🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 6
A Fairy Tale for the Villainess
“Your Highness, are you really planning to marry that Grand Duke Bashke?”
Your Majesty, how could you allow such a marriage!
Madam Badel fretted, circling nervously around Isabel, who was packing her luggage.
“My decision hasn’t changed. So please help me pack?”
A princess, and she doesn’t even own anything worth selling…
Isabel rummaged through her memories as she tried to gather anything valuable.
She only had two pairs of shoes. One of which she’d abandoned on the beach.
Ugh, how stupid…
She lightly thumped her chest with a fist in frustration.
What do I want, anyway?
She didn’t know if she wanted to live or die.
Having escaped the original Little Mermaid fate and met Snow White gave her hope she could live…
But remembering that death still came on the same day drained her will.
Would dying one more time send me back to my original world?
Oh, right. I drowned in a river first, didn’t I?
So would she go to the afterlife? Isabel sighed, gazing absently out the window.
Beyond the castle wall stretched the blue sea. A large rock—and behind it…
Wait. What’s that red seaweed?
A red shape bobbing on the waves clearly wasn’t out-of-season kelp.
Looking closer, she caught sight of bright blue eyes peeking over the rock, staring her way.
If she wasn’t hallucinating, that was definitely the little mermaid.
“Badel, come here a moment.”
“What is it, Princess?”
“Can you see that over there?”
Isabel pointed at the mermaid, whose face hovered half above the water.
Wow, creepy. Straight out of a horror movie.
“Where? I don’t really… see anything.”
“That one—red-haired girl, right there.”
Isabel pointed squarely at the rock.
And the mermaid promptly dove into the sea with a splash.
“P-Princess… are you seeing, um, like… the ghost of someone who drowned?”
“…Forget it, Badel.”
Whatever the mermaid had misunderstood, Isabel could handle it later.
She waved a hand and went back to packing.
A few dresses and underwear filled the large bag.
Her only jewelry were two pairs of earrings supposedly passed down from Maria, and a few thin rings.
For a villainess with such a bad reputation, her belongings are awfully meager.
In past lives she had fled the palace holding the prince’s hand immediately—never packed herself.
Seeing Isabel’s life laid bare made it feel different now.
Who are you, really? How did you get here?
Isabel stared at her reflection.
Eyes sharp enough to bite—yet strangely hollow.
* * *
Isabel crossed the sea by ship and arrived at the Nevelant Empire.
The Grand Duke’s seaside territory was as lively as the imperial capital.
Passing a bustling port filled with foreign merchant ships, she reached the Grand Duke’s estate—and her jaw dropped further.
If this mansion were any more extravagant, it’d count as treason.
In her past lives she’d never been involved with Grand Duke Bashke.
Prince Edwin had barely mentioned him in front of her.
Badel gazed up with a mournful expression.
No doubt thinking of her mistress dying on the wedding night.
And these servants… not one expression among them.
Faces blank like emotionless dolls. A memory surfaced.
Compared to those brutish things that tried to devour me when I was young, this is nothing—
Wait.
What memory was that?
Isabel froze, clutching her head.
Metallic scraping echoed in her ears, but the memory evaporated like smoke.
Cold sweat prickled, and a chill ran down her spine.
“Princess?”
Badel reached toward her.
Isabel instinctively shoved her arm away.
Badel’s face stiffened.
“It’s nothing, Badel.”
“…Shall I fetch a physician?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She forced an awkward smile and followed Snow, who led her onward.
* * *
Snow guided Isabel to her new quarters.
Not inside the great mansion—but toward the back gardens.
Badel stepped in front of him, eyes blazing.
“Where do you think you’re taking our princess?”
“I am showing her where she will be staying.”
His tone, polite to Isabel, was cold to Badel.
He pointed to a tall tower rising like a lighthouse at the far end of the grounds.
White-brick, elegant, well matched to the mansion.
Not bad.
She thought she could live with that.
But Badel reacted explosively.
“You would house the future mistress of the estate in such a shabby place?!”
No, Badel—that tower is nicer than the detached palace I used to live in…
Isabel nudged her side in reassurance, but Badel took it the wrong way.
“Look at her! She’s turned pale from shock—absolutely pale!”
Hold on, Badel, I’m not done arranging my face!
She tried to hide her satisfaction, but Snow was quicker to notice.
“Strange. Her Highness looks rather pleased to me.”
“…She laughed out of disbelief, Sir Snow.”
She tossed out an excuse, but the sharp boy only smirked.
Isabel changed the subject.
“So, why exactly am I being put in such a remote tower?”
“Because of the Grand Duke’s curse.”
Snow explained that at night the mansion was filled with beastly howls.
Each night the Grand Duke turned into a monster—who avoided high places. Safer in the tower.
“If Your Highness has a strong constitution, you may stay in the mansion instead—”
“No. The tower is just fine.”
“A wise choice. Every prospective bride stayed there, so it should be comfortable.”
“You mean twelve women died there?”
What, is it haunted? Isabel forced down a grimace.
Already cold and imposing, her scowl made her seem truly dangerous.
Even Snow looked away, uneasy.
“They only stayed for a few days each. But if it bothers you, I’ll find another residence.”
“I’m a bit sensitive—but let me try it for a day.”
Chin lifted proudly, Isabel winked at Badel.
“How was that, Badel? I sounded dignified, right?”
“Yes. Thankfully, nobody would guess you grew up with nothing, Princess.”
“…There’s something wrong with that sentence.”
“Ah—Sir Snow walks fast!”
Hurry now, Princess!
Badel scurried ahead.
* * *
Once unpacked, Isabel headed to the mansion where the Grand Duke resided.
Inside was spotless—yet oddly sparse.
Most furniture was new, and the occasional antique pieces bore deep claw marks.
The reception room was just as bare.
So he really turns into a beast. Did he smash everything to bits?
Claw marks gouged deep into wooden floors wherever the carpet didn’t reach.
She shuddered—then straightened with resolve.
I’m doomed anyway. What’s there to fear?
Chin raised, she sat at a fresh-smelling table.
She and the Grand Duke signed their marriage contract.
He handed her the parchment.
“The wedding is set for whatever date you desired.”
Exactly three months later—the date she had died in previous loops.
“Acceptable.”
“Is there anything else you require?”
“I’d like… a generous allowance.”
She stated confidently.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected a princess to ask so boldly; his violet eyes widened.
“There is already a dowry and maintenance stipend listed.”
“Add more. I want to spend to my heart’s content before I die.”
“…Would this suffice?”
He wrote an additional daily sum.
Ten thousand dalions per day.
About ten million won (roughly $7–8k) per day.
Holy—okay, that’s excessive.
She tried to appear calm, but the number stole her breath.
“Is it insufficient?”
He tilted his head at her gasping.
“No… that should do.”
“Good. Any other requests?”
“No, that’s enough for me. What about you?”
“?”
“You have no demands of me?”
He paused.
Every prior bride only demanded things from him. None asked if he needed anything.
“Well… aside from not running away before the wedding day, nothing comes to mind.”
“You’re less greedy than I expected.”
“What could I possibly ask of you, Princess?”
“Oh, you know—don’t fall in love with me, too much trouble, things like that.”
“…Ha.”
Love? Please.
He barked a dry laugh.
“I have no such intention. Do you plan to fall in love with me?”
“Not at all. It was an example.”
Wow. This guy is annoyingly smug.
Just because you’re handsome, don’t look down your nose.
With this face, anyone would fall in love, okay?
She stroked her cheek and glared.
He took the fierce stare without flinching.
“If you wish to love, go ahead.”
“…Sorry, what?”
“If you need it, I’ll play along—even pretend.”
His face held zero desire.
“You’re quite confident, but you’re not that charming.”
Forget it. I’m sick of men now.
She scoffed and snatched the contract.
“But hypothetically—if I survive, then what?”
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
He answered instantly.
He’d heard the question a hundred times—every bride believed she would be the exception.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“All right. If I survive, keep everything exactly the same.”
A luxurious free life—ten thousand dalions a day.
Just imagining it was bliss. But her chances were slim.
Still—so what? Happiness starts now.
Unlike her first and third lives, she didn’t need to cling to the palace for survival.
If I’m destined for misery, I refuse to sob in a tiny room.
If she must be tragic, she’ll cry into the wheel of an imported car.
She’ll waste away in VIP lounges, pierced through the heart with loneliness—
that’s the kind of life she’ll live!
