Failed To Abandon the Villain - Chapter 12

After a moment of stillness, he moved again, brushing his thumb across her lips with deliberate slowness.

“You’re far too kind for this kind of entertainment, Master. I’ll handle it myself,” he said cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just declared his intent to spill more blood.

“Honestly, if I were to rip out the guts of that thing that dared to treat you like a circus clown and scatter them everywhere, it still wouldn’t feel like enough.”

Valetta’s stomach churned at his words. The pleasant smile on his face made the statement all the more chilling.

She wanted to ask to be released, to be sent away, but her lips were sealed once again. She gave up trying to speak, choosing instead to simply watch him with wary eyes.

“You’re the finale, Master. Wait here,” he said, his voice dripping with a sweetness that belied his actions.

He reached out, gently smoothing her disheveled hair as if he were the kindest person in the world, before turning away.

The finale?

Valetta’s expression hardened as the weight of his words settled on her.

“Damn it, so this is how it ends.”

He glanced at Valetta briefly and flashed her a reassuring smile. Then, without hesitation, he stepped over the corpses as if they were nothing, striding straight toward Count Delight.

There was no need for further explanation. What unfolded before Valetta’s eyes was sheer massacre.

Two figures, cloaked and hooded, had rounded up every living person in the mansion and herded them into the dining hall. Reinhardt then tossed weapons to the trembling captives, shaking in terror at the carnage in front of them. It was a twisted invitation to fight back if they dared.

But the gap between Reinhardt’s abilities and theirs was as vast as the heavens and the earth. Even their desperate attempts to fight back didn’t qualify as a struggle. With a serene smile on his face, Reinhardt effortlessly subdued them, flicking a single finger.

“I’ll give you a chance,” he said.

As if that wasn’t enough, his voice was sweet and tempting, like an alluring promise.

“Run. If you can get out of this dining hall alive, I swear I won’t touch you again.”

And with that, he plunged them into despair.

His voice sounded like the one from the fairy tale The Sun and the Moon—the same one who lowered a rotten rope. Sweet as honey, seemingly generous, yet utterly deceptive.

The scene, however, was beyond grim. No one had legs intact enough to run. Whether broken, severed, or otherwise rendered useless, escape was an impossible notion.

Still, those clinging to life crawled pathetically, only to be watched by Reinhardt’s amused yet cold gaze.

“Oh, come to think of it, wasn’t it this foot you used to kick me, calling me unlucky?”

“Hic… hic… It wasn’t me… It wasn’t…”

One maid, gritting her teeth against the pain, writhed on the floor, shaking her head frantically in denial.

Reinhardt chuckled low, as though he’d just heard a highly amusing story. Yet his eyes, and now his expression, were stone-cold.

“I hate lies.”

At the flick of his finger, her other leg was hoisted into the air, bending at an unnatural angle.

“Aaaaaaaah!”

A blood-curdling scream pierced the room, and Valetta’s face twisted in horror. Even without the smell of blood, the sound of bones breaking sent shivers down her spine.

Reinhardt seemed to notice her reaction. With another snap of his fingers, the maid’s lips clamped shut, silencing even her groans of pain.

“Shh, you’ll scare the master.”

Your blood-soaked face is far more terrifying, she thought bitterly.

Reinhardt glanced at her with a kind smile before continuing his swift, efficient movements.

The same process repeated itself. It was as though Reinhardt had meticulously cataloged every wrong done to him over the past ten years, and now he recited their sins in vivid detail.

Some of these revelations were shocking even to Valetta.

“Didn’t you throw a couple of fairy tales at me, telling me to cover your back?”

“You used me as a chair.”

As he trampled over the backs of the servants, he spoke deliberately, as if ensuring Valetta heard every word.

This wasn’t in the novel. If things had changed, then it was Reinhardt himself who had caused the change.

Why?

Was he trying to make her feel guilty?

Listening to Reinhardt, Valetta couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of astonishment that clouded her thoughts. She let out a dry laugh, her mind spinning.

But guilt? She felt none. She had done her best. No one had listened to her. They had sneered, mocked her, and tormented her just the same.

She had warned them repeatedly, yet they hadn’t heeded her words. Behind her back, they had tormented Reinhardt in ways she hadn’t imagined.

Not an ounce of regret stirred within her. Nor did she want any. This was their just desserts. They had brought this upon themselves, even after being warned.

“Urgh… uh…”

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

At the groan from behind, Reinhardt’s expression flickered briefly with feigned surprise. With a slight wave of his hand, a sword that had been lying on the ground floated into the air, aimed directly at Count Delight’s heart.

With a sickening thud, the blade plunged through his chest. His trembling, half-alive body slumped lifelessly, his head lolling to the side. Thanks to Reinhardt’s chilling precision, not a single drop of blood spilled.

The entire scene unfolded like a surreal movie. Reality felt distant, as if it were slipping away.

How much time had passed?

Thud. The door opened again, and two robed figures entered, dragging three more servants and maids into the dining hall before tossing them onto the floor.

“These are the last survivors in this mansion.”

“Quite the estate, with so many pests to take care of.”

It was a remark colder than any casual observation. The three dragged in had no chance to scream their last; ice spears pierced their bodies instantly, leaving them sprawled lifelessly on the floor.

It happened so quickly that it was hard to believe they had been alive just moments ago.

…Wow.

And yet, Valetta envied them. At least they were sent to the afterlife in a single moment.

Reinhardt looked down at the three lifeless bodies in silence, then let out a long sigh before turning around with a graceful spin.

“Well, now it’s just you, Master,” he said, his voice sweet and melodic, like a siren luring sailors to their doom. Slowly, he began to approach her.

* * *

Reinhardt gazed down at Valetta, who had fainted, unable to withstand the fatigue washing over her and the shock of pain piercing through her chest.

Her robes were a mess, smeared with blood, likely from her collapsing onto the floor at the end. His brows furrowed, and a faint groan of discomfort escaped him, as though the scene irritated him.

“Will you not kill her, my lord?”

One of the robed figures asked, pulling back their hood. The man standing beside him also removed his hood.

The first revealed jet-black hair and piercing golden eyes, while the second was strikingly beautiful, with pale sky-blue hair brushing his neck and deep sapphire eyes.

“I’m still deciding,” Reinhardt replied.

“Is it because of her alchemical abilities? Or perhaps her spirit magic? Neither is a common talent. I imagine she could be useful,” the black-haired man said coolly.

“If I needed that much, I would have forced her into submission by now.”

He could have, after all. At Reinhardt’s indifferent remark, both men exchanged looks of surprise.

Ignoring them, Reinhardt crouched in front of Valetta and began to brush her blood-matted hair with his fingers.

Her once-white, gaunt cheeks bore no trace of warmth; only dried, darkened blood remained. Her once-lustrous hair was a disheveled mess, scattered across the floor.

As she let out soft, labored breaths, her face relaxed into a deep sleep, yet her brows remained furrowed, as if even unconsciousness could not grant her peace.

Reinhardt’s bloodied hand rested gently against the nape of her neck.

“If you won’t wholly become mine… then perhaps…”

Perhaps killing her and keeping only her corpse wouldn’t be so bad. His crimson eyes glinted menacingly for a moment before they closed slowly.

But if he did, she would no longer possess warmth, nor would she ever smile at him.

He pushed the thought aside. His forefinger trailed from the nape of her neck to her cheek, poking it lightly.

“It’s infuriating,” he muttered.

Still, if asked whether he wanted to kill her again, the answer was no.

His outburst was more about ten years of pent-up frustration at her refusal to acknowledge him—even by name.

“Silon,” he called.

“Yes, my lord,” the blue-haired man responded immediately, his voice as soft as a spring breeze.

“Do you think it’s possible to live with someone for ten years and never once call them by their name?”

“…Not impossible, but I imagine most wouldn’t,” Silon replied thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

Yet Valetta Delight had done just that.

Not only with Reinhardt but with everyone in the mansion. She never remembered anyone’s name or called anyone by it.

When addressing someone, it was always “Hey,” “You,” or “Over there.”

So she did remember, Reinhardt thought bitterly.

She remembered his name. But the fact that she never used it made her neglect all the more maddening.

“Father! Please, just get rid of that slave! He’s going to be nothing but trouble in the future, I’m sure of it!”

Reinhardt blinked slowly, sifting through the memories that surfaced. She had always insisted that he be sent away or, failing that, sold off to someone else as quickly as possible.

By the last year, she had practically begged Count Delight on a near-weekly basis to rid the household of him.

Why? He truly wanted to ask her.

I can always take my time, he thought. There was no need to rush. She was his now, and he no longer had to bow his head to anyone.

Having made up his mind, Reinhardt slid his arm under her back and supported her knees before standing effortlessly.

“By the way, wasn’t this supposed to happen a week ago? Any particular reason for the delay?”

“It was her birthday.”

Reinhardt lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. Something he had only ever been able to watch from afar was now finally in his grasp. A satisfied smile curled his lips.