The Villain Bought the Female Lead - Ch. 103
Craine was being dragged away.
In a cage-like vehicle made of iron bars, he was on a journey sealed away, heading toward death.
Clop, clop.
The sound of wheels rolling over the paved road, the hooves of the horses driving it, and the voices of people’s resentment could be heard.
Even though stones were thrown at him by citizens and blood flowed into his eyes, Craine didn’t care.
Guided continuously on his way to the afterlife, he thought.
He wanted to see the sky, but it was hidden behind that black ceiling. What he saw instead was frost forming, clouded over.
“……”
He, too, had a childhood.
Since he was young, he loved monsters.
He was fascinated by these creatures—different from animals, different from humans.
Although he had some interest and talent in magic, it was nothing compared to his love for monsters.
It was only natural for him to become interested in familiar summoning—forming contracts and handling monsters.
When he made his first contract with a monster and it became his familiar, he was truly overjoyed. It was a small dog-like creature, and he trained and educated it with all his heart.
Right, I even gave it a name.
A name… what was it…? I can’t remember.
Not only its name, but its appearance also fades from memory. Even though I cherished it for so many years.
I made the contract when I was about seven, and we were together until I was thirty-one… it’s been so long. It was such a cute creature.
… so why did it die?
Ah, right.
I used it as <material for my first experiment>.
There was a reason for that experiment.
“Glashalabolas… in the end, I was just pathetically trying to imitate you.”
Ever since I saw that archbishop.
After witnessing that beautiful and harmonious existence.
I think people around me started to say that I had changed after that.
Even my desire for Frikkanrisk was simply a product of the emotions stirred after seeing him.
I wanted to make Glashalabolas my own, but that was impossible.
I couldn’t control an Altife, and besides, he was an archbishop—no, more than that, he was the only one among those of that rank who wasn’t an intelligent being.
A beast driven purely by instinct.
Curiously, despite his title as an archbishop, he neither received nor gave any particular orders.
He just wandered the world, living as a vagrant and a destroyer, doing whatever he pleased.
His only driving forces were hunger and murder.
A beast born solely to kill humans—Glashalabolas.
He primarily fed on humans, and occasionally even consumed priest-level Altifes, absorbing their essence each time he devoured something. It became part of him, strengthening his body.
<Strengthened… or perhaps evolved>—those were the only words that came to mind.
Just by eating something, he could absorb its abilities, transforming his body.
… I was captivated by that grotesque and mysterious creature.
If I couldn’t have him, I would have wanted to create something similar myself. That was when I became obsessed with the art of fusion.
“… I failed in the end, though.”
I could manage a double fusion, combining two familiars. But once I tried for a triple fusion, mere interest wasn’t enough.
That realm required talent.
Overwhelming talent!
I needed that, but unfortunately, I didn’t have it.
I might have had more than others, but still, it wasn’t enough.
So, I went directly to the hero who had succeeded in a triple fusion, humbling myself before him, begging to learn—but I failed.
Even though I was taught, I couldn’t reach that level.
It was beyond me; it belonged to the realm of innate talent.
Such a bitter reality.
‘… come to think of it, maybe that’s why I became interested in Vargan. He would surely reach that point someday.’
And then, around that time I was deeply immersed in fusion…
My first familiar, the little dog-like creature, began to waste away.
It became clear it would die soon. The cause was unknown, but its fate was sealed.
Though I was saddened by the creature’s impending death, it also became a turning point in my thinking. I could think differently.
If it was going to die anyway…
If its life was going to end regardless…
Wasn’t it the duty of a familiar to serve its master until the very end?
Hadn’t I loved it enough already?
Haha…
Maybe I wanted to think that, or maybe I truly believed it, but I ended up using that creature as material for research into a new form of fusion.
Since the formal methods wouldn’t work, I decided to use a trick instead.
That was the moment I resolved to employ a loophole.
… that research has continued ever since, leading to where I am now.
The pain of grinding down my beloved familiars was fleeting, and over time, they began to seem less like living beings and more like mere objects or tools.
In the end, even though I couldn’t achieve my goal, I kept going.
Ah, still…
If I had acquired Frikkanrisk, I might have succeeded.
Looking back now…
Even though I never fully understood the voice I heard within after seeing her, it definitely awakened my desires.
I said something strange to Vargan, didn’t I? But it wasn’t me who said it.
No… was it? Didn’t I say it because I wanted to?
I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Clank⎯
The scenery around me stopped.
As my blurred vision slowly focused, I realized this wasn’t Dortmund. I thought the execution would take place in the plaza after the war ended, but apparently not.
This was a snow-covered mountain near Dortmund.
A strange landscape, blanketed in thick white snow.
The door of the iron cage creaked open, and Craine was roughly dragged out and thrown onto the ground.
The church members, watching Craine helplessly buried in the snow, exchanged a few words before leaving.
Piecing together what they said, it seemed like they were cursing him.
Was it <die already>?
Or <you dog>?
It didn’t matter.
“……”
The thick snow was soft but cold, so he lifted his head to look forward.
Someone was approaching.
A woman with long, water-colored hair.
Her face was colder than the snow beneath her feet, yet hotter than burning iron.
A contradiction, but that was how it seemed.
“Frikkanrisk….”
He called out her second name. His throat was dry, so it came out cracked, but it seemed to reach her just fine.
“Aintern considered you a comrade.”
Her lips quivered.
Whether from anger or sadness, he couldn’t tell.
“My husband… Aintern… considered someone like you a friend.”
Aintern.
A name full of longing.
He was a good man. It was only my jealousy that clouded my view of him, but objectively, he was a kind man.
… a comrade.
A friend.
“I also thought of him that way.”
The snow began to fall more heavily.
What had been a gentle sprinkle now obscured the landscape around them.
The once gentle breeze turned into a gust, tangling his hair.
Craine parted his cracked lips.
“I, too, considered Aintern a companion and treated him as a friend.”
At that…
“Don’t you dare speak Aintern’s name with that filthy mouth⎯⎯!”
The weather responded to her emotions.
The sky was choked with thick white clouds, the wind slicing into his skin.
“Aintern… my husband… the hero of Dortmund… was kind enough to embrace even trash like you… He was so considerate and…”
Frikkanrisk’s mouth continued to move, the words pouring out.
Despite the chill, her voice carried warmth, tinged with sorrow.
“He was brave, fighting against enemies… showing his strength by protecting the people. And his smile… I never grew tired of seeing him smile every day. He was my husband, who loved me, our child, and even the village and its people with all his heart.”
“……”
“I don’t care why you killed him anymore. I don’t want to know your filthy desires, and I don’t want to hear his name come from your mouth ever again!”
Frikkanrisk’s emotions became more intense.
Snow piled up on Craine’s body, his feet buried in the drifts. He tried to move, but the cold had frozen him in place.
“You killed my precious one. The only man I loved… you kidnapped my child, who was the living proof of our love. That reason alone is enough.”
Frikkanrisk walked across the snow. Her steps did not sink; they seemed to glide weightlessly over the surface.
Craine raised his head to meet her gaze. Even though she wore the expression of a woman consumed by tragedy, she still looked beautiful to him.
“I had hoped to be killed by Glashalabolas, but facing my end at your hands is not so bad either.”
The words spoken by Frikkanrisk have a muted tone. It was as if the moisture that was lingering moments ago had frozen solid.
She announced Craine’s final fate.
“No, you won’t die.”
Her pale hand touched Craine’s forehead.
A complex spell unfolded, and the mana scattered everywhere began to gather at her fingertips.
Craine was puzzled.
“Not kill me… then….”
“If you die, you and I would meet in the afterlife where I am with Aintern. I won’t let that happen.”
Frikkanrisk’s fingertips dropped to extreme temperatures, nearing absolute zero. Yet, Craine did not die. Nothing seemed wrong.
Watching her magic reach its limits, he felt the cold seeping into his lungs.
He let out a weak sound and closed his eyes.
“… so that’s what it was.”
Craine’s body began to freeze.
But this was not the simple sensation of turning into an ice statue. Externally, he appeared unchanged.
It was as if the transformation was happening from within, altering the very essence of his being.
His hands and feet were the first to stop moving.
He couldn’t even turn his head.
Speaking became impossible.
Even leaving behind a final, grand declaration of will was no longer an option.
The last sensation Craine had as a living being was hearing Frikkanrisk’s bitterness. That would be the final connection he had to the world.
“I have lived for 500 years, no, much longer than that. How long do you think you’ll be able to hold onto your sanity in that dark world?”
Her voice carried deep-seated fury.
“You will spend eternity, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, existing alone in that world forever. Trapped in a purgatory from which you will never escape, even if your mind shatters, without any contact with the outside world.”
This was the most severe punishment and revenge she could deliver, harsher than death.
“You will live forever, never aging or dying! Your torment will only end when the world itself comes to an end. Then, I will grant you death.”
Soon, even her voice faded away, and Craine’s connection to the current world was severed.
His last thought was.
‘Indeed… that does sound rather painful.’
The spell ended, and his body came to a complete halt.
“…….”
He had disappeared. It had been so simple in the end.
Craine’s mind was no longer part of this world. His body remained, but he was trapped in his own isolated world, as good as gone.
“… hah, haah.”
Frikkanrisk collapsed on the spot.
There was no joy in the fact that she had succeeded in removing one of her targets of revenge.
Instead, she gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face in pain.
This spell had overstrained her body, causing her immense exhaustion as it consumed too much mana.
“Aintern… my dear husband….”
The tragic story of her and Aintern had long since ended in despair.
The happy story she had once dreamed of—where she, Aintern, and their child would live together as a family—was no more.
“Just wait for me a little longer. Until our child grows up… it won’t be long….”
Now, it would just be the two of them.
Just her and their child would have to continue the story.
“I’ll join you soon….”
The thought of a future without him made her sad all over again.
“You understand… right…?”
Finally, able to speak to Aintern properly, she let out a deep, long breath and sobbed.
She wanted to empty herself of everything.
The tears she had suppressed for so long, which she had tried so hard to hold back, burst forth like a dam breaking, completely uncontrollable.
She cried because she had failed to protect him.
She cried because she hadn’t been able to shield what he was trying to protect.
She cried because she hadn’t been able to love what he had loved.
For many reasons, she could finally mourn Aintern properly.
Even though no one had directly given her permission, she felt it was time. The chains that had bound her soul had been broken.
It was as if a part of the massive weight that had been crushing her had lifted, allowing her to move again at last.
For her husband, who had gone far ahead of her.
She mourned him with agony and sorrow.
……
There was an old legend that had been passed down through the ages.
In the northern lands of the Troa Empire, when the dragon Frikkanrisk, who governed winter, became angry, avalanches occurred in the snow-covered mountains of Dortmund. When she shed tears of sorrow, hail fell from the sky.
Though the place she stood was neither the cabin she had shared with Aintern nor the nearby village, for the first time in a long time, she felt him closer than ever.
Shhh.
The wind carrying white snow blew around her.
That cool breeze gently wrapped around her.
For a moment, the approaching sounds and smells of war seemed to fade away. It waited until her tears had stopped flowing.
During that time, the surroundings changed.
Before long, the snow ceased, and the clouds began to disperse.
In the gap, a familiar face appeared.
It was the warm summer sunshine of Dortmund, returning after a long absence.
***
A few of the priests from Dortmund brought Frikkanrisk’s son back to her.
As a child born of a divine beast and a human, he had slightly unusual features.
However, his inability to see was not due to genetics but rather the result of violence and trauma.
For the first time in a long while, she held the child in her arms, stroking his head. Hot tears streamed down her face as she whispered her apologies over and over.
The child seemed to vaguely recognize who she was, though he could not yet show any emotions. This only made her sorrow deeper.
……
Vargan was the last to seek out Frikkanrisk.
He hadn’t been eager to witness Craine’s death firsthand, and he needed to speak with her when her emotions had settled to ensure there would be no complications in their dealings.
“With this, I have fulfilled two of your requests.”
Craine and her child.
Having granted Frikkanrisk everything she desired, Vargan now sought payment.
“Participating in this war was just a small part of the deal to protect me. What I truly seek from you is much larger than this minor detail.”
Vargan had no interest in directly acquiring power through a contract with Frikkanrisk.
Despite the temptation of being able to read the thoughts of all beings except for Altife, he showed no concern.
“You will assist me in the future, during a war far greater than this one. You understand this well, don’t you?”
“… I do. But, human, remember this: If the place you have arranged for us harms my child, I will break the contract and kill you.”
“You know full well that I wouldn’t suggest anything like that. Don’t worry.”
Frikkanrisk used her power of ice to monitor Vargan’s emotions in real-time. Even though they had a contract, trust was a separate matter.
With eyes still filled with caution, she asked.
“Where exactly are we going?”
In Vargan’s mind, she glimpsed the image of a small mountain village. A peaceful, secluded place far removed from the outside world.
Vargan said.
“The place you will live is a secret dungeon in Rubid Village.”
He began to prepare, carefully collecting his cherished belongings as if arranging treasures.