The Tragedy of The Villainess (Novel) Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 "I see you've finished the preparations for the banquet."

The sight of Lesche in a white suit matching his silver hair was enough to leave Seria momentarily stunned.

His dazzling look was like cold water to cool her boiling head. This man definitely looked good in a suit, maybe because he had a great body.

Naturally, she knew she had to finish getting ready as soon as possible to attend the banquet.

"My apologies, Your Highness."

She bowed to Lesche and quickly walked away, and he began to follow her. Seria looked at him, puzzled.

"Your Highness? Why are you following me?"

"Don't we have the same destination?"

'No, I never revealed where I was going.'

Her question was met with a puzzled look from Lesche.

"Didn't you realize?"


"I've been following you since you left your room."

"My room...?"

"Yes," Lesche added, frowning. "Did I follow you too quietly? I'm sure I walked making a lot of noise."

Seria quickly shook her head.

"No, I didn't hear you because I was thinking about something else. I apologize."

"Why apologize...?"

Responding briefly, Lesche looked at Seria and asked.

"Where are you going with something strange on your face? Is it a fashion accessory in the capital?"

Only then did she realize she must look ridiculous with the ice bag. But in the meantime, she didn't want to hide her face by lowering her head because Seria had great confidence in her beauty... No, because she knew that no matter how Seria's face looked, Lesche wouldn't think much of it.

"He is not the type of person who can be deceived by a woman's face; I should be honest about this."

Seria began to speak as she removed the silk bag she had on her face like a mask.

"It's not an accessory. This... Your Highness?"

Suddenly, Lesche lifted her chin, and she couldn't breathe and blinked, bewildered. It was strange to see Lesche's red eyes right in front of her field of vision. Unlike his embarrassed face, he frowned.

"How did you get hurt?"


"It looks like something from the past."

"How did you know...?"

By the way, the original Seria had slapped other people's cheeks so hard. Now she knew why more than 100 servants were fed up with her.

Seria swallowed and said.

"That's right. I slapped my face. But, Your Highness, could you let it go...?"

Lesche stared at her and, after a moment, released her chin. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She took a deep breath and looked at Lesche again.

"During an argument with Saint Lina, I slapped myself."


"Yes." She said distantly because it was hard to explain.

Lina had mentioned her mother's identity, and she got so angry at her that she almost hit her. But she used her last bit of patience, raised her hand, and slapped her own cheek.

It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him because she wanted to hide it. It was the same logic that made Seria's whole body tremble when her mother was insulted, regardless of her intentions.

For Seria, the owner of this body, insulting her mother felt like a hard blow. Thanks to this cruel explanation, Lesche stopped asking further and just looked at her. After a moment, he asked.

"Who else was with you besides the Saint?"

"Designer Begonia."

"I see."

Is he going to call Begonia to interrogate her?

That would be better.

In the meantime, she tried again to fasten the silk bag to her cheek. It was certainly better than ice. It should have melted and let moisture seep in, but it was good that her cheek didn't get wet while keeping it cool with little moisture. Now she understood why Begonia always had it on hand.

However, it was a challenge to try to keep it in place by herself without a mirror. Seeing this, Lesche clicked his tongue and extended his hand. He easily wrapped the strap around, secured a silk bag on her cheek, then raised his head without hesitation.

"Since we've come this far anyway, we can go together to the banquet hall."


"Can I wait in the annex?" Lesche asked.

Seria would take at least three hours to finish all her preparations, and he wanted to wait here?

"I will go to the main hall when I finish, Your Highness."

"I think Marquis Haneton will be here before you get to the main hall."

"He already came. Will he come again?"

Lesche paused for a moment. He looked at Seria again, as if wondering how she knew that Kalis had already come to see her. Then he nodded.

"I could smell his perfume," Seria said.

Seria noticed it the moment Begonia pushed her out the door; Kalis's perfume was slightly fragrant. She could smell the scent immediately since her place was exceptionally clean and well-maintained.

When she saw that Kalis was nowhere to be seen, she thought he must have gone to the other building and chased after Lina when she saw her running away crying.

'I felt even worse. I even took the wrong path.'

Lesche spoke slowly.

"His perfume smell?"

"Yes, there is a perfume that Marquis Haneton often uses at all banquets..."

Lesche's expression changed slightly. Seria asked.

"Your Highness? Are you offended?"

Lesche's face stiffened instantly. When she stepped back, he said briefly.

"It reminds me of the High Priest."

"Yes, that's correct. It would be too much trouble to tell him."

Ordinary nobles, and even the king of the kingdom, welcomed the High Priest's visit with open arms.

The High Priest was the oldest of the hundreds of thousands of clerics. A personal visit from him meant he would be blessing the land he had walked on while conveying God's blessings. Above all, it was a great honor. But there were different types of people everywhere. One of them was Lesche.

Of course, with Lesche, there was no need to add the High Priest's honor, as he already had so much honor in his power. Because he was a man who held the unprecedented title of Grand Duke of Berg. He didn't need more honor and glory. Maybe that's why, for him, the High Priest's visit was just one more problematic event to add to his list.

Seria decided to rest for an hour on a garden bench. She sat and discreetly looked at Lesche, who was sitting next to her. He followed her and sat next to her without saying a word.

Leaning her back against the bench and looking forward, Lesche asked without looking at her.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

'What? How did he know I was looking at him?'

Caught red-handed, she said frankly.

"I was wondering if Your Highness's white clothes would get dirty."

Lesche looked at her with a melancholy expression.

"I really want to open the young lady's head once."

"My... why my head...?"

Whether Seria was surprised or not, Lesche spoke in an insignificant tone.

"You think about everything, don't you?"


"But you don't know that the garden bench is cleaned every day."


"It doesn't matter because Linon cleans your wing every day."

(N/T: Just to clarify, it refers to the rooms belonging to her in the mansion)


The Linon I know? The chief assistant of the Berg estate?

Seria looked back to see how long he had been doing the servants' chores as well, and quickly swept the benches with her fingertips, thinking how ridiculous it was that he had to clean the benches every day.

She wondered if there would be any dust on it, but to her surprise, there wasn't any, and then she was more than a little perplexed.

"What the hell... you have your assistant doing the cleaning?"

"Of course not. He has germophobia."

"He has germophobia?"


She had never heard of that before. In the original novel, the story mainly revolved around Lina and her men. Lesche and Kalis, so to speak. Some more of the others. There were no detailed mentions of secondary characters like Linon.

"By the way, how could a germophobe come out and clean my wing... Do they think I'm very dirty?"

She was so surprised and spent almost an hour dazed. And since there wasn't much time left before the ball started, she got up as soon as Lesche said it was time.

"Your Highness, did you say you would come with me to my room?"

That's a bit strange.

Lesche walked behind her without answering. It was somewhat awkward, and she felt a tingling in her hand as she unconsciously fumbled with the silk bag containing the snowflake crystal. When she reached out, she suddenly felt a warm temperature.

It was Lesche. He lightly took her hand and let go.

"Your hands are cold," Seria said.

"Your cheeks must be colder."

Lesche replied.

Nervous, Seria pretended to clear her throat and looked away.

Lesche laughed.

"That's good. Even enemies will fall in love with you."

Begonia seemed pleased. Her light pink dress, elaborately adorned with hundreds of silver beads, shone magically even in the small light. Seria turned around, admiring Begonia's skills.

Awkwardly, Lesche was sitting there.

This was his bedroom, but he had no choice. The hall hadn't had visitors in recent days, so the whole place had no heating and the hallway was cold. Therefore, she couldn't let the master of this castle stay in a cold place.

Besides, Begonia wanted Lesche to be in the room. She said something about how seeing a beautiful creature would give her strength. Seria wasn't a designer, but she understood what Begonia was talking about.

Lesche Berge was a man whose appearance was truly impressive.

"Your Highness," Begonia asked Lesche with a smile. "It may sound rude, but as a designer who created a masterpiece, can I ask you how you feel about your wife's dress?"

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