A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 243: Sylvia (6) Part 2

Dawn had yet to touch the sky, its walls closing in tight around the cave. At the single desk, Deculein pored over the island’s map, piecing together a theory of a spell—one that could neutralize the wave of the Voice, even if just for a heartbeat, and allow the real Deculein to reach the island through the sea.

“So, you're telling me you're engraving a magic circle onto the island itself?” Idnik asked.

“Indeed,” Deculein replied.

“If they notice it, it won’t last long.”

“You’ve remained unnoticed as well.”

“... Fair enough,” Idnik muttered, then glanced his way. “But if Sylvia finds out, that’ll be the end of you.”

“If that happens, Sylvia will make another, and he will continue from where I end off.”

“... What.”

Deculein spoke as if he were going for a morning stroll—that’s how lightly he said it. Idnik gave a dry laugh, as if questioning whether he even realized what he was saying.

“You really are something, you know that? Doesn’t it scare you—knowing that you’re a fake?”

“What is there to fear?” Deculein replied as he drew a circle that covered the entire island. “My purpose is simple—to exterminate the demon and take Sylvia off this island.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, and his words were carved from certainty and the weight of conviction.

“... That’s something, at least. Is there anything I can do to help?” Idnik replied, scratching the back of her neck.

At Idnik’s words, the movement of his pencil stilled, and Deculein turned, his expression unreadable—as if her offer had simply stirred the air.

“Should I die or disappear, pass this map to the one who comes after me. That’s all that is needed.”

Deculein spoke of his own death with the indifference of tossing aside an old cloak, and his request to pass the map to the next iteration of Deculein was completely impassive, which stirred a mild annoyance in her.

“That’s enough. What kind of protégé of Rohakan gives up this easily? Shut it—and stop talking about dying like it’s nothing. Every time you die, your memory resets. So fight like this life is your last shot...”

***

... Late at night, under the veil of a wintry sky in the Empire's capital, Yulie stepped into a backroom of the Imperial Palace, moments after her meeting with the Empress, where a clandestine space had been prepared by Ahan, Sophien's personal maid and Yulie’s secret collaborator within the Palace.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Ahan,” Yulie said, extending her hand.

“... I must return to Her Majesty,” Ahan replied, offering the key with both hands. “You may use the backroom whenever needed. And if you ever need assistance, please let me know. I’ll do all I can—as far as it can reach. The influence of the palace maids is not as weak as it might seem.”

... Ahan had been ordered to feign cooperation with Yulie, and the command, naturally, had come from Empress Sophien.

“You have my word—I’ll not disappoint you,” Yulie said, her breath catching with the weight of emotion.

“... Yes. Professor Deculein is, without question, a villain. That’s why I...” Ahan replied, lowering her head, as if the emotion had robbed her of words.

The command, again, was simple—portray Deculein as the embodiment of villainy, and that, too, came directly from Sophien.

“Yes, I understand. You, of all people, Miss Ahan—who have been watching him from within the Imperial Palace all this time.”

However, not knowing that Ahan’s cooperation was a lie, Yulie reached out with the genuine kindness of someone who thought she understood everything.

“... Yes, Knight Yulie.”

Ahan buried the guilt rising in her chest and crushed the pity that had begun to grow inside her. If she were to prove herself useful to Her Majesty, she, too, would need to become as merciless as the crown demanded of her. freewebnσvel.cøm

“Also... this,” Ahan added, pulling a sealed envelope from inside her coat.

“May I ask what it is?” Yulie asked, trying to keep the tension from rising in her voice.

“It is evidence that may help you in your trial, Knight Yulie.”

“... Evidence,” Yulie replied, her eyes widening.

Ahan gestured for her to come closer, and Yulie stepped forward, lowering her head without hesitation.

“That the House of Yukline... may have been behind the attempted poisoning,” Ahan whispered.

As the words brushed her ear, Yulie’s fingers curled into a fist, and a ragged breath escaped her lips from deep within her chest.

“... Is that so,” Yulie muttered, taking a single step back.

Yulie wore the gaze of a knight stepping onto the battlefield; however, the moment her eyes met Ahan’s, that armor cracked and softened, and light seeped through.

“Your help won’t go unanswered, Miss Ahan.”

“If the Professor is brought to justice, that alone will be my greatest reward. However, what I’ve provided to you is little more than rumors among the past palace maids, tied together with small fragments of evidence. Therefore, a thorough investigation will still be needed.”

“Yes, thank you very much.”

Faced with such heartfelt gratitude and unwavering loyalty from a knight as sharp as a sword’s edge, even Ahan found it hard to meet the purity in Yulie’s eyes. Therefore, Ahan looked away, knowing that any hesitation now might only deepen suspicion.

“... I will step away now.”

"Understood. Please be cautious. Should anyone be watching—”

“You needn’t worry, Knight Yulie. I’m not alone—I have my escort.”

“Escort...?”

“Yes. Professor has made his displeasure known on more than one occasion. It seems he never quite approved of how close I stood to Her Majesty.”

“... I should’ve known that he would persist in such dishonorable conduct.”

At that moment, Yulie's eyes went cold as the fury behind them sank like ice beneath still water, and even her pale hair seemed to move, like the wind stirring through frostbitten grass.

“Shh. It’s best you return now, Knight Yulie."

“Understood. I won’t forget your cooperation. You have my word.”

Ahan turned away after planting the final seed of division, and behind her, Yulie stepped into the group where her allies waited, deeper in the backroom where the anti-Deculein alliance had gathered.

Ahan glanced around, taking stock of the room—Isaac, Gawain, Beorad... all those who had spoken out against Deculein’s rule were present. However, this wasn’t mere coincidence; Sophien had gathered them on purpose.

Her Majesty, Empress Sophien’s desire to purge Yulie and obliterate Freyden led her to orchestrate a campaign of defamation against Deculein, compelling her maids to denounce him repeatedly, projecting a facade of villainy, and pretending to disfavor the villain in the name of the Empress—all to manipulate perceptions and bring about Freyden’s irreversible collapse.

That grand design—Ahan knew it well, as Her Majesty had handed her the scenario herself.

... Should Yulie declare Yukline as the one behind the attempted poisoning of the Empress, the accusation would ripple across the continent like wildfire, providing the cue for Sophien to expose the forgery, rewrite the truth, and brand Freyden as the true conspirator.

Then, Yulie would be accused not just of false testimony, but of slandering Deculein—and Freyden would face collapse.

From that moment on, there would be no turning back. Their connection would fracture irrevocably, dragging them into a bloodstained confrontation—one where survival meant destroying the other, and the mire of it all would swallow them whole.

“... Farewell,” Ahan muttered under her breath, closing the backroom door shut behind them.

Ahan offered a short prayer for Yulie, no longer walking toward ruin but thrust into it—one step closer to the trap laid by the Empress.