I'm a Villainess, Can I Die?-Chapter 95

This... this was... drool. As I’d suspected, the thing that soaked my hand was something clear.

Ah. Right. I must’ve jumped to wild conclusions just because I was a little sick.

I mean, I already know my life ends in three and a half years... damn it.

I pulled a napkin from the desk and wiped my hand. Even then, the uneasy feeling lingered, so I went to the bathroom and washed my hands under running water.

The faucet exploded with water so forcefully that it soaked the sleeves of my dress and the hem of my skirt.

I stared at it blankly for a moment before lifting my head.

It’d be easier to just pretend I didn’t notice... Should I just go back to sleep?

That fleeting urge shook me for a second, but I ended up changing clothes.

Even if they weren’t soaked from water, they were soaked with sweat... so changing was the better option.

I tossed the damp nightgown over a chair by the tea table, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out a spare set of sleepwear tucked in the corner.

Before I knew it, the headache and nausea had vanished.

All that dry heaving in the middle of the night felt like a dream. Nothing made sense.

I suddenly got sick... and just as suddenly, I got better?

I picked up the candlestick and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains. Once I confirmed that the room was now bright with moonlight, I blew out the candle and returned the candlestick to its place.

Right. Next time... I’ll just sleep with the curtains open.

I made that small decision and sat down on the edge of the bed. The sheets and blanket were still damp with the sweat I’d soaked them in, so I didn’t feel like lying back down again.

In the end, it seemed like I wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight either.

“The appointed time has passed.”

The man glanced at the clock and downed the wine in his hand in one swift motion.

A thin stream dripped from the corner of his mouth, trailing down like blood. Irritated, he wiped his mouth and sank deep into the sofa.

Always this late. Arrogant bastard.

Grinding his teeth, the man hurled the wine glass in his hand.

CRASH.

The crystal shattered with a sharp sound.

“Haah...”

Even after breaking the glass, his anger didn’t subside. He exhaled a deep, hot breath.

His breath, heavy with agitation, rose and fell a few times before the man he had been waiting for finally appeared.

From the wardrobe.

The wardrobe was their secret passageway. More precisely, a secret passageway only the man who’d just appeared could use.

The slit behind the wardrobe, which looked like it had been torn straight down the middle, slowly closed as if healing once the man had completely stepped through.

The marquis, who always found that sight both unsettling and fascinating, clicked his tongue and spoke.

“You’re late.”

The man responded in a calm voice that could easily make someone think he was the one being waited on, not the other way around.

“I was delayed creating a new entry point.”

“A new one?”

The marquis answered with indifference, but his eyes suddenly widened as he shot up from his seat.

“A new one? You mean—you’ve finally succeeded in getting into the duke’s estate?”

His eyes flared red with desire.

A brief silence filled the room. The marquis, unable to endure even that short moment, called out to the man and pressed him for a response.

“High Priest!”

The man, called by name and bathed in the marquis’s unfiltered greed, finally gave a slow nod.

“Yes. I succeeded.”

The two were business partners.

They had joined forces to get what they each wanted.

Even if the marquis spoke informally while the high priest used formal speech, their relationship was not one of hierarchy but of equals.

Overwhelmed with excitement, the marquis retrieved two crystal glasses from the cabinet in his room.

One for himself, and one he set before the high priest.

Vanessa gave a faint smile as she glanced at the shattered glass shards on the floor, then picked up the glass.

What a hot-headed fool with nothing but fire for brains.

“So, you’ve entered the duke’s residence... things will proceed quickly from here.”

“Yes, something like that. As long as... you do your part properly, Marquis.”

The marquis, just about to sip his wine, slowly halted his movement and stared at the high priest.

The greedy smile had vanished from his face.

His eyes sharpened, brows lifted, pupils blood-red with fury.

To an ordinary person, simply locking eyes with him would’ve made them gulp in fear. But the high priest simply kept smiling gently, just as before.

“Sounds like you’re saying I haven’t been doing my part.”

“...Surely not. I simply meant that we must avoid another... mishap, like last time.”

The marquis’s expression turned darker at the calm, leisurely tone.

His hand trembled with rage. The high priest noticed the tremor with a quick glance of his eyes and responded only with a faint smirk.

CRASH.

That was the second crystal glass shattered by the marquis tonight.

“Ha! You don’t even remember your own failures, do you? You lost that priest, Ian. You tried to use some Jacob guy to leak information from the duke’s estate and failed at that too. You’ve done absolutely nothing right!”

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His voice was as fierce and sharp as his gaze—loud and aggressive.

Yet the high priest didn’t flinch at the outburst, only gently nudging a shard of glass away from his foot with the tip of his shoe.

“Let’s speak accurately, shall we? If your daughter had maintained her position as Selina’s friend, there would’ve been no need to use that man. And it was you, Marquis, who chose Jacob. I simply carried out the contract.”

There wasn’t a word of falsehood in that reply. The marquis bit his lip in frustration and had no choice but to hold his tongue.

“I merely stepped in to salvage your failed plan. I showed you a greater opportunity. And now... you’re trying to pin the blame on me?”

The gentle curve of his eyes, usually hiding their true intensity, gradually revealed themselves.

His normally blue irises began to flush red from below, and soon they were dyed completely crimson as they turned toward the marquis.

“How troubling.”

Icy red eyes met burning red eyes in the air.

Their connection went back several months.

The marquis had long held onto a single ambition: to weaken imperial authority.

Under the former emperor’s rule, the empire had been split between the anti-imperial and pro-imperial factions.

Caught between those two, the marquis's house stood as the head of the anti-imperial faction.

Being the head of a faction... was a sweet position.

The anti-imperial nobles showered him with gold and valuables to gain favor, and even the pro-imperial nobles had to keep a close eye on him. Hell, even the emperor himself.

The wealth and power that came in—unparalleled. Yes, those days could truly be called the golden age of the marquisate.

But that golden age soon came crashing down.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

After the incompetent former emperor died and the current one ascended, imperial authority began to rise to the point that even mentioning the anti-imperial faction became dangerous.

The reason was simple.

The ducal house, which had remained neutral all this time, openly sided with the emperor.

Military strength, intelligence, economic superiority, and an ancient lineage rooted deep in imperial history—the ducal house was a legitimate noble family.

To other nobles, the ducal house was both a force to be feared and a symbol of aspiration and envy.

“If we take their hand, success is guaranteed.”

Nobles who had previously stood neutral immediately submitted to the emperor the moment the ducal house aligned with him.

A tilt began to form between the previously balanced pro- and anti-imperial factions.

As things turned, even the nobles in the anti-imperial faction began to abandon ship. After all, who would stay aboard a sinking house?

And just like that, the golden age of the marquisate ended, and the marquis seethed.

The thought that everything had been stolen from him kept him awake at night.

So the marquis made a decision.

He would bring down the ducal house, rebuild the anti-imperial faction, and restore his house to its golden era.

At first, the marquis used his own daughter for this plan. Naturally, the daughter was well aware of her father's ambitions and had willingly joined in.

They planned for her to befriend the duke’s good-for-nothing daughter, steal information from within, manipulate the idiot behind the scenes, and throw the ducal house and the noble society into chaos.

Then, in the middle of that chaos, they would strike and destroy the ducal house.

At first, the plan seemed to work. His daughter became close with the duke’s daughter, and their personalities clicked.

But then, a problem occurred.

The duke’s daughter, who supposedly lost her memory in an accident, had changed.

Gone was the emotionally unstable fool with no competence. In her place was someone strange—hard to read and utterly bizarre.

And this changed girl abruptly cut ties with Mia and made it impossible to get close again.

Years of cultivated friendship shattered in an instant... and the plan fell apart, just like that. Furious, the marquis soon began devising the next phase.

“If we can’t use a friend, we’ll plant a lover instead...”

It was around the time he began looking for a suitable candidate that he appeared.

The High Priest.

The day before, the marquis had been at a noble assembly hosted by the imperial family and left infuriated after being completely ignored.

Still fuming, he had returned home, broken everything in his room, and collapsed on his bed—when his butler came to report an unexpected visit from the High Priest.

At first, enraged by the uninvited guest, the marquis cursed and tried to send him away... but changed his mind upon hearing what the butler had to say.

“The High Priest says he has come to see you, Marquis. He also said... he could place what you desire right into your hands.”

Whether it was true or arrogant nonsense, it was at least worth hearing.

It was more likely the latter, but if that was the case, he ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) could always beat the man half to death.

He was already full of rage anyway—maybe venting it out on someone would make him feel better.

The marquis’s lip curled into a crooked smirk.

“It is an honor to meet you, Marquis.”

The first impression of the High Priest, who had been waiting in the parlor, was that of a man with a serene expression.

Of course, that impression shattered within minutes.

After a brief exchange of greetings, they got down to business.

“So, you say you can hand me what I desire... What exactly do you think that is?”

The marquis asked with a mocking sneer. The High Priest responded with a smile.

“Well, I can’t say for sure. But whatever it may be, I believe I can help you obtain it.”

He answered in a soft, sweet voice as he pulled a book from his sleeve—its black, worn-out cover visible as he held it out.

By the time his smile, rising wide across his face, felt more chilling than gentle, the High Priest had opened the book and begun to speak.

The book he brought was a banned text—prohibited not just in the Empire, but across the entire continent.

“Black Magic.”

A direct and concise title, and the content was exactly what it sounded like: black magic.

The marquis’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and the High Priest, pleased with his reaction, began his explanation in a soft, quiet voice.

“I obtained this book fifteen years ago. A sorcerer, burdened by sin, brought it to confess his crimes to the gods.”