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Chapter 3
“I Am the Villainess, but I’ve Imprinted with the Male Lead ”
For a nobleman with absurd wealth, it was only natural that he possessed a magical artifact allowing him to return to his bedroom from anywhere within a fixed range while staying in the capital.
It was a magical tool so valuable that only the richest could even dream of owning it. It activated solely through Richt’s own mana, and with his permission, it could also be used to bring anyone directly into his bedroom.
In other words, the one who had brought Luciana into this room… was none other than Richt himself.
“…I willingly brought a woman to my bed?”
As Richt finally grasped reality, he clenched both fists tightly, as if refusing to accept it.
The truth settling in struck him like a hammer to the back of his head, leaving his mind blank.
“….”
Luciana carefully watched his face darken moment by moment and swallowed nervously.
‘He was just accusing me of being some kind of degenerate, and now he’s finally regaining his senses?’
It was a relief that his hostility had eased somewhat, but Luciana’s anxiety remained.
The fact that she, the villainess of the original story, had spent the night with the male lead… was still an undeniable reality.
‘I tried so hard to avoid the original story all this time.’
Her silent anguish was written all over her face.
Luciana Leslie—a sweet young lady with fluffy pink hair and soft yellow eyes.
Born into a well-off noble house and raised as the youngest child, the original Luciana was somewhat immature and childish.
What pushed her onto the path of villainy… was the male lead himself. She fell hopelessly in love with Richt at first sight.
‘At first, he didn’t even look at the heroine—but eventually, he falls in love with her. That’s the main plot.’
Luciana recalled the old, dusty story.
True to his “cold-hearted male lead” setting, Richt went through a strong period of denial.
During that time, neither Luciana nor the heroine Deborah meant anything to him—they were just annoying women.
But gradually, like clothing getting soaked by drizzle, he began to fall for Deborah.
And as time passed, Luciana grew jealous of Richt’s attention toward Deborah, falling into destructive obsession.
However, Luciana was not a clever villain.
True to her childish nature, she harassed Deborah in immature and foolish ways.
And such petty behavior could never look good in the male lead’s eyes. Richt eventually grew hostile toward her.
‘A villainess’s lonely downfall. But that’s only if I follow the original story.’
She had no intention of becoming a laughingstock in high society, disgracing her family, and ruining the prestige they had built over generations.
Even if she wasn’t the heroine, Luciana was just as beautiful as Deborah—and from a noble household too.
She had everything in this life that she lacked in her past one. There was no reason to choose hardship.
After realizing she had died and been reborn as Luciana, she had sworn not to follow the original plot.
Even when she saw Richt’s portrait or glimpsed him in person from afar, she never batted an eye. He already had his destined partner.
She had never once desired to get involved with the male lead.
‘Of all the men at the ball, why did it have to be Richt?’
They say alcohol is the root of disaster—and it seemed to be true.
Did she really fail to recognize him because she was drunk?
‘By now, the male lead should still be in his denial phase.’
From winter’s snowfall to the coming of spring—Richt was supposed to slowly fall in love with the heroine, like the approach of summer heat.
‘Unless… this happened because the heroine is still the one chasing him?’
The thought made sense, but confusion remained.
Even during his denial phase, could the male lead really end up sleeping with a woman he had never even spoken to?
And unlike her, Richt was not someone who would lose control from drinking.
There was no such scene in the original novel.
Luciana’s confusion deepened—but there was another problem.
‘I didn’t even get to harass the heroine… and I ended up causing something far worse.’
She glanced nervously at Richt.
His expression was deeply furrowed, as if the situation disgusted him.
‘Of course he’d react like that. If it were the heroine, maybe not—but a random unknown woman?’
Despite her despair, Luciana did not break.
Even if things had gone wrong, the male and female leads still had to end up together.
She had no intention of taking responsibility for Richt’s life just because of one accidental night.
‘Even in the original story, it’s clear.’
Even though she had once desired Richt herself, his heart was always directed only toward Deborah.
Even if she had taken his so-called “purity,” fate would not change.
So her goal remained the same: not to interfere with the protagonists’ love.
Yes. That was right.
Even if the story had gone off track, she just needed to fix it and put everything back where it belonged.
“Um, Your Grace. I have something to say.”
Clearing her throat lightly, Luciana carefully drew Richt’s attention.
His crimson eyes, as if swallowing chaos itself, turned toward her.
Flinch.
She swallowed dryly, trying to suppress her nerves.
The atmosphere felt like one wrong word would get her killed with a glance.
Steeling herself, she spoke carefully.
“I don’t know what misunderstanding you’ve come to, but I was simply drunk and acted inappropriately. I had no ill intent. And I have no intention of using this incident to demand anything from you.”
It felt like standing before a tyrant.
Every word she spoke felt like it shaved off years of her life.
‘I need to fix this—for Deborah’s sake too.’
Thinking of the heroine who knew nothing of this situation made her grip the bedsheet tightly.
‘The male lead won’t try to hold me back.’
He looked shaken, but Luciana believed Richt would not be the type to demand responsibility over a drunken mistake.
So she was sure he would agree.
“I swear on everything I have that I will not speak of this to anyone. So… I think it would be best if we both go our separate ways. What do you think, Your Grace?”
Asking for his opinion was only politeness. In truth, she was already ready to leave.
“….”
The silence that followed stretched longer than expected.
Richt silently studied her.
‘That unusual hair color… she must be the daughter of House Leslie.’
Only now did he properly recognize her.
‘So everything she said was sincere.’
She kept avoiding his gaze, likely afraid—but her straight posture suggested she wasn’t lying.
And above all, Richt himself had no clear memory of last night.
‘So she wants to part ways.’
That was also what he wanted.
If that was the case, then there was no reason to hesitate.
He should simply turn away.
“…That’s impossible.”
