I Slept with the Villain Holding My Hand Chapter 121

 

If she wasn’t the real Shannon…  

 

Then every thought she’d had until now was wrong. Every assumption, every action—meaningless.  

 

The moment you replaced Shannon with Ariene in the equation, nothing added up The central pillar supporting her understanding had crumbled in an instant.  

 

Only now did she realize—every brick in the wall she’d built was warped beyond recognition.  

 

Merria’s pupils trembled violently.  

 

‘Everything was wrong…’  

 

First and foremost, Ariene was never the ring’s rightful owner.  

 

The reason Merria had accepted the ring passing to Shannon when she woke at the ducal estate was simple—Because Shannon was the protagonist.  

 

For Merria, who knew this world’s beginning and end, it was an inevitable outcome. She had absolute faith in the girl bearing the protagonist’s name—  

 

How Shannon grew up, what face she made when in love, what thoughts filled her mind.  

 

Knowing someone’s entire life story carried that weight.  

 

It was fundamental truth, embedded deeper in her mind than she’d realized.  

 

Wasn’t this exact knowledge—the world’s very foundation—what caused so many transmigrators to spiral into confusion?  

 

Had anyone else taken the ring initially, Merria would’ve simply thought it lost.  

 

But waking to find it vanished without a trace, then hearing Reukis say he sensed similar power from Shannon— Her thoughts had naturally flowed in that direction.  

 

Yet if that Shannon was actually Ariene all along?  

 

The entire narrative shattered. 

 

In Merria’s eyes, Ariene held no such qualification.  

 

Which meant Merria waking to find her ring gone might have been pure delusion.  

 

If Ariene had taken the ring Merria lost through some means—that made perfect sense.  

 

‘Even our conversation at the rental shop that day was strange in hindsight.’  

 

Merria had been the one asking questions, steering the discussion. Everything—about the old woman, how the ring was obtained—had come from her lips.  

 

“…Damn it.”  

 

She’d been played like a fiddle.  

 

Merria shook her head at her own stupidity.  

 

Who could’ve imagined someone would steal the protagonist’s face?  

 

Taking a deep breath, she forced oxygen into her blood-starved brain.  

 

One sentence made her heart race just thinking it, ‘The Shannon I knew wasn’t the protagonist of [Flower Path Before Shannon].’

 

Paradoxically, accepting this truth brought relief. Though with limited information, the pieces didn’t fully align yet.  

 

Questions remained—like why the ring, visible only to her, could also be seen by Ariene. But someone capable of stealing another’s appearance could likely manage that much.  

 

Merria studied Shannon discreetly.  

 

The girl looked healthier than ever—her naturally pale skin now glowing, expression relaxed, cheeks softly rounded.  

 

Though her features matched perfectly, her aura was distinctly different.  

 

‘Since when?’  

 

How long had Ariene been wearing Shannon’s skin and playing her role?  

 

If their only true meeting was during the cake exchange as Shannon claimed, then every interaction after involved an impostor.  

 

Merria clenched her fists. 

 

The Shannon who visited her at the barracks was clearly fake too—the real one never had such poor complexion.  

 

Yet the person in the carriage had worn Shannon’s face.  

 

Shannon said this place was Demeter—a name Merria vaguely recalled.  

 

‘That maze-like district where even residents get lost.’

  

No way could shackled Merria escape such a place easily. Ariene likely left her legs unbound precisely because she knew this.  

 

Measuring the distance between Etowas Forest and here led to one conclusion:  

 

‘She can’t maintain Shannon’s appearance indefinitely.’  

 

Whatever method Ariene used, it had limitations. She could mimic Shannon’s form, but not permanently.  

 

Call it magic for simplicity—its duration would be finite.  

 

Which meant Merria needed to see Ariene’s true face. Miss this chance, and she might never witness it.  

 

Ariene would return eventually, wearing someone else’s visage to approach Reukis and her.  

 

‘I’m sick of living in this constant dread.’ 

 

Merria shut her eyes tight.  

 

A life suspecting everyone but herself? Absolutely not.  

 

As always, she wanted complete peace. Forget rings and curses—she just wanted freedom from all constraints.  

 

Yet her instincts screamed, ‘This is dangerous.’  

 

Simultaneously whispering, ‘The end of all this is coming.’  

 

For the first and last time, Merria chose something other than safety—To grasp the tranquility awaiting her at this story’s conclusion.

 

💫

 

Meanwhile, Ariene had left the sleeping Shannon behind and headed straight for the capital’s shopping district.  

 

Though she’d taken backstreets at dawn and paid exorbitant carriage fees, she didn’t care—not when the ring’s exchange involved Deston’s magic stone.  

 

She searched the alley where she’d collided with the old woman near the market’s rear entrance.  

 

Contrary to expectations, the ring was nowhere in sight.  

 

At first, she assumed the darkness or the ring’s coin-sized form hid it in some corner. But after thorough searching, not even a glint of gold remained.  

 

Ariene’s mood soured rapidly.  

 

Were it not for her deal with Deston, she would’ve abandoned this futile search long ago. Having initiated the trade herself, backing out wasn’t an option.  

 

Gritting her teeth, she combed the area again. She even stopped street vagrants to ask about the old woman’s whereabouts—all dead ends.  

 

“Damn it all…”  

 

The curse slipped through her clenched teeth—  

 

“Ugh—”

 

A searing abdominal pain erupted. 

 

Something metallic surged up her throat. Instinctively covering her mouth, Ariene braced against the wall, doubling over.  

 

“Hack—cough!”  

 

The dark red lump that splattered onto the pavement was unmistakable—blood.  

 

Deston’s warning resurfaced, ‘The body hosting the Grand Duke’s power will inevitably show strain.’

  

She’d sealed the wound, assumed she had a day or two before symptoms appeared…  

 

Spitting out the lingering iron taste, Ariene looked up—Unaware that in her pocket, Reukis’ magic stone was persistently attempting to channel power.  

 

The darkness, severed from Merria’s body—its proper vessel—was now trapped within the stone.  

 

Frustrated, it had sought an alternative the traces of Reukis’ magic embedded in Ariene’s abdomen. Perhaps it believed absorbing this would free its power.  

 

Their violent probing had pushed Ariene’s condition to critical levels.  

 

“Hah… hah…”

  

Gasping for air, she remained oblivious to the cause—  

 

Then voices echoed from the alley’s mouth. Though late, occasional passersby still wandered. This pair—shabbily dressed, likely vagrants—murmured as they approached:  

 

“Did you see that earlier?”  

 

“No idea. Looked like she was searching for something.”  

 

They hunched their shoulders, voices dropping,  

 

“Grabbing folks outta nowhere—tying ’em up, shoving portraits in their faces.”  

 

“Some noble girl must’ve run off, eh?”  

 

“Or eloped with a servant, maybe?”  

 

Their snickering grated Ariene’s nerves—Because she knew exactly which ‘missing noble lady’ they meant.  

 

‘The Grand Duke’s already at the capital’s gates.’  

 

She’d assumed he’d still be scouring the forest.  

 

‘How?’  

 

Had he begun searching the city already? Pulling her hood lower, Ariene tensed as the men neared.  

 

“Anyway, nobles are beyond me.”  

 

“Enough. Let’s get back to drinking.”  

 

Their voices faded as they passed.  

 

The moment they turned the corner, Ariene fled the alley—empty-handed.  

 

Lingering risked capture by knights.  

 

Defeated, she considered returning to Demeter early. But in this state, she’d collapse before hailing a carriage.  

 

Instead, she’d confront Deston ahead of schedule—renegotiate terms if possible.  

 

If talks failed? She’d simply steal the magic stone once completed.  

 

Pure teleportation exceeded her abilities, but with Deston’s stone? Easy. He couldn’t track her destination—she just needed swift hands.  

 

Stealing it became her resolve. Her steps turned toward the Magic Ministry— Then slowed.  

 

A boy sprinted toward her from the alley’s end.