The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 20: Lullaby

After leaving the tower, the first person I met was Alina.

It had been a long time since we’d last seen each other, and she looked slightly thinner.

“It’s been a while, Alina.” 

“Yes, it has, my lady.”

We didn’t rush into each other’s arms like in some dramatic reunion. Instead, we slowly approached one another and shared a long embrace. Our chests pressed close enough for me to feel her heartbeat.

As we hugged, I couldn’t help but glance at her sleeves and the hem of her skirt.

Her undergarments were blue, but fortunately, there were no blue bruises underneath them.

Perhaps my earlier rampage had some effect after all—or so I wanted to believe.

“Oh, by the way, a huge piano has been placed in your room!”

I wanted to rush to see it immediately, but with Alina by my side, I decided to hold back for now. “That makes me happy,” I said.

We spent some time exchanging idle chatter about what had happened while we were apart.

I told her about the dull, lifeless people in the tower and how much I had missed the stew she used to make.

As we talked, Alina suddenly closed her eyes and staggered slightly.

I caught her just before she fell and looked closely at her face.

I didn’t ask if she was okay or if something was wrong.

Her face was steeped in exhaustion, and the faint shadow of despair hung over her eyes. At times like this, it’s better to stay silent.

Supporting her quietly was enough.

As we walked through the silent hallway, Alina eventually broke the silence. “Was living in the tower tolerable for you?”

“It wasn’t, because you weren’t there.”

“That’s quite a romantic thing to say. You should save it for someone you love someday.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I’ll get married someday when I’m a little older. You should, too.”

Our conversation was sweet, but it felt more like the friendly banter between close sisters than anything romantic. 

It was ironic, given how our modes of speech—her respectful, mine casual—were completely mismatched for our ages.

As Alina kept talking, she glanced at my face and trailed off. My expression must not have been very pleasant.

She walked by my side as we headed to my room.

A passing servant gave us an uncomfortable look, as if my friendly demeanor with Alina was strange. Why do they care if I choose to be close with her?

After walking for a while on the red-carpeted hallway, we finally arrived at my room.

Inside, the once-empty space now had a grand piano taking center stage.

I took Alina’s hand and led her inside, guiding her to my neatly arranged bed.

I laid her down gently, leaning over her slightly, and suddenly felt my face grow warm.

The sun still hung faintly in the sky, glowing a soft red as evening approached.

I realized, though, that my room still didn’t have a clock.

“My lady…?” Alina began hesitantly.

“Just lie here,” I said firmly.

She waved her hands as if to protest and tried to sit up, but I pushed her back gently. 

She fell easily, lacking any of the vigor she once had when I first met her.

She seemed so frail now—nothing like the energetic, spirited girl I remembered.

I sat at the piano and began playing a lullaby.

It was a song I remembered from my time at the music academy, one a freckled girl used to sing.

I didn’t know what the words meant, but I had heard it so often I had memorized the lyrics.

Originally, it was meant to be sung with a guitar, but all I had was the piano.

Someday, I’d have to ask for a guitar.

For now, I let my fingers glide softly over the keys, playing gently as I sang:

Спи, младенец мой прекрасный, Баюшки-баю…(Sleep, my beautiful baby,
Lullaby, lullaby…)

The only part I understood was the refrain, bayushki-bayu, which I had been told meant “hush-a-bye.”

When I finished the song, Alina’s expression had softened into something serene.

“What language is that song in?” she asked.

I paused, considering how to answer. After a moment, I decided to tell the truth—or at least part of it.

“It’s a lullaby sung by nomads in the east,” I said.

“It’s so soothing.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“But how do you know songs from such faraway places?”

“People from all over drift through the slums—

those from the capital, nomads, failed opportunists, fallen nobles, even foreigners who can’t speak the language.”

“I’ve never been to a place with so many different people.”

“And you shouldn’t go. It’s not a place for someone like you.”

“If you say so, my lady.”

Alina pulled the blanket up to her chin, leaving only her head visible. She looked funny yet adorable.

“My lady?”

“What?”

“Someday, please visit my home. Let’s eat the stew my mother makes, along with all the other wonderful dishes. It’s delicious.

And we’ll have freshly squeezed milk from the farm, with fig bread lightly toasted in the oven and spread with cheese.”

“Alright. Someday.”

We shared a quiet, comforting conversation in the room until a knock interrupted us.

When I opened the door, the old butler lowered his hand from his mustache and greeted me.

“It’s been a while, my lady.”

“It has. Isn’t it too early for dinner?”

“The master has summoned you earlier than usual.”

I nodded and, instead of following him, walked ahead.

I hated walking behind others, especially those taller than me, who blocked my view.

As we passed the portraits lining the hallway, I found myself avoiding their gaze.

Why did they hang those eerie paintings in rows along the corridor?

Would my face someday join them?

If it did, I’d make sure the artist painted me smiling, even if I had to scold them to death.

If I must be remembered, let it be with a smile.

I paused outside the dining room, took a deep breath, and entered.

Inside sat the Duke and Duchess. I greeted them with the polished grace I’d been forced to learn and took my usual seat.

The Duke addressed me.

“Marisela, the children are at a social gathering with their peers tonight. Sit beside me instead.”

I wanted to decline, fearing it would ruin my appetite, but I wasn’t in a position to refuse.

Reluctantly, I stood and moved to the seat next to him.

At least he wouldn’t snatch my food with me sitting this close.

The meal followed the same course as the last dinner before my confinement.

A mild drink for me, bite-sized appetizers, a light soup to whet the appetite, and the main course: duck breast drizzled with a decorative sauce.

Even the bread, which should be eaten with one’s hands, was delicately sliced with a knife and fork. Watching them eat always made me feel a bit weary.

“Marisela, was life in the tower harsh?” the Duke asked.

“Thanks to your care, I was quite comfortable,” I replied with polite indifference.

“Good to hear,” he said, turning to the Duchess. “By the way, I hear the child has no personal maid.”

The Duchess, mid-sip of water, choked and coughed awkwardly. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and replied with a flushed face.

“I must have forgotten. The child never mentioned it, so I didn’t realize.”

“If you say so,” the Duke said, his tone neutral.

He continued, “By the way, those dismissed servants— I hear one was attacked by highwaymen, and another was hit by a carriage. Is the security in this duchy so poor that our people can’t walk freely?”

“Unfortunate,” the Duke said with a sigh. “We’ll increase patrols.”

The Duchess let out a faint laugh, then quietly resumed eating.

“Anyway,” the Duke said, “assign someone to the child. Until now, she’s only had that girl, who’s been here for barely a year, to herself.”

“I’ll see to it,” the Duchess replied curtly.

After the main course, light cheeses and desserts were served. Throughout the meal, I realized the Duchess never once met my gaze.

When I finally looked directly at her, our eyes met briefly. Guilt flickered in her expression before she quickly looked away.

“Marisela, you once mentioned wanting to visit the Crimson Lake,” the Duke said. 

“Yes. You said I could go in a few years…” “Go now,” he said softly, his voice barely audible to the Duchess. “And pass my regards to Lize.”

He handed me a paper envelope containing crisp bills, a simple jewel, and a letter.

“And take two knights with you. The area near the slums isn’t exactly safe,” he added, casting a pointed glance at the Duchess.

She seemed on the verge of spitting out her sorbet.

“…I’ll arrange for the appropriate people,” she said with a strained voice.

After dinner, I returned to my room, my steps noticeably lighter.

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