I’m a Villainess, Can I Die?

The people gathered around Lukas soon started chatting among themselves about him.
The man at the center of all their conversations, however, had quietly withdrawn from the discussion, leaning back against his chair. Yet, not a single one of them noticed.
Keeping his mouth shut to avoid wasting unnecessary energy, Lukas simply listened. He couldn’t help but feel that the version of himself they were discussing was vastly different from who he really was.

[This is how it usually is.]
With that thought, he turned his gaze in search of someone who wasn’t like the others.
Scanning the greenhouse beyond the crowd, he spotted Selina seated alone at a distance.

Across from her sat a man.
[Jacob Cooper.]
The second son of Count Cooper’s family.

With a relaxed, amiable expression, Jacob flashed a bright smile at Selina, as if genuinely delighted by their conversation.
Tap.
Lukas’s fingers drummed lightly against the table. The faint sound was swallowed by the murmuring around him.

Yet, his fingertips registered the sensation.
His throat suddenly felt dry.
What kind of expression was Selina wearing as she sat across from that man? Was she, as always, looking bored? He hoped so.

Selina’s shoulders lifted slightly, then settled back down.
[Ah, I see.]
That small motion, likely meant as a vague acknowledgment, made the corner of Lukas’s lips curl into a smirk.

Of course. No doubt, her expression was as indifferent as ever. Her voice would be the same—flat, devoid of any real reaction.
She probably sounded like she didn’t care about anything he was saying.
[Sir Lukas.]
His body stiffened.

Selina’s voice rang in his head, reverberating through him before spreading uncontrollably throughout his entire body.
[Sir Lukas.]
The voice echoed again, and Lukas instinctively straightened his posture. The smirk that had been tugging at his lips had long vanished.

“Is something wrong, Sir Lukas?”
One of the noble ladies, engaged in conversation nearby, tilted her head in concern.
Only then did Lukas realize how unnatural his reaction must have seemed.

Forcing his usual nonchalant smile back onto his face, he responded smoothly.
“It’s nothing.”
But contrary to his words, it was not nothing.

An unfamiliar sense of disorder twisted in his mind. It felt as if a box he had long left untouched had suddenly forced itself into existence.
Calling to him. Beckoning him to open it.
[What the hell is this?]

But he had no time to dwell on it now. As the Vice Captain of the Duke’s knights, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake—not at a party meant to silence rumors about the White Duchy.
“Um… Sir Lukas. If it’s not too rude, may I ask you something?”
A young lady sitting closest to him hesitantly spoke, her fair complexion blooming into a soft pink.

“Of course. Anything.”
Though his mind was elsewhere, his voice remained effortlessly warm.
That same gentle tone made the young lady’s face flush even deeper, now resembling a ripe apple.

Struggling to contain her nervous excitement, she cleared her throat discreetly, hoping her voice wouldn’t tremble when she asked her question.
All eyes turned toward them, curious about what she would say.
The only person completely uninterested in her question was the man who had to answer it.

“I… was just wondering if there was a special reason you keep your hair long?”
A rather bold question.
It was something many had wondered about at some point, but few dared to ask—whether out of respect for his status, his intimidating presence, or simply because of his striking looks.

Intrigued by the rare opportunity, the entire table quieted, waiting for Lukas’s response.
“It’s just a personal preference. Does it not suit me?”
As he asked, he lowered his eyes slightly, his smile deepening.

“A-ah! No, that’s not what I meant at all!”
The lady frantically waved her hands, her voice rising in distress.
She continued speaking, rambling an explanation, but Lukas wasn’t really listening.

The real reason he kept his hair long was a silent act of rebellion.
Among noblemen, long hair was uncommon.
So he had grown it out.

This translation is the intellectual property of .
A trivial, almost childish form of defiance. Even while mingling with them, even while pretending to be one of them, he wanted to hold onto at least some part of himself.
A petty rebellion that he would never voice aloud.

Suppressing a scoff at his own absurdity, he let his smirk deepen.
By the time the conversation shifted back to idle chatter, Lukas casually turned his gaze toward Selina’s direction.
Jacob was still sitting across from her, still smiling.

“Thanks to you, Sir Lukas, I now have the honor of speaking with Lady Selina one-on-one.”
And if Jacob weren’t here, I could have been resting alone.
I gave him a flat nod, neither encouraging nor dismissing his words.

Jacob chuckled.
“Lady Selina, you’re quite amusing.”
“Am I?”

“Yes. You are.”
His tone and expression were a little too smooth, but he seemed good-natured enough.
Most of the nobles in this greenhouse, upon finding themselves in a private conversation with me, would nervously glance around, silently hoping for someone else to come save them.

They approached with ambitious intent, determined to build a connection—only to realize I was as unapproachable as a brick wall.
Well, except for one person.
Vivian.

But my little bundle of enthusiasm had been led outside earlier when something had gotten on her dress.
With her large, watery eyes brimming with regret, she had left to get it cleaned. Drying and restoring the fabric would take a while.
And so, aside from her, Jacob was the only person who sat before me without a trace of discomfort.

“Especially on the day of your brother’s engagement. When you ate that orange, oh, how deeply that moment moved me.”
…This guy.
I almost choked on my tea.

At a party specifically designed to suppress rumors, I had nearly added “tea-spitting noble lady” to my list of unwanted titles.
Jacob, startled by my small coughing fit, quickly handed me a handkerchief.
I debated whether to refuse it but ultimately accepted. If I declined, the atmosphere would just grow even more awkward.

“I apologize. I didn’t expect you to be that surprised.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I pressed the handkerchief Jacob had given me lightly against my lips.

Seeing the smudge of lipstick staining the fabric, I realized I would either have to wash and return it or replace it with another gift.
Which meant, inevitably, I would have to contact him again after this party.
Had he handed it to me with that in mind? Or was it truly just a simple act of courtesy?

As I fiddled with the handkerchief, I looked at him curiously. Jacob furrowed his brows slightly, as if troubled, before flashing an awkward smile.
“Jane.”
Without taking my eyes off Jacob, I called for my maid. Jane, who had been standing nearby, quickly trotted over.

“Yes, my lady?”
“Take this and have it washed.”
“There’s no need to return it in such a hurry.”

As I handed the handkerchief to Jane, Jacob hurriedly interjected, his expression momentarily stiff before his usual smooth smile returned.
Resting his chin on one hand, he suddenly lowered his voice and whispered to me.
“Actually, Lady, I came to this party with rather impure intentions.”

Silence.
Standing beside me, Jane turned pale.
The kind of expression one wears when they learn something they never wanted to know.

And frankly, I didn’t want to know either.
Jane glanced at me, her eyes practically screaming, ‘My lady, please. Save me.’
“You can go now, Jane.”

“Yes, my lady.”
The moment I granted her permission, Jane bobbed her head in a quick bow and practically fled from the greenhouse.
As I watched her retreating figure, I turned slightly—only to lock eyes with Lukas, who was seated behind me.

He had been chatting with a group of nobles, smiling, but the moment our eyes met, his lips pressed together, and his brow twitched.
Was he trying to pick a fight from a distance?
Refusing to look away, I kept my gaze locked on his.

Lukas slowly mouthed something.
Jo… zo… ge? No… Ko? Ko… KoXcola?
Yeah, that couldn’t be it. There was no Coca-Cola in this world.

But I wasn’t gifted with the ability to decipher words just from lip movements either.
In novels and dramas, people seemed to do it effortlessly. Did they practice at home or something? But why would anyone even do that?
In any case, I had no idea what he was saying.

Shrugging indifferently, I turned back around—only to meet the intense blue gaze of Jacob.
Wow. Chaos in front of me and behind me.
“Sir Lukas is truly popular,” Jacob remarked, glancing briefly past me before turning back with a slanted smile.

Well, Lukas was popular.
He was the male lead of this story, after all.
Competent, handsome… And though I wasn’t eager to admit it, publicly, he had a good personality as well.

Objectively speaking, his popularity made sense.
“…Yes, well. He is.”
At my response, Jacob’s smile twitched slightly. Then, he grabbed the teapot and began pouring himself some tea. His gaze drifted down to the cup.

“Does Lady Selina also like Sir Lukas?”
…Excuse me?
If I had been drinking tea at that moment, I would have sprayed it all over his face.

The content of the question was absurd, but the question itself was even more ridiculous.
Who asks something like that upon first meeting someone?
Was this boldness or just a complete lack of etiquette?

I simply stared at him without answering.
Jacob, still pouring his tea, met my gaze. His eyes curved slightly, silently urging me to respond.
Fine. I was the host, and he was the guest. A generous host should overlook a guest’s minor missteps.

The entire purpose of this party was to dispel unpleasant rumors about me. If I wanted something, I had to give something in return.
For today, I could entertain a few ridiculous questions.
And so, I answered as sincerely as I could.

“Well, he’s my brother’s friend and the Vice Captain of the Duke’s knights. I hold him in high regard. Of course, not in a romantic sense.”
Jacob lifted the teapot slightly higher.
Drip, drip, drip.

The steady stream of tea filled his cup.
By the time the sound ceased, the teacup was filled to the brim.
I had never seen anyone pour that much tea before.

Did he have some kind of vendetta against tea?
“That’s a relief. You see, I did say earlier that I had impure intentions.”
Lowering his voice, Jacob picked up his cup.

The deep red liquid trembled, threatening to spill, but he merely glanced at it nonchalantly.
Meanwhile, I was the one watching it nervously.
Almost as if sensing my discomfort, Jacob paused before moving the cup again—slowly.

“I fell for you at first sight.”
The moment he spoke, the tea sloshed over the rim.
A few droplets splashed onto the back of his hand.

Jacob sighed softly before setting the cup down.
“…Oh dear. I don’t have a handkerchief with me. May I borrow one, my lady?”
Since the reason he lacked a handkerchief was me, I couldn’t exactly refuse.

Well, technically, he was the one who had handed his handkerchief over first.
I silently observed him.
His previous actions. His current actions.

It had been pure chance that I spilled tea earlier.
But was this an accident?
No way.

I had no desire to play along with his thinly veiled intentions, but I had borrowed his handkerchief earlier.
I had no choice.
Sighing inwardly, I reached toward my waist in search of my own handkerchief.

There should be a small pocket in this dress where I kept it…
…Ah. That was in my casual dresses.
As I searched, a hand suddenly appeared from behind me, holding out a handkerchief.

A neatly folded, pale blue handkerchief, embroidered with a single initial.
L.
As pristine and refined as its owner.

“…Sir Lukas?”
Wasn’t he just sitting in the middle of that crowd?
When had he gotten here?

I turned, puzzled.
But Lukas only smiled.