The Baddest Villainess Is Back - Chapter 93
“Give me another useful ability, one that I can actually use.”
“Alright, I’ll grant you a blessing to ward off illness.”
“That should be a given, coming from you.”
Roxelyn, arms crossed, replied with unabashed confidence.
The corner of Sansar’s mouth twitched in response.
“…You told me about this before, haven’t you? The Kalutan myth of the Seven Stones,” Roxelyn asserted.
“…”
“Hand those over.”
“Have you lost your mind, Rose?”
“I’ve saved all your children, and you’re telling me you can’t give me that?”
Roxelyn’s frown deepened as she spoke.
“Give it here.”
She extended her hand boldly.
“Or, shall I just exploit my knowledge of the future for my benefit, draining Kaluta dry?”
“You…!”
“This is the least you can do to ensure my ongoing assistance.”
Roxelyn added, implying there were still mountains to conquer in her path.
As Sansar looked at her with a mix of irritation and begrudging respect, he snapped his fingers.
A bracelet composed of seven differently colored stones materialized on her wrist.
“…It’s quite tacky.”
Roxelyn remarked bluntly.
“What are you saying! How in the world did you come to know of this anyway? To think I ended up with such a friend…”
Sansar muttered, seemingly to himself, that nothing had really changed.
“Anyway, I’ve got something to tell you.”
Roxelyn’s gaze locked with Sansar’s.
She raised her hand to halt his forthcoming words.
Sansar stopped mid-sentence.
“What is it?”
“Begin by bestowing the blessing. Don’t skim on it.”
“…You’re really something, a true con artist.”
Sansar, though grumbling, blessed Roxelyn.
“Remember, after you die, you’ll be able to live again in your original world.”
“…”
“Sure, you won’t be able to live as ‘Roxelyn Bellion’, but it still presents an opportunity for a different future.”
Roxelyn remained silent, absorbing the gravity of his words.
“Think about it. In this world, nothing truly belongs to you.”
No sooner had Sansar finished speaking than Roxelyn’s vision blurred, plunging swiftly into darkness.
***
“Ugh.”
Roxelyn jerked awake, a severe headache pounding through her head, and her eyes flew open.
“Roxelyn…?”
The first sight that greeted her was Zerti, looking utterly worn.
His eyes were so bloodshot they seemed about to burst, and he looked stunned by Roxelyn’s abrupt awakening.
“Fath— augh… Father.”
Roxelyn shook her head slightly as she coughed, her throat dry.
She glanced momentarily at the bracelet swinging loosely around her wrist, then made a slow attempt to rise.
Or would have, had not the surrounding warmth enveloped her completely.
“Roxelyn… Roxelyn.”
The firm embrace that ensnared her caused Roxelyn’s eyes to widen in surprise.
“…”
This warmth, unfamiliar and awkward, was strange to Roxelyn.
It dawned on her that it had been an exceedingly long time since anyone had held her this close.
Warm and comforting, it was a sensation she found unexpectedly pleasant.
Roxelyn blinked slowly, realizing she was unable to return the embrace due to her arms also being wrapped up.
‘…It’s nice.’
Acknowledging this fact made her realize just how lonely she had been.
‘I was lonely, wasn’t I.’
She recalled saying something similar to Gerun before her presumed death.
“You… I thought… I thought I had lost you too.”
His voice quivered with emotion.
“I thought… I had killed you…”
‘…Hmm?’
Roxelyn tilted her head thoughtfully.
If Roxelyn had indeed died this time, it would have been solely due to her negligence.
Not managing her gaze properly and allowing her emotions to be detected by an adversary were mistakes she owned up to.
“I thought I had… killed you.”
“No, that’s not quite right.”
Roxelyn interrupted Zerti’s attempted explanation with a tone devoid of any warmth.
That dry, dispassionate voice caused Zerti to halt abruptly.
“I was the one who insisted on joining the envoy to Kaluta, so why would it be your fault, Father?”
“If I had firmly told you not to come here…”
“I would have come anyway.”
Roxelyn added nonchalantly.
“It’s not like I listen to others anyway.”
Zerti looked at Roxelyn with a trembling gaze, her coldness bordering on harshness.
‘…Others?’
A slight sense of being slighted welled up within him.
“Am I someone you consider ‘other’?”
“It’s just a figure of speech.”
“…”
What could he say when his daughter put it that way?
He had never been a father who properly looked after her, so he had no right to protest.