A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 263: Phantom Ball (2)

A smoldering darkness settled deep in Yulie’s heart, the kind she had spent years rejecting and denying. As a knight, she had vowed to live and die by the sword, burying the cursed feelings at the very bottom of her heart, where they couldn’t reach her. Deep down, Yulie had always known, but she kept pretending not to know just to keep moving forward.

… In Freyden, winter always brought snow, freezing night winds, and sleet that slammed against the skin, hard enough to feel as if it might break the body apart. Yulie weathered the freezing night alone, born a sinner, the daughter who had killed her own mother, with no standing in the house—no rights, no future—just a remnant of the bloodline.

Yulie had long since accepted her insignificance, wearing her worthlessness like a second skin far too early, when she was still just a child.

“… Yulie, would you like to try holding a sword?”

However, on a freezing winter’s day, when a sword was placed in Yulie’s tiny hand, she felt it—a flicker of mana shimmering across the blade, blue crystals blooming like frostbite, and a pull on her very core.

That was when Yulie realized—if there was even a shred of value in her existence, if she had any right to keep living, then as a Freyden, the only thing she was ever allowed was this single sword.

“… It’s a severe injury. I’m afraid you will never be able to hold a sword again.“

Therefore, when she heard those words, it felt as if her heart broke in two, her whole body shaking, her mind drowned in a storm of resentment, and she regretted everything, over and over, day after day.

I never should have accepted Deculein’s mission. I never should have protected him. I should have abandoned him and run away. Because of him, I…

The kind of emotions that fester in the depths of humanity—hatred with nowhere to go, resentment that never fades—Yulie rejected them all. Instead, she denied them space to grow, turning to her sword and holding only herself at fault. Yulie was used to taking the fault upon herself, and that was how she had lived until now—and how she would continue to live.

“… It’s a miracle. The wound in your core is healing. The curse is still present, of course, but if you avoid overusing your mana, you might be able to hold a sword again…“

To overcome it had been nothing short of a miracle, and on the day the house’s elder confirmed it, Yulie smiled brighter than she ever had in her life. Zeit patted her on the back, telling her she had done well, while Josephine pulled her into her arms without saying a word.

At that moment, Yulie knew for certain—effort would never betray her, her sword would never betray her, and the dream she had given and held onto was still with her.

“… Yulie, the House of Yukline is considering an engagement between you and Deculein. It is a fine opportunity—take some time to consider it.“

While Yulie was continuing her training, on a bright and clear spring day, Deculein showed up again. Zeit said it was a good opportunity, and the elders pressed her forward without hesitation. Yulie took a moment to search her feelings, her mind circling back to the man she had held so much resentment for.

However, there was no way she could say no, since Zeit wanted it, Freyden wanted it, and, for the first time ever, the house had told her that she was needed.

“… It’s time to leave dangerous missions behind. Leave the Imperial Knights. I will place the Hadecaine Knights’ Order under your command. Serve there for three years, building your career—then come and live with me.“

During the engagement, Deculein laid down his terms—leave the Knights’ Order, live as his partner, and he would give her everything she could ever want. Yulie refused—and there was never really a choice, as asking her to give up her sword was the same as asking her to die.

“… Yulie, you should step away from this mission. It’s too dangerous—and your fiancé will just show up again, making a whole scene.“

From that day forward, Deculein bound Yulie in chains he called love, choking the life out of her freedom, keeping her isolated from the rest of the Knights’ Order, and removing her from every dangerous mission.

As a result…

“… Yulie’s leaving? Honestly, that’s for the best. If she’d stayed, it’d only cause more trouble for us.“

“Exactly. Honestly, she should really start living as a lady now. Isn’t Hadecaine the perfect place for that—with the resort and all…“

That was the moment Yulie lost her dream—again, for the second time.

At that moment, Yulie couldn’t stop the resentment that welled up for Deculein, as the first memory rushed back and, before she knew it, the words escaped her lips.

“… I should have let you die.“

Over time, Yulie’s emotions toward Deculein had piled up, layering deeper and deeper until they turned into a crust of pure resentment, with their connection having been broken from the very beginning.

However…

“It was I who did that to you,” Iggyris said.

… Returning to the present, Yulie looked at Iggyris as he plainly stated that everything from the very start had been his doing, correcting the threads of their fractured bond that had twisted their fate before letting his eyes fall shut.

“From here, your world appears blurred and far away, everything fading at a distance. I suppose it has been less than a year since my mind grew this clear.”

The border between life and death was where lost souls wandered, unable to move on, and for a knight, merely existing in such a void was a pure disgrace.

“Yulie, I was the one who always said a knight should be free of regrets… and yet here I remain, a ghost of the Imperial Palace, my own regrets binding me to this place,” Iggyris continued, lowering his head with a sigh. “But my regret is not anger at my death—it is shame for the life I lived.”

Whoooosh—

A light wind slipped through, making the candle on the wooden table sway.

“At the time, I was lost in my own sense of righteousness, convinced that Decalane’s plan had to be stopped—and for that, I used you.”

Yulie’s body wouldn’t move, no thoughts came, and no actions followed—she stood frozen, as stiff as wax.

“And Deculein, too, was well aware of it.”

Yulie raised her eyes in a daze, feeling the heat of her breath gather thick and hot at the back of her throat.

“And yet, Deculein kept that from you,” Iggyris said, his head lowered.

Iggyris knew why Deculein wanted Yulie’s hatred and why her cure was bound to be shaped through it, and as he watched him from this place, the answer became clear.

“All he did was keep you alive.”

Yulie remained silent.

“Yulie, there is a special power within you. Though you may not know it, your emotions are its master. Of all in our house, you were born with the Freyden bloodline stronger than anyone else.”

Freyden, master of winter, carried the proof of their bloodline that could not be denied, much like Yukline with its demons and Iliade with its ambition.

“And when hatred or resentment takes hold of you, your mana grows cold—cold enough to freeze the world itself.”

The freezing mana that held the curse coursing through Yulie’s veins bound it tight, sustaining her life.

“Knowing this, Deculein pressed you to hold on to hatred—because above all, he wanted you to survive.”

Suddenly, the candle on the wooden table blazed, its flame burning rough and bright.

“… All this time, Deculein has lived by shouldering the weight of being hated by the one he loved—and by accepting the agony of wounding you.”

The flame reflected in Yulie’s eyes, and the shadows around her began to shimmer.

“All of it, for one thing only—that you would live.”

Yulie’s body slumped, feeling weak, and suddenly it was as if she were being dragged down into deep water.

“Yulie, I am ashamed—of myself and of you,” Iggyris said, his words laced with shame.

At that moment, a rush of emotions surged through Yulie’s chest—tears or anger, she couldn’t even tell which.

“… Father,” Yulie said, her fist tightening. “Was there not a single moment when you loved me?”

“No, I have resented you always—the one who killed my wife,” Iggyris replied, staring straight into Yulie’s eyes.

Yulie’s breath hitched, her lips trembling as a bitter laugh escaped—a brittle sound, as if her heart were crumbling from within.

“You should have never been born.”

Everything she’d carried for so long, all the emotions and the weight of her life layered over time, was gone in a single moment… leaving only emptiness behind.

“… Ah,” Yulie murmured, staring up at Iggyris in a daze as a single clear tear slid down her cheek, her breath hitched and her teeth clenched. “But why… why did you…?”

Yulie gripped the sword at her waist, her face contorted as she glared at her father.

Thud—!

Yulie stood up, the chair crashing to the ground, her hand drawing her sword.

“It was not my decision, but your mother’s—the mother you killed,” Iggyris said, a sneer curving his lips.

At that moment, Yulie’s seething rage scorched through her, burning away her reason as her eyes went bloodshot, veins swelling, and the world bled crimson, and she raised her sword without hesitation.

Yulie let out a wild, broken scream tearing from her throat, one hardly recognizable as her own, and she brought down her blade to strike down her father’s spirit…

“… What are you hesitating for?”

But Yulie couldn’t finish bringing it down, as her blade hung suspended in the air, its tip trembling like a thin slip of paper.

“I know… that you are lying,” Yulie said, her head lowered, tears dripping as blood seeped from the spot where her lips had been bitten through.

Iggyris’s brow furrowed as he said, “A lie? How foolish of you, Yulie. When have I ever—”

“Even if it is not a lie… I will choose to believe it is. I… I have to, because… if I don’t…”

Tap—!

At that moment, the tap of a staff hitting the ground rippled through the tense air, and both Yulie and Iggyris turned as one toward the sound.

“… Deculein,” Iggyris muttered under his breath.

Deculein saw Yulie—her face loose and empty like a broken doll left in the rain, drenched with blood and tears.

“That’s enough, Lord Iggyris. It’s over now,” Deculein said, looking from one to the other as he shook his head.

Deculein slowly approached Yulie, took the sword from her trembling fingers, laid it aside, and wrapped his arms around her shaking frame as she collapsed into his arms.

“Yulie would never harm you because that is not who she is; you already know this.”

Without a word, Iggyris sighed, the flickering candlelight painting crimson shadows across his face in the darkened room.

***

“… Hmph, fate really does love twisting things into knots.”

Inside the cramped room of the old mansion, Sophien watched Deculein and Yulie, the scene projected from a crystal orb, cast by another Deculein—the Professor held in memory.

“Professor, doesn’t it sting? Watching Deculein standing there with Yulie?” Sophien asked—Deculein, but the other Deculein.

“It was always meant to be his place,” the Professor replied.

“It is a bit of a shame,” Sophien said, shaking her head as mixed feelings settled in her chest. “The way things are looking, won’t those two end up together after all?”

“They will never be together, and Your Majesty knows that.”

Deculein loved Yulie—but he was a man bound to his words, and the ending he had promised to set was breaking the engagement and walking away; the two could never be together.

“It won’t be long before sunrise.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sophien looked outside, and the sun was rising, its glow spreading across the sky.

“And what do you intend to do now?” Sophien asked.

“As I’ve said, Your Majesty, I am but a memory. Now, all that remains is Your Majesty’s decision,” the Professor replied, turning toward the Empress.

“… My decision?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the professor said, pointing to the Deculein within the crystal orb. “Once I make contact with that Deculein, our memories will become one. That Deculein, too, will carry the memories we shared within the Demon’s Mirror.”

At that moment, Sophien’s eyes grew wide, and for just an instant, an uncharacteristic emotion shimmered behind them.

“However, what will become of Deculein once those memories are merged, I cannot say for certain.”

“… And that is to be my decision?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am your servant, and I obey Your Majesty’s will,” the Professor replied, though his eyes remained on Yulie within the crystal orb.

“Hey,” Sophien said, tapping him on the shoulder.

The Professor cleared his throat, turning to her, and added, “And so, it is Your Majesty’s decision now. Do you wish for me by your side, or…?”

At that moment, a thunderous crash tore through the air as the windows shattered and the ceiling cracked, coming down in a shower of debris.

“The Altar has found its way here,” Sophien said with a smile.

“Yes, it seems,” the Professor replied, nodding.

“However, you may continue,” Sophien said, a crack sounding as she rolled her neck.

Sophien had never been a powerless Empress, and she wasn’t the type to stand by and do nothing, nor a fragile porcelain doll hidden behind others for protection. Now, with magic and swordsmanship refined through years of training, she found herself curious to test the true measure of her own strength.

“Professor, what will happen when you and that Deculein become one?”

“Death is likely the outcome,” the professor replied, his mana beginning to gather as he stared at the advancing threat ahead.

At the simple statement that he would die, Sophien’s face stiffened, but Deculein remained perfectly still as stone.

“Explain yourself. When you say death, what exactly…”

Boooooooooom—!

The wall collapsed completely, and the Altar’s soldiers came pouring in, sweeping through the room like a tidal wave.

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