The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 24: Why

Morning had come, and Alina was still asleep on my bed.

At first, I thought about waking her, but seeing her peacefully asleep, I decided to just fix my hair roughly and leave the house.

As soon as I stepped outside, I noticed Kesel swinging his sword in the yard, training.

The younger knight was probably still sleeping.

“Good morning.”

“The weather isn’t particularly nice, though.”

“In such cases, you’re supposed to accept the greeting with ‘Good morning.’”

“Ah, I see. Good morning, Miss.”

What a proper response—though it came too late to matter.

“By the way, where are you heading?”

“To the orphanage in the slums. I’m going to see a child I know.”

At my words, his expression hardened. It was the face of someone resigned to the inevitability of something they’d rather avoid.

“I don’t know where Abel is, but I’ll accompany you myself.”

I nodded.

He sheathed the sword he had been swinging, tidied his hair slightly, and followed behind me.

The coachman seemed to still be asleep.

He should have been tending to the carriage or caring for the horses, but there was no sign of him.

“Kesel, can you drive the carriage?”

“Of course I can.”

I wondered if knights learned not only how to ride but also how to drive carriages. Well, that worked out for me.

I climbed into the carriage, and Kesel, holding his rattling sword belt tightly, sat directly on the hard wooden bench where the coachman usually sat with a pile of soft hay.

I was seated on a cushioned chair, so it wasn’t my concern, but I wondered if his seat was too uncomfortable for him.

The carriage began moving slowly, then picked up speed as it rolled down the road.

The journey to the slums was quick.

There were no other carriages on the road, and the path was neither narrow nor difficult to navigate.

Opening the front window, I raised my voice so Kesel could hear me over the clattering of the wheels.

“Do you see that fancy brothel over there?”

“Yes, I see it!”

The noise from the carriage hitting the stone road made conversation difficult.

“Turn right from there and keep going until you see a square-shaped orphanage building.”

On the streets, I noticed people in tattered clothing wandering aimlessly. 

As we got closer to the brothel, the people wore slightly finer clothes.

I stared at the brothel where I had been born and raised.

It was a place to which I could assign all sorts of meaning, but I would rather die than step inside.

Walking along the roadside was a dark-skinned nomadic woman carrying a guitar.

If I ever had the chance, I’d like to learn that distinctive, playful style of guitar playing. 

But one thing was certain—there was no way a courtesan like her would be allowed inside the estate.

By day, they sang of burning love; by night, they praised the men who brought them money.

Turning my head to the left, I caught sight of the tiny residential area where the Proxy Manager had once lived with me.

I doubted there was any trace left of the people who had lived there before.

Unconsciously, I touched the ring around my neck.

The coarse, plated ring’s unique hardness pricked at my fingertips.

Every time I looked at that place, memories of the Proxy Manager’s cold body would surface, and I’d wonder if I was a cursed being destined to bring misfortune.

Of course, time had dulled those thoughts. Now, it was just another shocking event in my short life, buried among others.

But it remained sticky and unpleasant, an emotion impossible to completely forget.

The carriage turned right past the brothel, tilting slightly, and I looked ahead at the orphanage I had spent so much time in.

The sight of the flashy carriage drew a crowd of children, who gathered curiously in front of the building.

Even from inside the carriage, I could see how many of them had flocked to the windows.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the orphanage, and I stepped down gracefully, taking Kesel’s hand.

The distinctive clack of my shoes echoed as I stood in front of the door, waiting calmly.

The director eventually opened the door. He looked a little more haggard than I remembered.

Was he once a nobleman? Or perhaps the son of a wealthy family?

Regardless of his background, the fact that he continued running the orphanage in a place like this meant there was at least some good in him, however twisted he might be.

At the very least, I had to acknowledge that thanks to him, fewer children in the slums were starving to death.

When I left, I’d be sure to leave behind one of the bills the Duke had given me.

After all, there had been times when this place had fed and sheltered me.

“But Lady Marie—no, Lady Marisela. What brings you to such a humble place?”

“I was reminiscing. I wanted to sort out some old thoughts.”

I noticed a few children who had tormented, hit, or mocked me in the past.

They avoided my gaze, some gnashing their teeth in frustration, others looking nervous, as if I might retaliate.

I wouldn’t.

But Raphael was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps he was out exercising, running and playing somewhere.

Or maybe he was earnestly practicing his swordsmanship with a wooden stick, holding proper stances.

The director led me to his office—a room with an air of old-fashioned elegance, oddly out of place in the slums. It was the same room I used to borrow books from.

Kesel, of course, followed me inside.

The director served me tea, something I’d never been offered when I’d lived here.

Taking a sip, I realized it was bitter, cheap tea with only a faint, hastily added aroma.

Back then, I’d envied anyone who got to drink this.

The director seemed tense, watching as I sat silently, sipping tea.

“The reason I came here is simple.”

I swirled my tongue inside my mouth, trying to rid myself of the cheap tea’s bitter aftertaste.

Yet the distinct bitterness wouldn’t leave my mouth.

“I’m here to take Raphael.”

“…You mean that troublemaker?”

“Yes. I made a promise. You know, the one he kept saying all the time—every single day…”

At the same moment, both the director and I spoke the same phrase: I want to become a knight.

The difference was that I framed it as Raphael’s dream, while the director called it nonsense.

After an awkward cough, I continued the conversation.

“Anyway, where is Raphael?”

“He’s probably off doing that strange training regimen you mentioned to him, Miss Marisela.”

With that, the director stood up. He grabbed a coat hanging on a long wooden peg, carelessly threw it on, and bowed slightly to me.

“I have a general idea of where he might be. I’ll fetch him immediately.”

I almost stopped him but lowered my hand when it struck me that he was likely using this as an excuse to escape the awkward atmosphere.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, I moved my hand from the air to my teacup, but the thought of drinking more of the bitter tea turned me off, so I set it back down.

As I passed the time, Kesel spoke.

“There was an orphanage here when I lived in the slums, but it wasn’t nearly as well-run as this.

That director must have some skill for managing this place.”

“He’s a harsh man who beats the children he doesn’t like, but he also spends his own money to keep them fed and alive.”

While we discussed the orphanage, a girl entered the room with a face filled with loss, despair, and a hint of anger and hatred.

“You… you’re Marie, aren’t you? It’s you, right?”

Kesel frowned and moved to drive the child out, but I raised a hand to stop him as she flinched.

“The Marie who used to cower in a corner, reading books, never saying a word even when the others hit her.”

Her voice wavered as she began to tear up.

“And now… why?”

Why—what exactly was she asking?

Was it why I arrived in such a grand carriage?

Why did I have a knight following me?

Why was the director bowing and calling me “Miss”?

She wouldn’t know, would she? This girl probably had no real understanding of what it meant to be nobility.

Unlike me, who grew up in a brothel and saw how petty nobles behaved, she wasn’t from that kind of place.

She likely didn’t know how to handle this situation.

Her parents must have died, and she ended up here without ever having to beg for survival.

I couldn’t even recall her name.

All I remembered was that she once hid my clothes by a tree when I was bathing by the stream.

Oh, and her face was the first one I saw when she threw a blanket over me and hit me in the middle of the night.

“Well.”

“I’ll probably rot here forever. But you… you should have too.

Why do you get to wear such pretty clothes, have a cool knight behind you, ride in a fancy carriage, wear fine shoes, and sit there all elegantly?

Like you’re someone truly important. I’m better than you in every way!

I’m not a bookworm. I’m cuter, prettier, stronger, and better at embroidery too!”

I really was someone important—at least, half of one.

Her words brought an involuntary smile to my lips.

“Who knows. What was your name again?”

She grumbled about how I couldn’t even remember her name before declaring herself Hannah.

“Sounds like a name someone came up with on a whim.

Anyway, Hannah, don’t be so pessimistic.

You never know—one day, you might end up in a brothel, spreading your legs until some scruffy noble decides to buy you.”

I shrugged and added the jab mockingly.

At that, she screamed in anger and lunged at me.

Kesel merely extended his left hand and gently pushed her away, rendering her efforts futile.

She collapsed onto the floor, wailing and throwing a tantrum like a child.

Was she a year older than me? I couldn’t even remember anymore.

The whole thing was tedious, frustrating, and unpleasant.

Not long after, the director returned, panting slightly, holding Raphael by the scruff of his neck like a kitten.

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