Chapter 15

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Villainess Imprinted with the Male Lead 23

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"Hoo..."

Recalling that day, Richt finally set aside the documents he'd been forcibly holding onto and leaned back slowly against the chair's backrest.

After spending the night with Luciana, the sexual instincts that had driven him wild had vanished completely. Yet her presence had only grown more uncomfortable.

It wasn't just the aftermath of a single night. In fact, the main reason Richt found Luciana awkward was a overwhelming sense of guilt.

"I'll have some contraceptive potion brought over, so drink it before you go."

Not content with coldly pushing her away without mercy, he'd even spoken to her in a tone that sounded like a sharp rebuke.

Luciana was, undeniably, a victim of the imprint just like him.

And it went beyond that. Ahead of his rut, Luciana had shouldered an even greater burden than Richt, who had directly experienced the intense arousal.

That day, regardless of his own feelings, Richt should have checked on her first and foremost.

'But I...'

Damn it.

As he replayed his past mistakes, his gloomy eyes darted around anxiously.

"Lucy, I love you."

The confession he'd uttered countless times while holding her for what felt like an eternity.

'That wasn't my will.'

The moment his rut arrived, the instincts lurking deep within swallowed his reason whole.

That was why he'd clung to a woman he hadn't given even a shred of his heart to, babbling nonsense about loving her and wanting to be with her forever.

"...This is driving me mad."

Richt raked a hand through his slightly lengthened black hair and clenched his jaw tight.

His face grew grave as he dwelled on the past, but his mind—battered by a torrent of thoughts about Luciana—began excitedly revving up without a care.

Just like Luciana, Richt remembered every detail of that night.

No matter how desperate the love confessions and pleas weren't truly his own doing, he couldn't forgive himself for abandoning his steadfast will and succumbing to instinct.

That was why, upon waking and seeing her, he'd treated her so heartlessly.

Every time he faced that woman, memories of himself yearning for her as his mate resurfaced, tormenting him.

He lacked the confidence to meet the clear eyes he'd gazed into while pouring out confessions in his lost state.

He couldn't forgive or endure this self, whose lifelong resolve to never keep a mate by his side was turning into a vague haze.

That was why he hadn't even managed a simple "Are you okay?" to Luciana.

The fear that showing even a hint of weakness would shatter the fragile core he'd barely protected. The vague dread that he'd inevitably surrender everything to his mate.

"..."

But had choosing such thorough avoidance preserved that core he so desperately wanted to protect? The answer was a resounding no.

His instincts, as if mocking his resistance, made him unconsciously seek out Luciana more frequently.

"Use return magic as soon as you've finished drinking it."

He'd barely managed to hand over the contraceptive and vanish. Pathetically, less than half a day after Luciana left the estate, he began berating himself for his harsh attitude.

As he tried to brush it off indifferently and start his routine, shaking off the rut's aftereffects, a fierce cry suddenly swirled in his mind and assaulted him.

―You shouldn't have said it like that. Hurry up and apologize to her!

His instincts dredged up the image of Luciana's face hardening upon hearing his cruel words, stirring up a frenzy.

―Think about it clearly. You remember those fragile eyes wavering at your words. She must have been hurt.

Once it started speaking, his instinct relentlessly hounded him without pause.

The moment he heard it, Richt recalled Luciana's hurt, misty gaze and sank into turmoil.

His breathing grew labored, sweat beading on his palms.

Sensing his agitation at its words, his instinct seized the chance and threw a tantrum.

―What if you end up hated by your mate forever like this? It'll all be your fault for being so heartless!

Abandoned by Luciana.

"...!"

His heart plummeted like a fortress under siege at the vivid assumption piercing his mind like an arrow.

"Your Grace, you are truly the worst."

He pictured Luciana coldly snapping at him.

Eyes laced with contempt, lips pressed into a stern line.

―Go apologize to her now. Seek her out and repent your mistake!

Noticing his internal conflict, his instinct urged him endlessly in an indignant tone, as if demanding immediate forgiveness from Luciana.

'...My words were indeed too harsh.'

Richt spotted a blank sheet of stationery on his desk and furrowed his brow, his eyes deepening with contemplation.

'We're bound to cooperate while the imprint lasts anyway. No need to sour the relationship.'

For some reason, his gaze kept drifting back to the fresh paper.

Should he send an apology now?

As Richt unconsciously reached for it—

―Since when did you care about such things? Idiot. Once the imprint breaks, you'll never see her again. No need to bother.

Another voice, displeased at his wavering toward instinct, shot back sharply and halted his movement.

"...!"

If only the imprint vanished.

His hand, extended toward the paper, slowly returned to its place.

―Don't fall for the instinct pulling you toward that woman.

With that, the voice that had been needling him vanished abruptly.

'Damn it. I almost...'

Realizing he'd been swayed by the cunning whisper unbeknownst to himself, his face held not a trace of amusement.

In the end, Richt abandoned the idea of sending a letter and turned away.

Yet even after a day passed, then three, thoughts of Luciana didn't fade—instead, they disrupted his mind and body without warning whenever he tried to forget.

Even now was the same.

―Think about it clearly. You remember those fragile eyes wavering at your words. She must have been hurt.

The cunning temptation wormed in, bringing back her wounded gaze looking up at his cold self.

―Since when did you care about such things? Idiot. Once the imprint breaks, you'll never see her again.

He'd agreed with that voice, which had accompanied him constantly since imprinting with her.

―What if you end up hated by your mate forever like this?

Yet why couldn't he just let it pass whenever talk of something unrelated to him arose?

'Could it be that I...'

Bam!

The unwanted assumption rearing its head made Richt shoot to his feet, his expression as barren as a wasteland.

Luciana Leslie.

She was nothing more than a troublesome connection tangled by accident.

"No reason to concern myself with every little thing."

With those words, Richt shoved aside the persistently lingering thoughts of Luciana and brushed his gaunt cheek.

Chin held high. Stride full of grandeur.

Knock knock.

And a confident knock to top it off.

"Excuse me, if someone's in there, could you open the door?"

Today, too, tasked with Luciana's errand, Mary spat out her words primly while holding a large box.

Creeeak.

The firmly shut door slowly opened, revealing the hooded man as always.

"Sorry. As you can see, I'm short-handed."

"..."

In truth, the box held only a few sheets of paper, light enough to open the door with. But Mary pretended otherwise, intending to make him do the work, and stepped inside.

He'd probably realized this brown-haired woman was bossing him around for no reason. The items she brought were always suspiciously light, like empty boxes.

'Hmph! This is nothing.'

Whether it was truly thanks to Luciana's influence or not, after his first errand, the man—who had been utterly rude—had become noticeably meek.

Even as Mary teased him subtly or dragged up his past mistakes, which should have annoyed him, he stayed utterly silent, as if bound by some unbreakable constraint.

'Our lady is the best!'

Thanks to that, Mary had been tormenting Rick up to now.

In truth, she'd long since shaken off any grudges from that day, but teasing him had become oddly enjoyable, so she couldn't stop.

"Here! A new commission from Miss Lirian."