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Chapter 5
“I Am the Villainess, but I’ve Imprinted with the Male Lead ”
Though extinct now, in the distant past there had been a race known as “wolf humans”—half-human, half-beast beings.
The Cassio ducal family was descended from a union between one of those wolf-human beings and a human woman.
“…Wolves? What is he talking about? There was nothing like that in the original story.”
Luciana’s expression slowly hardened like stone as she listened to Richt.
“If that’s true, then it means there’s a part of the story even I, a reader who finished it, never knew…”
Shaken by repeated shocks, she forgot even her fear of Richt and began thinking frantically.
“Wait… I remember seeing a post on the author’s SNS before I died, saying there would be a shocking hidden epilogue…”
Could that unseen story have been about the secret of House Cassio?
The possibility rattled her thoughts—but believing it was another matter entirely.
“As expected, you’re suspicious.”
Richt rubbed his brow as if he already knew she wouldn’t accept it easily.
Of course she wouldn’t. Who would readily believe that the Duke of the Empire was a descendant of a now-extinct race of wolf humans?
Especially when he looked no different from an ordinary human.
“And even more so when it comes from someone like me.”
The extinct races of old were not viewed favorably.
But regardless of that, proof of their bond lay clearly between them—the matching imprint.
No matter how unbelievable it was, there was no way to deny it now.
At last, Luciana fell silent, having fully realized Richt’s identity.
* * *
Clop, clop.
“….”
Inside an absurdly luxurious carriage, Luciana stared blankly into space as she replayed her conversation with Richt from earlier that morning.
This was insane.
The male lead being part wolf-human… and now she was imprinted with him?
The only relief was that the mark on their wrists could not be seen by others.
That alone made her feel as if she had been pulled up from deep water.
But—
“The original story… is basically shattered into dust at this point.”
Desperately clinging to her last hope, Luciana had asked Richt in detail about the imprint.
With a face like sandpaper in his mouth, he had answered in a tone as if confessing something terrible:
“It means choosing a lifelong partner.”
“Those with wolf blood inevitably come to love the one they’ve designated as their mate. No matter how strong their will, the end is always the same…”
There was no room for misunderstanding.
It might sound romantic—devotion to only one person for life—but Richt’s face looked as though it were a curse.
“Do you understand now what situation we’re in?”
His cold voice almost sounded like he was asking himself as well.
Luciana suddenly remembered a scene from the original novel near the ending.
When Richt confesses his love to Deborah:
“Until the moment these eyes close, I swear to love only you.
My soul is already bound to yours.
Deborah, you are my one and only love.”
At the time, she had thought it was simply the climax of his long denial finally breaking.
But now that she knew the truth behind it…
Those words no longer sounded like sweet romance—they felt solemn, almost frightening.
Eternal love. Soul binding.
“The partner has changed…”
Even though Richt was the most handsome man in the empire, Luciana had never once desired to stand by his side.
The sweet romance that was supposed to unfold between the protagonists was supposed to be happening elsewhere.
So why was she the one caught in the middle?
“I never wanted to separate those two…”
The protagonists were supposed to have their sparkling, perfect romance.
Instead, everything had gone wrong.
Not only had she failed to stay out of the story—she had become the worst kind of villainess.
“If I had known this would happen, I never would’ve touched alcohol…”
She slumped inwardly in despair.
“How did this even happen…?”
The cause was obvious—her drunken mistake—but that didn’t make it any less absurd.
If everything had gone according to the original story, Deborah and Richt would have naturally ended up together.
But now, everything had been derailed.
And this unknown “imprint” had bound them in place.
“Wasn’t Richt supposed to be with Deborah that day?”
There was no mention of him being drunk in the original novel.
Was this something that actually happened but was never written?
Her thoughts tangled endlessly.
A “lifelong partner.”
That was not meant for her.
“…Is there any way to reverse the imprint?”
Why did the author hide such an enormous secret until the end?
Her resentment rose and fell helplessly.
Just as she looked ready to collapse, the smoothly rolling carriage came to a stop.
“We have arrived at the mansion.”
The driver’s respectful voice announced their arrival.
Startled, Luciana snapped back to her senses.
The carriage door opened.
“Lucy!”
As she stepped down with assistance, she saw a familiar figure rushing toward her.
“Brother…?”
The young man was the spitting image of House Leslie’s pink hair and their mother’s sky-blue eyes.
Lorain, the young viscount who was seven years older than Luciana.
Unlike Luciana, who resembled their father, he took more after their mother, making the siblings look quite different aside from hair color and build.
“Were you out walking in this cold?”
Even though Luciana had confirmed that the imprint mark could not be seen by others, she still instinctively pulled down her sleeves and smiled awkwardly as her brother approached.
“I just… had some errands.”
Lorain quickly checked the unfamiliar carriage and, seeing that she was safe, smiled in relief.
“You’re late.”
“Well… it just sort of happened…?”
At her vague answer about her absence, Luciana felt her face heat up.
Staying out all night at a ball basically meant she had spent a night of fleeting romance with someone.
That was the polite way of saying it.
In the empire, this was common enough that Lorain did not make a fuss about it.
Still, while his expression remained calm, his sharp eyes carefully examined the carriage that had brought her home.
A luxurious four-wheeled carriage made of fine wood and gold ornaments—clearly top-class.
Yet there was no family crest anywhere.
A polite way of saying: this was only meant to be a one-night affair, nothing more.
‘Whoever he is…’
Lorain silently judged the unknown man for failing to recognize his sister’s worth, while also feeling relieved that no strange man had clung to her.
“By the way, brother… are Mother and Father home?”
Luciana, who had been sneaking glances at him, cautiously asked.
“They’ve been waiting for you.”
