“Why, you’re Milly Asteara, right?”
The voice came as Milly sat alone in the academy garden, reading a book.
Milly looked up with a start and tucked a strand of her glossy black hair behind her ear. Her profile was so breathtakingly beautiful, it was as if a portrait had stepped out of its frame and into reality. At the moment, though, something felt subtly off, just enough to raise a quiet alarm in her head.
That’s odd. I usually notice when someone approaches, Milly thought. And yet, she hadn’t sensed a thing.
Letting out a quiet sigh at her own lapse in vigilance, Milly turned around with practiced poise.
Standing there was another girl, wearing a strangely bright and cheerful smile. Milly recognized her face, though she didn’t know the girl personally. She was a student who often made waves around campus; Milly was pretty certain this was the daughter of a count.
“Angelina Grey—the villainess.”
Milly muttered the name, the syllables barely clinging to the edge of her memory. The so-called villainess responded with a radiant smile.
Angelina Grey, the eldest daughter of Count Grey, had been a mystery ever since she first enrolled at the academy. Most notably, she had the baffling habit of referring to herself as a villainess, a title that left her fellow students thoroughly confused. Milly had no idea what it meant either, but according to Angelina, she already knew the future and could twist the world to her will.
Milly recalled overhearing one of Angelina’s close friends—the protagonist, was it?—grumbling to others with a weary look. Apparently, Angelina had a habit of unloading her delusions on anyone she was close to.
“My! I’m honored you know who I am, Lady Asteara.”
“I’m not a lady anymore.”
Angelina covered her mouth in mock surprise, as if she didn’t already know.
The Asteara ducal house—Milly’s family—had been stripped of its title just a month ago. By now, the entire Kingdom of Aviria knew about it. The academy had been buzzing with the news. There was no mistaking it. Angelina’s use of the word Lady was nothing but a veiled insult. She had probably been dying to see how the fallen duke’s daughter would react, but Milly’s response was calm and composed. She didn’t flinch. Her expression remained completely neutral, which seemed to irk Angelina, whose brows pulled together slightly.
“Regarding the grand duke of Asteara—oh wait, not anymore—your father, Kyle Asteara... Is he doing well? I heard he was imprisoned after losing his title and that he’s been in quite the state mentally.”
“He was executed. Just the other day.”
That, too, had likely been said just to provoke her. But Milly’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. In fact, she simply reopened the book she’d been reading and resumed from where she left off. That alone seemed to frustrate Angelina, who had clearly been hoping to mock her, to provoke a reaction.
“Well, my condolences,” Angelina said, though her voice lacked sincerity. “But don’t you think it’s a bit much? Execution is such a tragic punishment. There was no need for something so cruel.”
“The grand ducal house, entrusted with protecting the kingdom, sold sensitive information to a foreign power in an attempt to bring down Aviria.” Without lifting her gaze from the book, Milly continued on in the same cold, even tone. “Had my father continued down that path, you and your family would’ve been killed sooner or later. You’ve got some nerve, calling his execution ‘a bit much.’”
Milly had long suspected that her father intended to betray their kingdom and defect to a foreign power, and therefore, she had more or less suspected the fate that awaited him once his treachery came to light. Selling out Aviria for so little gain hardly seemed worth it, but she had made no move to stop him. To Milly, her father was simply an obstacle she didn’t care to cross, and whatever became of him as a result was none of her concern.
Milly Asteara was indifferent to everything. It didn’t matter to her what others did—she had no interest in anyone else’s affairs. So when someone like Angelina confused rudeness for wit and tried to mock her, Milly felt nothing at all.
But that same unshakable apathy seemed to rub Angelina the wrong way. Her voice carried the edge of anger, though she forced a brittle smile. “Even though your family’s been ruined? My, it seems the Ice-Cold Princess is exactly as heartless as I’ve heard.”
Catching the look out of the corner of her eye, Milly let out a small sigh. What was this girl even trying to say? “That’s because none of it matters to me. Certainly not you.”
“What?”
“Neither you nor your family hold the slightest interest for me. I’m sorry if you were expecting me to fly into a rage at your insults, but if all you’re after is provoking people, perhaps you should find someone else.” Although she spoke from the heart, the mere act of replying felt like a waste of effort. That only stoked Angelina’s anger further. “L-Lady Asteara... You wouldn’t even deign to take someone’s concern at face value?”
“Concern? From you?”
“That’s right! You’re only here because you were spared execution out of mercy, and yet you have the gall to strut around the academy.”
“Hmm.”
“In the end, you’re nothing but a pathetic fool, destined to be ruined when I take Gilbert from you!”
It seemed Angelina’s patience had finally run out. Her face twisted with rage as she marched forward, screeching accusations. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white—ridiculous, really. As Angelina’s arm swung up in a most unladylike arc, Milly murmured, “Spark.” The magic flared, knocking the incoming fist aside before it could reach her.
Angelina froze, staring at the girl as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just seen.
“‘Gilbert,’ ‘ruin’... Stop spouting nonsense. You’re only making the conversation more dreary.”
“Hah?”
“We’re done here, ‘villainess.’ Next time, try saying something more substantial.”
There had been nothing about this exchange worth interrupting her reading for.
Milly dropped her gaze back to the page, turning it with a slow, disinterested flick. If Angelina’s barbs or complaints had been delivered with some wit, they might have at least been entertaining. But as they were, they were nothing but dull.
While Angelina stood in silence, making no move to leave, a thought occurred to Milly. Why did she suddenly decide to talk to me when we’ve never spoken before? This had been their first real encounter. The two had never so much as exchanged greetings in passing, let alone introduced themselves. This was completely uncalled-for. Did she really come here just to throw insults?
If so, perhaps Milly truly did look that pitiful in Angelina’s eyes. Or perhaps the wretched girl held some sort of hidden grudge. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Angelina was an ill-mannered person. For all her self-styling as a “villainess,” her thinking was beyond Milly’s comprehension. Without lifting her eyes, Milly turned another page.
In the stillness of the garden, Angelina spoke again. “You’re nothing but a loser with no future left. You’re nothing, nothing but—”
“Was there something else?”
“In the game, you die a pathetic death. You’re nothing but a weak little extra!” Angelina’s voice brimmed with fury now, more than at any point before.
Game? Milly thought. Confused, she looked up before freezing on the spot. Right there, pointed straight at her, was the tip of Angelina’s wand.
“You shouldn’t even be alive! You, Milly, are supposed to die at the end. That’s how the true route goes!”
“What do you—?”
“You’re just a pathetic weakling who can’t even die properly! The whole scenario’s already played out, but it can’t end happily because you, the final boss, are still alive! Just die already, you stupid girl!” Angelina’s shrill voice rang out, and for the first time, Milly’s brows knit together.
“True route,” “final boss,” whatever. It was all meaningless to Milly.
“You make me sick, acting all innocent like you don’t know!”
Angelina’s grip on her wand tightened until it trembled. Sensing danger in that moment, Milly moved to knock it away with her own magic...but the spell never came. She couldn’t form the incantation. Something’s wrong.
Her heartbeat slowed to a heavy thud, and sweat broke across her brow. She could tell instinctively that Angelina’s wand wasn’t for show; the girl was actually about to cast a spell. Angelina meant to harm her. Milly’s mind screamed at her to run, but her body wouldn’t obey, almost as if the world itself were forcing her still.
“Enough. Die already, Final Boss Milly Asteara.” The tip of Angelina’s wand began to glow with a dull light. “Ah, that’s right. You can’t use any real magic anymore, can you? Not since your dear father died and you lost your... Why, yes. Of course you can’t.”
“Angelina?”
“I knew my game knowledge was right! Once you’re dead, I can finally have my happy ending.”
Angelina chuckled and murmured something under her breath, but Milly read her lips. Infernal Flame. Her blood ran cold as a flash of light burst from the tip of Angelina’s wand.
Then Milly’s body was suddenly engulfed in searing heat.
“Ghhh!”
“My, my, how glorious! The arrogant fool brought to her knees!”
The heat, the pain, the agony—it all spread throughout her body in an instant. Milly writhed, struggling for air.
As she collapsed toward the bench, Angelina kicked her away, laughing loud and triumphantly. Milly’s groans were ragged with suffering, her vision painted red. When she saw her own outstretched hand wreathed in flames, her eyes went wide.
“Thank you, Milly. Now I can finally have my happy ending.”
“Ghhh... Ah...”
“Isn’t it wonderful? Once you’re dead, I can at last marry Prince Gilbert, the man I’ve loved and longed for since my previous life.”
Angelina scraped the sole of her shoe against the ground, as if wiping away dirt.
Then she turned her gaze aside, not sparing Milly another glance. “Good night, Final Boss. There won’t even be ashes left of you.”
In Angelina’s cold, uncaring eyes, Milly was nothing.
Moments later, writhing in pain, and with no miraculous rescue like in a story, Milly’s life came to an end. The last thing she felt as her consciousness slipped away was a sickening sensation, as if her very body were gradually being erased.