The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 4: When I Was Young

The headmaster called someone over and sent a letter.

With my left hand, I clutched the crude embroidery I had made long ago. With my right, I absentmindedly fiddled with the ring dangling from the necklace around my neck.

The sun had already set, and the children were slowly drifting off to sleep, but I couldn’t calm my restless heart.

Sitting on the bed, I gnawed on my fingernails until they began to sting. That’s when Raphael came to find me.

Since the other children were sleeping, he gestured with his head for me to follow him outside.

The exaggerated way he carried himself made me chuckle despite myself.

Stepping outside at night wasn’t all that special. We were only going to the garden in front of the orphanage.

There, we sat in the worn-out chairs with tattered leather and gazed at the sky.

The same unsettling two moons hovered above us, glowing ominously.

“Why’d you call me out here?”

“You looked like you couldn’t sleep. Is Something bothering you?”

“Yeah, I might leave here tomorrow. And maybe… I won’t come back.”

Raphael’s face shifted in surprise.

After a brief moment of confusion, he finally spoke.

“…You’re the only friend I have, Marie. What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, maybe you should’ve worked on that nasty temper of yours.”

His bewildered expression made me smile wryly.

“Like you have any room to talk,” he retorted.

For a long time, we sat in silence.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, and he seemed troubled by the thought of me leaving.

Finally, I handed him the piece of embroidery with the crude lily design.

Maybe I just wanted to reassure him, even a little.

I forced an awkward smile and said, “Who knows, I might be someone important. If you ever bring this back to me, I might give you a knight’s position or something.”

When he didn’t immediately take it, I opened his hand and placed the embroidery on his palm.

The clumsy lily design looked almost comical.

“…Alright,” he replied quietly.

With that, I stood up and returned to my bed.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

The next morning, a carriage waited for me outside the orphanage.

None of the other children came to see me off; I didn’t have any close bonds with them, after all.

Even Raphael simply waved once and turned away.

Was he upset?

The carriage was extravagant.

It was adorned with ornate decorations, had large wheels, and was pulled by a horse that exuded nobility.

The coachman brought out a small wooden step to help me climb in and even extended a hand to steady me.

Inside, I sat on the plush seat and looked around. The interior was lavishly decorated with intricate patterns and embellishments.

The carriage rumbled along the cobblestone streets, jostling so much that I started to feel nauseous.

Thankfully, once we left the city and transitioned to dirt roads, the ride became smoother.

The carriage stopped every two hours to change horses and every six hours to switch drivers, tirelessly pressing onward.

The journey took me through all sorts of landscapes.

There were roads lined with merchants pulling their carts, dense forests where anyone could’ve been hiding, and muddy paths where the horses struggled to move.

While the trip was exhausting, I found solace in the fact that I didn’t have to eat bland, stale bread.

The carriage was stocked with sweet treats and a variety of drinks, clearly an effort to accommodate a child.

After passing through two sets of city walls and crossing a tall bridge, we arrived at a massive iron gate before an opulent mansion.

I had no idea where this was.

The coachman, despite my attempts to speak with him, offered no explanation, and there were no signs indicating our destination.

“This is where you’ll need to get off,” he finally said, lifting me down gently before turning the carriage around and leaving without a word.

“Uh…”

I stood there, abandoned, feeling utterly bewildered.

The gates were still closed.

I hesitantly knocked on them, and with a groaning noise, they began to creak open, revealing a sprawling mansion beyond.

I walked along the meticulously maintained path, eventually meeting a group of maids and an elderly butler dressed in formal attire.

“Greetings,” the butler said, bowing.

I returned the gesture, bowing in a slightly subservient manner out of habit.

He frowned, displeased by my posture.

“Before you meet the master, you’ll need to clean up and change into appropriate attire. Even if you don’t stay here, it’s only proper to present yourself well,” he said, gesturing to the maids to take over.

The maids led me to a massive bathroom.

Even in my previous life, I’d never seen such luxury.

Six women worked together to strip off my clothes, scrub my hair, and clean every inch of me.

When one of them tried to remove my necklace, I pushed her hand away.

“Please don’t touch this,” I said firmly.

The maid relented without complaint, leaving the necklace untouched.

One poured water over me while the others scrubbed and rinsed. Despite their efforts, my hair remained greasy, a reminder of the filthy orphanage I’d lived in.

They drew a bath in a small tub, filling it with hot water, fragrant oils, and flower petals.

“Sit here for an hour, and the smell will be gone,” one of them said.

Smell? I’d never thought of myself as smelly.

Sure, I only bathed in the stream every other day, but still.

As I poked at the floating oils with my finger, I caught a strong scent of roses.

I wanted to sink into the warm water and wallow in peace, but the maids wouldn’t leave me alone. They continued scrubbing, pouring, and tending to me.

“I wonder if orphanages even have soap,” one remarked.

“Probably not, seeing as how they’ve only ever washed such cute kids with plain water,” another replied.

Their words stung, though I wasn’t sure why.

Was it my pride? Or was I simply ashamed of my dirty body?

The maids moved with practiced efficiency, as if they’d done this countless times before.

When they finally finished, they wrapped me in the softest towel I’d ever felt.

“What would you like to wear?” one asked, showing me a selection of dresses: a frilly white one, a red one with blue jewels, and a simple, modest one that looked almost like sleepwear.

I chose the modest dress, much to their disappointment.

Dressed and ready, I was led to the largest door in the mansion’s central hall.

The butler walked me down a long corridor, explaining the rules as we went.

“When you meet the master, he won’t expect formal etiquette, but there are a few things you should keep in mind,” he said, raising one finger after another to list them.

“Do not use vulgar language like a common prostitute.

Be humble, but don’t grovel.

If anyone speaks ill of you, remain silent and listen.

And, whenever possible, answer questions directly.”

I nodded. It all seemed easy enough.

Satisfied, he smiled slightly and opened the door.

Inside sat a middle-aged man with a cold demeanor, sipping tea.

He looked unmistakably like me—or rather, I looked like him.

So, this was the duke.

He called over a man dressed like a wizard, who whispered something to him before approaching me.

“Show me your palm,” the wizard instructed.

I held out my hand, and he pricked my finger with a sharp needle, muttering an incantation under his breath.

He turned back to the duke and nodded.

“Send the other children back. There’s no need to bring anyone else.”