The Abandoned Villainess Decides to Take It All Chapter 20

Chapter 20

“Everything They Say Is ‘For Your Own Good’ Is a Lie”

Agreed.

Lillian narrowed her eyes.

Ha… of course.

That phrase again.

For your sake.
For your own good.

She’d heard it enough times to last several lifetimes.

“Jeanne,” Lillian said quietly, lifting a finger.

“Yes, my lady.”

“We’re not interrupting yet.”

“…Pardon?”

“Let’s listen a little more.”

Jeanne swallowed, then nodded.

They moved closer, careful not to disturb the hedges.

Beyond the bushes lay a marble bench, half-shaded by climbing ivy. Sitting there was a young woman with ash-blond hair tied loosely at her back, dressed in pale traveling clothes far plainer than her rank suggested.

Princess Meliora von Albrecht of Tenevrin.

Her shoulders were stiff, her posture immaculate—too immaculate. The posture of someone bracing herself.

Standing before her was a man in a neat temple attendant’s robe. His hair was pulled back, his expression earnest, concerned—

Concerned, Lillian noted, in the way people get when they’re convinced they’re right.

“…Your Highness,” he continued gently, hands folded.
“I only worry that you may be mocked in Perniès.”

Meliora lowered her gaze.

“I’ve already heard that,” she replied quietly.

“But that doesn’t make it less true,” the man said, stepping closer.
“A princess’s appearance reflects her nation’s dignity. If word spreads that the Kingdom of Tenevrin sent a princess afflicted with such a… condition—”

Her fingers tightened in her lap.

“But now,” he added smoothly, “there’s little that can be done. You should endure it with grace.”

Lillian felt something twist unpleasantly in her chest.

Endure it.

Of course.

The man continued, his tone soft, almost indulgent.

“Everything I say is for your sake. You understand that, don’t you?”

Silence followed.

Not the calm kind.

The heavy, suffocating kind that pressed down on the lungs.

Jeanne’s jaw tightened.

“…No,” she muttered. “That bastard—what the hell is he saying?”

Lillian exhaled slowly.

She’d seen this scene before.

Different faces. Different words.

Same structure.

You are flawed.
You are a burden.
Therefore, you must endure.

She stepped forward.

A single step.

The bushes rustled.

The man froze.

“Who’s there—?”

Lillian emerged into the open garden, veil fluttering lightly as she walked.

Jeanne followed half a step behind her, hand resting casually on her sword hilt.

“Good afternoon,” Lillian said pleasantly.
“My apologies for interrupting such a heartfelt lecture.”

Meliora looked up in surprise.

The man turned sharply, irritation flashing across his face before he masked it.

“And you are—?”

Lillian tilted her head.

“That’s my line, actually.”

She smiled.

“May I ask who you are, to be speaking so freely to a foreign princess?”

“I am her aide,” the man replied stiffly.
“And this conversation does not concern you.”

“Oh,” Lillian said softly.
“That’s strange.”

She turned to Meliora instead.

“Princess. May I speak with you for a moment?”

The man frowned.

“Your Highness—”

Meliora hesitated.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

“…Yes.”

The aide’s eyes widened.

“But—!”

Jeanne took one step forward.

“Temple grounds,” she said flatly.
“Inside the Empire. You may wish to remember where you’re standing.”

The man stiffened, lips thinning.

Lillian turned fully toward Meliora now.

Up close, the signs were obvious.

Along the princess’s neck and jawline, faint iridescent scales shimmered beneath the skin—beautiful, yes, but uneven, inflamed in places. A manifestation gone wrong.

A skin-based ability disorder.

Just like in the original story.

Meliora followed Lillian’s gaze and flinched, one hand rising instinctively.

“I know,” she said quickly.
“It’s unpleasant to look at—”

“It isn’t,” Lillian replied at once.

The words came out sharper than she intended.

Meliora blinked.

“…What?”

“It’s inconvenient,” Lillian corrected calmly.
“And painful, I imagine. But unpleasant? No.”

She met the princess’s eyes.

“What is unpleasant is being told to endure something you could fix—if only people stopped pretending humiliation is medicine.”

The garden fell silent.

The aide stared at her in disbelief.

“How dare you—!”

Lillian didn’t even look at him.

“Everything they say is ‘for your own good’ is a lie,” she said, voice steady.
“Especially when it always benefits the person saying it.”

Meliora’s lips parted slightly.

“…You speak as though you’ve experienced this.”

Lillian smiled faintly.

“Once or twice.”

She extended her hand.

“My name is Lillian Tillard.”

The aide sucked in a sharp breath.

Meliora hesitated—then placed her hand lightly in Lillian’s.

“…Meliora von Albrecht.”

Lillian’s eyes softened.

“Princess Meliora,” she said gently,
“if you’ll allow it—I believe I can help you.”

And somewhere beyond the temple walls—

Ebren Tarandia felt something tighten around his chest.

Not pain.

Not danger.

But the unmistakable sensation of his controller stepping directly into someone else’s battlefield.