The Villain's Lost Daughter - Chapter 94

Deep into the night.

It’s past midnight, and a man sits slumped in a chair in an unlit office.

The moonlight, briefly obscured by clouds, shone brightly again, but the man’s black hair was still darker than the night sky.

The man opened his eyes, revealing blood-red pupils.

They were filled with unspeakable emotions.

“…Serbia.”

Aslan shifted his gaze to stare out the window with sunken eyes and muttered the name on the tip of his tongue.

He missed his wife, whom he hadn’t been able to protect today, perhaps because he’d opened a very old wound.

Clank—

The ice clinked together in the glass in his hand, making a small noise.

It was hard to fall asleep on a night like today when I remembered her smiling so sweetly.

All I could do was swing my sword frantically to cool myself down or borrow the power of the strong liquor to make me a little drowsy.

The Sword master’s body was a weapon in its own right, so he was usually sober.

Aslan’s body slumped slightly as he remembered the old days. He hadn’t been married to Serbia very long.

— Aslan, are you sure you can drink and not get drunk?

— What? Why is that suddenly…

— The truth is, I was at a tea party yesterday, and they told me that the Swordmaster never gets drunk, no matter how strong the liquor is. Is that true?

His wife, dressed in a thin slip, ready for bed, shot him a curious glance.

—…Indeed, even the strongest liquor doesn’t make me drunk.

— Really, my dear, you know, Aslan.

— My love, it’s time for bed…

— Let us drink!

Aslan, who already knew what Serbia’s drinking habits were, grimaced in embarrassment.

—…It’s late now, so I’ll tell them to prepare a place for tomorrow during the day.

— Ah, don’t make a big deal out of it, just a drink between the two of us, okay?

— Madame, that’s a little awkward…

— Huh? Aslan.

But Aslan lost to the Serbia, who waved his arm gently.

Aslan never knew how to beat Serbia in the first place.

“Forgive me for still remembering you.”

“… and yet I cannot forget you.”

Aslan whispered quietly, taking another sip of the strong drink.

For the first twenty years of his life, he slept facing forward, but at some point, he always turned to his right side.

The quilt on his bed was always fluffy and warm, even though Aslan never got cold. He never put ice in his drink, but at some point, he always drank it with six ice cubes.

It was all memories, memories of Serbia, who was dying and had told me not to dwell on them too long.

Slowly raising himself from the chair, Aslan placed his hand on the locked drawer.

Thud—

He pushed his fingertips into it, and a faint glow burst forth from what appeared to be an ordinary drawer.

Then, with a click, it unlocked.

The drawer, which could not be opened except by Aslan’s magic, contained nothing more than a single picture frame.

Aslan set the crystal goblet on the desk and reached in. He picked up the picture frame with care.

Double and triple enchanted with preservation magic, it was hard to believe it was twenty years old.

With trembling hands, Aslan lifted it to reveal the front of the frame.

The picture in the frame was from twenty years ago, when color had been lost, leaving only black and white.

But he knew how sweet and strong the woman’s violet eyes were, even in black and white.

“… My wife.”

Aslan stroked the frame’s rim with an outstretched, scarred, rough hand.

He didn’t dare touch the glass-encased photograph, afraid of leaving fingerprints and staining it, or of shattering it if he tried.

Only when I miss her too much do I take it out for a moment to look at it?

“I don’t know if I’m on the right path.”

Aslan muttered, his voice vulnerable.

A few hours ago, when Erita had asked him why he’d let the Empress use black magic if he knew she was using it.

He had answered that he left her alone because he had no proof and because the Church was on Lenosen’s side.

But that wasn’t the whole story.

A few days after recovering Erita, he was able to figure out that the Empress had used black magic.

And the anger and devastation Aslan felt at the time could not be measured.

The outrage was greater when he realized that it was the Empress, Aisha Lenosen, who had killed Serbia than when he suspected Lenosen’s involvement.

Before Serbia became a Grand Duchess, when she was the Marquise de Vicente. Serbia Vicente, Aisha Lenosen, and Asyla Valeria were friends.

When Aslan learned of this, he gave up everything and decided to kill the Empress and Lenosen and get rid of them all.

Even the imperial family would not be able to stop Krovachatz, who had defended the Empire and the North for centuries, if he truly wanted to take up the sword.

At the very least, it would take the lives of Lenosen and the Empress.

“… Aaron, Erita.”

But what kept Aslan from pointing his drawn sword in the end was the children he would leave behind.

He could kill Lenosen and the Empress, but he would surely have to give his own life in the process.

If the Church sided with the Empress, he would be accused of murdering the Empress of the Empire.

Unable to bear this burden on his beloved children, he hid his sword and his fury and waited for the perfect opportunity.

A year later, the Queen died of an unexplained illness.

Shortly before her death, a letter arrived at Aslan’s doorstep.

[…I am sorry to ask this of you, for there is nothing I can give you. Please spare my son, Callian. Please take pity on him so that he will not be in the same position as me.]

It was the first and last letter I received from the First Queen, with whom I had no contact except in Serbia.

The Empress of the Empire, who had killed the Grand Duchess and the Queen.

And Callian, who had lost his mother to the Empress at a similar age to his children.

Aslan had a cold temper, but there was someone who softened him, and there were children who looked just like him.

It was for this reason that Aslan firmly grasped the hand Callian extended to him.

“…Serbia, are you not sick there?”

Aslan’s voice, whispered to himself, was wistful and self-pitying. His companion had died at the hands of someone he once thought was a friend.

And Aslan for failing to protect her.

“If there comes a time when my children don’t need me…”

Aslan smiled softly as he stared at the photograph.

“…When that time comes, I will follow you.”

✿

After waking up as usual, I ate breakfast and sat down at my desk.

Then I casually opened a note.

[Good morning.]

On the new page, there was one sentence left over from yesterday.

And the moment I picked up my pen, a sentence was added next to the morning greeting.

[Did you have a lovely breakfast?]

I blinked at the odd timing.

“Wow… how did you time that so well.”

My morning patterns were mostly similar, so it wasn’t unreasonable for him to know, but it was still a mystery.

— Evan’s a very good cook. Oh, and he’s a chef for the Grand Duchy. Your Highness?

[I ate well, too. Your boasting makes me curious about the skills of the Grand Duke’s chef.]

— You realize that even if you fall in love with Evan’s skills, you can’t take him to the palace, right?

[Haha, I’ll keep that in mind, more than that, it looks like it’s a nice day for a walk.]

I stole a glance outside.

Sure enough, it was sunny with a cloudless sky.

— It was cloudy yesterday, but today it’s cloudless. It’s a beautiful day to be outside.

[Yes, it’s a nice day, and I’m thinking of going to the training ground later.]

— The training grounds?

[Yes. I have an appointment with the Little Duke, and I think I need to practice.]

At that sentence, I imagined Callian’s face smiling coolly.

“…Wait.”

It was only when she smiled slightly and moved her fountain pen that something was amiss.

Blinking, I stopped my hand from moving.

— Oh, wait, I had to go out for a while today.

When I looked down, I realized that there it was, a broken letter.

Having paused for a few seconds without removing the fountain pen, the ink had collected on the note, creating a black spot.

I hurriedly removed the fountain pen from the note.

“…How did we even get to this point?”

My voice held a hint of disbelief and bewilderment.

Obviously, I hadn’t intended to contact him for such a trivial purpose in the first place.

It had been four days since she had received the note, and most of her use of it had been to simply keep in touch with Callian.

The artifact she’d intended to give him still needed one more touch-up, and the conversation she’d planned to have with him had been put on hold.

‘You said the Empress’s movements were strange.’

For that reason, my original intention when I first received the note had unintentionally taken a distant secondary place.

Then, underneath the words I had stopped writing, the words of exquisite handwriting appeared.

[ Miss Erita?]

The word formed by the sweeping strokes was my name.

The handwriting, which I had first seen only four days ago, but now recognized as familiar as my own, belonged to Callian.

— Yes.

It was Callian I was talking to, discussing my schedule for today’s insignificant day.

[What’s up?]

The neat handwriting formed another sentence.

Even though I could only see the words, I could somehow hear the voice.

— Ah, I thought I heard something outside the window… haha.

After staring at the note for a moment, I blurted out.

“…Oh, well. It’s not like I’m saying anything bad.”

It wasn’t as if I wanted to say, ‘Let’s just keep it private now.’

To be honest, talking to Callian was more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and sometimes it made me feel a little ticklish.

— Your Majesty, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave first today, I have some business to attend to outside.

[…Oh, that’s a shame.]

Callian’s fluid handwriting appeared beneath my circled words.

I wonder if it’s because his handwriting feels somehow withered by the fact that he’s sad to see me stop writing.

— I’ll get back to you later, when I get home. Have a good day, Your Highness! 🙂

After I drew a small smiley face next to the exclamation point, I set the fountain pen down on the desk.