I Slept with the Villain Holding My Hand – Chapter 114

Author: Nikss

💫

Arienne blinked slowly as she emerged from her thoughts.

After bribing someone to transport the unconscious Merria by carriage, she had immediately headed to Demeter. Then, without time to rest, she had to return straight to the capital.

As Deston had warned, her body was steadily deteriorating with time.

To buy even a little more, she had to come back here.

‘What a waste of time.’

She needed to go to the Grand Duke, who was surely searching for the princess by now.

There were two reasons she had kidnapped Merria.

One was to create an opportunity to meet the Grand Duke as the last witness, and the other—she wanted to see his despair.

The former leading to the latter was an acceptable justification.

‘The princess, born wicked, would only commit evil deeds even if left alive.’

Even if she seemed quiet now, who knew when she might reveal her true nature again?

If so, it was better for Arienne to step forward and eliminate absolute evil herself.

Blinded by rage, Arienne couldn’t think rationally.

With no one to hold her back, she kept escalating the situation. Even knowing what awaited at the end, she threw herself into the flames.

She staked her life on the single smile Helena would give her once everything was over.

If she fulfilled her duty, she would remain in Helena’s heart for a long time.

‘That alone is enough.’

This second life she’d been granted was worth it for just one of Helena’s smiles.

Unlike the storm of events earlier that morning, this place was unnervingly peaceful.

Arienne slowly rose from the sofa.

Deston’s office, as if proving his skill, was like a small house filled with everything one might need—a space enchanted with the same dimensional magic as Shannon’s Demeter.

Arienne stepped out and headed to where Deston was.

Seated at his desk, Deston was scribbling something while staring into empty air.

The white glow hovering nearby marked the location of Merria’s ring.

The ring used to lure Merria hadn’t actually been lost.

Though it wasn’t in his hands either.

Since receiving it from Arienne, Deston had postponed all other requests to focus solely on this.

Yet, he still hadn’t managed to undo the concealment magic.

For all his confidence that he could easily break it, he remained stumped.

Arienne had expected as much. Even a skilled mage wasn’t proficient in ‘all’ magic.

Mages born in the Empire taught others, who in turn raised the next generation of imperial mages.

This cycle was the pride—and foundation—of the Tristan Empire’s magical division.

But while internal circulation thrived, the system was subtly closed off.

So how could Deston, an imperial mage, unravel a ‘curse’—not even magic—primarily used by non-mages in other nations?

Deston didn’t notice Arienne approaching until she lightly knocked on his desk.

Tap. Tap—

Only then did he look up at her, annoyance flashing across his face—What now?

Arienne arched a brow and pointed to where the ring hovered.

“I didn’t give you this to play children’s games.”

Her voice dripped with mockery.

Deston exhaled sharply and fully turned to her, adding an exaggerated gesture.

“What ‘is’ this? Can you actually ‘see’ it?”

‘Are you pretending it’s visible just to mess with me?’

He could *feel* something inside the glow, but the impenetrable barrier frustrated him.

Watching the usually composed mage sulk, Arienne reached into the light and plucked out the ring.

“How about a trade?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell you the method.”

Deston shot up from his chair.

“You knew how to break the concealment magic? Then why didn’t you just—”

“Give me a mana stone infused with your magic.”

She dangled the ring in front of him—though to Deston, it would look like she was holding empty air.

The golden ring swayed teasingly from her fingertip.

“…What?”

Deston gaped, as if unable to believe what he’d just heard.

As a palace mage, he’d crafted enchanted items and potions for clients—but a ‘mana stone’ was different.

Deston knew full well the significance of handing over a mana stone.

For high-level mages like him, mana stones weren’t something you’d sell even for money.

Yet the woman before him was demanding his mana stone as part of their deal.

“Look, there’s something you might not understand—mana stones aren’t just trinkets to be casually exchanged.”

Deston struggled to articulate the unspoken rules among mages.

But Arienne understood perfectly.

Surrendering a mana stone was akin to handing over a piece of oneself.

In her past life, she had once offered Helena a mana stone imbued with protective magic—though it had proven useless against the Grand Duke’s overwhelming power.

Grind—

The unpleasant memory made Arienne clench her teeth. She slipped the ring onto her finger and clenched her fist to keep it from falling off.

Once in Arienne’s possession, Deston had no hope of retrieving the ring.

Trying to take it back now would be like searching for an object blindfolded—he wouldn’t even know which hand it was on.

Deston stared at her, crestfallen at having his research material snatched away in an instant.

Arienne tilted her head, smirking.

“If you wrap this up neatly, I might even lift the concealment spell myself and hand it over. Didn’t you want it?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Deston opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, wrestling with himself. When would he ever get another chance to study something so fascinating?

In the end, his curiosity won yet again.

Sigh—

“…Fine. I’ll make the mana stone.”

“How long?”

Mana stones weren’t considered special and sacred among mages for nothing.

They were crystallized manifestations of one’s own magic—requiring repeated concentration of mana into a clear, flawless gemstone to prevent dissipation.

At Arienne’s impatient tone—like a customer waiting for fresh bread—Deston blinked.

“Uh… Probably a full day.”

He nodded vaguely, as if already resigned to his fate.

“Then I’ll head to Demeter for now. Have it ready by tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

Without another word, Arienne grabbed her robe and left.

Her movements were still unsteady—her body not fully recovered—but Deston neither escorted her nor offered support.

His motivation had always been curiosity.

And right now, his interest was solely fixed on obtaining that ring.

Thanks to the Magic Division’s scenic location, Arienne slipped out of the imperial palace with ease and headed toward the marketplace.

While she knew few faces in the palace, the bustling market district was different.

Pulling her robe tighter, she navigated the alleys.

Thud—

A figure collided with her from the opposite direction.

“Ugh—”

Arienne hissed, clutching her shoulder and arm where the impact had struck. Her weakened body was fragile even against mundane accidents.

Beneath her hood, her sharp eyes flashed as she assessed the other person.

They, too, seemed keen on hiding their face—wearing a deep, overturned hat.

“Oh dear, my apologies.”

The voice that slipped from beneath the robe was that of an elderly woman, raspy with age.

“…What rotten luck.”

Despite Arienne’s rudeness, the other woman remained seated on the ground.

The old lady kept her head bowed, motionless.

“…Watch where you’re going.”

Arienne’s tone was cutting.

The old woman’s robe twitched slightly—perhaps a faint nod.

Arienne hurried past, soon disappearing from the alley.

Only once her presence had completely faded did the old woman lift her head slightly.

Beneath the dark robe, a pair of vibrant azalea-colored eyes gleamed.

Clutched in her hand was a familiar-looking golden ring.

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Arienne hurriedly stepped out of the carriage.

Of all things—she had left the potion she’d prepared at Demeter.

The carefully crafted potion was meant to amplify the Grand Duke’s curse and trigger a magical rampage.

Last time, she’d been so focused on drawing Shannon’s blood that she’d forgotten to bring it.

‘No—actually, this works out.’

She needed to give Shannon a plausible excuse anyway, and the princess still needed to be dealt with.

The hastily-made hypnotic used on the princess hadn’t been very effective.

At least she’d had the foresight to mix a scentless, tasteless sedative into the tea.

‘Thanks to the princess dragging her feet, things wrapped up easily.’

If she hadn’t drugged the tea, she would’ve had to stage an attack by unknown assailants in the forest.

As usual, she knocked three times at a normal pace on the leftmost window.

Tap. Tap. Tap—

“…?”

But no response came from inside.

Arienne’s brow twitched sharply. This had never happened before.

Day or night, Shannon always welcomed her with open arms.

Arienne clicked her tongue.

“…How annoying. Where did she go?”

Shannon, who treated her words as gospel, wouldn’t have left the house.

‘She must’ve fallen asleep reading.’

She headed for the back door Deston had secretly installed.

The main entrance only opened from the inside to access the pocket dimension, but this door had no locking spell.

Or rather, it was a door that could be opened with Arienne’s power alone.

Deston had kept its existence from Shannon at Arienne’s request. Having observed Shannon for so long, Arienne knew her temperament well.

Though fundamentally docile and kind, Shannon had a quietly eccentric streak.

So precautions were necessary—in case her curiosity got the better of her.

One measure ensured Deston would notice if Shannon left.

Another was this hidden door, placed outside her line of sight. The front door only revealed the pocket space when opened from within—a safeguard against being followed.

Crouching below adult eye level, she found a small keyhole.

The ‘key’ wasn’t physical—it was Arienne’s own power.

Purple mist flowed from her hand into the keyhole.

Click—

The lock turned, and a narrow gap appeared in what seemed like a solid wall.

Reaching inside, the space within unfolded like an opening door.

Arienne’s eyes darted around, searching for Shannon.

“Miss?”

Her call echoed unanswered.

As silence persisted, Arienne’s gaze grew colder. She stormed through the rooms, flinging doors open.

Even checking locked areas revealed no trace of Shannon.

“…”