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

Arnold’s face showed no shard of strong emotion.

Only a cool, matter-of-fact gaze turned toward Raul.
“Step away.”
“….”

The word was short, yet it made her eardrums prickle and sting.
Even Rishe caught her breath. Raul, who took it head-on, must have felt an even heavier pressure.
“My apologies, Your Highness Arnold.”

After a momentary twitch at the corner of his mouth, Raul wore a placid smile.
“You’ve caught me at a moment for which I have no excuse.”
“…Prince Curtis!”

That was only going to invite misunderstanding; Rishe grimaced hard.
“Forgive me. Your fiancée is blindingly beautiful.”
What are you even thinking…!?
Did he remember he was wearing the skin of Sigwell’s first prince Curtis right now?

Raul—who had always played his targets perfectly—was doing things impossible as Curtis. Confused by that, she nonetheless pushed at his body all the harder.
“Did you not hear me?”
Arnold’s unhurried footfalls, tok, tok, rang down the corridor.

His expression said he had no intention of engaging with Raul’s provocations. At a glance, he was behaving no differently than usual.
Yet the chill in his eyes and the tempered killing edge in his voice ruled the air.
“I ordered you to get away from my wife.”

“—”
He could kill him.
The weight of that certainty sparked panic. Raul lifted his shoulders, then gently let his hand slip from Rishe.

Arnold took Rishe’s freed arm and drew her in.
His touch was very gentle, yet brooked no refusal. He searched her face, then cupped the shoulder Raul had held and asked, quiet-voiced:
“Are you hurt.”

“N—no.”
“Where else did he touch you?”
“He only covered my mouth with his palm—nothing else…”

His well-shaped brows bent a fraction.
But Arnold held something down there.
“…Anything else make you uncomfortable.”
Rishe nodded at once.

Seeing that, Arnold slowly lowered his eyes. Even with such a small motion, the prickle of pressure remained.
It wasn’t directed at Rishe, but at Raul standing behind Arnold. Yet Arnold didn’t so much as look Raul’s way.
“I’ll take you back to your room. Come.”

“Your Highness Arnold…”
A mild voice called to his back.
Raul’s voice—wearing Curtis.

“You truly, from the heart, treasure your fiancée.”
There was a note in it meant to nettle Arnold.
“If I were in your place… to display it before the usurper, I’d kiss Lady Rishe right here.”

“Prince Curtis, please—enough with the jokes—”
“Or perhaps I’d cut me down on the spot. So the rumors that Your Highness Arnold is a ruthless crown prince are baseless, it seems.”
Raul was plainly provoking him. Rishe scowled; she had no idea why he was acting like this.

Arnold, however, stayed composed.
“…I see.”
He even wore a faintly easy smile and lowered his gaze as if looking down on Raul.

“So it seems you came to this country against your master’s will.”
—!
The surprise that broke across a face was not Raul’s, but Rishe’s.

Raul, for his part, wore a look of mild puzzlement. His mind was unreadable, but this seemed unanticipated.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a third party merely playing Curtis Samuel Offalon. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Arnold had seen through Raul’s disguise.
Rishe had never seen such a moment—not even in her hunter life. Wordless, she looked up at Arnold beside her.
Raul—face uncertain—spoke in troubled tones.

“Your Highness Arnold, I don’t know what you—”
“It takes only a little watching to spot a person imitating someone else. The body uses itself quite differently in unconscious gestures than in deliberate behavior.”
Saying the outrageous with perfect calm, Arnold regarded Raul.

“And your voice. You’re changing how your vocal cords vibrate on purpose, which puts the slightest warp in your phonation. —It is, to an extreme degree, grating to the ear.”
“Ha—hah!”
The real Raul laughed, but the sound was dry.

“…You’re a monster.”
There was a trace of dread in his face.
He hitched a shoulder and spoke as if amused.

“You knew—so why let me swim? …Ah. To sound out Sigwell’s true intent.”
“I’ve no reason to answer you. Come, Rishe.”
“Hey. If she’s that important, wouldn’t it be better not to make a political marriage at all—and let her be free?”

The words stabbed at his back, but Rishe had no interest in letting anyone else decide her freedom.
“She’d thank you for it more.”
“R—Raul! I—”

She turned to argue—but Arnold spoke first.
“—However much this marriage makes her hate me.”
“!”

A sharp throb shot through her left chest.
Still holding her wrist, Arnold turned only his face back and glared at Raul.
“I will not let her go. …This one will be my wife.”

His gaze, now clearly different from moments before, pierced Raul—hard and keen.
…Why.
She felt something sad seep from just beside her pounding heart. Rishe pressed her lips together to hold it down.

Raul’s smile twisted as he took another jab.
“How cruel. Knowing you’ll make her unhappy—and still forcing the girl into being your wife.”
“Exactly. …Rishe.”

This time Arnold truly began walking, still holding her hand.
She wanted to form words, but nothing would take shape. Head lowered, Rishe let him lead and moved step by step.
It squeezes in ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ my left chest again…

The ache made even breathing feel difficult.
Arnold kept his mouth shut as well. He didn’t look back until they finished climbing to the fourth floor and stood before their rooms.
“I’m sorry.”

The hand bracing her wrist slowly withdrew.
Then, as if when fitting her a ring, he took her hand and looked at it.
“I gripped you a bit too hard.”

“…”
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head no, silently.

He apologized, but his hold had never been rough.
He had pulled her with firm will, yes—but hadn’t ground her bones, left no red marks.
The place Rishe felt pain was not the wrist he’d seized.

“Why would you say something like that?”
The sadness bled into her voice as she asked.
“…Don’t worry.”

Arnold said it gently, and his hand rose to her cheek.
“Not letting you go doesn’t mean I intend to bind all of you.”
“….”

Because her head was deeply bowed, her side hair had fallen across her cheek.
He touched it as if to comb it back, with a very gentle motion.
“From here on, say whatever you wish to want. —So long as I can grant it, I swear I’ll grant you anything and everything.”

But what Rishe meant by “something like that” was not the words he had just spoken.
“You said that by this marriage, you intend to be hated by me.”
“…Ah. I did.”

He answered plainly while tucking her coral hair behind her ear.
“Has marrying me begun to frighten you?”
“….”

It was like soothing a small child.
In his eyes, in his voice, in the way he touched her—there was a warmth that cared for her.
Like a child, Rishe gave a small no and set her hand atop the back of his. She couldn’t bring herself to lift her face; she looked up at him from under her lashes.

“…You’re a dummy, Your Highness…”
“—” Arnold’s eyes widened at her words.