The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Married Life in a Former Enemy Country in Her Seventh Loop

“It was you who set up the noise-trap inside the castle, wasn’t it?”
Raul tilted his head with the lazy grace of a cat as he spoke.

“I thought you were a fellow professional disguised as a noble lady, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. If you were a fake, His Highness the Crown Prince wouldn’t have come at me with such genuine wariness.”
“……”
“See, that kind of trap? That’s the type I hate most.”

For a hunter, erasing one’s presence during the chase is paramount. Naturally, anything that risked making a loud sound was to be avoided at all costs. Raul’s assumption that Rishe might be a “fellow professional” was not entirely misplaced.
“The one who broke into the castle yesterday at noon was your companion, wasn’t it?”
When she asked, Raul gave a careless shrug.

“No idea. Someone like that was around?”
“One of the maids saw a shadow. Supposedly it slipped in through a window and vanished without a sound.”
“Ah, I see. In that case, maybe it was one of ours… or maybe it’s just a baseless accusation. Who can say?”
His mocking tone made Rishe’s lips tighten ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) in irritation. Raul chuckled.

“Adorable.”
Sliding down from the branch without the faintest sound, he landed and stood before her.
In the shadow of the trees, hidden from Harriet and the maids below, his red eyes fixed on her.

“I’d rather make you my wife than the Crown Prince’s.”
“Enough with the jokes. Get to the point.”
“There is no point. I just wanted to see you.”

Even as he spoke words that clearly weren’t his true feelings, he continued smoothly.
“My name is Raul. In my country’s tongue, it means ‘wolf that leads to salvation.’”
(…Though I know full well that even his name, and the country he claims to hail from, are lies…)

Still, the familiar name stirred memories within Rishe.
In her fifth life, she had met a group calling themselves “hunters” on the edge of a forest in the Sigwell Kingdom. That was where she stumbled across Raul, gravely injured, and used her knowledge of medicine to treat him.
“Thanks to you, I survived, savior. If you’ve got nowhere else to go, stay here for a while.”

He had said it lightly, but the cabin was home to a dozen hunters, all good-natured folk.
There, while caring for Raul, Rishe learned the use of the bow. Once she had grasped the basics, Raul took her deeper into the forest.
“…Yeah, you’ve got good instincts. I’ll teach you properly. Give it a try?”

So began her life as a hunter.
Life in the forest fascinated her—the patterns of animals, the way weather could be read from insects and birds, the way one could track beasts by their footprints, then catch them in one’s own traps.
Sometimes she would lie still for hours, bow drawn, waiting for prey. She remembered freezing in the snow, so cold her fingers went numb, yet knowing she could not let her teeth chatter or the noise would give her away.

She lived on such skills, honing her archery, though she had always sensed Raul and his fellows were not mere “hunters.”
That suspicion was confirmed during a mission ordered by the Sigwell royal family.
“To put it simply, we’re spies disguised as hunters.”
Raul had explained this once, perched casually on a branch.

“Using hunting as a cover’s convenient. ‘Scouting game’ makes the perfect excuse to wander anywhere in the kingdom, even onto noble estates, without raising suspicion.”
It was much as Rishe had guessed.
“So you gather proof—of misrule, or falsified taxes—without arousing notice.”

“That’s right. And sometimes, by pure ‘accident,’ we stray into other countries while hunting.”
He had grinned down at the hunting grounds below.
“In the eastern country where our previous Head lived, men like us were called ‘bird-watchers.’”

“Bird-watchers…”
Rishe had blinked.
“Isn’t that the same as what they call ‘ninja’?”

“Pretty much. Those guys usually pose as farmers or merchants. We’re hunters. Peaceful forest folk, like you’ve seen.”
His words had flowed easily, almost like a song.
“But when the time comes, you carry out missions.”

“And in the end, it’s still hunting. Just a different kind of prey.”
He had narrowed his crimson eyes, smiling like a predator as he looked toward a man in the distance.
“Wait here, Rishe. I’ve been ordered not to kill him, so I’ll take it slow.”

Though he spoke lightly, his hands were steady as he drew his bow without even stirring the branch he sat on.
(The way to erase presence, the way to read it—all of that, Raul taught me. Thanks to that life, I can manage as a hunter… but…)
As Rishe faced him now, she recalled the “Curtis” she had seen that morning.
(Raul is in a league of his own. Only he could so completely impersonate another, even altering his very voice.)

How did he read the look she gave him, as she thought that?
“Why are you pretending to be Prince Curtis?”
“Hmm…”

Raul leaned close, peering into her face as though pondering.
There was a warmth in his manner, yet no true interest in anyone. That was the gaze he turned on her, and Rishe could only sigh inwardly.
(With the hunters, he acted like an older brother. To strangers, though, he only ever showed this shallow, frivolous attention…)

It was no wonder women who fell for him ended in tears. His features were handsome, and his outward kindness and charm only made it worse.
“Even when I get this close, you don’t so much as flinch. But when His Highness touches you, you blush right away.”
“…So, you have no intention of answering my question. At least I understand that.”

“Would you give me a reward if I told you?”
“No. I won’t.”
Answering in the same dry tone she had once used during her hunter life, Rishe earned a chuckle from him.

“I might be unsettling to you, but let it go. After all, you’ve noticed the real Curtis is missing and still haven’t said a word. From my side, that’s just as unsettling.”
“……”
“Anyway, time I went back. I’ll keep quiet this afternoon—looks like it might rain.”

He glanced down the hill, where Harriet had rejoined her maids.
“Be good to Harriet, will you?”
Rishe followed his gaze. By the time she turned back—

—he was gone. Only the cape’s trees swayed in the summer light.
The cicadas sang all around, but not a trace of beast or man remained.
(…A storm really is coming.)

She would need to tell the maids to bring in the laundry. With a small breath, Rishe untied the reins from the branch and led the horse back toward the castle.
 
****

Not long after, the rain began—an hour later at most.
Likely a passing shower, soon to end, yet fierce enough to kick white spray from the ground. The maids scurried about in haste.
Summer rains, brief but violent, brimmed with raw vitality.

As the sound of raindrops drumming on the windows filled the air, a message arrived: Arnold had returned from town.
“Welcome back. …Oh my.”
“……”

Rishe had gone to meet him at the entrance.
And there he stood—Arnold Hein, soaked through from head to toe, wearing a faintly sulking expression.