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Chapter 13
❄ Märchen for the Villainess
“I’m not sure of the circumstances, but after meeting the princess, the curse’s power began to weaken.”
Snow narrowed his eyes as he rambled on about how the curse had once lifted even before sunrise.
“And His Grace… how is he reacting?”
Chaymon, the Archmage and Tower Master—arrogant enough to speak down to a king—showed proper courtesy only to the Grand Duke.
“Outwardly he’s the same, but who knows what he truly thinks. He’s gone to see the princess right now.”
“He does not intend to kill her, I trust.”
“Well… will this time be any different?”
Among all the women who threw themselves at him hoping for marriage, not all had been after his love.
Some were spies trying to steal imperial secrets, others outright swindlers—each with their own goals.
And the sword that once beheaded pirates fell just as fairly on women.
His warm southern fiefdom was ruled by a man with a heart as cold as the northern glaciers.
Yes—such was the man originally.
Yet now, something about his master was off.
“If she really is the bride foretold to break your curse, it would be fortunate…”
“You believe that quack priest?”
“They say he’s got true power. Anyway, I’m worried Lady Isabelle might throw off His Grace’s greater purpose.”
“Greater purpose or not, killing her now would be troublesome.”
“…Sorry?”
“I lost something, and I believe she took it.”
“You don’t mean… the watch the Grand Duke commissioned?”
Snow remembered the day he first met Princess Isabelle.
They had sailed all the way to the Kingdom of Dezar to retrieve “the watch,” only to return empty-handed and disappoint the duke.
“You didn’t think it was genuine, did you, foolish apprentice?”
“You were the one who insisted this time it would be real.”
“Three days from now I’m dropping by. Have plenty of dried Kuhlan dates ready.”
“Why are you coming here?!”
The Tower Master and Empress Gwendolyn were on terrible terms.
The empress banned him from setting foot in the empire, yet he slipped in and out of the Bashke Grand Duchy in secret.
“To hang out, you idiot. Don’t contact me till then.”
With that—click.
The mirror’s glass rippled like water and then turned plain again.
“…His Grace is going to hate this.”
Snow muttered flatly at the now-ordinary mirror.
* * *
At the same time—
Grand Duke Karl Bashke stood leaning in a cramped alleyway.
Just five or six steps from the main road, yet the alley felt like an entirely different world—dark and silent.
His chilly gaze suited the shadowed space perfectly.
There it is.
Madame Fairy’s boutique—the place Princess Isabelle had reportedly visited.
Through the large shop window, he saw the prim princess.
Her straight back and lifted chin held a grace befitting not a minor princess, but an imperial-born royal.
What on earth is she?
The woman who claimed to have spent every night with him—changed into a hideous beast.
She was no ordinary person.
It was time to learn her real motive.
“Master.”
A masked man materialized behind him.
The Grand Duke’s shadow—Shadow.
“Speak.”
“Confirmed—Her Highness is not aligned with the empress. However, we found something troubling.”
Shadow flicked his gaze toward the display window and continued.
“She appears to hold a particular secret, but no one knows what it is.”
“A secret.”
“There was one man who knew the truth and survived—but he was killed recently.”
“You mean you were too late.”
“My apologies.”
Pale, Shadow bowed deeply.
Then, in a familiar tone, he asked:
“Shall I kill the princess tonight?”
Eliminating problems swiftly—closing loose ends. That had always been his master’s preferred method.
Shadow dared glance up.
Still, no reply.
After a long silence, the duke merely waved a hand.
So His Grace intends to watch her for now.
Shadow bowed and melted into the alley.
Left alone again, the duke continued observing Isabelle.
A noblewoman in the shop shoved a scandal paper at her, picking a fight.
Isabelle snatched it, skimmed it with a bored face—and tore it to shreds.
Certainly not a pure-hearted girl.
Yet seeing her crooked smirk made him give the faintest, foolish smile.
* * *
“Say that again.”
Isabelle laughed as shredded gossip fluttered through the air.
Countess Stinger—who had picked the fight—stared at the flying scraps, aghast.
“Those mysterious fires happening everywhere are because the future duchess’s conduct is immoral!”
“So if I misbehave, other people’s houses catch fire? Does that make sense to you, Countess?”
She burst out laughing. Too ridiculous.
Her sharply lifted eyes curved into a lovely arc.
Countess Stinger fidgeted with her fan, speechless for a moment.
“God knows all things.”
“Yes—thanks to you spreading lies everywhere, even the distant heavens have heard them.”
“T-The rumor that the Queen of Dezar bore Princess Isabelle through adultery is hardly a rumor!”
…What?
Even Isabelle blinked in surprise.
That’s news to me—and I lived a whole life before this one.
Head tilted, she asked mildly—
“So what exactly do you want from me, Countess?”
“W-What?”
“Should I hire a bloodline examiner to prove whether I’m legitimate or not?”
“As they say—you do have a vicious tongue!”
Stinger’s face flushed crimson as she glared.
So now it’s personal attacks? She started it!
Honestly, if anyone fit the title “villainess,” it was this woman.
Isabelle smirked.
“Fine, I admit it—I’m vicious. Madame Fairy! Come here.”
The boutique owner nervously hurried over.
“What can I do for you, Princess?”
“Madame, send every new item here to the Grand Duke’s estate.”
“A-All of them?”
“Yes. I’m in the mood for vicious spending.”
Ah yes—nothing beats throwing money around.
Covering her smile, she looked sweetly at Countess Stinger.
“Oh dear, Countess. It seems there’s nothing left here worth buying today.”
“Why, you—Princess Isabelle!”
Grinding her teeth, Stinger snapped.
Isabelle outranked her in title, but nobles from the Empire often looked down on her—daughter of a small country.
And with her cronies behind her—
You didn’t want to look weak in front of a young princess, is that it?
Too bad.
“What!”
The sharp bark swallowed what little politeness Isabelle had tacked on.
The gaggle of noblewomen—so loud moments ago—fell silent.
Picking a fight over nothing…
As if she didn’t already have death hanging over her—nothing frightened her now.
“If you’re done, I’ll take my leave.”
She brushed past the noblewomen’s shoulders and strode out.
Badel followed proudly behind her.
“Well done, Your Highness.”
“It’s nothing.”
Yes, she splurged—but she could cover it with her saved allowance.
Feeling light, Isabelle opened her lace parasol.
Warm afternoon sunlight gleamed over the lively street.
In the shade opposite—stood a very unwelcome man.
Grand Duke Karl Bashke?
Her smile instantly drooped.
What is he doing here at this hour?
Probably a coincidence.
She turned away and walked fast.
Step. Step. Heavy, steady military boots followed.
He caught up easily.
“Finished shopping?”
Suddenly beside her, he matched her pace.
“Don’t lecture me. I can afford what I spent.”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“Then you want to ask why I fought with them?”
She stopped and glared up—
—but her harsh eyes softened instantly.
What the—he looks even better outside.
For a second, the noisy street felt frozen.
A head taller than everyone, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp naval uniform,
amethyst-cold eyes, tightly pressed lips.
Warm southern wind brushed her cheeks and tapped her heart—
Yet he remained wintry and cold.
“I was merely asking if you were done.”
“Yes, yes. I’m heading back.”
Isabelle tore her gaze away and scanned around.
Passersby had slowed to gawk at the duke.
Cursed or not—his beauty ensnared every eye.
“You’re fine with walking this long?”
“So now you’re underestimating me?”
“No… sigh. I’ll escort you to your carriage.”
With a conflicted look, he brushed back his hair and escorted her flawlessly.
He’s being way too cautious today…
Odd, but pleasant.
Puzzled yet content, Isabelle accepted his excessive courtesy.
