Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Villainess Imprinted with the Male Lead 2

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The air in the room changed in an instant.

As if entranced by the man's gaze, a dazed voice slipped from Luciana's lips.

The man was, just as she'd expected, extraordinarily handsome. A beauty without precedent in either her past life or this one.

But what startled Luciana wasn't just his striking looks, which seemed almost too noble to behold.

His rare black hair in the empire, and those red eyes that carried an eerie aura.

She'd never met him before, yet his face felt familiar. She'd glimpsed him from afar once, long ago.

'He's... the male lead?'

Richt Cassio.

The moment his identity surfaced silently in her dazed mind, Luciana clamped her hand over her mouth as if she'd stumbled upon a murder scene and let out a shrill scream.

'Wait. Does that mean I... slept with the male lead?'

Realizing what she'd done, Luciana's face drained of color.

'The male lead...? Richt, for real?'

Was it okay for things to unfold like this? What about the rest of the original story?

It had only been one night.

Her thoughts suddenly raced that far.

What on earth had happened at the ball? And why was Richt here with her at dawn, instead of the heroine?

Luciana bit her lip until it bled, glaring at Richt, who had forgotten his pivotal role as the male protagonist to spend the night with her of all people.

'Where was this in the original story?'

Her mind racing, Luciana desperately tried to recall the novel she'd buried deep in her memory long ago. But Richt didn't wait for her.

"Gasp!"

He grabbed her shoulder, still hidden beneath the covers, and forced her to look straight at him.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw rigid, her eyes trembling with barely concealed shock.

Richt seemed just as incredulous about this moment as she was. No, it went beyond mere surprise at an unexpected situation—he was visibly shaken.

"F-First, could you let go..."

Luciana cautiously pushed away his hand, which was starting to grip tighter, sweating bullets.

She couldn't shake the expression on his face from her mind.

It might have been better if he'd looked disgusted, like 'Did I really sleep with a woman like her?' At least that wouldn't stir this inexplicable anxiety gnawing at her.

Right now, he looked more than shocked—he seemed to be spiraling into panic.

The male lead, who had everything, crumbling over one night's mistake?

To Luciana, who knew Richt's personality from the original story, it felt utterly bizarre.

'...This is a bad feeling.'

She tensed at the unfamiliar sensation.

Even without baring his fangs, a beast was still a beast.

Just sitting across from him made her feel like prey.

'I need to wrap this up and get out of here.'

She decided there was nothing good to come from staying longer and opened her mouth to speak.

"You."

"!"

A voice devoid of any warmth seized her ankle.

"Tell me."

"W-What do you mean..."

Was he asking for her family name or something?

The thought crossed her mind briefly, but his expression suggested it was no trivial question.

Luciana racked her brain desperately. But her nerves had frozen her thoughts, leaving her unable to grasp the intent behind his words.

"Hah."

Growing impatient, Richt added a clarification.

"Unless you want to end up in the papers, confess honestly what you did to my body."

"...Pardon?"

Luciana jumped at his accusation, which painted her as some deviant without a shred of evidence.

He seemed to have no memory of last night either.

But still. What did he mean, what she did to his body?

'...Wait. Come to think of it, one of the male lead's traits is that he's an iron wall with women.'

From his perspective, where he viewed women like stones, it was no wonder he'd suspect a stranger who showed up naked out of nowhere. But Luciana swore she was innocent.

'If this keeps up, his misunderstanding will turn into fact.'

There was no point listening to him condemn her without even hearing her side.

"To be precise... it was an 'accident.' No one's fault."

And sorry, but could you cover up down there...

Luciana averted her eyes from the large, intimidating something that had been drawing her gaze, staring resolutely at the ceiling.

"..."

Only after Luciana mumbled the addition in a voice as small as an ant's did Richt realize his state and pull the blanket over himself. He didn't seem embarrassed about exposing his body.

"An accident?"

As if implying she'd never get away unscathed if it was a lie, he asked again in a chillingly low voice, still looking uneasy.

'G-Glaring at me like that won't scare me.'

Luciana met Richt's devouring gaze head-on and continued.

"If we have to blame something, wasn't it the alcohol?"

"That's..."

A faint champagne scent wafted from the woman— the same as his own.

'Alcohol.'

Richt tried to dredge up the remnants of his memory.

Despite his status, he generally avoided social events. But even he attended grand palace balls—not by choice, but due to the emperor's relentless nagging.

'Yesterday was the same. I entered the palace for that reason.'

During the ball, he'd endured dull conversations with the emperor or business talks with nobles, downing a few glasses of wine to forget the boredom.

His last memory was sipping champagne on the balcony to escape the relentless crowd.

'Hah. Drunk off just a bit of wine?'

Richt knew his tolerance better than anyone.

From what he recalled, he'd emptied quite a few glasses yet felt only the mildest buzz—perfectly sober.

And crucially, he never drank to the point of blacking out.

'Did I somehow drink myself unconscious and roll around with some unknown woman...?'

Was he supposed to believe that?

Richt narrowed his eyes, as if her words weren't worth responding to.

"You're talking nonsense."

"W-What did you say?"

Without a second thought, he dismissed her claim, leaving Luciana speechless.

It was unfortunate for her, as she'd presented a reasonable argument. But in Richt's mind, among all the possibilities, the idea that he'd wanted her simply didn't exist.

So he prepared to tell the woman watching his reaction.

That alcohol was just an excuse—it was her scheme.

But in the end, he said nothing.

Because he belatedly noticed something that proved his assumption wrong.

"!"

As he irritably ran a hand through his hair, Richt's steady red eyes suddenly wavered in shock.

The bedroom felt stark, almost empty, with minimal decorations.

'What the...'

Too preoccupied with the sudden incident, he'd only now properly scanned the room—and it was unmistakably his private space.

'No way.'

Facing reality, Richt plunged into confusion.

If she had lured him here with ill intent as he suspected, they never could have woken up here.

No matter her tricks, entering his domain was another matter entirely.

His household staff, who served him closely, knew better than anyone how much he shunned intimacy.

Unless they valued their lives little, they wouldn't have quietly let a woman—drunk and clinging to their hazy-minded master—into his bedroom.

'Damn it. How the...'

There was only one way she could have entered here.

His full, conscious permission.