The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 34: The Conversation

Eileen followed closely behind me.

Usually, she would walk beside me, chattering about things I wasn’t the least bit interested in. Today, though, the atmosphere was subdued.

I didn’t mind; the calmness was a pleasant change.

As we neared my room, the familiar sweet scent began to fill the air. Eileen wrinkled her nose in mild displeasure, clearly not fond of it.

Once inside, I pulled out a chair for her to sit on. Without thinking, I walked over to the drawer, grabbed some tobacco leaves, and started chopping them with scissors, habit taking over.

Eileen’s startled voice cut through the quiet.

“Marisela, what are you doing all of a sudden?”

“Oh, it’s just a habit. Give me a moment—it’s not like this is urgent.”

I stuffed the powdered leaves into the pipe and lit it with a torn scroll, sending up a plume of smoke. Eileen grimaced and rushed to open the window, coughing.

The Duke smokes every day, so why is this such a big deal? Maybe because my room is smaller.

I glanced at her fussing over the smoke, then walked over to the piano.

Running my fingers over a few keys, I began to play a piece just as Eileen opened her mouth to speak. 

My fingertips settled on the keys, and I drew a deep pull from the pipe, letting the sticky, hazy sensation wash over me. Then, I began to play.

It wasn’t as if I had to worry about disturbing anyone—there was no one nearby to be inconvenienced.

I chose Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Paganini. While many preferred Liszt’s Grand Etudes After Paganini, I had always been drawn to Brahms.

Paganini’s influence made the piece dramatic and flamboyant, which I loved, but I especially liked the eighth variation, with its unique virtuosity.

I didn’t play the entire set; my wrist ached, and the day had been exhausting. After wrapping up my performance, I stood and turned around.

Eileen stared at me, wide-eyed, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“What… what are you?” she stammered.

I shrugged, not understanding what this silly girl was trying to say.

“What do you mean?”

“You just played that and acted like it’s nothing! That’s what’s strange!”

“Well, with enough practice, anyone can do it. Now, are you going to tell me why you followed me here?”

“…I wanted to ask for a favor,” she muttered hesitantly.

“Goodness.”

I was so surprised I nearly dropped my pipe. I’d used it for years and grown attached to it—breaking it would’ve been disastrous.

“You mentioned earlier that you’re going to the ball,” she began, her discomfort evident as she dragged out her words.

“Should I not go? I don’t mind. You can explain it to the Duchess yourself.”

“No, that’s not it! Whether you go or not doesn’t matter to me. I just…” She faltered, then finally continued.

“There’s someone I like.”

“And?”

“And… if he talks to you, could you gently turn him down or avoid him? I mean, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you…”

Her words didn’t anger me as much as they left me baffled.

Though society was more open to mixed-class marriages compared to a century ago, I was practically a commoner in the eyes of nobles.

Still, it was amusing how Eileen, even when lowering herself to make a request, managed to be just as annoying as when she acted haughty.

How could one person be so irritating?

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll seduce the man you like?”

“What could you possibly have that I don’t, Eileen?”

“You’re better at instruments than I am, you learned dances in a month that took me years to master, you’re incredibly smart, and you’ve practically memorized every book in the mansion…”

I approached her as she trailed off.

There was no need to yell or get angry. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the drug, but I felt calm—like a painkiller dulling every sharp edge of emotion.

Eileen tensed as I drew closer, swallowing nervously.

“Look, Eileen, we’re past the age where I have to explain these things to you.

Being good at instruments means nothing. You learned them because the Duchess wanted you to understand the music of a distinguished commoner among a sea of mediocre ones.

Dancing? As long as you don’t step on someone’s toes, it’s fine. Being smart? Useless for a woman in our position.”

I tapped her chest lightly with the stem of my pipe, and she flushed, standing up to cover her chest with her arms.

“What… what are you doing?!”

“A man wants a pretty face, big breasts, and a shapely waist and hips. Most would prefer someone like you, who listens quietly, over a bizarre girl obsessed with difficult music and strange habits.”

Hearing it aloud, my words sounded almost like an insult.

Still, Eileen was far better off than I was.

“And you’re not a halfwit, unlike me.

So, is that enough to assure you? Whoever this man is, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Eileen nodded, her expression troubled.

Her face always gave away her feelings so plainly—I wondered if she’d ever grow out of it. Probably not, I decided.

“Now, why don’t you head out, Eileen?”

She flinched at my words, but then, like I had done earlier, she slowly approached me.

If she was coming to slap me, I could take the hit, laugh it off, and apologize. At least she wasn’t trying to push me this time.

Instead, she grabbed my shoulders, her fingers trembling as she looked at me with a faintly sorrowful expression.

I considered ruining the mood with a joke, but something held me back, and I stayed silent.

“…Is it because of what I said to you before?”

I gently removed her hands from my shoulders and walked over to my bed without answering.

I tugged off my socks, feeling the cool air on my bare feet, then finally spoke in a low voice.

“What you said back then… it was all true.”

Whether it was as a child or two years ago—I couldn’t quite remember. I didn’t want to remember. Thinking about it hurts too much.

Eileen had insulted me, bringing up my mother, but everything she’d said had been the truth.

“…It wasn’t the truth. Just something I said in anger.”

“Sure, if you say so. Get out, Eileen. You’ve said your piece.”

At my words, Eileen gave me a forlorn look and left the room.

Should I call her behavior hypocritical? Or just plain repulsive? I couldn’t decide.

Moments like this always led me back to the piano.

Whatever else happened, the only thing that ever understood me or gave voice to my feelings was an instrument.

A week and three days passed.

Life continued its dull, unchanging routine until the Duchess came by to inform me that we’d be departing for the capital after lunch.

She asked if I needed anything packed, but when I said no, she simply nodded.

After hastily finishing a flavorless bowl of oat porridge for lunch, I grabbed a few books to read on the journey and boarded the carriage without any luggage.

The carriage was enormous—about the size of a modest commoner’s house. Inside were Eileen, Libian, and the Duchess.

It must have been enhanced by magic, as its interior was far more spacious than its outward appearance suggested.

“Ah, Marisela, you’re here,” the Duchess greeted me.

“…What is this place?”

“This is the carriage we use for traveling to the capital. It’s a bit smaller compared to those used by other families, but…”

I barely heard the rest of her explanation.

No wonder this seemingly small carriage was pulled by eight strong horses—it wasn’t a carriage so much as a moving house.

If we’d traveled like this on our trips to the lake, it would’ve been incredibly convenient.

“Anyway, it might be a bit uncomfortable, but unlike your usual bed, this one is fitted to your body. Libian takes up the most space, so you’ll probably have to use that bed over there,” the Duchess said, pointing to a specific spot.

I nodded and sat on the indicated bed.

I could feel the slight sway of the carriage as it moved, but the entire setup was astonishing.

Until now, I had thought this world wasn’t so different from the one I came from, aside from the existence of magic. Seeing this proved me wrong.

Libian noticed my dazed expression and approached, throwing out a casual remark.

“What’s with you? Acting like it’s your first time riding in one of these.”

“…It is my first time in a carriage like this.”

“…Oh.”

At that, the previously warm and somewhat familial atmosphere in the carriage instantly grew colder.

Even Libian seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

As always, I was the outsider.