The Downfall of the Villainess
The imperial capital was ever bustling with life. As the very heart of the Empire, only the finest goods flowed into its markets, fueling an insatiable appetite for extravagance. Priceless luxuries rarely glimpsed in distant provinces were commonplace here, catching the eye at every turn. Naturally, the capital's nobility spent their idle days drifting from one salon to another, whiling away the hours over tea.
The estate of Marquis Chandler was no exception. Today, the townhouse hosted an embroidery gathering, where ladies of high society worked their needles into precious silks and linens. Drawn by the promise of gossip and prestige, numerous noblewomen had flocked to the estate.
"Oh, Lady Chandler! What an exquisite butterfly you've stitched."
"Your embroidery is so delightfully delicate... I really must learn from your example, though I doubt I could ever match it."
"Do you truly think so? To my eyes, your needlework is already marvelous."
Linia Chandler feigned modesty, just as expected of a daughter from an illustrious marquisate. The gentle curve of her seemingly innocent eyes lent an air of heartfelt sincerity to her words, warming the room's atmosphere with practiced ease.
"Ah!" Linia suddenly clapped her hands together, as if a brilliant thought had just struck her. "Come to think of it, isn't there someone among us whose skill with a needle is beyond compare?"
"Beyond compare...?"
Following the subtle flick of Linia's gaze, every eye in the drawing room shifted in unison.
There, seated upon a spacious wine-red sofa, sat a stunning young noblewoman working her embroidery with an expression of pure, unadulterated boredom. Even in a gathering steeped in luxury, her gown stood in a realm of its own; the very weave of the fabric breathed peerless opulence. Not a single jewel or accessory adorning her figure could be imitated without an astronomical fortune. She was, without question, the scion of supreme power.
Yet not a single soul dared linger by her side.
"Ahaha..."
Someone let slip a muffled snicker. That first droplet of derision, spilled by an unidentified lady, spread through the parlor like ink blooming in clear water.
Then, one of the young women chattering beside Linia Chandler narrowed her eyes and spoke aloud. "Well, none can deny that Lady Luminel's needlework is truly something to behold."
With that opening salvo fired, the rest of the flock chimed in eagerly.
"One truly wonders just how many hours a day she squanders away to achieve such perfection."
"Oh, an incredible talent, to be sure... Truly remarkable."
"And yet, what good is such talent now? Given the sort of man she'll be stitching handkerchiefs for..."
"Hehe... Who could have ever foreseen this? To think that the esteemed Lady Luminel would be sold off to a commoner."
"Oh my, surely saying she's 'sold off' is a bit harsh?"
"Harsh? Have you heard the absurd size of the dowry she's taking with her? Meanwhile, the fellow doesn't have two coins to rub together!"
"Goodness! If she were being sold, at least someone would be paying for her. In this case, it's not even a sale!"
"It's nothing short of... charity."
They burst into open, brazen peals of laughter. Any pretense of high society's veiled politesse had long since vanished. Yet throughout the storm of mockery, Elphesia Luminel remained entirely impassive, bathed in aloof indifference. Her poise was as unyielding as granite, bordering on majestic.
"Still, perhaps it isn't an entirely losing trade? I hear the man His Grace Duke Luminel selected is 'that man' from the illicit auction scandal."
"Ah, I heard about him. The Imperial Palace was in an uproar for quite some time over a commoner wielding Divine Power."
"Rare though it may be, what difference does it make? He remains a commoner through and through, and using divine gifts for personal gain invites nothing but punishment."
"At this rate, one can only assume the Duke has grown utterly sick of his daughter."
The only reason she remained draped in the absolute finest silks was sheer family face. Surely, the Duke had abandoned all lingering attachment to the 'Scentless Flower,' a woman who wore nothing but that icy, unfeeling mask. In hushed, venomous murmurs, even crueler rumors circulated—whispers that Elphesia Luminel might actually be a bastard child.
It was a concerted, blatant campaign of ostracization. And the architect behind it all—Linia Chandler—hid a gloating smirk behind her delicate fingers.
Look at you, Elphesia Luminel. Even brought this low, you sit there tight-lipped with that haughty, blank face!
It was hilarious. She wanted nothing more than to burst out laughing. Linia had despised that woman for as long as she could remember, abhorring the way Elphesia seemed to look down upon everyone else. From her breathtaking beauty and innate genius to that arrogant gaze that seemed to declare she lived in an entirely different realm, Linia loathed every fiber of her being.
Their deep-seated history was downright nauseating.
'What kind of posture is that? Elphesia Luminel is the exact same age as you, yet she fairly radiates grace!'
'You call this embroidery? I hear the very handkerchief Duke Luminel carries was stitched by his daughter. It was so exquisite it stole my breath away, but this... haah.'
'Second in your class yet again! You attend the very same academy, so how can you be so utterly outmatched by Elphesia Luminel...?'
'If only that girl had been my daughter instead.'
The moment those words spilled from the Marchioness's lips, Linia Chandler's world had eroded to dust. Whenever she looked up at the ceiling, she could almost see the soles of Elphesia Luminel's slippers pressing down upon her head. There had been a time when she thought: If I cannot defeat her, perhaps I should become her friend. But whenever Linia tried to speak to her, Elphesia ignored her as though looking through empty air. Even when Linia badgered her relentlessly, Elphesia wouldn't so much as spare a sigh. To Linia, that chilling silence was an unspoken declaration that they were creatures of entirely different calibers.
If anyone understood the burning agony of an inferiority complex, it was Linia. And for that very reason, she hated Elphesia Luminel with a madness bordering on obsession. Surely, that woman had been born without a shred of human emotion.
Convincing herself of that allowed Linia to hate her without a speck of guilt. She had resigned herself to never overcoming her rival—until the political landscape underwent an earth-shattering shift.
Finally... At long last... I have won.
The undisputed diamond of the marriage market, Elphesia Luminel, was being given away to a wretched commoner. And by the direct decree of her own father, Duke Luminel, no less.
A woman's worth in high society was ultimately measured by her marriage. Even a humble baron's daughter could look down upon the world if she wed a duke. And Linia, having secured a betrothal to the Second Prince—who had been promised a dukedom of his own—felt her pride soar into the heavens. Even the handful of sycophants who once fawned over Elphesia had scurried over to Linia's camp.
Just crawl away into the dirt, Elphesia Luminel. Strip off those lavish silks and march yourself straight into the gutter...
Linia lost herself in the delicious fantasy of Elphesia, draped in rags, groveling before some peasant husband. It was at that very moment that the woman at the center of the storm made her move.
Snap!
With a crisp, decisive flick, Elphesia snapped open a crimson fan, veiling her alluringly painted lips. Such an uncharacteristic display instantly drew every gaze in the room. Then, from behind the fan, her precious, seldom-heard voice rang out.
"How delightful it is to command such undivided attention. I must express my deepest gratitude to Lady Chandler for hosting such a meaningful gathering."
She curled her lips into a radiant smile. In that entire room, not a single soul had ever witnessed Elphesia Luminel display an emotion so plainly.
The parlor fell into stunned, breathless silence. Before anyone could recover their composure, Elphesia pressed on.
"Naturally, since everyone has been so generous with their interest, I have taken quite an interest in all of you as well. For instance... yes, the lady over there in the navy dress."
"N-Navy dress?!" The young woman bristled with outrage at the insolent address and stood up.
Unfazed, Elphesia maintained her sculpted, smiling gaze and continued smoothly. "How bold of you to flaunt a gown so heavily encrusted with jewels. Surely the seizure notices regarding your cousin's involvement in that illicit auction have already arrived at your family's estate?"
"Wh-What did you say?!"
"I am saying that one of the criminals my future husband dragged off to a cell happens to be your kinsman."
Having her family's darkest shame dragged into the light, the noblewoman collapsed back onto her seat, pale and trembling. In truth, her cousin had offered illicit auction goods to her father, only for the transaction to be uncovered. As a result, the authorities now held full legal grounds to seize the ill-gotten profits from her household.
"Ah, and the lady with the pearl earrings over there—your fiancé is certainly handsome. So handsome, in fact, that he changes women every single night. In the brothels, of course."
"Wh-What?! W-Wait, Lady Luminel! Tell me more about that...!"
"And you, whose embroidery looks neither like a crow nor a dog... what boundless confidence possesses you to juggle two lovers at once? What's more, both men are convinced they were the one to take your virtue. I daresay you are far more enterprising than any woman gathered here today."
"Heavens...!"
With every parting of Elphesia's lips, an invisible dagger struck true, piercing the deepest, most humiliating secrets of every guest in attendance. Some shook with indignation but could not bear to raise their heads; others, hyperventilating in sheer panic, fled the marquis's townhouse entirely. In the span of a few heartbeats, the bustling tea party had dissolved into utter ruin.
Consequently, the moment when Linia Chandler and Elphesia Luminel found themselves alone arrived far sooner than expected.
"Lady Luminel... just what do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like? Since you possess eyes and ears, you should be perfectly capable of seeing and hearing for yourself."
"I am asking what sudden change of heart possessed you to run rampant like this!"
"Aah..." Elphesia let out an exaggerated gasp, as if genuinely enlightened.
Her mocking pretense sent Linia's temper flaring to the boiling point.
"Lady Chandler."
"Yes, Lady Luminel."
"Our future duchess."
"..."
Linia held her tongue, terrified of what catastrophic venom might spill from those disastrous lips next.
"The Second Prince is so immensely heavy that he can scarcely carry his own weight, is he not? Shunned and distrusted due to his bulk, he renounced any claim to the throne long ago."
"...What of it? Rather than throwing himself into a bloody succession war, it was a wise decision."
"Of course. I haven't the slightest intention of disparaging His Highness's foresight. In fact, I completely agree."
"Then... why on earth..."
Why bring it up? Questions swirled in Linia's mind. She could never fathom the intentions of this devilishly brilliant woman.
Clack!
Elphesia snapped her crimson fan shut.
"It must be dreadfully taxing to share a bed with His Highness. Crushed beneath all that flesh, one wonders if you would feel anything at all..."
"You... vulgar little...!"
Linia's face flushed scarlet. Elphesia, by contrast, merely wore a faint smirk on her porcelain visage as she pressed forward.
"Perhaps the handsome scions who once courted you will dance through your thoughts every night?"
"I can simply... take a lover! Marriage is nothing more than contracts and business anyway. Finding love with a paramour is hardly uncommon, is it?"
"Yes, quite right. I agree. A family with marital harmony like yours is the rare exception, after all."
If one were to boil down all the hypocrisy of the world into a single concentrated essence, high society would be its purest specimen. Nobles played at marital devotion at balls, only to rush home and drown themselves in passionate trysts with strangers. Lovers were practically an established institution, so Linia's retort was hardly considered shameless in their circles.
"Hmm."
Yet Elphesia tilted her head, her lips curling into an enchanting dimple.
"So, in the end, you intend to seek your happiness as a woman in the arms of a commoner after all?"
"...What?"
"Shall I put it more crudely? It means that, ultimately, you are nothing more than a woman who will wrap her arms around a commoner's neck and whimper in his bed."
"Ha! You've... you've truly lost your mind! Now that you're reduced to a commoner's wife, I see you've thrown away every shred of that precious, elegant dignity you guarded so fiercely!"
"Lost my mind, you say? You may wag that tongue however you please, but you would do well not to mistake our standing."
Tap, tap.
Elphesia tilted her head slightly, tapping the folded fan against her palm.
"As you so eloquently pointed out, I am to be a commoner's 'wife.' Which means that, at the very least, I can walk beside him in broad daylight without shame."
"And what... what does that have to do with anything...?"
"My, do you truly not understand? How much further must I dumb it down for you?" Elphesia narrowed her eyes with pitying disdain. "I will be able to call my husband's name out loud before the world. You, on the other hand, will only ever whisper your lover's name in the dark. Surely you understand by now, but allow me to indulge you with a little more kindness."
"Elphesia...!"
"A duchess who babbles about 'true love' yet is too ashamed to ever show it to the world, and me... To even be compared to you is an insult to my name. Do you comprehend now?"
Then, Elphesia drove a blade forged of pure language straight through Linia's heart.
"You have spent your entire life belittling the worth of everything you already possess. You were like that from the day you drew breath, and even as the years passed and a once-in-a-lifetime blessing fell into your lap, you turned your back on it. You may seek solace right now by sneering at a commoner's wife, but mark my words... you will spend the rest of your days driving yourself into misery, parched and starved for what you cannot have."
May you, buried beneath your own vanity and jealousy, rot away in ruin, never knowing a shred of fulfillment no matter how many wrinkles line your brow. Whenever happiness seems to shimmer on your horizon, this very tea party shall flash unbidden before your eyes.
It was an incantation.
A curse.
Unless Linia faced the mirror of her own soul and tore herself down to rebuild anew, this curse of suffocating fury would bind her heart until her dying breath.
"..."
A single tear traced a path down Linia's cheek. After only a handful of exchanges, the proud marchioness's daughter had been reduced to a wretched, hollow wreck.
Elphesia lightly tapped Linia's trembling shoulder with her fan, tossing out parting words as casually as a breeze.
"You should never have dared let that man's name cross your filthy lips."
"...Whom?" Linia whimpered out the question.
This villainess had always let insults slide off her as if they were nothing. Linia had truly believed she was an empty shell of a person, devoid of pride and passion alike. Never before had Elphesia Luminel displayed a response laden with such raw, burning conviction.
Elphesia paused in her stride. She turned her head back toward Linia and offered a breathtaking, radiant smile.
"Who else could it be?" she declared with airy nonchalance. "The man who is to be my husband."