The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 51: Don't Stick Your Nose Into Other People's Business (3)

Michail.

With his silver hair.

A modest height of 168cm.

A pretty boy with skin as white as porcelain.

A virtuous personality.

A handsome appearance.

A voice slender and unripe.

Michail was a character who held the essence of all the elements female readers liked; in opposition to the stalwart frame of the Crown Prince and Ruin, he presented a different kind of appeal.

Different from the Crown Prince with his allelic charm and the thuggish Ruin, Michail was an important character who firmly believed that ‘strength' existed to protect the weak and was unable to tolerate injustice, making him a key presence in the novel that offered both relief and frustration with his sense of rightness.

He forgave the villain who had tried to kill him, erroneously darkened the path of a friend—formerly an ally—and even put the female lead in danger through needless meddling, leading to trouble. All because he only knew too well about honesty and justice, a character inducing aggravation.

That is the Michail I remember, and such was the assessment of him.

What Michail thinks of us, I do not know, but one thing is for sure, I do not like Michail and Michail does not like me either.

The young lady and I had wrecked half of Michail’s freshman year, and in turn, Michail had ruined her.

I resented it.

An inherently mutual disdain is what characterized our relationship.

That was the relationship between Michail and me.

*

A man with silver hair carrying the moonlight's caress is drawing near with a deadly air.

Once at the fleeing miscreant.

Twice as he looked at me, standing haphazardly.

Thrice when he frowned upon seeing blood on the blade.

Michail's piercing eyes were flickering intensely.

"Damn you…"

Michail hissed a curse. Would he really want to greet an old friend he hadn't seen in so long with such words? Not even a simple ‘glad to see you' in exchange.

Exhaling a sigh against his frigid demeanor, I unleashed a blade's qi towards the runaway. It was essential to be calculated.

‘Argh…' Upon the scream resonating from the alley's other end, Michail gripped the handle of his sword, ready to charge at any moment.

As I wielded my sword emotionlessly, Michail yelled at me.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Be quiet."

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"What are you doing…!"

"Isn't it quite late?"

An awkward atmosphere lingered.

Why Michail was here.

What Michail was thinking.

I had my guesses, but to confirm, I decided to ask him directly. It's more accurate to hear it from himself rather than making assumptions alone.

Brushing the blood from the blade, I spoke to Michail.

"Michail, please, calm down."

"You're telling me to calm down after seeing me like this?"

"I could very well be the victim here."

"Spout some sense, at least."

"That's quite hurtful. To think how vulnerable I am."

Cold glances were exchanged. The silent words ‘I despise you' filled the quiet alley.

I posed a question to Michail.

"Why are you here in such a dreary place? Can someone as eminent and busy as yourself from the Empire afford to be seen here?"

"I didn't wish to come to your abode… but I heard cries for help. Then, what are you doing here?"

"Uh… Cleaning?"

Upon hearing the word ‘cleaning', Michail drew his sword. The prospect of equating people to trash seemed not to sit well with him. Although my words were softened, the sight of Michail reaching for his sword was still disappointing.

I uttered a cautionary word to Michail.

"Think you can handle what comes next?"

He halted.

Michail stopped drawing his sword and looked at me. He understood the significance of my inquiry.

Here, there was no crowd, no young lady to mediate the tension. This was no Royal Academy where peace and order reigned.

Only Michail and I stood in the silent alley.

My question was teeming with implications.

The challenge of whether or not he could win, and a threat that a mere spar wouldn't be the end of it, lay compacted in those brief words.

In this foul mood, I was capable of hurting Michail by mistake.

To earnestly fight someone who cannot employ aura would not befit a swordsman, yet for me, in my current loathsome state, it was entirely within the realm of possibility.

Whenever I saw Michail, I was reminded of the lady.

A flashback of the lady laid out on her bed, coupled with the vision of Michail's harsh treatment of her, made it impossible for me to stifle my wrath.

Contrary to appearances, my mental fortitude is weak.

Though I am resistant to offensive dad jokes.

And can generally take some verbal abuse, when it comes to Michail uttering the lady's name, I feel an overwhelming urge to demolish everything, regardless of whether he is the supporting male lead or something else.

Thus, I questioned.

"Can you handle it?"

If we were to fight now, I feared no moderation in my retaliation. Seeing his face was genuinely unpleasant to the point I wanted desperately to leave right then, but fleeing would likely lead Michail to report me to the guards or build up even more misunderstandings, prompting me to suppress my rage and inquire.

Already loathed by someone fated to become the mightiest in this universe, I did not wish to provoke him with idle words and become the target of resentment even after the story’s conclusion.

So here I am, holding back my anger, playing along with Michail's clumsy provocation.

Michail drew his sword.

"Do you think you can handle it?"

It seems my genuine concern did not reach him.

Michail, radiating a blue-tinted blade, walked slowly toward me. His muttering voice reached my ears vividly. ‘Physical acceleration. Strength enhancement. Shield.' Upon seeing Michail preparing battle support magic spells, I gripped my sword tightly.

‘I wish he would just leave quietly…'

Michail's body shone faintly. His hair fluttered about due to the surrounding mana, and with a heavy breath inhaled, Michail's figure seemed all the more trivial.

Should I say I was disappointed?

Disappointment was the first thing I felt at Michail's lack of growth, falling short of expectations. By now, I thought he'd be able to use enhancement magic in conjunction with Shadowless Windows, but he couldn't even do that, his excited observation of the surroundings being just as clumsy.

With things like this…

It doesn't seem like this event will be a success…

Michail, pointing the tip of his sword at me, said,

"You haven't changed at all. Harassing the weak, treating murder as casually as eating a meal…"

"People don't change that easily. And one should live with some backbone."

"That kind of backbone isn't needed. Stubbornness that only torments others and never knows forgiveness is evil."

"You'd be mistaken for a clergyman. Always forgiving. Have you forgiven us, then?"

Grind. The sound of Michail grinding his teeth reached me.

"You all crossed the line."

"Crossing the line is supposedly what Michail does. It's not like it's racism."

"Don't play word games."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes either."

Michail challenged me as if demanding an answer.

"You said cleaning… Is that what you call bullying those pitiful people?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

"Madman," Michail muttered under his breath. He glared at me with eyes full of loathing, eyes I had seen before at the Royal Academy.

Those were the eyes Michail looked at me with on the day our relationship truly started to sour. Overflowing with disappointment, a reminiscence of times when you said it wouldn't be like this.

"You killed them?"

"…I had no choice."

"I'm asking you if you killed them!"

"…I'm sorry."

An unpleasant memory.

Michail questioned me as if cross-examining, still filled with cold hatred and resentment toward me.

"You've always been like this… If it displeases you, kill, and make sure they can never rise again, trample them ruthlessly."

"There must be a reason for that."

"No, you are different. You lack principles, you cross lines."

To Michail's definitive statement, I responded with a faint smile, mixing sincerity with provocation, unable to merely stand passive as Michail approached. It seemed the misunderstanding wouldn't be cleared up.

"Then, has Michail ever heard my story?"

"What?"

"At the Academy and even now, you rush to judgment without asking why. If it seems bad, it's bad, but if I'm going to be seen as bad anyway, isn't it better to live wickedly?"

"Again…"

I looked down the deep alley where the vagrants had disappeared.

"Do those guys look like good people to you?"

"They might not be good, but they're still pitiful."

"They might've killed someone. Maybe even worse."

"They could have had their reasons."

I chuckled as if the notion was absurd.

"Pitiful? You say that knowing nothing."

"At least they seem more pitiful than you, who torments the weak."

"Could you say that if Yuria was endangered by that guy?"

"What?"

"Didn't Yuria tell you?"

Michail clenched his sword. A chuckle escaped me at the sight of Michail spewing nonsense, looking only at what he wanted to see, an utter fool.

I stepped forward with my sword.

It seemed we wouldn't clear up this misunderstanding.

No matter what I said, it seemed he wouldn't listen, and continuing this conversation with someone whose mind is filled with justice, sympathy, and forgiveness felt like crossing a line.

I spoke to Michail, who was shouting at me.

"Shut up. It's noisy."

The moment a red aura enveloped my sword and an overwhelming sense of oppression blanketed Michail.

Michail's vision went dark.