Page 382 of The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen
Tears fell to the ground with a soft plop, without any clear reason.
"...Huh?"
Shartia stood frozen, staring blankly at the tears on the floor.
"...This is..."
She couldn’t understand why she was crying.
There was nothing upsetting.
In fact, the Crown Prince's precarious situation brought her immense satisfaction.
Yet, the tears streaming down her cheeks showed no signs of stopping, as if she were reminiscing about an old memory.
"...Haah, what’s wrong with me?"
Wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, Shartia inhaled deeply. She resolved not to act like this where others might see her.
"...I need to pull myself together."
Even if her heart ached,
even if it felt like someone had torn it open and left her chest constricted, she scolded herself not to give in. But the tears continued to fall, refusing to subside.
Gripping her aching chest, Shartia exhaled shakily, overwhelmed by the inexplicable sadness that had crept up on her so suddenly.
Her heart felt like it was being crushed,
her chest tight, her voice unable to escape.
As if someone’s words were true—that the deepest sorrow in life comes from unspoken pain—this nameless grief overtook her without giving her time to process.
This feeling, right now.
“...Hic...”
It felt just like that.
When the dull ache in her chest finally began to settle, Shartia took a deep breath, calming her trembling heart.
But then, the words on a blue screen that appeared before her eyes made her feel like her heart had stopped.
You have completed the quest.
It was just one.
She had only found one piece, yet she felt like this.
Shartia thought she might not be able to handle the trials that awaited her, which had come upon her without reason.
It was nothing.
"It's becoming a problem... I'm crying too much."
She tried to dismiss it.
Otherwise...
"..."
Otherwise, like the tears that had fallen to the ground, her emotions might sink as well. Forcing herself to ignore the feeling, Shartia turned toward her office.
To write a letter to someone.
At the same time...
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
"My nose is stuffed."
"Blow your nose with a big sniff."
"Sniff!"
"...You need to use a handkerchief while you do that."
The young lady, with snot dangling from her nose, and I were seated on a bench that overlooked the setting sun and the beautiful sea.
"It's a stunning view."
"Mm."
The young lady, who had played too hard at the beach and caught a cold, let out a big snort, leaving a long strand of mucus dangling.
"Hyaaaa?!"
The snot was carried away by the wind.
"..."
In most romantic stories, a handkerchief offered by a lover or the feather of a dove symbolizing peace might flutter through the air. Unfortunately, standing next to a young lady with zero romantic inclination meant such imagery was impossible.
Watching the snot fall to the ground, I wiped her nose with a handkerchief and said,
"Blow your nose again."
"Iiiick...!"
"Not 'ick,' blow properly."
"Huuung!!!"
"There we go."
The young lady, now looking refreshed, wiped her nose.
"Should I help blow your nose too, Ricardo?"
"No, thank you."
"...Mm."
The cool breeze blew gently.
The sun, signaling the end of the busy schedule in the West, cast a beautiful glow as it began to set.
Placing the snot-stained handkerchief into my inner pocket, I looked at the sunset and spoke to the young lady.
"Our time by the sea has come to an end."
"Mm."
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Mm. The sea was pretty, and playing with Dad was fun. Plus, I got a new pet. What about you, Ricardo?"
"I enjoyed seeing your swimsuit, My Lady."
"Hyaaaa?!"
"I can't lie, after all."
"I'm pretty amazing, aren't I?"
The young lady nodded with a proud grin, never one to feign modesty.
A lot had happened.
The Crown Prince had caused trouble.
We dealt with the Western beast.
And I saw the young lady in a swimsuit.
What changes might come to the story after these events were beyond my guess, but whatever happened, it had been enjoyable.
"Blow your nose again."
"Yes, My Lady."
I felt like things would turn out for the better.
The beast that should’ve fallen into heretical hands had come into mine. Wolfgang’s influence had waned significantly as a result of these events.
In the original story, Wolfgang feigned loyalty to the Crown Prince only to betray him and aspire to the throne. However, in this timeline, he no longer held the power to do so.
Since Mikhail had obtained the Holy Sword, there was no longer a need to worry about the original protagonists meeting tragic ends like fragile jellyfish.
The protagonists’ abilities in the story had followed the original trajectory, and there was no longer any point in worrying about the novel’s direction. Of course, if there was anything I could exploit, I wouldn’t hesitate to take full advantage of it.
The one lingering concern was the Crown Prince.
"Hmm."
"My Lady, don’t sneak chocolate."
"How did you know?!"
As things stood, the Crown Prince, already troubled in the original plot, was now in an even worse predicament.
Wolfgang, who was supposed to rise in power, was rapidly sinking. The Crown Prince, no doubt, felt the pressure, especially with the Western stronghold Wolfgang losing influence to the Belian family. This turn of events must have been unwelcome for him.
That’s why I had warned him not to side with Wolfgang.
"Fool..."
There was the matter of the slave traders as well. The damages incurred during the frozen canal period still needed addressing, leaving little room for recovery.
'Sooner or later, I’ll have to say something.'
I would also have to address the issues involving Mikhail and his mother before it was too late. It might even be time to reveal who Mikhail’s real father was.
Whatever the case, as I smiled in satisfaction over the successfully concluded Western schedule—
"Ricardo."
The young lady, caught sneaking chocolate, called out to me.
"Yes, My Lady."
She was gazing blankly at the sea, biting into the chocolate with a crunch.
"Ricardo..."
"Yes?"
"If I hadn’t picked you up from the slums, what do you think you’d be doing?"
"Why do you ask that all of a sudden?"
"Just curious."
Her unexpected, forward-looking question took me by surprise. I was almost tempted to applaud her for posing such a refined inquiry. Then, with a determined expression, she answered her own question.
"You’d probably be begging by now."
"...?"
"Ricardo, you’d have become the King of Beggars by now."
"...That’s a bit much."
"Or, since you’re good at cooking, you might’ve opened a restaurant."
"That could’ve happened."
She nodded firmly.
"Then I’d be a regular customer at your restaurant."
"Perhaps."
"Or you might’ve ended up working for our family. If I liked you, I’d have hired you."
"That’s quite the success story."
"Yeah, exactly. You’d better stay on my good side."
A restaurant... It might’ve been possible. If things hadn’t worked out after my reincarnation, I had considered using what little money I could gather to open a restaurant.
I smiled softly and teased the young lady.
"But hiring me would’ve been expensive. Look at the private chefs at Forest Friends—none of them ever change jobs."
"Hmm..."
"At the very least, I’d need a salary of ten thousand gold per month to work as a private chef."
"Hyaaaa?! Ricardo, you thief!"
"That’s how skilled I am."
"Iiiick..."
Her serious reaction to my lighthearted joke made me laugh. Compared to the imaginary version of myself running a restaurant, I was doing much better now.
The young lady, biting her lip in thought, eventually met my gaze and said something unexpected.
"If I could see your face every day, that would be enough... I wouldn’t need to pay you much."
"That’s cruel, My Lady."
"But I’m pretty, so it’s fine."
"Ahaha! I can’t argue with that."
Laughing heartily at her bold remark, I patted her head while gazing at the setting sun.
"Eek?!"
"Even so, I think being your butler makes me the happiest. Who else can place a hand on a noblewoman’s head? A private chef with nothing but a frying pan couldn’t dream of that."
"..."
"And, since I get to serve the most beautiful and entertaining person in the world, the benefits are unmatched."
"Ugh..."
The young lady fidgeted with her fingers and lowered her head.
"..."
When her reaction seemed less than cheerful, I tilted my head in curiosity. Then, in a small, dejected voice, she muttered,
"Being with me... makes things hard for you."
"...Pardon?"
"You get hurt... You don’t go out or have fun... You don’t have any friends."
"I have plenty of friends."
"Name ten."
"..."
"...Ugh..."
So that’s why she brought this up.
I hadn’t realized that she, who rarely showed her feelings, had been thinking this way all along.
I used to think she lived without much on her mind, but hearing her say something like this filled me with quiet pride.
Looking at the sea cradling the setting sun, I spoke.
"Seeing your smile every day makes me happy. There’s nothing more enjoyable than that."
"...Ugh."
"If you really feel bad, maybe eat some bell peppers more often."
"No way..."
"Then broccoli."
"I’d die if I ate that."
"Ahaha!"
We continued chatting by the sea for a long while.
And then—
The next day, I received a letter from the capital and let out a bitter laugh as I read it.
[To Leogarde Shartia]
-When you come to the capital, stop by the office.
"Work, I guess."
How desperately I ? Nоvеl?g?t ? (Official version) wanted to become unemployed.
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