Chapter 29: Tragic past - I Am a Villain, So What? - NovelsTime

I Am a Villain, So What?

Chapter 29: Tragic past

Author: Sensual_Sage
updatedAt: 2025-11-15

CHAPTER 29: TRAGIC PAST

"Alicia, stay. I need a word."

She paused mid-step, slowly turned back, then lowered herself back into the chair. Fingers interlaced over her skirt. Quiet. Waiting.

I didn’t speak immediately.

Only after Lily disappeared into the kitchen with the dishes did I finally open my mouth.

"You were a noble once... weren’t you."

The change on her face was immediate.

For a moment, her empty eyes actually cracked — bewilderment flickered, then surprise, then suspicion. She had never told anyone. Every soul who once knew that truth was either dead... or ashes.

"Don’t tense up," I said, lifting a hand. "If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t be sitting at the same table, having dinner."

Her voice was small, but steady. "H-How... do you know about my identity?"

"I never said I know who you are." I shrugged. "But I can tell you aren’t someone who grew up in a gutter."

She stared, processing my vague answer — still wary.

So I fed her a convenient lie.

"I have a special ability — I see the flow of mana in people."

Her eyes widened.

"Your mana capacity is absurd. Commoners don’t get that kind of foundation. The only ones who touch magic so young — are nobles."

She lowered her gaze.

Which meant: she bought it.

"...Do you want to tell me how you ended up here?" I asked.

Silence.

I didn’t push her — I let the quiet settle.

Eventually, her lips parted.

"My name... is Alicia Valemont."

Her voice was brittle — like she was scared the syllables might shatter.

"I was the youngest princess of the Valemont Kingdom. My parents doted on me. My siblings spoiled me. Our nation was small but beautiful..."

Her tone frayed as she continued — memories no longer held back.

Then came the monsters.

The dungeon outbreaks.

Cities falling overnight.

Her father at the borders, her brothers at the front lines — the capital collapsing from within.

Her words turned into fragments — choked, painful fragments.

"My mother—" her voice cracked — "I saw her get torn apart... right in front of me..."

She pressed her trembling hands to her face as if trying to erase the memory.

"And the knights who escaped with me... they died one by one... they died to buy me time..."

Then everything broke at once.

"...I ran... and ran... until my legs stopped working. And when I woke up — I was in chains. Just another cage. Another product to be sold."

Tears poured silently down her pale cheeks.

I wanted to say something. Something comforting. Something appropriate.

But what do you say to that?

I wasn’t a therapist. I wasn’t her savior. I wasn’t some righteous hero.

I was just sitting there — with no idea how to patch that kind of wound.

Before I could fumble with words, Lily suddenly appeared — quietly but firmly — and wrapped her arms around Alicia from the side. Held her. Steady. Soft palm patting her back.

Alicia broke.

Her suppressed grief came pouring out — raw, real, agonizing.

I looked away.

In the game, this tragedy was one line in a wiki page — "Valemont Kingdom was destroyed, only one royal survived."

Just a sentence.

But seeing it in front of me — seeing the actual damage that one line represented — her broken voice, her trembling frame — it hit me in the gut.

This world wasn’t a VN route or a stat page.

It was real.

Their pain wasn’t text anymore. It wasn’t narrative convenience. It wasn’t flavor lore.

"I’ll be upstairs," I said quietly, grabbing a pen and writing on a small scrap of paper. "Your rooms are on the first floor. Pick whichever you want. We’ll talk business tomorrow."

Neither of them replied. The sound of Alicia’s crying was the only thing in the room.

I left them there — closed the door behind me — and climbed up to my room.

And for the first time since arriving in this world — I couldn’t shake it.

This world wasn’t a game anymore.

Tragedy wasn’t a plot point.

With a heavy mind I walked to my room.

*****

The next morning, when I stepped out of my room, the first thing that hit me wasn’t the cool air — it was how clean everything looked.

The furniture had been dusted, floors wiped, shelves organized. Even the window frames gleamed faintly in the morning light.

I blinked.

"...When did all this happen?"

I checked the clock.

[ 6:00 AM.]

And the entire house was already spotless?

Downstairs, Lily was standing on a small stool, broom in hand, cleaning the wall corners like a seasoned professional maid. She must’ve been up at dawn — maybe earlier.

She noticed me and immediately bowed.

"Good morning, Boss."

"Good morning," I replied. "Is Alicia still asleep?"

"Yes," she said softly, expression dimming. "She cried until very late last night. I think exhaustion finally caught up to her."

I nodded.

"...Let her rest. She needs it."

Lily hesitated for a moment. Then, quietly:

"I didn’t know she had lived through something so cruel."

There was genuine heaviness in her voice, not pity — but empathy from someone who had seen her own share of hardship.

"Yeah," I exhaled. "Neither did I."

A moment passed.

I clapped my hands lightly to change the mood.

"Anyway, about breakfast—"

Her eyes immediately lit up like a cat who heard a can opening.

Just like Ariana.

Ah, food truly is the universal religion of this world.

I chuckled.

"Nothing complicated today. Something light. Something quick. I’ll handle the main part. You prepare the ingredients."

I opened the pantry and pointed one by one.

"Wash the vegetables, slice them thin — not thick. Don’t crush the onions, keep them crisp. Crack four eggs and whisk them — evenly, no lumps. And set aside that piece of meat — small cubes, not strips."

She nodded rapidly, absorbing every word like scripture.

"Yes, Boss."

"I’ll go wash up," I said, stretching.

"By the time I come back, have everything ready. Today is your first lesson — let’s see how fast you learn."

Her posture straightened, almost military-like.

"I won’t disappoint you."

I smirked and headed toward the bathroom.

Novel