Chapter 11
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 11
“Sir Gabriel, to me?”
Why is the male lead trying to win over the villainess? Is he grateful because he saw me save Canna?
“Yes. I dare offer myself to you.”
The male lead lowered his eyes. Was he… being shy?
No, wait. This isn't some ‘I’m just a villainess who wants to live a quiet life, so why are you doing this to me!’ storyline, is it? We already agreed to be rivals fighting over the female lead. Well, okay, I was the only one who decided that, but still… Thinking about it now, it feels unfair. He was the one glaring at me like I was a ghost just last time.
The male lead’s voice, which sounded like it wouldn’t waver even at knifepoint, trembled slightly. This was definitely a flag being triggered. My years of devouring RoFan novels told me so.
I’m screwed! I tried so hard to escape my villainess fate that I actually made the male lead fall for me. Am I an idiot?
“How foolish. Not knowing my place.”
Exactly. I should have known my place. I underestimated the world of villainess transmigration stories. But we’ve only met once. Is this guy just a sucker for a pretty face? To be fair, most RoFan characters are.
Anyway, I’m doomed. I thought I’d only stolen the female lead’s affection, but it seems I’ve snatched the male lead’s interest, too.
Fine. It’s a RoFan novel, I get it. The problem is that the villainess escape plan I spent two whole nights drafting has just become worthless. What was the point of all that planning? Becoming the female lead is the fastest and surest route, after all.
But the thing is, I have no intention of dating the male lead. He’s a character in a book, and I’m a real person.
“I have no interest in you.”
Oops. In my rush to push him away, I blurted out the classic ‘I’m not interested’ line. I really am an idiot! At this point, my subconscious must be craving a cliché RoFan plot. Now that a flag has been raised, trying to push him away will only make him cling harder.
“Yes. I suspected as much—that you, My Lady, have no interest in people.”
The male lead replied as if I’d stated the obvious. What kind of reaction was that? If I say I’m not interested, shouldn’t he be offended and say something like, ‘How dare you not be interested in me?’ And saying I have no interest in ‘people’ in general sounds a bit strange.
But the strangest thing was that he didn’t seem to have any lingering attachment despite my rejection. Did he not have feelings for me? Did I misunderstand? Then again, how many times have I seen commenters bash a protagonist for being dense when things were this obvious?
“It doesn’t matter. I am simply curious about you.”
See! Look at that! I knew it! Don’t underestimate the experience I’ve gained from burying my soul in RoFan for years!
The male lead delivered those cringeworthy words without a single flinch, as if sugar water ran through his veins instead of blood. I was the one getting goosebumps just listening. Of course, since Evangeline’s body also possessed the blood of the RoFan race, I didn’t actually shiver despite the embarrassingly sweet line.
RoFan is a terrifying genre. While I was trembling inwardly, the male lead changed the subject as if doing me a favor and continued explaining the drawing.
Looking at the moth drawing again, I felt a sense of peace return to my mind and body.
“This circle. I didn’t realize it until the body was moved, but it wasn’t a halo. It was more like a crest.”
Gabriel pointed to the distorted lines that looked like a moth’s antennae and pulled out another piece of paper. The lines are all disconnected; how is that a circle?
Then, I froze.
What the hell is this! This is the summoning circle Donau stole from me!
I thought it had burned down with the house!
It was a tearful reunion. But as I stared at it in my excitement, I realized something was off. There were no annotations at the bottom, and the paper looked brand new…
“This is that crest. I copied it and then burned the original drawing on the floor.”
Ah. So the male lead drew this, too.
Wait. You drew this one, too? If you could draw it so accurately, why did you sketch a moth earlier? Are you a science major or something?
I calmed my racing heart and composed myself. His drawing skills weren't what was important right now.
So, this wasn't my paper, but a copy the male lead had made from what Donau drew on the floor. The original was burned. That meant I’d never be able to read the summoning spell. I had tried to let it go, thinking it was gone forever, but seeing just the drawing again left me feeling empty. Farewell, Spirit King…
“In the painting of Donau’s corpse, is this crest drawn clearly?”
“Except for the parts obscured by the body, it is identical.”
I can’t believe they’re just passing around someone else’s isekai cheat code like this. I felt a flash of annoyance toward the faceless artist before cooling off. Since parts were hidden and I had already failed once, I probably wouldn't be able to summon a spirit without the full spell anyway.
It seemed the male lead was finished with his report. He was now just watching my lips, waiting for my response.
I looked at his unnecessarily handsome face and the summoning circle, debating with myself before deciding to just tell him. It wasn't because I fell for his face, obviously.
“The reason I went to find Donau wasn't because Canna was kidnapped. It was because he ran away with my drawing.”
“You mean this?”
“Yes.”
“My Lady,” Hena called out to me worriedly.
Don’t worry! I’ll handle this.
I needed to get that paper back, and there was no benefit in making an enemy of the male lead. Since he said he’d be on my side, I had no choice but to trust him and tell him the truth.
Judging by the situation, the male lead seemed to have fallen for me, so he wouldn't betray me, at least. It was actually more reassuring this way.
“Could you please explain what this crest is?”
“It’s a summoning circle.”
“What does it summon?”
“Well…”
I couldn't exactly talk about spirits, so I had to be vague. What should I call a fire spirit instead?
What do the people of this RoFan world believe in? The Sun Goddess Rachel? This place is practically a Holy Kingdom. There’s no other way. I’ll just have to go with that.
“I suppose it summons something like an angel.”
Gabriel stared at me intently before slowly nodding.
You actually believe that? You didn't believe Donau was blessed by a god, but you believe this summons an angel? Are you just believing it because the person you like said it?
Is this really the standard for a male lead in an isekai RoFan?
* * *
She was a starkly white existence. If she kept her eyes closed, one could easily believe she was a statue. That pale coloring likely contributed significantly to the sense that Evangeline Rohanson was something alien, detached from the mortal realm.
The series of movements—picking up the teacup from the table and taking a sip—seemed natural at a glance, yet somehow felt like a meticulously staged scene.
“…I wish to be of help to you.”
The moment Gabriel finished speaking, Evangeline Rohanson, who had been savoring the aroma of the tea with a languid air, set her cup down. As if reflecting her mood, the cup was placed without care, clattering against the saucer. The tea sloshed, threatening to spill over before finding its center and settling.
Once the surface of the tea grew still, a profound silence followed.
Everything in the vicinity held its breath, as if gauging Evangeline Rohanson’s mood. Birds ceased their flight and fell from the sky, and flower petals retreated into their buds to avoid swaying in the wind.
When the grand orchestra of the world stopped its music, nothing remained but the sound of a beating heart.
“Sir Gabriel. To me?” Evangeline asked, her gaze making him feel like the most foolish thing in the world.
When she opened her mouth, all the sounds of the world burst forth at once, like a held breath being exhaled.
The hands of the clock began to move again, the ticking of the seconds and the beating of his heart falling out of sync. The second hand felt exceptionally slow. Gabriel soon realized that the clock wasn't slow; his own heart was simply beating too fast.
“Yes. I dare offer myself to you.”
The words barely came out. His breath grew ragged with every syllable he exhaled.
“How foolish. Not knowing your place,” Evangeline Rohanson lamented.
The indoor lighting shouldn't have been flickering, yet the light seemed to shift, casting her shadow over Gabriel.
“I have no interest in you.”
Anger dwelled in her indifferent eyes, and her red lips curled into a crooked sneer of contempt. As the formal speech she had used to maintain a facade of politeness vanished, her blatant disregard for others became clear.
Gabriel accepted it.
Does a human take interest in the ants crawling through a garden? He should be grateful she hadn't crushed him out of boredom. Even if she were to trample the entire swarm, she wouldn't even perceive it as a sin.
Evangeline was merely angry because a worthless ant had wandered into her home.
“It doesn’t matter. I am simply curious about you.”
Even if that curiosity was negative, it was encouraging to have drawn any emotion from Evangeline Rohanson at all. It felt like witnessing a flower bloom from a withered, skeletal tree that should never have been able to blossom.
As Evangeline’s anger flared, the table rattled in resonance. The teacup on it jolted. Just when it seemed the world might collapse, the trembling stopped.
Evangeline sipped her tea again as if she had never exuded such a ferocious aura. Yet even as she moistened her throat, her gaze remained fixed on Gabriel.
Fortunately, it seemed she didn't intend to shed the mask of ‘Evangeline Rohanson’ just yet. As she appeared to calm down, the maid beside her, who looked ready to faint, let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Gabriel continued his explanation.
* * *
Gabriel looked back at the Rohanson mansion. It was a gloomy estate, ill-suited for a bright afternoon. Despite the likely large number of employees, it was strangely devoid of human presence and eerily quiet.
Only the cherry blossoms blooming profusely in a corner of the garden were an exceptionally deep red. Gabriel quietly stared at the fluttering hem of a garment and a pair of limp, white feet hanging from a branch of the weeping cherry tree.
“Commander, you’re late.”
Raphaella, who had been waiting in the carriage parked outside the Rohanson estate, greeted him. She followed Gabriel’s gaze to the cherry tree and added a comment.
“That’s a truly massive tree. Are cherry trees usually that big?”
As Raphaella said, it was an exceptionally large tree, grown with who-knows-what kind of fertilizer.
By the time Gabriel looked back, the doll-like figure hanging from the cherry tree had vanished. Was the scene he had just witnessed merely an illusion created by the drooping petals?