Chapter 51 Death to the Villainess
Weeks had passed since the day Amaria had tea with Esmeralda.
But these weeks were perfectly awaited.
Amaria had learned that rushing things only led to mistakes—and mistakes were a luxury she could not afford.
The news did not arrive all at once.
At first—
nothing.
Then came the whispers.
Soft murmurs from passing maids. Hushed conversations that quieted the moment she entered a room.
And then—
"My lady, your daily newspaper has arrived," a maid said, presenting her with a neatly bundled parchment.
"Thank you," Amaria replied with a gentle smile.
The maid bowed and quickly took her leave.
Amaria unfolded the parchment.
Her eyes scanned the page once.
The room fell silent.
Only the soft rustle of parchment broke the stillness as she turned the page.
A smile had formed on her lips.
Small at first.
But it spread wider when the moment lingered.
"...How exciting." she said in an innocently gentle tone.
She knew exactly what would happen next. The disease would not kill immediately.
No—
it would wither.
It would drain.
It would leave behind something hollow before it took everything.
Her death will be one of the most poetic descent to hell.
She thought, her smile not once left her lips.
Then—
she paused.
Excitement alone was not enough. She needed certainty that her plan had worked.
And there was only one way to confirm it immediately.
Rael
Amaria rose from her seat, the fabric of her dress whispering softly as she moved toward the door.
The moment she stepped outside, a maid straightened.
"Yes, my lady?" she asked attentively.
"Oh," Amaria said lightly, offering a soft smile, "I simply wished to take a short stroll. The atmosphere in my room feels a bit... suffocating."
"Of course," the maid replied, lowering her head. " I will accompany you, my lady."
"There is no need." she said, her smile never once faltering. "I would like to stroll alone. Thank you for your concern."
"As you wish, my lady."
And with that—
Amaria walked on.
To any passerby, it appeared to be nothing more than a leisurely stroll.
But her steps were anything but.
Each one carried her closer—
toward the Crown Prince's office.
When she was finally near, she noticed the door was not fully closed.
A narrow gap remained where she could see the situation inside.
Crash.
The sound echoed sharply from within.
Something heavy struck the ground.
Then another.
And another.
All Amaria could see was Rael's back and everything around him in disarray.
Nothing like the composed posture he usually carried.
Amaria's fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Her pulse quickened.
Through the gap, she caught only fragments—
papers scattered across the floor, a chair pushed aside, shadows shifting with uneven movement.
But that was enough.
She didn't need his face to confirm.
She could already see—
The frustration.
The desperation.
The loss of control.
A slow breath left her lips.
Her smile deepened.
This was exactly the kind of reaction she expected from Rael who treasured Esmeralda dearly.
Still—
it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
She wanted to see with her own two eyes Esmeralda's condition. And the only way to do that was to visit Esmeralda herself.
Not long after, she had sent a letter to the Duchy requesting to visit her dear friend who was now sick from a genetic disease.
And just as quickly, she was granted permission to visit.
She didn't waste any time preparing. When she was granted an audience, she immediately travelled to the duchy.
When she arrived, the Schuan duchy felt... different.
As if something had already been lost.
Servants moved more quietly.
Their eyes lowered.
Their steps careful.
When Amaria entered, she could feel it immediately—
that suffocating weight that came before grief fully settled.
Perfect.
She thought as she was led inside the guest room of the household.
And then—
she saw her.
Esmeralda.
Her posture was weaker than before, her frame lighter—as though something had been steadily taken from her.
Her skin had lost its warmth, replaced by a pale, almost translucent hue.
And the marks—
those unmistakable violet stains—
scattered across her arms, her collarbone, the faintest edge visible near her neckline.
Amaria's breath caught.
Just enough.
"...Lady Esmeralda...!"
She rushed forward, her voice trembling, her steps quick but controlled—never too fast, never too slow.
Her eyes shimmered instantly.
Tears forming with practiced ease.
"How did this—how could this happen—?"
Her hands hovered near Esmeralda's, careful not to grip too tightly.
Careful not to expose anything.
Esmeralda looked up at her.
And smiled faintly.
"I suppose... this was inevitable."
Her voice was softer than Amaria remembered.
"...I was told," Esmeralda continued, her breathing shallow, "that Lilac's Disease... can be hereditary."
A pause.
"...So perhaps... it was always going to be me."
Amaria shook her head quickly, tears spilling over.
"No... no, that can't be—"
"It's not your fault."
The words came gently.
Without hesitation.
And for a moment—
Amaria almost laughed.
But instead—
she broke.
Tears fell freely as she lowered her head, shoulders trembling just enough to seem real.
And no one—
no one would question it.
That night—
Amaria hummed a joyful tune while she brushed her hair alone in front of the mirror with a quiet, breathless joy that she could no longer contain.
Her feet were light against the floor, her laughter soft—almost swallowed by the walls of her room.
"...Finally..."
It was over.
It was finally over.
Esmeralda would disappear.
Just like that.
But—
Her smile dimmed slightly.
Something felt... off.
Everything is going smoothly.If she allowed herself to revel in victory too soon, it might come back to haunt her before this was truly finished.
She needed to make sure it would not trace back to her.
If anyone were to discover that her blood carried a toxin capable of mimicking a genetic disease, she would no longer be seen as the Goddess' blessed child.
She would be branded something else entirely.
An entity against the Goddess who loved the world, she would be branded as the devil herself.
And the only way to ensure that it does not happen...
was to erase the evidence.
---
The annex garden greeted her in silence.
The soil remained undisturbed.
Exactly as she had left it.
Amaria crouched down, her fingers brushing against the earth before she began to dig.
One by one, she unearthed the remains of the birds, placing them into the sack she had brought with her.
Under the cover of night, she slipped out of the palace grounds.
A lake far enough from the palace awaited her.
She stood at its edge for a moment before lifting the sack.
Then—
without a second thought—
she let it fall.
The water swallowed it whole.
Relief settled in her chest.
Everything remained perfect.
Days later—
Amaria's much anticipated announcement came.
Her smile could not be contained. Everything was finally over. The world will finally revolve around her again.
She finally gets what she deserves.
---
The Basilica church stood tall beneath the muted sky.
Amaria arrived dressed in mourning black, her veil resting lightly over her hair, her expression carefully arranged.
But the crowd was smaller than expected.
Her gaze swept the room.
The duke stood rigid.
His expression unreadable—too controlled.
Marcus stood beside him silently.
There was something in his gaze that lingered too long.
The duchess remained veiled.
Her quiet sobs filled the silence.
Amaria approached her gently.
"My deepest condolences, Your Grace..."
Her voice trembled just enough.
The duchess stilled.
Then—
"...Thank you."
But she stepped away.
Not rudely.
Not abruptly.
But intentionally.
Amaria noticed but filed it away and smiled faintly beneath her grief.
"It is now time for the family and friends to bid their final farewell." the priest proclaimed.
They lined up.
One by one.
Approaching the casket.
Amaria waited at the very back.
Her hands folded neatly before her.
Her pulse steady.
But inside—
anticipation burned.
At last.
Her turn.
She stepped forward slowly, as if taking in the moment for the fruit of her labor.
Her gaze lowered as she approached.
Now...
Let me see you one last time—
She looked.
—and froze.
The casket—
was empty.
Her thoughts fractured.
No—
That's not possible—
"Did you enjoy our little play..."
A voice spoke behind her.
"...dear Blessed Child?"
Everything stopped.
Amaria turned slowly.
And saw—
Esmeralda.
Alive and standing.
Dressed in black, her appearance immaculate, her gaze sharp, no purple marks visible on her skin—nothing like the fragile figure she had seen days before.
Behind her—Rael and Aziel stood, their presence a quiet warning that Esmeralda was no longer someone to be cornered.
Amaria's composure cracked.
Just for a second.
Her expression twisted—
shock,
disbelief,
something close to fear.
"...You—"
Her voice faltered.
At that moment—
Amaria did not know what to say.
And she knew right then—
she had lost control.