The Abandoned Villainess Decides to Take It All Chapter 21

Chapter 21: “Everything They Say Is ‘For Your Own Good’ Is a Lie”

Ebren had spent his life imitating human emotions well enough to survive.

Of course, there were a few he genuinely possessed—
irritation, displeasure, killing intent.

Emotions that were useful.

But earlier, when he had touched Lillian—twice—

something that was not his own had flowed into him.

I’ve never heard of that happening through control alone.

Lillian herself had seemed completely unaware.

Was this because of the imprint?

It wasn’t something he could easily verify.
Imprinting had grown rare—no one sane willingly created weaknesses anymore.

And yet, Lillian had been strangely…

“I’ll be right back.”
“It came out B.”

Every time she said something like that, the same sensation seeped into him.

What should he even call it?

“Elias.”

“…Yes, my lord.”

“Before the measurement—and even after receiving B—Lillian was extremely unsettled inside.”

“…?”

“But when she spoke to me, she acted perfectly fine.”

“…!”

“What would that usually mean, for a normal human?”

Elias chose his words carefully, watching Ebren’s expression.

This was serious.

His lord was trying to understand another person’s emotions.

“…If I had to guess,” Elias said slowly,
“she was probably frightened… and disappointed.”

“Frightened? Disappointed? Why?”

Ebren himself had been mildly surprised by the B rank.
Given that she had stopped his rampage, he’d expected something higher.

But B was still above the imperial average for controllers.
Most were C or D.

That didn’t seem like something worth despairing over.

Elias continued.

“House Tillard branded her powerless, didn’t they?”

“They did.”

“And compared to her siblings—Lord Kuern and Lady Iris—”

“…A and S rank.”

So that was it.

Comparison.

Lillian Tillard.

Unexpected.

She was so confident, so capable—he hadn’t thought she cared about that sort of thing.

Even when she said it, she’d been smiling brightly.

The more he learned, the more intriguing she became.

“So what would a normal human do next?”

“…My lord. She once tried to poison herself with a wild herb.”

“She did.”

“In cases like that, people often bottle everything up. They keep smiling while collapsing inside.”

Still dangerous, then.

Ebren felt irritation—not toward Lillian, but toward the fact that he needed someone else to explain this to him.

He glanced at Elias and gave a faint smile.

“You’re perceptive.”

“This is only my personal speculation. I could be wrong.”

“Hm.”

Ebren brushed his fingers along his neck.

Lillian Tillard was holding his leash.

Which meant that, for at least a year, he couldn’t allow her to break.

Lillian headed toward the section of the temple reserved for women.

When they reached the open courtyard, Jeanne—walking beside her as escort—grumbled,

“Miss, if the princess is really here, couldn’t His Highness just summon her?”

“She crossed the border without permission.”

“Yes. That’s their fault, isn’t it?”

“It’s better not to argue blame between nations,” Lillian replied calmly.
“Especially given His Highness’s current position.”

“…Meaning?”

“He has more enemies than allies.”

She gestured vaguely, as if tracing a map in the air.

“Among the Five Great Houses, Favil and Tillard are hostile. Boliver remains neutral.”

“…That’s true.”

“That leaves Tarandia. But His Majesty hasn’t appeared in court for a long time.”

The emperor’s instability was common knowledge.

“And major decisions require approval from over half the Five Houses.”

Declaring a succession contest now would never pass.

“Which means, if we need an external ally, the Kingdom of Tenevrin is the most realistic choice.”

Same doctrine. Close enough.

“So it’s better if I—another woman—approach the princess quietly.”

“…Understood.”

Jeanne nodded at once.

The Shadows nearby exchanged looks of quiet amazement.

They’d heard the rumors.

That Iris was brilliant.
That Lillian was useless.

That Lillian contributed nothing.

All lies.

You never truly knew someone until you walked beside them.

Still…

Was she safe next to their lord?

That question lingered.

Lillian, meanwhile, was recalling the original story.

The princess’s condition was a skin-related esper illness.

Later, Iris would treat it.

But the real problem lay deeper.

Just then, Jeanne halted.

“Miss. There’s a strange presence beyond the bushes.”

Lillian’s eyes sharpened.

Those of Baltazar blood sensed ley lines instinctively.

And serpent-kin espers were even more distinctive.

“…She’s not alone,” Jeanne added.

“There’s a man with her.”

“What’s he saying?”

Jeanne closed her eyes, listening.

“‘Your Highness, I only worry that you’ll be mocked in Perniès.’”
“‘Your appearance represents the dignity of the kingdom… but there’s nothing more we can do.’”
“‘Everything I say is for your own good—’”

Jeanne swore under her breath.

Lillian narrowed her eyes.

Of course.

Ebren stood with his arms crossed, watching the improvised workshop inside the temple.

Lillian Tillard.

She never stopped surprising him.

She’d convinced the Tenevrin princess to entrust her with repairs.

“Is this where you’ll be working?”

“Yes!”

She looked brighter than he’d ever seen her—eyes shining, voice lively.

Tools poured endlessly from her bag.

“Once I add a few more stones and reinforce the wiring, it’ll be done! Torch, auto-cutter, clamps, cooling box, gloves—”

“…What exactly is in that bag of yours?”

Was there a universe inside?

Ebren studied her quietly.

She’d seemed shaken earlier, after receiving B.

What about now?

“Lady Tillard.”

“Yes?”

“Before you start—control me.”

“…Are you feeling unstable today?”

“You’re holding my leash. Stop being stingy—take my hand.”

“…Alright.”

Her voice softened immediately.

Ebren clasped her much smaller hand.

A sweet, electric sensation spread from his palm.

And again—

It’s happening.

This time was different.

His chest fluttered—light, restless, as if something small were tumbling around inside him.

…Was he a butterfly now?

No.

More like a rabbit.

“Hm.”

Ebren smiled, brow furrowing.

This feeling—

was strangely addictive.