I’m Leaving the Villainess Station

Chapter 31

“It doesn’t make sense. You killed my mother.You took everything from me, and now you say you’ll give me something else in return?It doesn’t make sense…But you kept coming back, talking to me… That’s why I couldn’t die back then. Because you kept your word.I couldn’t do it. I wanted to live again, so I couldn’t die.”

She cried as if her eyes were melting.

“Then why… Why do you say I can’t have it again? Why am I the only one who has to lose? Why am I the only one who always has to give up? Is it because I’m not human but an animal, so I have to keep waiting, losing, and running away?”

She looked up at me then. Her despair-filled eyes asked me, deeply and desperately.

“Miss… You’re human, so you must know. Please tell me. How can I be born as a human? I wanted to be born as a human too. Why was I born like this… only to have everything taken from me? How could I have been born as a human?”

Her gaze was relentless, fragile, and in a way, terrifying. I didn’t understand why such a gaze, from someone so broken and crumpled, scared me.

Yet, that fear didn’t make me run away.

I didn’t cry with her. But I couldn’t hate her either, and though I turned my back on her words, I didn’t completely ignore them.

I wasn’t a god—I was only human. I couldn’t be a blind goddess of justice, nor could I be a heartless goddess of revenge.

With eyes and a heart, merely a human, I forced myself to speak.

“…If nothing had happened in between, and Bern had married some noblewoman instead of you… And if you had to wait for him, just like you waited for your mother, hoping he would come back to you….”

As I spoke, I realized how cruel life was. Her life had always been about waiting—waiting for things and people she longed for to return to her.

But I knew lives were even more tragic than hers. I knew that her story wasn’t particularly unique or extraordinary.

Everyone has their burdens to bear. It was just that I had encountered Raina too deeply and too often, so her story shook me.

She had taken a life—the child who should have been my joy, my light.

If I could say just one word to soothe that child, if I could grant a miracle for that child with a single sentence…

Perhaps then, I could finally free myself from this obsessive anger.

“What about that noblewoman? Wouldn’t you feel sorry for her? Wouldn’t you feel guilty?”

For the first time, Raina’s eyes wavered.

When I saw that look in her eyes, I understood. She had never thought about others.

Just as I had once dismissed her as nothing more than an obstacle when I decided to marry, she had done the same.

We had both seen each other as mere obstacles, never as people.

Before hatred, I felt a strange sense of sadness—a limit we both shared.

For a moment, I wondered if something might change, as if by a miracle.

Maybe we could understand each other, take a step back, let go of our hatred, and walk separate paths.

But in the end, this conversation meant nothing.

Everything remained the same as before. We were only following the script of fate, playing the roles assigned to us.

Hatred and suffering—mere words wouldn’t resolve them.

I was bound by my hatred. She was bound by her desire for Bern.

That was our fate—to hate and resent each other.

Perhaps that was the price one had to pay for not seeing others as people.

Then, she spoke.

“…I envied them—the nobles, who could be born with privilege and marry proudly under the light. I only thought about what was taken from me.”

She could have lied. But Raina chose not to.

“I never once thought of her as someone who could suffer or feel pain. I don’t think… I would have felt sorry or guilty for her.”

She lowered her head, trembling as if she were cold. Or perhaps she was trembling at her realization.

I nodded slightly.

“I see.”

And I turned away, leaving her behind.

Maybe I could have understood the sincerity in her confession. But I didn’t.

I wasn’t strong enough for that.

This conversation, which had started with an attempt to understand, only hardened my resolve.

I had a feeling—I would never forgive her.

Perhaps Raina felt that too, because she didn’t call out to me again.

People walk side by side with their families, keep some distance from their friends, and stand close to their lovers. But there is someone who can be even closer than family, friends, or lovers.

Ironically, that person is often your worst enemy.

Hatred binds people together even more tightly than love. Enemies stay just half a step apart, watching each other’s every move.

They observe each other closely, waiting for a moment of weakness—to strike first when the other stumbles.

In doing so, enemies become more aware of each other’s state than anyone else.

Perhaps that’s why Raina felt so close to me. Bern too.

Despite my hatred, they felt tightly intertwined with my life.

Like people bound to me, more than even my own family.

A strange closeness born from being mere half-steps apart, bound by enmity.

But at this moment, for the first time, they felt distant.

‘They feel like strangers.’

All the familiar images of them replayed thousands of times in my mind through hatred, resentment, and obsession, suddenly vanished.

And then, I wondered.

‘Why did I hold on for so long? Why did I keep things that only made me uncomfortable and exhausted so close? Was I under some kind of spell?’

It was like realizing, after years of keeping an ugly, broken piece of furniture in my room, that I had no reason to have it there at all.

I just wanted to get away—from that terrace, from this ballroom, from Bern.

Not just emotionally, but physically.

‘Should I pretend I’m feeling sick and go home?’

I walked through the crowd, my steps weightless, like a paper doll floating.

I wanted to undo what couldn’t be undone. Maybe I had wanted an apology I could never receive.

But now, whether I had received something like an apology or simply realized that she had never been the kind of person to feel guilt—I wasn’t sure.

Or maybe I had just done enough.

Hatred, after all, is not so different from love. It, too, has its moments of disillusionment and its endings.

Then, I crashed into something.

A solid impact, like hitting a wall, sent me tumbling down.

It felt strange—like my body was a puppet with its strings cut.

Dazed, I looked up to see a figure silhouetted against the light.

“……?”

He said something, likely out of concern, but I wasn’t in the mood.

I just wanted to leave. If it was my fault, I’d apologize and walk away. If it was his, I hoped he would just go.

“I’m fine.”

I spoke mechanically, lowering my head and placing my hand on the floor to push myself up. My silver roses slipped from my hair, falling to the ground.

“…Ah…”

I blinked.

‘Did I hit my head too hard? What a mess.’

And then, without warning, a tear fell.

I saw it land between my fingers and was startled.

‘I’m not sad. So why am I crying? I already knew I would never get an apology.’

I had only been venting my anger on my own. So why was I crying here, now?

‘What was I even expecting?’

A hand reached out to help me up.

“Are you all right?”

I looked up into green eyes.

The man had an air of quiet exhaustion, but his pale forehead remained pristine, masking any weariness.

Dark hair framed his sharp features, highlighting his smooth, pale neck.

His cold, composed eyes softened as they met mine.

“Let me help you.”

I instinctively pulled away.

“I’m fi—”

Before I could refuse, my legs gave out again.

As I staggered, he caught me.

“You seem to need some help, at least for now. I’d feel uneasy leaving you like this. Will you allow me to assist you?”

His calm, distant tone had an odd sincerity to it.

Something about it moved me.

I nodded.

“…Then, just for a moment.”

And still, my tears wouldn’t stop.

“Your scent is lovely,” he said gently. “Like leaves touched by night dew. Is it a particular perfume?”