Failed To Abandon the Villain - Chapter 23

Valetta parted her lips to refuse but instead let out a small sigh and reached out her hand.

His long hair was like the finest silk.

So soft.

It was almost softer than her own, which, for some reason, pricked at her pride.

“Sometimes, Master, you seem like a god merely watching over a story unfold.”

Reinhardt spoke with his eyes closed.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Hmm.”

Valetta’s fingers slowly ran through his hair.

A low hum of pleasure escaped Reinhardt’s lips, and soon, he smiled faintly.

“Even when people die before your eyes, even if you were the one hanging upside down in the void… you always have that look.”

His lips moved again, whispering softly.

“As if everything was already decided—as if nothing could be changed.”

Valetta’s hand froze.

His words struck too close.

Her expression stiffened slightly as she looked down at him.

By then, Reinhardt had already lifted his head, his eyes glowing as he silently observed her.

“I was like that once, too. But even knowing my fate, I sometimes got angry.

But you, my patient Master, never did.”

“…You knew it was fate?”

“You may not have known what path I would have taken if I had left your side, but I did.”

Reinhardt avoided answering her directly, smiling as he slowly pushed himself up.

Then, gently, he pressed on her shoulders, guiding her down onto the bed.

His cold fingers trailed up her neck, brushing against her forehead.

Valetta remained silent, staring up at him as he straddled her, meeting her gaze.

“Every time I see you, I want to start at your fingertips—biting down, chewing, devouring you whole…”

His lips curved into a soft arc.

“But you’d get angry, wouldn’t you?

So, I’ll wait. Until you allow it.”

“…What the hell are you even saying?”

“Oh, and since this is my room too, can I sleep next to you, Master?”

“If I tell you not to, will you actually listen?”

At Valetta’s question, Reinhardt widened his eyes in an exaggerated display of surprise. But his feigned innocence barely lasted a second before it melted into a smile—one that could just as easily seduce a man as it could mock her.

“If you don’t let me, you might not get any sleep at all.”

“……”

“As expected, my wise Master.”

Valetta didn’t respond, but perhaps sensing her silent surrender, Reinhardt swiftly took it as praise.

She let out a quiet sigh, turning her gaze away.

“And get some sleep early tonight. You must be tired.”

Reinhardt’s palm smoothed over her hair. With every slow stroke, her consciousness slipped further and further away, until finally—like a switch being flipped—her awareness was cut off completely.

Just before she lost consciousness entirely…

This lunatic…

The thought drifted through her mind, unfinished, before her eyes finally closed.

The moment her steady breathing filled the room, the summoned Jin vanished, reverse-summoned as soon as his caster lost consciousness.

Reinhardt shifted her into the center of the bed and pulled the covers over her.

With a flick of his fingers, dark blackout curtains materialized around the glass walls, sealing the room in complete darkness.

Slowly, he ran his fingers through her chestnut-brown hair, his red eyes gleaming in the shadows, locked onto her.

“It would be better if you couldn’t do anything on your own.”

If she had no choice but to depend entirely on him. If she couldn’t move forward without his help.

The desire boiling inside him often threatened to spill over—to the point where he feared he might do something irrevocable.

“If I weren’t the Master of the Magic Tower, someone like me wouldn’t even be allowed by your side.”

A noble, beautiful, and powerful being like her—a star in the sky—could never stand on equal footing with a lowly, mud-stained stone dredged up from the depths.

Without power, he wouldn’t have had the excuse, the means, or the ability to force his way into her world.

Mere beauty wasn’t enough. Something that was only beautiful could be trampled and left to wither at any moment.

“But if it’s you… I don’t mind, Master.”

If she wished to wither away, he would gladly place the blade to his own throat and fade alongside her.

If there was something she desired, all she had to do was command him.

No matter what it was, he would obey—like a well-trained hound, loyal to the very end.

Reinhardt pressed a quiet kiss to the back of Valetta’s hand, his lips lingering for a moment.

Then, still holding her hand, he lay down beside her.

“Good night, Master.”

Lying on his side, he watched her in silence, as if waiting for an answer that would never come.

Eventually, his eyes closed, his breath evening out.

For the first time in their lives, they spent the night wrapped in warmth—not in solitude.

 

***

 

“…….”

Valetta let out a sigh inwardly.

It had been a week now. Every night, Reinhardt put her to sleep first, then clung to her hand as he slept. He held on so tightly that every morning, she woke up with her palm damp and uncomfortable.

Reinhardt, breathing softly in his sleep like a child, looked utterly at peace.

It was a stark contrast to the days when he had no place to sleep in the Delight Count’s estate—curling up in the corners of hallways, trembling in storerooms or stables.

Does he really have to hold my hand to sleep?

She had once stumbled upon him sleeping in a hallway corner.

But she had pretended not to notice, brushing it off as something inevitable.

She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. If she gave in to unnecessary sympathy, she’d end up entangled with him—something she had desperately tried to avoid.

Now, she sat up groggily in bed.

With her hand firmly trapped in his, getting off the bed was impossible.

The once-empty room had transformed.

Now, a towering bookshelf lined an entire wall, filled with books. A desk, pens, and paper had appeared. A spacious bathroom had been added.

Every day, fresh fruit was laid out on the table. Meals were served regularly, along with snacks and an afternoon tea service.

The temperature in the room was always perfectly maintained—never too hot, never too cold. The air never felt dry. The blankets were always clean and smelled of sunlight.

Everything had been arranged by Reinhardt for Valetta.

He granted her every wish.

Even if she asked for out-of-season fruit, or exotic produce from across the sea, it would appear within the hour.

At first, she had tested his limits out of spite, but she soon gave up.

There was nothing Reinhardt couldn’t provide.

Whenever he sat at her feet, beaming as if waiting for praise, she had patted his hair absentmindedly.

But now, she had no more reason to test him.

“…Time is running out.”

She had to visit the Training Chamber—a place the Count of Delight referred to with that horrifying term.

The mercenaries managing it would abandon the people there the moment their funding was cut off.

Or worse, they’d sell them to an even more horrific fate.

In the worst case, they’d simply leave them to starve.

Technically, she could ignore it.

But she knew it would weigh on her conscience if she did.

As far as she remembered, the contract had about a week left.

And more importantly…

Somewhere in that Training Chamber was the future male protagonist—someone who, in the original story, would later take care of all the world’s troubles.

In the original timeline, Reinhardt had destroyed the facility after a massacre, freeing the male lead in the process.

But now?

There had been no massacre. No destruction.

Reinhardt had done nothing but lounge around beside her all day.

And, as far as she knew, no official documents existed to prove the Training Chamber even existed.

The Count of Delight had been meticulous in covering his tracks.

If it weren’t for Reinhardt, the Count likely wouldn’t have met such a miserable end.

“More than anything… I need to free them to distract Reinhardt.”

She couldn’t understand it.

This inexplicable obsession.

When he was asleep, he looked like the picture of innocence—just a harmless young man.

But the moment his eyes opened, that illusion shattered, and an angelic yet wicked demon took his place.

Before she could even finish her thoughts, Reinhardt’s eyelids fluttered open.

His unfocused, murky gaze darted around as if assessing the situation before settling on her.

Then, he smiled—half-lidded, still drowsy.

“Master, did you sleep well?”

His voice was slightly hoarse from sleep.

Valetta turned her head away without answering.

There was no doubt that thanks to his magic, she had slept deeply—without dreams, without restlessness.

But acknowledging that would only encourage him, and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“Good morning, Master.”

Reinhardt sat up instantly, still holding her hand, and leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart.

That easy smile on his lips told her he had no intention of backing off unless she responded.

Valetta’s expression soured.

“…Morning.”

Reluctantly, she returned the greeting.

At that, Reinhardt grinned in satisfaction.

He slowly lifted their entwined hands and pressed a light kiss to the back of hers before finally getting off the bed.

With a snap of his fingers, the blackout curtains that had enveloped the room vanished.

“I need to go to the Training Chamber.”

Valetta’s gaze followed Reinhardt’s movements as she spoke.

His expression immediately twisted.

“Why do you want to go there?”

“To free the slaves. If they stay there, they’ll either be sold off or left to die. Better to release them while they’re still under my ownership.”

She had no desire to carry that guilt for the rest of her life.

Reinhardt folded his arms, staring at her in silence. His lips curled, but not in amusement.

“Master, do you even know what kind of place that is?”

“Whatever it is, it was my father’s doing. It’s my responsibility to clean up his mess. I won’t just stand by and let them die.”

For the first time in a while, the ever-present smile vanished from Reinhardt’s face. His expression twisted into something sharp.

“That pig… is still your father, huh?”

“There’s no better word to call him.”

Reinhardt strode toward her, his large hands cupping her cheeks. So close that his breath brushed against her lips, he whispered,

“My kind, considerate Master—so gentle to everything but me.

Have you found it in your heart to pity even those you’ve never met?”

“It’s not pity. It’s just…”

She didn’t want the weight of guilt pressing down on her. She was about to say as much, but stopped herself. It was unnecessary. She had no reason to convince him.

“That place…”

Reinhardt started to say something but then smiled instead, as if changing his mind. With a casual shrug, he snapped his fingers. A table materialized before them, warm dishes appearing atop it.

“Have breakfast first, Master.”

He pulled out a chair for her, smiling warmly as if nothing had happened, and motioned for her to sit. Valetta hesitated, unsettled, but eventually took the seat. The meal was quieter than usual. Far too quiet.