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VWTI 07

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 Chapter 07



Judging by the fabric and design, that triple-look outfit was undoubtedly prepared over quite a long period.

At the very least, about a month.

Meaning this event—or whatever this clown show should be called—was planned at least a month ago.

They probably prepared the banquet, giggling with delight while thinking of the usual Yevgenia—that fool blinded by Raymond—but how unfortunate.

‘Looks like I’ve come back to my senses.’

Yevgenia’s cold, hardened gaze turned towards Lady Nagelsmann.

Despite the considerable distance, the lady noticed it immediately, turning her head in great agitation.

‘If you’re going to be this shaken by just a glance, what on earth gave you the confidence to pull this off? You could have just canceled it…’

It didn’t take long for Yevgenia’s perfectly reasonable doubt to be resolved.

Tap, tap—

“It seems you’ve all had sufficient time to size each other up… I suppose it’s time to see the results?”

The voices of the nobles, chattering about who suits whom, gradually faded away.

As Lady Nagelsmann gave a slight wave, the attendants standing like a wall approached and handed paper and fountain pens to the nobles.

Among the crowd, writing down names with flushed faces, Yevgenia’s expression began to stiffen.

She could clearly feel their surreptitious glances, pretending to look around while scrutinizing her.

‘Ah, this… It seems the young lady of the marquis wasn’t acting alone.’

Surely, not all those nobles were in on it.
But she must have planted at least two or three agitators.

The problem was that Lady Nagelsmann herself was included among those agitators.

‘If so, then the mastermind behind this isn’t the young lady of the marquis, but…’

“Oh my, I just received the results… It seems I wasn’t the only one who saw these two as the true couple. The ones who will enjoy a cool summer date at our Nagelsmann Marquisate villa, famous for its golden beaches, having received the most votes are…”

Her skill in rambling on with a long speech, building anticipation for the names to be called, was quite something.

After dragging out the time to the fullest, Lady Nagelsmann swallowed dryly, then completely turned her back on Yevgenia and declared in a bright voice:

“Young Lord Raymond Larson and Young Lady Stella Aer!”

‘Does that lunatic Raymond have no sense of decency?’

Perhaps the nobles’ pride had been quite hurt by the fact that Yevgenia’s gaze alone had cowed them, for they clapped with noticeable enthusiasm.

Whether Raymond was thoughtless or simply lacked any sense, he wore a satisfied smile, happily accepting the applause.

Stella wore a bewildered expression, her cheeks flushing red as she tightly clung to Raymond’s arm, moving as he led.

Everyone was doing their best in their respective positions for a single purpose: to mess with Yevgenia.

From the gazes clinging to her even more blatantly than before, she could feel a vulgar excitement that seemed to say, ‘Please make a scene, give us something to chew on forever!’

It was a situation that could only draw a scornful laugh.

“…Ahh. The beautiful luster that seems to flow with a shimmer, the smooth touch that makes one sigh just from a light graze, and even the subtly shimmering wave pattern. This must be that precious Sahara silk, said to arrive only a few bolts per moon from that distant foreign land! Isn’t that right, Lady Aer?”

“A-ah, I don’t really know much about these things… It’s just, Ray said it would suit me and gave it as a gift… I did think it was beautiful, but I never imagined it was that precious.”

“Oh my, oh my. Some gentlemen are busy putting on airs while gifting things far inferior to this, yet Young Lord Larson didn’t say a word. You must truly be loved!”

Stella’s demeanor as she spoke softly, gently stroking her slightly reddened cheek as if embarrassed, was quite lovely.

Had the person showering her with that love not been Yevgenia’s fiancé, even Yevgenia’s eyes would have seen it that way.

‘Are they all crazy, or am I the only crazy one?’

Yevgenia, who had been quietly watching the two making all sorts of fuss, let out a soft, “Ha,” a laugh.

That small laugh instantly drew the attention of all the surrounding nobles.

It was proof she had no interest in their gilded performance from the start.

“How amusing.”

Without erasing her smile, she took a step forward.

Then the crowd gathered around split in two with a swish—.

Click, click, click.

With each step Yevgenia took, the murmuring gradually faded as if someone were turning down a volume knob.

By the time she finally stood before Stella, it was quiet enough to hear the breathing of Lady Nagelsmann standing beside her.

“……”

“Ah, Lady Marture! What brings you here?”

“Nothing, I just heard it was so pretty and got curious. It certainly is pretty, this dress.”

An indifferent gaze swept up and down Stella’s dress.

Red wine sloshed in Yevgenia’s glass.

Nervous eyes clung tenaciously to her hand.

As if completely unaware of the tense atmosphere, Stella, with a face full of smiles, said:

“Right? You can’t imagine how surprised I was when I first received it! Really, he always manages to surprise people.”

Light chiding, no different from an expression of affection.

Knowing who it was directed at, Yevgenia’s smile could only grow colder.

“Really, always, he does manage to surprise people.”

‘In all sorts of shitty ways, that is.’

Just as the sloshing wine made a light circle inside the glass.

A sky-blue suit jacket slipped between the folds of the dress.

“…Oh my, Young Lord Larson. Surely at your age, you know it’s improper to intrude on a conversation between ladies?”

“Manners are only necessary for those who deserve courtesy.”

“Ah, I suppose. The great Young Lord Larson’s eyes must indeed take in a ducal heir well.”

At Yevgenia’s sarcasm, which held back not at all, Raymond’s face hardened stiffly.

She scanned with a disdainful gaze the resolute Raymond, standing before Stella like a protecting knight.

The Sahara silk tie, the sapphire-studded cufflinks, the shoes the same color as Stella’s.

From neck to toe, there wasn’t a single thing not coordinated with Stella.

One corner of Yevgenia’s mouth twisted roughly upward as she took in Stella and Raymond alternately.

Just as a slight smile was about to touch Raymond’s lips, keenly observing her change.

Splash—

“…Y-Yevgenia! What are you doing?!”

Red wine splendidly soaked the pale blue fabric.

The once so-beautiful outfit was ruined in an instant.

Lady Nagelsmann, who had been staring blankly at this, snapped back to her senses and shouted.

“Lady Marture! What on earth is this…!”

Yevgenia’s cold, hardened pupils turned towards Lady Nagelsmann.

Then Lady Nagelsmann, unable to finish her words, firmly closed her mouth.

Yevgenia, who had gracefully narrowed her eyes as if to show off, spoke nonchalantly.

“It seems there’s one person here who no longer fits this party. Don’t you agree, Lady Nagelsmann?”

“……”

“At a party hosted by the young lady, so highly praised in social circles, having someone not even properly attired… I fear it would only cast a poor shadow on both the young lady’s prestige and that of His Lordship, the Marquis of Nagelsmann.”

Yevgenia, having quietly lowered her gaze, held out the completely empty glass directly to Lady Nagelsmann.

It was an act that clearly treated her as a subordinate, yet one that couldn’t officially be challenged.

After hesitating for a while, alternately looking at the wine glass and Raymond, Lady Nagelsmann soon bowed her head deeply.

A trembling hand carefully, and respectfully, accepted the glass.

“…Indeed. Thanks to Lady Marture’s advice, my mind feels much clearer.”

“Wait, Emily, why are you suddenly…—”

Clap— clap—

“You two, this gentleman seems quite inebriated. Please escort him gracefully out of the banquet hall. Call a carriage for him as well.”

“Emily Nagelsmann…!”

“Young Lord Larson, I do hope you enjoyed your time today. As for your partner…, well, it’s best she accompanies you.”

Lady Nagelsmann’s dry gaze turned toward Stella.

Stella, greatly flustered, unable to keep up with the changing situation, hurriedly grabbed the end of Raymond’s sleeve.

The choice Raymond made after alternately looking at his sleeve, Lady Nagelsmann, and Yevgenia was.

“…Yevgenia!”

Smack!

Yevgenia’s fan painfully smacked the back of Raymond’s hand, which had reached for her wrist.

“Oh my, what’s this? I almost got something dirty on me.”

Yevgenia shrugged her shoulders lightly and made to leave her spot, her face showing not a trace of disturbance.

In that moment, a crack finally appeared on Raymond’s expressionless face, which he had maintained until then.

As if Yevgenia’s attitude of not clinging to him was more shocking than the reality of him being thrown out.

The Villainess Wants to Be Terminally Ill!

The Villainess Wants to Be Terminally Ill!

악녀님은 시한부가 되고 싶어!
Score 10.0
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2025 Native Language: Korean
​I reincarnated and became a villainess with no solution. ​By the time I realized my past life, the male lead’s ‘Name’ had already manifested on my body, making the engagement a certainty. Moreover, the relationship between the male lead and the female lead had progressed as far as it could go. ​If things continued this way, the future of starving to death in a prison, just like in the original story, might be awaiting me. ​’I have no choice. I’ll just have to maintain a good relationship with the male lead, like my predecessors who were transmigrated into a villainess.’ ​…I once thought that, but then… ​“The successor will be the child born to Stella.” ​What should I do when the male lead I meet right after realizing my reincarnation says something like this? ​“Raimund. I’m asking this because I truly don’t understand, but surely you’re not talking about the successor to our house, the House of Martyre?” “Hmph. Evgenia Martyre. Please stop acting so foolish.” ​Ah, so he isn’t! ​“This marriage is happening because you want it. For your pathetic love.” “So, shouldn’t my love be respected as well?” ​Right, he was not! If this is the case, the only path left is to somehow break off the engagement. ​However, because of this damned ‘Name’, I couldn’t find a way out at all. The very last remaining, single method was… ​”…They said erasing the Name shortens your lifespan by three years per character.” ​If I erase his full name, Raimund Larsen, 39 years will fly away. This means becoming terminally ill at the age of 19. ​”But, my Name gets erased anyway if I follow the original story, right? I can just think of it as erasing it in advance.” ​Being imprisoned in a dungeon and sickly dying within a week vs. living happily as a terminally ill lady of a wealthy ducal house before passing away. ​”Unless I have a death wish, I’d naturally choose the latter. Good, my goal from now on is to become terminally ill!”    

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