A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

When I heard Raon’s story, I wasn’t sure what to do with the empty mansion.

 

But if it was going to become a tourist attraction for thieves, I might as well go out and sell herbs myself.

 

It would attract more eyes, and a clear path for the stolen herbs would deter thieves.

 

But it’s not easy to find someone who knows herbs, and I don’t have the time to do it myself.

 

Plus, I’d risk revealing my identity,

‘So, I don’t have to reveal myself?’

 

I just need someone to take care of things for me publicly.

 

If it’s someone who takes good care of it and could pull out the herbs when needed, that’s great.

 

But they had to be honest and knowledgeable about herbs.

 

Someone who wouldn’t be tempted to sell poisonous herbs for big bucks.

 

‘I thought those were tough conditions.’

 

Percival hesitated, and then his voice dropped.

 “My mother told me not to be friendly with Britain.” 

‘Well, I’m half Avalonian!’

 

Apparently, he believed his mother’s words.

 

It didn’t make sense to me, since her mother was the only person she knew in the mountains.

 

Although she was a Briton at heart, her future was too dangerous to reveal her connection to Avalon.

 

She was also the illegitimate child of the officially recognized Fay family, which was a recipe for trouble if anything bad were to happen.

 

‘If only there were someone like me, someone from Avalon, but with ties to both sides of the ocean, someone with a title in Britain…’

 

There’s no such person…

 

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, followed by a soft voice through the door.

 “Lady, please allow me in.” 

The door swung open and a fresh-faced Kellive walked in. A wide grin spread across his face.

 “…There you are!” 

The perfect candidate was right in front of her.

 

Someone from the countryside, with no presence in Avalon, and about to be knighted by marriage in Britain!

 

Morgana laughed, tugging invisibly at his sleeve as he approached.

 “No, Percival. I may be in Britain, but I know people from all over the world!” 

Bewildered, he followed her gesture and sat down close beside her.

 “You’re being very proactive today.” 

Morgana eagerly tapped her foot under the table and squinted one eye at him.

 

‘Look, look, here it is!’

 

The words actually came out of his mouth in a very casual, laid-back voice.

 “Things are pretty unconventional right off the bat.” 

Yes, to seduce Percival with the kind of unconventional appearance that would overcome even the most shy person with a Confucius smile!

 

Taking Morgana’s cue, Kellive smiled casually and straightened his posture.

 “So, what do you think of Avalon?” “Mmm… it’s a nice kingdom!” “Your mother did a good job educating you.” 

No, why bring that up here?

 

Morgana impatiently slapped the thigh of the man sitting next to her several times.

 

Wondering if it was an illusion, she looked down at her hand, her eyes narrowing.

 

‘Is this a human body…?’

 

The sword-wielder hadn’t been lying; he was more muscular than I’d expected beneath his well-cut clothes.

 

Perhaps it was because he wore only dark clothing.

 

The black fabric hid a physique that was more pronounced than expected.

 

Sneaking a sideways glance, her gaze met his as he glanced over her shoulder, looking down at her.

 

Embarrassed, Morgana coughed awkwardly and clasped her hands together.

 “I accidentally hit it, I guess?” 

When she protested, Kellive simply smirked and patted his thigh where Morgana had touched it.

 “You’re on the mark.” 

A moment of desperate embarrassment.

 

Morgana felt a strange sensation in her hand as she touched him without reservation.

 

The black gloves he wore hadn’t been worn as long as before, and the stiffness of the knuckles showed through.

 

‘…Were these the same gloves he wore earlier?’ 

 

As he straightened his gloves on the way to the mansion, the memory lingered unintentionally.

 

The color and material looked similar, but decisively, the shape of the glove around the back of his hand was different.

 

Where the gloves had come down to his wrists, they now fell in a rounded pattern over the back of his hand, revealing a bit of flesh through the sleeve of his coat.

 

He was late to the party, following the mercenaries to catch the thief.

 

‘You didn’t even have a sword.’

 

Not all thieves were as innocent as Percival.

 

As Morgana stared at his gloves, Kellive casually gestured to Percival and moved out of her line of sight.

 “Can you come closer for a moment?” “Sure.” 

Grunting, Percival poked his head over the table, and muttered something under his breath.

 

I strained to hear what he said, but all I could hear through the whispers was Percival’s exclamation.

 

Soon, Percival’s complexion brightened.

 “I’m going to ask my mom for permission!” 

She wasn’t sure what their little game plan was, but it seemed to be working.

 

Morgana, having gotten the gist of it, spoke softly, as if waiting.

 “So, while you’re getting me some herbs, could you give your mother one of my letters? Do either of you know how to read?” “Yes!” 

Unlike before, the voice was raspy and full of energy.

 

On a piece of paper the mercenary had brought with him, she quickly scribbled down the details of what happened to her son.

 

She purposely left out the part about Britain, and instead emphasized the herbs, saying that there were people of many origins around.

 

And the best part.

 

As Morgana scribbled in the familiar handwriting, the mercenary standing behind her poked his head out and asked.

 “Miss, what’s that in the middle?” “My money chain.” 

As the mercenary scratched his head in bewilderment, Morgana added a final line, offering a place to stay if they wanted to come down in person.

 

Checking it over carefully, she glanced at Percival, who was fidgeting in front of her as she wrote, and instructed the mercenary.

 “Galek, would you mind carrying the child to the guest room?” “Oh, I’ll carry him.” 

Kellive started to rise, but Morgana, who had grabbed his arm firmly in place, insisted.

 “Galek, please.” “Yes, Miss.” 

He quickly scooped Percival into his arms and left the reception room.

 

When the door closed behind them, Kellive eased back into his seat, his eyes twinkling.

 “It’s late, you must be tired, get some rest.” 

Morgana turned to face him and smiled back, then shook her head.

 

Still holding tightly to one of his arms, she pretended to hold out her other hand.

 “Give me your hand.” “Do you think I’ll need an escort?”

said Kellive.

 

Kellive deftly grasped the outstretched hand lightly and tried to kiss the back of it.

 

It was a natural evasion, but Morgana snatched the hand back and held it out again.

 

‘No way. You think you can get away with it?’ 

 

She shook her head and gestured for him to hurry up and give her his hand.

 “You changed your gloves, didn’t you?” “You knew that?” “Well, how could I not when I had eyes and saw them?” “They’re just spares, nothing to worry about.” “Then you can take it off, right!” 

Instead of answering, Morgana forcibly grabbed his hand and tried to pull the glove off, but it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be.

 

He was bigger than she was, and it was hard enough to wrestle with his one hand with both hands.

 

Until she could see the tendons in the back of his hand.

 “…What is this?” 

A small scar came into view.

 

The wounds looked old and festering, more rough than sharp. Despite its pristine and noble exterior, it was scarred beneath.

 

I was so surprised, his palms felt thick.

 

‘Look at this sweaty palms.’

 

No, that’s not polite.

 

Morgana lifted her hand to wipe the sweat away with as little embarrassment as she could muster, but to her surprise, it was a sticky black liquid.

 

Morgana’s eyes popped out of her head and she exclaimed.

 “Blood?!” 

All the while, Kellive smiled calmly,

“It’s not pretty, so why don’t you stop looking at it? I’m pretty sure there are other places to look besides my hand.” “Did you get hurt chasing the thief?” “Never mind, it’s not a major injury.” 

Certainly, looking at his bare hand, he had reason to believe it wasn’t a big deal.

 

Tack—

I examined his arm, and it was no different from his hand.

 

Morgana’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of his palm, which looked like it was on fire.

 “Something you don’t know, Confucius, is that I hate blood. I’m not into gore, horror, or anything like that.” 

What’s the point of buying a movie if it’s a horror?