Chapter 9

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Got Imprinted with the Male Lead Though I'm the Villainess 18

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"It was just a joke, so don't make that face. You're busy studying, right?"

Lorraine lightly poked Luciana's furrowed brow, then grabbed his little sister's strangely listless cheeks and asked in a worried tone.

"You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?"

She didn't look gaunt yet, but the faint shadows under her eyes and her dry, lackluster skin suggested she hadn't been sleeping properly and had thrown herself into her research.

"It's good to work hard, but take it easy sometimes."

"Haha..."

It's not like I have a choice in the matter...

Luciana brushed it off, hiding the truth she couldn't speak aloud, and Lorraine shrugged helplessly before speaking affectionately.

"Lucy, just like always, you'll do great."

"...Brother."

It was a simple phrase, but she knew the weight of sincerity behind it, and it made her chest tighten with emotion.

These were precious people she hadn't had in her previous life.

"Yeah! I will."

His words that she would succeed felt like encouragement to successfully unravel the twisted fate of the original story, allowing Luciana to steel her resolve with a refreshing smile she hadn't shown in ages.

"Looks like it's about time to head out."

"Yes, time's flown by already."

The marquis couple watched their harmonious children fondly from afar, patted Lorraine's shoulder, and exchanged simple farewells.

"Take care of your health."

"You too, Father. I'll write once I arrive."

After warmly bidding everyone goodbye, Lorraine gave Luciana's head a final stroke before boarding the carriage and signaling departure.

"Hya!"

With the coachman's whip crack, the carriage began rolling smoothly, soon passing through the mansion gates and vanishing into the distance.

'When Brother comes back, I'll greet him without the imprint, completely worry-free.'

Luciana gazed at the carriage's receding figure, now a tiny speck, and vowed firmly.

"Hoo..."

Richt had just finished a grueling four-hour sword training session that started at dawn. He sank into the bath and tilted his head back wearily.

Even for him, skipping meals to immerse himself in training like this was a rare occurrence. Now that he was finally trying to rest, a heavy wave of fatigue washed over him.

He had pushed through this unplanned dawn session to exhaust his body and shake off the stray thoughts branching out like twigs.

"...The intervals are getting shorter."

He hated to admit it, but it was the truth. Even now, whenever his focus wavered pathetically, that woman's face flickered in his mind.

The frequency of thinking about her was increasing day by day, and he was getting slower at noticing it.

This was especially sensitive for Richt, with his rut period fast approaching.

The winter chill was growing fiercer, yet he was holding on precariously, like a sandcastle piled near the waves.

What if it all crumbles in an instant?

Every time he caught himself naturally thinking of his imprint partner, a wave of pessimistic despair flooded his mind.

"...Come to think of it, Rick should be back at the mansion by now."

I wonder if that woman brought any meaningful news.

Richt rose from the tub, dried off, slipped on a robe, and left the bathroom.

The duke, now in simple attire, headed straight for his study.

Sure enough, a familiar box sat squarely on the table.

He retrieved the key from the drawer, unlocked the box, and picked up the letter envelope inside. Brushing aside the faint, illusory scent of her, he broke the wax seal.

Hello, Your Grace. This is Luciana Leslie.

With full winter now upon us and the weather turning quite chilly, I hope you've been well.

Richt read the letter expressionlessly, but his cheek twitched involuntarily at the opening pleasantries.

"...Damn it."

He quickly caught himself and reined in his focus, but the displeasure lingered once he realized the idiotic reason for it.

Grinning like a fool at what was obviously a perfunctory courtesy.

He spat a curse, repulsed by his own behavior, but sadly, Luciana was all he thought about while reading the letter.

His final thought upon reaching the end was something utterly trivial: Her handwriting flows softly, and the overall roundness suits her.

"..."

He no longer had the energy to react to his own irredeemable nature.

Instead of wasting effort on pointless things, Richt decided to focus on writing a reply.

"At least she's not all talk."

Even he, with little deep knowledge of magic, could tell the letter's detailed points exuded an air of expertise.

"I'll tell Logan to prepare the highest-grade materials, and for Rick... I'll need to pass along a separate message."

Richt clicked his tongue lightly at the long postscript below.

P.S.: If I may ask one small favor? I fully support your emphasis on security, but please ensure my errand maid isn't startled. She's dear to me, so I worry. I'd be grateful for your understanding.

"Wonder if that guy even waved a sword at her."

There was no harm in extra caution—he'd already instructed to block outsiders and deliver precisely—but this direct request suggested Rick had gone overboard without any sense of moderation.

"Still, he'll get it after one warning, so he'll do better next time."

Better write the reply and summon him.

Richt pulled out the fresh sheet of paper Logan had prepared that morning.

The materials have been ordered as the highest grade, so no need to worry about quality.

I've also passed along your additional request to warn the knights accordingly. It was partly my fault for not supervising properly last time, so I apologize on their behalf.

One more thing: It seems some of the family knights suspect something between us.

Writing fluidly, Richt recalled the training ground incident and frowned.

Luciana's overnight stay at the ducal residence was known to a few servants, but the knights were another matter.

"Why them of all people."

The particularly overworked trio had gossipy mouths, freewheeling personalities, and—unlike their burly appearances—couldn't shut up about romance.

"I told Godwin to guide her through the back gate discreetly to avoid prying eyes. How the hell did they spot her?"

They should focus on their damn training.

For now, his stern warning had quieted their interest, but it was best to stay vigilant.

It seems they saw the lady leaving the mansion.

Practically speaking, keeping the unfortunate events of that day completely secret is impossible, but I'll ensure nothing about the imprint leaks out. I'll keep reining in the knights.

"Tch. Running into her by mistake would be a hassle."

Richt set down his pen and rubbed his stiff eyes.

From what he'd heard today, they were already suspicious of Luciana based solely on the clue of pink hair.

"If we cross paths, it could get annoying."

He resolved to avoid bringing those three along to any place where he might encounter her in the future.

"Miss, are you staying up late again tonight?"

Mary handed over a warm cup of water and spoke worriedly upon seeing Luciana head not for the bedroom, but the laboratory.

"I'll sleep soon, so don't worry. Anyone would think I stay up till dawn every night."

"Your face looks half-dead... How could I not worry?"

"Where's there ever a 'half' this big? You go rest too, Mary. I'll head in now."

"Yes, Miss. Please don't overdo it."

"I know, I know."

Luciana gave Mary a light wave before opening the laboratory door.

The interior was a chaotic mess, testament to her recent struggles: scraps of materials, failed concoctions discarded in piles, and stacks of papers recording various results.