping from the tower.

And, as I said before, I’m no Rapunzel. I didn’t have magical hair to lower me safely.

Nor was there a charming stranger to teach me about the world outside.

If I could choose, perhaps a vibrant, alluring woman—sun-kissed skin, full lips, and a roguish air—would appear. It’d be nice to see someone beautiful instead of another dull, miserable face.

If she freed me, not just from this tower but the mansion too, I’d play her Carmen Fantasy as a token of my gratitude. 

It wouldn’t even matter that I didn’t compose it myself—what’s a little dishonesty among wandering vagabonds?

My stomach growled, interrupting my useless daydreams. I turned my attention to the tray of food the man had brought: bread, soup, and a hastily prepared meat dish.

As always, the food had gone cold on its journey up the stairs.

I dipped the bread into the soup, then used a fork to eat the rest of the meal. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t satisfying either.

At least I didn’t have to eat while being watched, that constant sense of judgment.

Still, every bite reminded me of Alina’s warm tomato stew before I was confined here.
It was comforting.

For some reason, the servants who had tended me before weren’t allowed to accompany me to the tower. If Alina were here, I wouldn’t spend my days hunched over a desk, reading dull books.

Instead, we’d drink tea, chat endlessly, and I’d let her dote on me.

I’d asked for novels, but they never brought any.

Yawning, I returned to the boring book I’d left open, basking in the sunlight. As I read, an unsettling thought crossed my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

I was afraid.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be a game world, one I barely remembered. And if it was, there seemed to be no way for me to survive.

No matter how many times I told myself that I was different from her, the truth was, I wasn’t.

I didn’t remember who the protagonist was, but you could always tell. The protagonist stood out, like a virtuoso pianist among amateurs, radiating a brilliance you couldn’t miss—even away from the piano.

If I ever figured out who they were, I’d grovel, beg for my life, and pray they’d spare me.

In the Duke’s Office

“Was it the right thing to lock her in the tower for two weeks?” the Duke asked, setting down the papers and pen he’d been reviewing. His voice was tinged with concern.

The butler, who had served the family for decades, understood the Duke’s moods better than anyone. Knowing this, he responded carefully.

“I thought it would end with her confined to her room. After all, the worst she did was silence a foul-mouthed servant—hardly a grievous offense.”

The Duke’s tired face relaxed slightly at the butler’s words. At least he wasn’t breaking pens in half or throwing them against the wall, as he often did when frustrated.

“As much as I dislike her,” the Duke continued, “I think Adelina went too far. It feels as if she’s trying to cast her out, just as she did with Lize.”

He drained his glass of water in one gulp, then pulled a strawberry candy from a drawer and popped it into his mouth—an odd choice for a man of his age.

“The Duchess wouldn’t go that far,” the butler reassured him. “She’s too soft-hearted, incapable of true hatred.”

Under his breath, he muttered something the Duke barely caught: “Though sometimes, being indecisive can be its own kind of cruelty.”

The Duke, fiddling with his desk, searched for another topic of conversation. 

Finally, he grinned slightly and asked in an exaggerated tone, “And what about the servant who dared insult Marisela? That fool should’ve been punished, not spared!”

The butler stroked his white mustache and replied with a sly smile, “The Duchess insisted they not be punished too harshly.”

“Are they still employed here? That hardly seems appropriate.”

“No, they’ve been sent away with a generous severance package.”

The Duke’s frown eased, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“Good. Then I’ll leave it at that for today. Thank you for your efforts.”

The butler bowed and left the room. He summoned a young, competent steward and began explaining the arrangements for an “unexpected accident” for the involved servants.

The Duke’s household wasn’t ruthless, but they believed in paying fair compensation—even for lives lost. With enough money left behind, many might see death as a fair trade.

As he gazed out the window at the still-lit tower, the butler smirked at the irony of it all.