Failed To Abandon the Villain - Chapter 14

The report of the massacre at the Delight Count’s estate reached the capital through a merchant delivering food supplies.

The merchant, as usual, had gone to the estate to deliver goods, but immediately sensed something was wrong. The gates to the estate, which were typically closed, were wide open. Even more unusual, the guards who always stood watch were nowhere to be seen.

Calling out yielded no response, so the merchant cautiously ventured through the open gates. Strangely, not only was the main gate abandoned, but the entrance hall was devoid of life as well.

Still, as a lowly supplier whose job depended on timely deliveries, the merchant proceeded carefully into the estate. His progress was abruptly halted when, not far from the entrance, he stumbled upon the decapitated body of a soldier lying on the floor.

“Ahhhh!”

Screaming, the merchant fled the premises and reported the incident to the local guards.

The guards, sending one of their own to investigate, soon realized the severity of the situation. The lone guard who entered the estate came rushing back out almost immediately, unable to stomach what he had seen. The grotesque stench of blood filled the air, and the horrific sight of the mutilated bodies was more than the guard could endure.

Only after piecing together the guard’s fragmented account did the authorities grasp the magnitude of the incident. The Delight Estate massacre was then reported to the imperial court, bringing the gruesome case to light.

To uncover the truth behind the atrocity, the imperial capital dispatched highly trained knights. Ordinary soldiers could not bear the overwhelming smell of blood that permeated the mansion or endure the sight of the savagely dismembered corpses.

Of all the bodies, the most horrifying was that of Count Delight himself. None of the mansion’s residents, including the servants, were found alive. However, two individuals were conspicuously absent from the carnage: the Count’s only daughter, Valetta Delight, and a slave famed for her exceptional beauty. Despite exhaustive searches of the estate and its surroundings, no trace of them was found.

“…So, they still haven’t been located?”

Milrod’s deep blue eyes, usually so vibrant, now appeared dull and clouded. His voice was heavy with despair as he addressed the knight standing before him. The knight stiffened, holding a rigid stance in response to Milrod’s somber demeanor.

Dark circles loomed under Milrod’s sunken eyes—a testament to the sleepless nights he had endured since hearing of the massacre at the Delight Estate. The gravity of the incident weighed heavily on him, leaving him restless and tormented.

Three days had passed since the incident. Hoping for any news, Milrod had spent countless sleepless nights in his office, immersed in reports.

Yet despite the steady flow of updates, there was not a single mention of Valetta Delight. All he received were intermittent reports about the total number of victims, attempts to decode scattered papers found at the scene, and the exposure of Count Delight’s corruption. Valetta’s name never appeared.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the knight said apologetically.

“No, it’s fine,” Milrod replied, pressing his fingers firmly against his furrowed brow. Reaching for the stack of reports, which easily exceeded a hundred pages, he scanned them again, slower this time. But there was still no mention of Valetta Delight.

“There were traces of magic used, correct?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Have we sent a request for cooperation to the Mage’s Tower?”

“We have, but no response has come yet.”

Milrod let out a heavy sigh. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. Whether she had fled to the skies or disappeared underground, not a single trace of Valetta or any other survivors could be found.

Moreover, the revelation of Count Delight’s corruption in the reports made Milrod want to rip apart the image of himself he had so carefully maintained—always speaking well of the Count in front of Valetta.

The documents detailed not only the Count’s twisted hobby of buying and selling slaves but also his sadistic tendencies. Reading them, Milrod began to understand why Valetta had always looked so uncomfortable whenever the Count was praised for treating her “preciously.”

“Lady Valetta is a clever woman. If she found even the smallest chance to escape, she would have taken it. Whether it’s a hidden passage, a cellar, or even a crawlspace—search the entire estate thoroughly for any possible escape routes.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good. Inform me immediately if there’s any new information.”

“Understood.”

“You may go.”

With a short bow, the knight turned and left the office.

“Haa…” Milrod exhaled heavily, his expression dark with worry.

Valetta had always appeared indifferent, but he knew her to be someone who prioritized her own safety above all else. Cautious by nature, she avoided any situation that could endanger her. Even so, Milrod couldn’t deny his feelings for her, though she had never once reciprocated by calling him by name.

Now, however, strange rumors were spreading within high society. Whispers claimed that Valetta Delight herself had orchestrated the massacre at the Delight Estate. These accusations gained traction as suspicions about Count Delight’s abusive behavior surfaced.

“That’s impossible,” Milrod muttered firmly. While he hadn’t seen Valetta often, their long-standing connection made it inconceivable that she would commit such a crime.

The killings had been horrifyingly brutal—Milrod had seen the carnage with his own eyes. Those who examined the bodies reported that most of the victims’ limbs had been severed while they were still alive. Such an act required not only deep-seated hatred but also extraordinary audacity.

“She didn’t even have the strength to wield a sword.”

It was unthinkable that Valetta, with her physical limitations, could have carried out such precise, violent murders.

“And the slave disappeared with her, didn’t they?”

Had the two escaped together? Milrod furrowed his brow in thought, recalling yet another rumor circulating in the capital’s social circles.

Not long after the theory of Valetta’s involvement emerged, a peculiar tale began to spread—a story about the awakening of the Mage’s Tower’s master. The rumor speculated that the new master of the tower might actually be the missing slave.

“The origin of the rumor couldn’t be traced…”

Still, it couldn’t be entirely dismissed. After the previous master of the Mage’s Tower abdicated, no successor had been officially named, and the tower itself had vanished from sight.

Mages were notoriously disdainful of non-magical humans. If the slave had been both powerless and subjected to abuse, it wasn’t implausible that an awakening could have triggered an uncontrollable rampage.

The possibility seemed remote, yet Milrod couldn’t shake the unease that settled in his chest. Instead of dismissing the idea, it gnawed at him, feeding his growing sense of dread.

Milrod pressed his fingers to his throbbing temple. To assuage his growing unease, he had immediately requested assistance from the Mage’s Tower upon discovering traces of magic at the scene. Yet, for three days, there had been no response.

Even though the Mage’s Tower often isolated itself from the outside world, outright silence for such a long period was unprecedented.

“This is troubling,” he murmured, placing a hand on the windowpane as he gazed outside.

“Please, stay safe, Lady Valetta.”

He recalled their youth, when they had first met as prospective partners for an arranged marriage. She had been a woman he didn’t dislike—a quiet, composed girl who, despite her reserved nature, had the kindness to reach out to an injured animal.

“If you’re alive, I swear I’ll rescue you,” he vowed.

Through the window, the darkness of night was beginning to cloak the city. Reflected in the glass, Milrod’s eyes were resolute, unwavering in their determination.

Without delay, he returned to his desk, sat down, and began reading the reports from the very beginning, scrutinizing every detail anew.

* * *

Valetta bolted awake from her deep sleep in the highest room of the Mage’s Tower. A vivid memory from the novel she had read suddenly surfaced in her mind like a scene playing out before her eyes.

She had always known that the original Valetta had been obsessively attached to Reinhardt, but the specifics of that obsession had eluded her until now.

Now that she remembered, this was detailed in one of the novel’s side stories. It all made a bit more sense now. Why Reinhardt had killed Valetta so brutally and displayed her body afterward—it wasn’t just random cruelty.

“Ah, that’s why,” she thought, a resigned acknowledgment in her mind.

The story itself was filled with lunatics, save for the main male and female leads. Reinhardt was deranged, but so was Valetta, who had loved that madness in him. It was no wonder the entire situation spiraled into insanity.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Valetta muttered to herself, rubbing her temples in frustration.

At least she was alive—for now. But why was Reinhardt acting like this toward her? Even if she shared the name and appearance of the original Valetta, she hadn’t committed any of those obsessive or controlling actions.

She had known, in theory, that the original Valetta had been obsessively attached to Reinhardt. Yet the details had remained blurry, dismissed in her mind as she had skimmed over the side stories while reading the novel.

Why those memories were resurfacing now, she had no idea.

“Ugh, my head hurts,” she groaned, clutching her forehead, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of thoughts.

Sunlight poured in from every direction, making Valetta squint against the brightness. Slowly, she lifted her head and surveyed her surroundings.

The floor was covered with a soft, crimson rug designed to keep her feet from feeling cold, and she was sitting atop a luxurious bed placed at the center of the room.

‘Where am I?’

Cautiously, Valetta swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Moving towards the window, she peeked outside.

“…Clouds?”

Instead of other buildings, mountains, people, or even sprawling natural scenery, the only thing visible beyond the glass was an endless expanse of floating clouds.

A description from the novel surfaced vividly in her mind:

“The tower was an imposing, dreary gray structure. At its summit was a room reserved solely for the Master of the Mage’s Tower. At night, it offered a stunning view of stars that seemed close enough to touch, while during the day, sunlight streamed in from all directions, enveloping the space in warmth. The scenery outside the windows was not the monotonous human world but the serene, drifting clouds and boundless blue sky. For mages who stole mana from nature, a space constantly in touch with the elements was invaluable.”

Valetta’s face twisted in frustration at the memory.

‘Please, let this be a dream.’

She silently pleaded.