The Abandoned Villainess Decides to Take It All Chapter 22

Chapter 22

It was the first time he’d ever felt a stimulus like this.

Ebren tightened his grip around Lillian’s hand.

Perhaps he should keep her talking—about anything at all.
If only to savor this unfamiliar sensation a little longer.

“Is it really that interesting?” he asked. “It’s not even yours.”

“The process is a bit tiring,” Lillian replied casually,
“but the results are immediate.”

“Hm.”

“And it’s pretty to look at. Plus, it helps people.”

Ebren didn’t really understand.

The things she valued didn’t strike him as particularly impressive.

Still, he followed her gaze to the workbench.

Maybe because this was familiar territory—
Lillian was more talkative now than he’d ever seen her.

“The princess’s guardian is even worse than I expected,” she said.
“Brainwashing a child—seriously.”

“If you lack ability and intend to live as a parasite, it’s a practical method,” Ebren replied flatly.

“He’ll definitely interfere,” Lillian said. “Let him.”

“Come to think of it—”

Ebren scanned the room.

“At this rate, thieves will be drawn here.”

Artifacts that required this much labor were expensive.
Royal ones especially—decorative gemstones alone were worth a fortune.

The problem was that this was temple property.
Security was minimal at best.

“We should assign more Shadows.”

“Mm—no.”

Lillian shook her head.

“It’s better to leave a small opening. I’m planning to set a mousetrap.”

“A mousetrap?”

“Your Highness, could I have one of the remaining monster cores?”
She paused. “The freshest one.”

“….”

“From the one you killed earlier.”

She asked for a monster core the way someone might ask for fresh fish.

Given that monsters were the reason they’d met in the first place, it was almost funny.

Still, Ebren handed her a shriveled, walnut-sized core.

He had no idea what she planned to do.

“You’re aware this is a Class-One hazardous material, right?”

Lillian inhaled sharply.

“Monsters don’t store visual data in the brain,” she said.
“They store it in the core. So—like this.”

She pressed her thumb—set with a control stone—into the hollow.

Ziiiiing—

A low vibration rippled through the air.

Ebren understood immediately.

He frowned.

Then smiled.

“If I ask how you know this,” he said,
“you’ll say it’s because you’re a Tillard, won’t you?”

Predictable.

But Lillian surprised him.

“Hmm… no.”

She smiled brightly.

“I’ll just say I know because I’m a little crazy.”

“…Ha.”

The more he spoke with her, the less he understood her.

How had he ended up imprinting on someone like this?

“By the way, Your Highness.”

“What.”

“I need both hands to work now.”

“….”

“…Ah. Then I suppose I can start in thirty minutes.”

“A wise decision, my lady.”

Ebren tightened his grip around her hand.

For someone holding another person’s lifeline, she was remarkably stingy.

The next day, Princess Meliora von Albrecht came to the workshop herself.

“It’s my artifact. I wanted to see it.”

“Of course. Please, come in.”

Her attendant followed behind, wearing a look of quiet resignation.

Naturally—she didn’t even bother hiding her manner of speech anymore.

Still bad at undercover travel, Lillian noted.

The princess examined the necklace closely, then began pacing.

“Daughter of Tillard.”

“Yes.”

“Why… why are you helping me like this?”

Through the veil, Meliora looked at Lillian with wary eyes.

“I know you’re more skilled than Iris.”

“You honor me.”

“But showing skill alone can’t be the price you want.”

“….”

“I’m not ignorant,” the princess said quietly.
“People always want something from me.”

Lillian smiled faintly.

Of course. A princess couldn’t afford naïveté.

It would be useful if she became an external ally.
But for now—

Lillian lowered her head and spoke softly.

“Dismiss the count, Your Highness.”

“…!”

“He plans to use you to expand his estate. Nothing more.”

In the original story, Iris helped Meliora early on.

She was praised as a symbol of international goodwill.

But what happened to the princess afterward?

She became her guardian’s puppet.

Even after securing her claim to succession, her downfall was inevitable.

They’d praised her A-rank ability.
Her diligence.
Her generosity.

All of it became tools used against her.

The princess bit her lip.

“C-Count—no. He’s necessary to me!”

Denial. Anger.

“He’s my guardian. He protects me—”

“From your brother?” Lillian interrupted calmly.
“From assassination attempts? From a riding ‘accident’?”

“…!”

Meliora froze.

Lillian glanced subtly toward the attendant.

Good.
That expression would spread rumors beautifully.

The bait was set.

Lillian looked back at the silent princess.

“Your Highness, there comes a time when you must choose your relationships.”

“….”

“I know. Telling someone to cut ties is easy. Doing it yourself isn’t.”

You say tomorrow I won’t believe him.
Tomorrow I won’t care.

But the heart never listens so neatly.

“Regret should be short,” Lillian continued.
“Pain should be deep—but brief.”

She knew it sounded like an elder’s lecture.

Still—

The princess nodded slowly.

“…I’ll think about it. I’ll return once the repairs are finished.”

“Yes.”

As Meliora left, Lillian narrowed her eyes.

I’ve got a bad feeling.

Her life had taught her that betrayal often came scented like fresh forest air.

And now—

there was also the villain’s imprint.

From here on out, she needed to act first.

“Your Highness,” she said quietly.
“Could you hold out your hand for a moment?”

“…?”

That night, the Shadows’ gathering buzzed with excitement.

“So she played the recording stone for the princess, right?”

Jeanne animatedly recounted the scene.

“The part where Iris Tillard threatens to use her!”

“Ooooh—!”

“And the princess’s eyes totally changed when she realized the necklace was designed by Lady Lillian!”

“Incredible!”

Laughter and clapping filled the room.

Moments like this were rare comforts.

Serving their lord didn’t leave much room for joy.

Margaret leaned against the wall, then quietly slipped outside.

She felt utterly isolated.

Once, they had all relied on her.

Her rank is higher, she told herself.

Margaret was A-rank.
Lillian was B.

And yet she claimed she could heal a foreign princess?

Stopping the prince’s rampage might’ve been luck.

But diplomacy was different.

What if this gets us all killed?

Because of Lillian Tillard—

“Ah. Excuse me.”

Margaret turned.

“Are you part of Lady Tillard’s group?”

“…Yes.”

Lillian’s engagement was still classified.

Margaret answered stiffly.

Count Josef offered a solemn smile.

Inside, his teeth ground together.

That worthless, powerless bitch… seducing the princess?