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Chapter 11
A Märchen for the Villainess
The capital of the Nevelant Empire, Londor.
There was a tea house there exclusively for noble ladies.
Inside were a dozen tables arranged neatly, but out in the extravagant garden there was only one.
The so-called Golden Table.
It could be used only by the group acknowledged as the most influential in high society.
At the Golden Table now sat Flute and several famous young noblewomen, enjoying tea.
Just then, a small sparrow fluttered down and perched on Flute’s shoulder as she sipped her tea.
Flute, dressed in a lovely gown and smiling brightly.
There was no trace of the seductress who had stayed in the prince’s chambers the previous night.
“My goodness, Lady Flute, animals really adore you. It’s like something out of a picture!”
“Are you perhaps a fairy, Lady Flute Hamel?”
The young noblewomen gathered around her showered her with praise.
An emperor whose mind was deteriorating from illness, a crown prince on death’s door.
Currently the most likely successor was Prince Edwin, and Flute—his closest confidante—had become the rising star of society.
“Oh my, no. This little bird just happened to land on my shoulder.”
Flute laughed lightly and, without notice, slipped a tiny note tied to the sparrow’s leg into her hand.
News about Princess Isabel must have arrived.
The prince’s order: Find out everything about Princess Isabel.
Just what kind of girl is she that His Highness is taking an interest?
Her teeth ground, but disobeying his order was impossible. She swallowed the discomfort down her throat and kept her delicate smile.
No matter what, the leading candidate to be princess consort is me.
Though a bastard daughter of the Hamel viscount, she was pure, beautiful, immaculate.
Flute played the role so perfectly that no one could ever suspect she was actually an information broker of the back alleys.
In a filthy, dark alleyway.
Long-tailed rats circled a drunken vagrant.
Eek—pushed to a corner, he trembled in fear.
The rats’ eyes were red as if soaked in blood.
“So you’re the one who claimed to know Princess Isabel.”
Flute appeared before him, hood pulled low.
“M-my lady, spare me!”
“Answer properly and I will.”
She tossed a gold coin at him.
Snatching it up, the man grinned and spilled what he knew:
She caused trouble, avoided people, the king despised her, rumors said she was born from the queen’s adultery—
Useless things Flute already knew.
Annoyed, she tossed her iron-hard flute into the air and caught it over and over.
It glittered blue-cold, looking more like a club than an instrument.
Terrified, the beggar blurted out what he’d been hiding.
“The youngest princess of Dezar can use strange healing magic!”
“Healing magic?”
“Yes. But it’s more like a curse! Everyone who tried to claim it died!”
“Ohh.”
Healing—magic only high-ranking priests once performed.
Since the Nevelant Empire’s rise, it had vanished—priceless power no one could now wield.
Whether it was curse or gift, the prince’s interest would deepen.
“Anyone else know this but you?”
More gold flicked from her hand.
“No one. I’m probably the last alive.”
He grabbed the coins and laughed unpleasantly.
“Then, fortunate indeed.”
“Sure! I don’t know how that damned—my lady?”
Flute’s flute came down hard on his neck.
A sickening crack, and the man collapsed. Black rats swarmed him instantly.
Silent death lingered in the alley, then vanished.
“This is all?”
The prince scowled at Flute’s written report.
“She’s infamous for being troublesome, but nothing noteworthy.”
Draped lightly in a thin night robe, Flute sprawled across him, whispering sweetly.
“Not like you. Your intel is full of holes.”
His gaze demanded she reveal anything she was hiding.
Flute met his eyes and smiled.
“I truly couldn’t write more, Your Highness.”
“Hmph.”
“If she’d been a noblewoman of the Empire, I could’ve filled pages.”
Of course—there was something else.
A vagrant from Dezar claiming she’d fled the kingdom.
But Flute had no intention of offering information that might intrigue him.
“A good time for a little trip. Perhaps I’ll hold a banquet while I’m at it.”
“Where will you go, Your Highness?”
“I plan to visit the Grand Duchy of Bashke.”
“No way… You’re going to see her?”
“Call it an official inspection.”
“Such tasks could be left to others. Why not inspect that mining site I found—”
“Don’t overstep, my lovely Flute.”
He smiled sweetly but pushed her aside with firm resolve.
Throwing on his robe, Edwin hummed as he left the room.
Soon enough, you’ll realize I’m the only one beside you, Flute thought bitterly, grinding her teeth at his departing back.
Yes—no one but her would be princess consort.
And anyone else who tried?
She’d just kill them.
Dawn, the next morning.
Isabel once again cheerfully dashed across the garden with the beast.
He caught the hat she boomeranged into the air and brought it back.
“Good job.”
She tiptoed to pat his massive head.
The beast playfully nibbled her arm with his enormous jaws.
One clamp and her arm would snap off—but she wasn’t frightened at all.
“Sit, Your Grace.”
At her words, the beast instantly dropped to the ground.
“Good boy.”
His amethyst eyes sparkled.
“All right, Duke. I’ll give you just one drop today, so wait.”
“Grr!”
He lowered his head and licked her ankle.
“Eek!”
Isabel yelped and pulled away.
“Don’t lick there! Stay still.”
“Woof.”
“You behave so well now. Can’t you stay like this even during the day?”
“Woof!”
“Fine, fine.”
Isabel pricked her finger on his sharp fang, letting blood well up.
The beast lapped at it tenderly at first—but wouldn’t let go.
Today, he drank far more blood than usual.
It didn’t hurt, but the ticklish sensation bothered her.
“Duke, are you planning to swallow my finger whole?”
“……”
“Duke?—ugh!”
The beast planted his paws on her shoulders, knocking her backward.
Pinned beneath him, Isabel stayed calm, scratching his chin.
“You’re heavy. Move.”
Instead, the beast licked her cheek—long.
“Kya—haha! It tickles!”
Then—
Thick black smoke rose from his body.
What the—!
Isabel tried to fan the smoke away, but it was useless.
It swirled around him, then was sucked into his obsidian earring.
When the smoke cleared—the Grand Duke lay above her.
The beast had transformed into a man.
“Y-Your Grace?”
His unfocused violet eyes stared blankly at her.
He caged her beneath him with his limbs.
His languid, decadent expression was worlds apart from the ascetic officer who always buttoned his uniform to the throat.
Holy crap.
Her gaze traveled—face, throat, chest, lower.
Training every day aboard a warship—of course he was fit.
No extra fat, only muscle—perfect, like a statue.
What remained of his clothes was barely shredded fabric clinging here and there.
W-what is THAT!?
“Different kind of beast,” she thought, face blazing red.
“Get off me, Duke.”
Isabel mentally recited sutras and clean thoughts.
So that’s why people talk about beauty traps…
She’d always thought beauty couldn’t be a weapon—but now she understood it was the logic of nature.
“Duke, we’re not even—”
Her mantra dissolved quickly. She squeaked a nonsense line, eyes squeezed shut.
They weren’t close—but they were adults. It was fine.
A bit fast, but with that physique—fine.
Certain she knew his intent, she closed her eyes—
Grrrrk—
A guttural growl rolled from his throat.
No way. Isabel’s eyes flew open.
“Your Grace, you’re not in your right mind?”
“……”
“Oh seriously.”
What was she thinking with a half-conscious man?
I almost died of embarrassment.
She needed to escape. She grabbed a nearby branch and flung it across the yard.
If he chased it like a dog, she could slip free.
His head snapped toward it instantly.
Still pinning her, he extended one arm—snatched it midair.
Wow. His reflexes are better as a human?
She gaped—then froze.
Oh crap.
His violet eyes had regained their sharp focus.
“Princess.”
His voice was low and rough.
“So this is how you ‘play’ with me daily, when I’m like that?”
The branch splintered to dust in his hand.
