This Villain Is Mine Now

Chapter 111

As winter arrived, the days grew shorter. The night was long past, yet perhaps out of concern that someone might be peeking in, blackout curtains were drawn tightly across the windows.

“Was it Anna?”

Startled while surveying the study, Anna quickly lowered her gaze.

“Yes, that’s correct, Marquis.”

“There’s no mistake in the report, is there?”

At the snake-like slant of his eyes, the maid cowered and bowed her head low.

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t dare lie, especially about something like this.”

“Hm.”

The Marquis stroked his mustache out of habit as he scrutinized Anna. Under his piercing gaze, she shrank further, bowing her head deeply.

“Good. You may leave.”

Watching the subservient maid, the Marquis raised an eyebrow. A pleased smile curled at his lips.

Ever since he caused a stir at the House of Grant a few weeks ago, the Marquis had been desperately trying to bribe their servants. But those damn servants of the Archduke’s house were all incredibly loyal to their masters.

The Archduke and Archduchess of Grant left for Deftia not long after. The Marquis couldn’t help but feel rushed.

Though he believed the hidden space wouldn’t be easy to find, his own experience reminded him he couldn’t simply assume so optimistically.

‘That stone slab.’

The discovery of that place had been purely by chance. As the Marquis recalled that day ten years ago, his expression darkened.

***

That day, as usual, began with a sparring session with the Archduke’s son, Lucin. What was different, however, was that Lucin was injured during their match.

Because it was summer and he wore light clothing, his unprotected arm had been cut. Panicked, he used his handkerchief to stop Lucin’s bleeding.

Though the wound wasn’t deep, it bled quite a lot.

“I must’ve been distracted by the situation in Mabel. Don’t worry too much, Fleang.”

The attendants hurriedly supported Lucin and brought him back to the villa. The cleanup was left to Fleang, who at the time was not yet the Marquis of Redwood.

Holding the blood-soaked handkerchief on his way back to the villa, his mind was in turmoil.

He had joined the Grant Knights because it was the easiest way to get close to the Archduke’s household. Coming from a humble background, it would’ve taken over ten years to rise from a low-ranking official to become one of the Archduke’s close aides.

He had even recommended Shawd Dewiran to the knights for that reason. The Archduke already had many long-serving and loyal retainers. The more allies Fleang had when he eventually became a close aide, the better.

But things had taken a strange turn.

It was not him, but Shawd who had caught the Archduke’s eye and been selected as an official.

While Fleang toiled under heavy responsibilities within the knights, Shawd Dewiran steadily trained as a bureaucrat.

“I don’t think so, Fleang.”

Shawd, who had always looked up to him with admiration—praised his insight and judgment as the best in the North—no longer sided with his opinions. And when things unfolded just as Shawd had predicted, not as Fleang had foreseen, Fleang Redwood felt a deep sense of crisis.

Even then, he believed that leading the knights was just a temporary role, and that he would ultimately become the Archduke’s confidant.

He thought the opportunity simply hadn’t come yet. He believed that if he were entrusted with the position, he would perform far better than Shawd. But that belief had begun to waver.

To make matters worse, strange creatures had started appearing in Mabel. Already, several knights had lost their lives.

That day, Fleang Redwood was deeply anxious.

He no longer had any attachment to the current Archduke, who continued to overlook him. That old man’s death was only a matter of time anyway. What mattered was Lucin Grant.

To become a bureaucrat, he had to win over Lucin Grant, the Archduke’s heir.

That was also why he had taken on the role of traveling between the North and the capital—to get close to Lucin Grant. And yet, he had injured Lucin. Naturally, the Marquis was nervous.

Moreover, the situation was dire. If he were to fall out of Lucin’s favor and be sent back to Mabel…! Just imagining it was horrific. The Marquis of Redwood was quite skilled in swordsmanship, but he had no intention of dying in such a place.

On his way to meet Lucin, he decided to pick a flower. Lucin had a gentle personality, and such a sentimental gesture might earn him more favor.

But construction was in full swing behind the villa. It seemed they were expanding the garden beyond its original size.

Because the garden had been dug up, it was difficult to find any flowers. Grumbling about his bad luck, Fleang wandered to the area where no construction was taking place, searching for wildflowers.

And finally, he discovered a flower he had never seen before. If he brought back a rare flower, he might win the favor of either the Archduke’s son or the Archduchess. As he pushed through the undergrowth to pick the flower, Fleang tripped over a stone and fell.

“What is this?”

Upon checking, it wasn’t a stone but a square stone slab. When he brushed away the dirt from the half-buried slab, letters appeared.

「The door may only be opened with the blood of Grant.」

He felt a sudden surge of curiosity. And conveniently, he had “Grant’s blood.”

He twisted the handkerchief to squeeze out the blood. Just when it seemed like nothing would happen, the stone slab, having drunk the blood of the Grant family, moved with a heavy grinding sound.

***

That day—had he not injured Lucin Grant, what kind of life would he be living now?

Looking back, it seemed foolish that he had once hesitated to use the ring’s power even after obtaining it. He who had once cowered beneath the Archduke’s shadow now wielded immense power as the Emperor’s confidant.

‘Truly, I’ve been lucky.’

Recalling Anna, who had come to him earlier and confessed what she knew, the Marquis smiled in satisfaction.

It was always like this. He was always the lucky one.

Anna was the only person in the Grant household—one once thought to have no weak spots—who had shown a crack.

‘She said she was the cousin of the Deputy Commander of the Grant Knights.’

A few weeks ago, Anna had come to the Marquis in secret. She wore her maid’s uniform from the Grant household beneath a deeply pulled hood. Saying she had a sick family member and that her wages weren’t enough, she repeatedly asked whether he would truly pay her as promised.

To the Marquis, she was a stroke of fortune. It would’ve been helpful enough if she simply reported on the Grant household’s movements, but she even brought unsolicited information about the knights. It seemed she feared this lucrative side job might be cut off.

“Ha, haha! Hahahaha!”

The Marquis’s laughter echoed chillingly through the dark study. It was far too loud, but he couldn’t help laughing.

“Did you think you could pull that on me and live?”

He spoke while turning the ring on his finger this way and that. The ring, once glowing brilliantly, had dimmed slightly. He had already used it several times, and its light had diminished accordingly.

Before Anna became his informant, he had grown anxious because he had no way of knowing what was happening inside the Grant estate. Even after making the same wish several times, the light wouldn’t fade, making him more impatient.

But according to Anna, his wish had indeed been coming true.

“The two of them suddenly returned from the Deftia villa yesterday. During the night, a fire broke out, and the culprit was said to be Madam… She was badly burned. Master inhaled too much smoke while rescuing her and lost consciousness…”

“Tsk.”

The Marquis clicked his tongue.

“They can’t even die properly.”

His wish to the ring had been: “Elaina Grant sets fire to the secret chamber, and the Archduke and Archduchess die in it.” It had come halfway true, but the rest had veered off course.

“Just what went wrong.”

Perhaps because the wish hadn’t been fulfilled completely, the ring’s light hadn’t extinguished in one go. According to Anna, Elaina Grant’s life hung by a thread. Though he was disappointed she hadn’t died, that news brought him some relief.

Perhaps this outcome was even better. If the ring still held power, then as he had long dreamed, the throne might yet be his.

He hoped it wouldn’t take too long for those thorns in his side to die. But wasting the ring’s power any further seemed a pity. With such trivial thoughts, the Marquis hid the ring deep in the bottom of the jewel box.