I’m a Villainess, Can I Die?

Rosenta strode into the drawing room without hesitation, settling herself in the most prominent seat. She removed her feathered hat with a graceful flick of her wrist, smoothing her hair with an elegance that seemed almost theatrical.
"What brings you here?"
"Oh, dear. Must I always have a reason to visit my dear brother?"

"You were the one who drew the line, saying we were no longer family!"
Louis’ outburst might as well have been spoken into the void. Rosenta barely acknowledged it, her gaze lazily sweeping across the room.
A place left untended.

No guests, obviously. Who would bother visiting a household in ruins? There was no reason to hire help to clean unused rooms—not when they likely couldn’t even afford proper meals.
Suddenly, the chair she sat on felt distasteful. Clicking her tongue, Rosenta rose to her feet, pulled out a handkerchief, and carefully spread it over the seat before sitting down again—an action more suited for outdoor benches than indoor furniture.
All three of them frowned simultaneously.

"Lukas, let’s go inside with your mother. My love, call me when the Countess of Hunter leaves."
Bella, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temple, left the room. Lukas hesitated, reluctant to miss whatever conversation was about to unfold, but in the end, he followed, his mother’s hand firmly grasping his own.
After ensuring she was properly tucked into bed, Lukas excused himself, saying he would fetch water.

A lie, of course.
He hated lying to his mother, but curiosity gnawed at him. He had to know what was being discussed.
"Tell me why you’re really here, Rosenta."

"Seeing you like this reminds me of the old days. Don’t you think so, brother?"
Louis sneered at her words.
The old days… Which part, exactly?

When they were still family? Or the day she had come to sever that bond? Or perhaps she meant the time he had thrown away his pride and dignity, begging the Count of Hunter for help—only to be mercilessly turned away?
"Spare me the nonsense and get to the point."
"Oh, my. I actually came to offer you a rather generous proposal. It hurts to be treated this way."
Rosenta’s voice remained playful, but the moment she spoke of a ‘proposal,’ Louis instinctively swallowed hard.

Buried expectations brushed against the edges of his thoughts.
No. I shouldn’t hope for anything.
And yet, his heart pounded against his ribs, grasping at the possibility.

It disgusted him to even hesitate, to listen to the words of a woman he considered no better than an enemy. But what was pride compared to Bella’s life?
Compared to Lukas’ happiness?
Rosenta smirked as she watched his conflicted expression.

Pitiful. Still so naïve.
No wonder he never managed to hold onto anything.
Casually, she lifted a hand. It was an insignificant movement, a simple flick of her fingers, yet Louis flinched.

Biting her tongue to suppress a chuckle, she leaned forward slightly.
"I have a favor to ask, brother. A favor that will benefit you greatly as well."
Her voice was like a serpent’s whisper, tempting, urging.

"And if you grant it… I will personally cover Bella’s medical expenses."
"Well? Don’t you think you should hear me out?"
Her eyes gleamed, predatory, as though waiting for him to sink his teeth into the poisoned fruit she was offering.

"My love… are you sure about this?"
"Of course. Don’t worry. It’s nothing serious. I’ll be back in less than a year. Just focus on your treatment until then."
"But…"

Lukas stood behind his mother, his head bowed.
His eyes were swollen from crying through the night.
He hated that his father was leaving for something so dangerous, and even more than that, he hated that he had to send him off with such a pitiful face.

"Lukas. Aren’t you going to look at me?"
"You won’t see me for a few months."
Louis knelt to his son’s eye level, offering him a gentle smile. His son’s tear-streaked face made his heart ache.

He didn’t want to leave behind an ill wife and a child who still needed him.
But he had no choice.
He had to go.

Only then could he earn the money for Bella’s treatment. Only then could the three of them keep living.
He feared the monsters he would soon be facing.
But the thought of losing Bella terrified him far more.

As Lukas hesitantly lifted his gaze, Louis pulled him into a warm embrace.
"Take care of your mother while I’m gone. I love you, my son."
Lukas clenched his jaw.

He didn’t want to cry.
He refused to cry.
When his father returned safely, then he would cry all he wanted—he would throw himself into his arms, sob like a child, and hold him tight.

He didn’t care if it made him look immature.
He just needed to make sure his father came back.
Lukas gave a small nod.

"…Yes, Dad."
The dampness in his voice made Louis smile as he ruffled his son’s hair.
Outside, the sound of carriage wheels echoed through the quiet air.

The signal of farewell.
His father was leaving.
Leaving for a battlefield swarming with monsters.

The Monster Subjugation wasn’t just a mission—it was a full-scale war. The monsters had multiplied beyond control, threatening entire territories, and even the emperor had issued a decree to launch a nationwide campaign to exterminate them.
Louis had been assigned as a knight commander in this war.
His duty was to stand at the forefront of the battle, to lead the troops with his back turned to them, ensuring they had someone to follow.

Such roles were usually given to noblemen.
Nothing raised the morale of knights more than knowing their superiors would not flee in the face of danger.
Traditionally, noble houses with a strong martial lineage would take these positions—either fighting on the battlefield or overseeing operations from the safety of a command center.

This time, the command had been given to the Count of Hunter, known for their deep roots in military prowess.
But the count had claimed illness, pushing the responsibility onto Louis instead.
Of course, it wasn’t a mere order.

It was a deal.
If Louis accepted the role, the Hunter family would pay for Bella’s treatment and provide him and Lukas with living expenses for a year.
A deal he couldn’t refuse.

Neither could I.
That night, as Lukas had eavesdropped on the conversation, he had clung to only one thought—
His father would survive.

He had to survive.
That was the only future Lukas allowed himself to imagine.
He hadn’t even considered the possibility that his father wouldn’t go.

And in that moment, he realized just how selfish he was.
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His father was stepping into a battlefield teeming with death, and all Lukas could think about was how he wanted him to come back alive.

It made him sick.
He clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to suppress the nausea that rose in his throat.
From atop the large carriage, his father turned and smiled—an expression so bright, so carefree, that it shattered the last of Lukas’ composure.

Tears spilled over uncontrollably.
The house felt far too empty without his father in it.
And all he could do was whisper—

"Aunt… Aunt Rosenta!"
Lukas pounded on the enormous gate. Beyond it stood the grand mansion—where they were.
"Aunt! Please… I don’t care about the living expenses anymore—just please! My mother is dying! I beg you!"

But his cries didn’t seem to reach the house beyond the gates.
He had knocked so hard, for so long, that his hands had turned red and raw, blood seeping from where the skin had broken. Still, he couldn’t stop.
His mother was dying.

The promised support had only been given properly for the first three months. After that, the payments dwindled, shrinking month by month, until by the eighth month, they had stopped entirely.
There was no need to say that his mother’s treatment had suffered as a result.
Her condition had worsened. Now, she couldn’t go a day without painkillers, and today…

Today, she had coughed up blood.
"Aunt! Please—please! I beg you!"
Lukas kept pounding on the gate.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open.
It was neither his aunt Rosenta nor the Count who had come out to greet him.
A middle-aged man, presumably the butler, stood before him instead.

He scanned Lukas with clear disdain before tossing a small pouch at his feet.
A few silver coins spilled onto the ground.
"Get lost. If you come back again, I’ll make sure you can’t knock on this door ever again."

The man let out a cruel laugh before turning back inside.
Lukas stared numbly at the retreating figure, then slowly, with trembling fingers, gathered up the pouch.
Mother… I need to call a doctor for Mother.

That was all that mattered.
He shoved the money deep into his pocket and looked up at the sky.
The sun had already set.

The crimson hues of dusk painted the sky like a wound torn open, bleeding into the horizon.
It was cruel.
"Please… my mother is in critical condition."

"But this won’t be enough."
The physician responsible for his mother’s care shook his head dismissively.
Lukas' fingers clenched around the pouch.

Inside, there were only a handful of silver and copper coins. Not nearly enough to bring the doctor to their home.
Without hesitation, the doctor turned him away, shoving him out the door as he sobbed and pleaded.
Lukas hit the dirt path hard, rolling onto the ground.

He lay there for a moment, then pushed himself up, stumbling, and ran.
No one would help.
No one would care for her.

His mother…
I have to take care of her.
Lukas clenched his teeth.

By the time he reached home, he was panting, his breath ragged from running.
The house was dark. No light shone through the windows.
An uneasy feeling crept over him.

No… no, it can’t be.
Panic churned in his stomach.
Lukas swallowed hard and reached for the door.

The old wooden entrance creaked as it always did. But tonight, the sound felt deafening.
His shoulders flinched at the noise.
Tears welled up in his eyes.

Slowly, he stepped inside, past the drawing room where his father and aunt had once spoken, past the dining room—until he reached the door to his mother’s bedroom.
He couldn’t bring himself to open it.
His hands trembled violently.

He needed to go inside. He had to go to her.
But he was terrified.
What if… what if—

The thought coiled around him like a snake, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
"…Lukas?"
A weak, fragile voice echoed through the silent house.

A small gasp slipped from his lips.
Relief crashed over him, so intense it nearly made his knees buckle.
That one voice alone was enough to drive away the darkness that had wrapped around him.

Lukas bit his lip, wiping at his eyes.
I can’t fall apart.
I have to be strong. I have to protect her.

He turned the doorknob.
"Mom…"
"There you are, Lukas… Did you have a nice walk?"

His mother lay in bed, gazing at him with a gentle expression.
She knew.
She knew why he had left.

She knew why there was no doctor beside him now.
And yet…
She pretended.

For his sake.
"Yes… I had a good walk… I’m sorry for being away so long, Mom…"
So he pretended too.

Because that was all they could do.
Because in the end, the only people looking out for them… were themselves.
"Don’t apologize… I would’ve liked to go on a walk with you… It’s my fault I couldn’t."

"Next time… next time, we’ll go together."
His mother only smiled.
Her frail fingers trembled as she reached up, gently stroking his cheek.

It was cold.
How much had he run? His skin felt frozen under her touch.
So small, so kind, so beautiful… my precious son.

"Mom, you must be hungry. I’ll make you some soup. There’s still a little bit of tomato left."
"Ah… I should be the one making it. Tomato soup is my specialty, after all."
This child, standing before the stove at just eleven years old…

This poor boy, waking at dawn to deliver newspapers because the money had stopped coming in…
Oh… my beloved child.
"I can make it now. You taught me, remember?"

"…Yes. That’s right. My son had a wonderful teacher, didn’t he…"
Her voice trailed off suddenly.
Then—

Her body convulsed violently.
A seizure.