Chapter 37

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Villainess Imprinted with the Male Lead 43

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"The gift... thank you, but it doesn't quite match my outfit."

Luciana's lips pursed in irritation.

Who had ever said she wanted some accessory crafted by a famous artisan?

She subtly frowned at Dmitri, who was speaking as if to flaunt it.

She had never once hinted to him about her birthday, and anything from Dmitri—even a cheap topaz—she would firmly refuse.

In fact, the moment Luciana received a gift from him, she ordered her servant to return it. Unable to outright say she disliked it, she had it repackaged with the excuse that it was too precious for her to accept without burden.

But the oblivious Dmitri sent back Rosepina's Spring, complete with fresh flowers that hadn't been there before.

Naturally, this gave her a headache. Refusing it again would tangle her in complicated etiquette, yet accepting it went against her grain.

Did Jean Perde know? That the precious, beautiful jewel would end up as someone's unwanted trinket.

"Well, I understand. Women's tastes are naturally discerning, after all."

Still, if they met again next time, he hoped she would wear it.

As if her true feelings didn't matter, Dmitri pressed his lips to her lustrous pink-diamond-like hair and whispered shamelessly.

She wanted to elegantly reply, "That ostentatious gem you're so proud of will be gathering dust in storage for the foreseeable future," but she held her tongue.

"By the way, since we've run into each other like this, how about a dance?"

In truth, their meeting here today was entirely because he had been searching for Luciana for the past half hour or so, but there was no need to point that out.

"No, I'm sorry, but..."

"Come on, just one. I've been dying to continue our conversation with you today of all days."

Dmitri drew subtly closer, placing his hand on the dip of her waist as if ready to drag her off. The lukewarm warmth seeping through her dress immediately made her skin crawl.

He's not listening to a word I say.

Luciana glanced around awkwardly, but everyone seemed to dismiss it as a typical youthful flirtation, paying it no mind.

...I can't just kick him in the groin right here.

The hand groping her waist with sexual undertones reminded her of the year-end ball.

He had acted just as rudely then, sparking her anger, and now he was repeating the same offense.

This won't do.

How could he interpret her clear refusal?

Even if it stirred up a fuss in high society for a while, she could no longer tolerate his selfish behavior.

The moment Luciana steeled herself to shove Dmitri away decisively...

"Gah...!"

Thud.

"Kyaa!"

"A, a person just...!"

A massive hand shot out from somewhere, striking Dmitri's nape with the force of an axe splitting wood.

The area turned into chaos in an instant as Dmitri collapsed without so much as a whimper.

"Gasp...!"

She was grateful for the intervention, but who would do something so violent...?

Luciana, equally startled, finally turned to identify the source of the commotion.

"...!"

Richt?

The moment their eyes met, his dark, intense gaze clung to her like a binding rope.

His crimson eyes, overcome with emotion, churned turbulently as they fixed on her.

How long had it been since he apologized to her, only to commit another blunder like this?

"What on earth are you...!"

"...!"

Her faint, belated reproach pierced his numbed senses.

No matter how troubled Luciana had looked, this was unnecessary meddling. Calling the guards to handle it quietly would have been one thing, but stepping in like this was nothing but poison.

It had been less than five minutes since he vowed to keep his wits about him.

But... damn it.

He hadn't wanted a situation like this either.

Richt swallowed a rising curse, his face a picture of dismay, as he recalled the moments before.

Leaving the injured Luciana behind, Richt fled the scene.

Good thing Even isn't here.

She was off meeting Marchioness Greta, the former imperial guard captain she had long admired, thanks to Richt's arrangements, so the worst-case scenario was averted.

"What the hell did I say?"

Staring at his swollen hand, he felt alienated from his own disheveled state.

Thinking back, it wasn't even a serious injury to get so worked up over. Losing control like that...

But what troubled him most was how his mood plummeted into the pits the instant he pictured Luciana's injured hand.

What was he even doing here?

Richt couldn't understand why he lingered in the ballroom like a ghost, unable to return to his mansion.

He knew full well his actions were troubling Luciana.

But that's unavoidable...!

He froze.

As an excuse bubbled up unbidden, he spat a curse and rubbed his face.

Unavoidable? What did that even mean? What business of his was it if that woman's hand skinned and bled profusely?

—Why wouldn't it be your business, you idiot? It's your fault! That delicate hand, soft as silk, must be stinging like hell!

"...I'll go mad."

Even minor cuts from crisp new paper or rose thorns hurt more than you'd think.

The moment Richt tried to build walls against Luciana, his primal instincts lurking at the depths roared back, scolding him fiercely. And as the fragile, delicate feel of her pale hand resurfaced, his resolve weakened once more.

Teetering precariously between reason and instinct, Richt wandered aimlessly like a man without purpose.

"!"

Then, as if by miracle, his steps halted.

After drifting for so long, he spotted Luciana purely by chance.

Why her, of all people.

Seeing her familiar hair in the distance made his chest ache dully.

Was his damned instinct dragging him to her on its own?

His sharp inner voice and hardened gaze mercilessly berated his foolish self, but his unmoving feet and eyes betrayed his yearning heart.

...Is she alone?

Didn't he say it was none of his business before?

The instant Richt took in Luciana wandering without a partner—just like him—his heart flipped like a palm.

He wanted to go over and chat, even if it was pointless nonsense.

As that absurd desire ignited like wildfire...

Who's that guy?

Spotting some man approaching Luciana, Richt's eyes flashed ferociously.

A more repulsive sensation than when he saw Louis coursed through his body.

Before rational thought could intervene, he stifled his presence, crept closer, and focused all his senses on sound.

"Louis Dalton, wasn't it? The lady's cousin, right?"

"!"

As expected, the man harbored clear ill intentions toward Luciana. Otherwise, why emphasize "cousin" with such relief?

He had felt the same about Louis, so he knew it when he saw it.

Matthias Dmitri? Never heard of him...

The Count Dmitri family wasn't highly renowned but was wealthy enough. Still, to Richt's biased eyes, Dmitri standing beside Luciana looked utterly shabby.

She doesn't seem keen on going anywhere with him.

How to peel that guy off her?

Just looking at his sycophantic face plastered with pretense, he didn't seem the type to give up easily.

...Damn it.

Truth be told, he had no right to complain about any man showing interest in her.

Richt knew that well and could have forced his heavy feet past them, pretending not to notice.

But he couldn't bear turning his back on that wretch.

<Rosepina's Spring>. Doesn't the gift suit your taste?

The bastard had also stolen the pink diamond from him.

So that's who snatched it up quick.

Recalling the irreplaceable sense of loss that had consumed him that day—a memory he'd never forget even in death—Richt ground his teeth.