I’m Leaving the Villainess Station

Chapter 15

When I looked outside, the weather was pleasantly clear. The sunlight wasn’t too strong, but it gently illuminated the world with a soft, transparent glow.

I muttered happily to myself,
“This is the perfect day to go see the street artists…”

The weather was nice, and my body felt light.

I set out for Zepha, the arts district I often visited, accompanied by my knight and maid. Visiting Zepha to admire paintings displayed on estate, support artists, or even buy artwork was one of my favorite pastimes.

Listening to street music had its own charm, and the poets reciting their verses had a freshness that felt different from the famous writers who were specially invited to perform.

“That’s a beautiful poem. May luck be with you.”

I smiled and placed a generous amount of money in the poet’s hat.

As I walked along, I admired paintings, bought a few from promising artists who had yet to find patrons, and listened to the melodies drifting through the streets.

“This place never changes.”

A smile naturally formed on my lips. It felt as if time stood still here, making me feel at ease.

Sometimes, the music had a few off notes, but the unique interpretations made the performances even more intriguing. Even when playing the same piece, the street musicians often infused their own bold creativity into the music.

As always, I slowly strolled through the district, appreciating the art, before finally heading to my usual gallery.

Artists would leave their paintings at this gallery, which would then display and sell them to interested buyers.

“You’re going to that gallery for struggling artists again? My lady, you’re too kind,” Lysdel, my maid, chattered as she recogniJed our destination.

“But the artists there are still alive, Lysdel.”

My response seemed unexpected. She paused, thinking for a moment, then replied,

“But most great artists are already dead, my lady. Does it really matter whether the artist is alive or not?”

Looking around at the lively streets filled with living, breathing artists, I said,

“There’s no doubt that works by deceased artists are beautiful, complete, and already recogniJed as masterpieces. But when you spend money on their paintings, the ones who benefit are not the artists themselves.”

Lysdel frowned, trying to understand my point, but eventually shook her head.

“No one else thinks about things like that when buying a painting. You’re so unusual, my lady.”

I simply smiled instead of trying to convince her.

“Maybe I am.”

But I liked this cycle—the way my support allowed living artists to continue painting, how my interest and sponsorship could become part of their future works.

People often said I was wasting money, as the paintings I bought had little investment value. But I didn’t mind. I enjoyed it, and that was enough.

Inside the gallery, the air was dry, and the filtered light streamed in softly. It had the distinct atmosphere of a place designed to preserve artwork.

With a pleasant smile, I walked along the walls, ready to admire the paintings. But something felt off.

“Why is it so empty…? And why hasn’t the gallery owner come to greet me?”

This gallery wasn’t always crowded, but there were usually visitors coming to admire the art. Yet today, it was strangely quiet.

Just then, I heard footsteps in the distance.

“Oh, maybe that’s the owner.”

I looked up, only to see a man who was definitely not the gallery owner.

He had striking red hair and was dressed in luxurious clothing that didn’t suit this place. His sharp, well-groomed features gave him a refined, almost dazzling appearance.

“Hello. I didn’t have any other way to meet you privately, so I had to do this. If it was rude, I apologize. Ah—can I speak casually?”

A sense of unease crept over me, and I instinctively took a step back.

I had made a mistake. Thinking this gallery was safe, I had left my knight outside.

I had let my guard down.

Sensing my tension, the man stopped and raised both hands, palms open, as if to show he meant no harm. Then, he took a step back.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I won’t come any closer. As you can see, I have no weapons. Even if I wanted to kill you with my bare hands, it would take time.”

His voice was soft, as if he were soothing a child.

“In that case, you’d have time to scream, and your knight would rush in. If I were here to harm you, I would have brought more people and blocked your escape.”

Oddly enough, his eerie logic actually reassured me.

He was right. If he wanted to kill me, he would have closed the distance, brought backup, and ensured I had no way out.

His strangely gentle demean or carried no hostility, which helped me regain some composure.

Now calmer, I took a better look at him.

Despite his smiling face, something about him felt ominous. His soft, almost harmless-looking features contrasted with the unsettling aura he gave off.

And most distinctively—red eyes, red hair.

Ah.

It was impossible not to recognize him.

“The heir of the Lyman Marquisate…”

My face froze as I spoke his name.

Seeing my reaction, he smiled brightly.

“It’s nice being famous. Saves me from having to introduce myself. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carmilla. You can just call me Jed. That’s what my friends call me, and I prefer it.”

He seemed to be waiting for a response, but I simply stared at him in wary silence.

I could walk away right now.

But if he had gone to the trouble of approaching me this way, it was probably better to hear him out.

Otherwise, he might try to get my attention in a more troublesome way later.

Besides… dealing with someone like him was dangerous.

Jed Lyman was known as the “cursed bastard” of the Lyman Marquisate.

Normally, the family had no need to take in a bastard child as an heir.

But one by one, every legitimate heir had died due to a series of tragic accidents.

There was no scandal, no public turmoil—just an eerie string of misfortunes that left only him remaining.

Some believed it was just bad luck.

Others weren’t so sure.

A truly cunning person doesn’t earn a reputation for being scheming. Instead, they just seem “lucky.”

And Jed Lyman had been far too lucky.

The silence surrounding his rise to heirship was almost unsettling.

He was an anomaly.

“I don’t know what you want, but I have no business with you,” I said coldly, my voice echoing in the quiet gallery.

I wasn’t the type to take unnecessary risks.

I didn’t believe in fairness at my own expense, nor did I try to be blindly open-minded when it came to my own safety.

As I glared at him, Jed let out a dramatic sigh.

“I came with good news and wanted to be friends, but this reaction is quite discouraging.”

Realizing persuasion wouldn’t work, he got straight to the point.

“Fine. I just came to tell you something—news about Bern.”

The moment I heard that name, my expression turned ice-cold.

I didn’t know what he was about to say, but I had no desire to hear it.

I turned on my heel to leave.

But his next words made me stop in my tracks.

“He’s going to marry Reina.”

For a moment, I felt like laughing.

A noble heir, going against his family to choose his own marriage?

That was practically a death sentence.

The idea that Bern, that coward, had the courage to do such a thing was unbelievable.

And yet… I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Had my words influenced him back then?

If he was willing to pay the price for a moment of foolish passion, then I could be satisfied.

But then—

“Oh, and he’s leaving his family.”

I spun around, my mind unable to process what I had just heard.

“What…?”

I echoed the words like a child learning a new phrase.

Jed continued, still smiling.

“And he plans to win the upcoming royal swordsmanship tournament. He says he’ll earn his happiness through his own strength.”

My lips trembled.

That coward…?

That man, who never once made a firm decision in his life?

It was impossible.