The Reluctant Villainess
What on earth is that...? It was an unmistakable anomaly. Like froth bubbling over the edge of a boiling cauldron, an ominous black mana slithered out of the box, creeping down toward the floor.
"W-what is it...? All of a sudden..." Carmel asked, looking bewildered as she watched me whip around in surprise.
Could she not see it? Or was she merely pretending not to? Was she trying to avoid mentioning what was actually inside the box? Under normal circumstances, since she was the one who brought it and she knew how to manipulate mana, the latter would be the logical conclusion... But Carmel had been thoroughly shaken just moments ago. There was no way she could have composed herself quickly enough to pull off such a calm, calculated act. Which meant...
"Mother, do you not feel that? There is a sudden chill in the air... How strange. It is not as if the windows are open." I feigned reacting to a vague sense of foreboding rather than the mana itself. Yet, Carmel only tilted her head in confusion.
"A chill? No, I do not feel anything..." She truly seemed oblivious to the anomaly. Her only reaction was mild confusion at my sudden alarm. It was safe to assume she genuinely could not see it.
Yet, it was glaringly obvious to my eyes. Was this also due to my Mana Sight? Just as I had detected the seed of mana during the Festival of the Sword, perhaps I was the only one capable of perceiving this. But that was not the most pressing issue. The real question was why the object inside the box had suddenly begun spewing mana. Judging by Carmel's reaction, it wasn't a spell she had cast intentionally. Then what on earth...?
I briefly considered summoning the Royal Mage, Monas. Whatever lay inside that box was undoubtedly a highly dangerous magical artifact. The fact that it was actively doing something was far from normal. However, involving others would put Carmel in an incredibly precarious position. Bringing such a malevolent object into the royal palace carried a heavy price. Under kingdom law, even a queen could face execution in the worst-case scenario. I could not let that happen. If I had to choose between the ruin of this kingdom and losing Carmel, I would make the exact same choice every single time, even if given infinite chances.
Therefore, I had to handle this matter myself. To do that, I first needed to ascertain under what conditions the object activated and what effects it produced. For now, I must observe. With that thought, I sharpened my senses, focusing entirely on my surroundings.
"What is it? Why the sudden silence?" Carmel asked, her voice laced with worry as she peered into my face, noting my abrupt shift in demeanor. But then, it happened. Something shifted deep within the eyes that gazed back at me. The warmth in her trembling irises was rapidly replaced by a biting, absolute cold.
"...Mother?" Carmel did not answer. Instead, her pupils began to quiver. Though her gaze was fixed on me, it felt as if she were looking right through me. At the same time, her hand, resting limply on the table, trembled ever so slightly—as if she were desperately fighting against some unseen force.
"Mother." Still, she remained silent. Slowly, a venom that I knew all too well began to pool in her eyes and flood her features.
"...Sera..." At that moment, my name slipped past her lips like a sudden, desperate plea. It sounded utterly wretched, like a ragged breath escaping a victim in the depths of torture. I felt a sudden, violent tug in my chest, as if something were trying to burst through a locked door. Along with Carmel's sudden transformation, the overflowing black mana began to subside. The correlation between these two simultaneous events was undeniable. I asked gently, as if knocking softly on a closed door.
"Mother, are you alright? Your expression suddenly grew quite dark." I prayed my suspicion was wrong. But the voice that answered me was freezing cold.
"I have no desire to be pitied by you, Princess Sera. Do not act as if we are close." Her voice was sharp, reverting entirely to how she had sounded when she first pointed a dagger at me. It cut deeper than any blade ever could. Had I been in the same state of mind as this morning, I might have been devastated. But now, I felt no great panic. Because I finally understood the nature of that cursed, black-mana-shrouded object—the twisted branch resting inside the box.
It was the very thing that forced Carmel to exist as the villainess destined to ruin the Luistie Kingdom. The function of that branch was to breed and sustain hatred and malice within her. Perhaps Carmel herself had desired this, wanting to prevent her hatred from fading amidst the luxury of the royal palace or due to her own softening emotions. Or perhaps someone else had sent it with her to ensure she would never waver. I still did not know the extent of its power—whether it completely reset her personality or merely stoked the embers of her dying hatred. Either way, it was a cruel, merciless thing.
Yet, her memories surely remained intact. If they didn't, it would hinder her role as a villainess. It was only logical to assume that despite her sudden shift in attitude, she remembered everything that had transpired between us. And then, there was that voice. ...Sera... The faint, desperate whisper she had managed to squeeze out right before the curse consumed her entirely. The very voice that had whispered in my ear countless times last night. To me, it sounded like a plea for salvation. If so, I couldn't just sit idly by. Not for anyone else's sake, but for my own pleasure.
Besides, if things kept resetting like this, it would ruin the entire thrill of breaking her. Through all the degradation I had subjected her to, her heart had slowly surrendered to me, leaving only a tiny fraction left to conquer. To have some mysterious branch suddenly interfere at this crucial juncture was infuriating. It felt like the power cutting out right when I was about to clear a game. For a split second, a surge of violent irritation washed over me. But this made one thing abundantly clear: if I wanted to realize my desire—to completely subjugate Carmel's body and mind—I had to do something about that cursed object. I was used to obstacles. The only question was how to bypass this one. I would start the moment my house arrest was lifted. First, I needed to gather information on what that thing was and how to break its curse.
"Oh, how hurtful. And here I thought Mother and I had grown quite close. But well, if you do not feel the same... I suppose I will just have to work harder to win your affection in the future."
"Hmph." Carmel turned her head away, as if even speaking to me was beneath her. Her posture radiated genuine, deep-seated contempt.
The next day. My final day in Carmel's chambers. Taking advantage of a moment when Carmel had left the room, I opened the box once more. The bizarrely twisted mistletoe branch looked even more grotesque than before. It was only natural to feel a sense of revulsion toward an object steeped in a curse.
I pulled out a piece of paper and began to sketch it in detail. Perhaps the specific shape held some significance, or maybe the species of mistletoe itself would yield a clue. Since I wouldn't be able to visit this room as freely in the future, capturing it on paper was my best option. The sketch didn't take long. Unlike my past self, Princess Sera possessed remarkably deft hands. I captured every minute detail on the paper without missing a single feature.
The issue was who to ask about this... Monas, the Royal Mage, might possess knowledge regarding curses. He could at least provide a starting point. However, if this turned out to be an incredibly dangerous cursed artifact, it would be difficult to explain where I had seen such a thing if he questioned me. A simple excuse wouldn't suffice. But there was one person who came to mind. The Tenneric Shamanic Shop in Tenorich, where I had previously purchased the poison I administered to King Pehart. The old Northern merchant who ran the shop would surely have some knowledge of curses. Perfect. It's decided. The moment my house arrest ended, he would be my first stop. I closed the notebook containing the sketch and slipped it among the belongings to be sent back to my chambers.
Returning to my own chambers after so long felt strangely foreign. I already missed that dream-like routine of gazing upon Carmel's naked body morning and night. Well, it wouldn't be long before I saw it again. It was a pity; had she not reverted to that state, I would have loved to ask her how she felt about the days we spent together. I would hold onto this resentment and unleash it tenfold upon that wretched branch. As I was lost in these thoughts, a maid announced that the Knight Commander had arrived. It seemed he had rushed over the moment he heard of my return. It had been quite some time since I last saw Filgret's face.
"Send him in." When the door opened, Filgret stepped inside, his face as rigid and expressionless as steel. He looked as though he had lost a bit of weight, however.
"You have endured a long, truly arduous ordeal, Your Highness. I shall spare no effort and work myself to the bone to ensure such an unfortunate incident never occurs again."
Well... to be perfectly honest, "endured" was hardly the right word. Even last night, I had spent a delightful final evening feasting my eyes on Carmel's sleeping form. But there was no need to share such details with Filgret.
"Uh, yes. I am counting on you. Actually, this is perfect timing, Filgret. I apologize for putting you to work the moment we reunite, but I need you to accompany me on an inspection..."
"Of course, Your Highness. However, before that, may I introduce the man who has been appointed as the new Royal Guard Commander?"
Ah, that Masker fellow? Well, there was no harm in it. Upon my nod of approval, a man opened the door and stepped inside. He wore a heavy iron mask over his face. Was that literally why they called him Masker?
"It is an honor to meet you, Princess Sera. I have been appointed as the Commander of the Obsidian Knights and the leader of the Direct Unit. Please, call me Masker." Masker knelt on one knee, offering a formal salute. Watching him, I couldn't help but feel utterly dumbfounded.
"Excuse me."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"You are Wilter, aren't you?"
"Wilter... Forgive me, but I know of no such name. My name is Masker." What on earth was wrong with this guy?