Dylan de Beaumon, the adopted daughter of a Duke, recalls the memories of her past-life after hitting her head. Upon realizing she was a villainess character in a novel, she decides to use her intellectual giftedness to get a good career and run awa...
He stood in thoughtful silence for a long moment before he pulled down the hood of his cloak. His blue eyes radiated a fierce, uncompromising intelligence as he stared at her. Dylan gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the dangerous aura around him.
"Lembarg?" he echoed, drawing a knife and stepping towards her slowly. His footsteps were completely silent.
'I didn't expect a happy family reunion, but I didn't think he'd try to kill me.'
"Filumena," she whispered, chewing her lip. "My mother's name was Filumena."
His blue eyes widened and darkened. Then he strode toward her, eating away at the distance between them in a matter of seconds with his steps. His sharp knife blade grazed her throat.
"How do you know that name?" he asked, eyes glistening with murderous intent.
Dylan felt the cold, hard steel of a knife against her throat. "She was my mother," she said carefully. "If you don't believe me, I can show you where she was buried."
"Don't lie," he told her angrily pushing the knife harder against her throat.
She winced. "I'm not lying," she whispered, "she told me she had no family, that's why we never met when she was alive."
Emmett stepped back and glared at her, lifting the knife from her throat. "What?" he asked. "Filumena's dead?"
"She's dead."
The knife slipped from his grasp and hit the floor by his feet. A fit of maniacal laughter jolted through him as his body shook violently. He looked insane.
"That son of a bitch went and got her knocked up," he said in between breaths. "She thought he would take her in—take care of the baby when we wouldn't support her."
Tears were beginning to blur Dylan's vision. "We?" she asked. "Why? Why—why did you leave us? Why were we abandoned and left behind again?"
Dylan always wanted to know why it was so easy for people to leave her. She had been left behind so many times that it became the only thing she knew in this world. The only thing she knew was how to walk away.
The girl was ready to leave this place. She wanted so badly to disappear and forget about everyone she knew. No goodbyes. No explanation. She just wanted to leave without a trace.
Maybe that's why she was so desperate to find out the truth behind her birth. Dylan didn't need their love and attention, she just needed to know why they left her behind. That way, when she left, she could walk away without wondering why nobody ever stayed.
"Tell me!" she screamed, dropping to her knees beside him. "I'm so fucking tired of being left behind."
His gaze hardened as Dylan picked up the knife with trembling hands and held it to her throat. In the end, she was willing to trade her life for closure. That's how badly she was hurt.
"You can kill me," she said, sobs wracking her body. "Just tell me. That's all I want, so please..."
"Let go," he said, yanking the knife free from her grip. "I'll tell you."
She opened her mouth to speak but words never came to her lips, only long sobs.
"Your mother was a poor noble from the countryside," he explained, sliding his knife back into its sheath. "One day, the Marquis passed through our lands. He fell in love with Filumena's beauty and got her pregnant."
Filumena was young and soon to be engaged, while the Marquis was a married man. Filumena's parents wouldn't support her, so she fled to the capital in search of the father of her child. In the end, he turned his back on her and she was left to fend for herself.
"Look kid," Emmett said, staring down at the trembling girl. "See it for what it is and not what you want it to be. Accept it and move on." He stood by the balcony door, his black cloak blending into the night. "You were born from a moment of love. Shouldn't that be enough for you?"
And with that, he was gone. And Dylan was left behind once again.
Villains were just people broken beyond repair. Villains, over whose downfall the reader rejoices, are written as terrible people... but nobody ever asked why. Nobody tried to understand what made them that way.
In the end, the sweetest form of revenge she could take, was leaving them like everyone left her.
***
The slim girl with golden hair leaned against the buzzing bar, watching the woman who worked there mix drinks. Amongst the crowd of wild mercenaries and commoners with slurred minds, the girl wore a heavy cloak covering her expensive clothes that would stand out like a sore thumb.
The bartender cussed under the loud chatter as she clumsily spilled an aged bottle of liquor, before making her way towards the girl. From afar, her dark hood gave off the impression that her face was one worth hiding. But up close, in the faint light of the candles and oil-lamps, she realized that she was very wrong.
She smoothed her hair and apron, and then smiled at the hooded figure. "What brings a young girl like yourself to my small bar?"
"Gin," Dylan replied.
She snuck away after Emmett left, defying academy rules and risking expulsion. She didn't care, though. She needed to get away for a bit.
"Honey, are you old enough to be here?"
Dylan sighed heavily and showed the woman her new identity card. "I am, see?" she said.
The woman glanced at the card and then disappeared behind the counter to get Dylan's drink. Dylan thankfully wrapped her gloved fingers around the glass she slid over. The bitter taste of liquid that burnt her throat and stomach was the closest thing she had to happiness.
"Dylan," a familiar voice called from behind her. "What're you doing here?"
Dylan peered over her shoulder at him, drawing her glass to her lips once more. "I see you're here as well, Laikin. What a horrible coincidence."
"I hope the identity I got you isn't being used for underage drinking."
Dylan huffed, "So what if it is? Last time I checked, you're not supposed to be outside academy grounds either."
"I'm a few years older than you," Laikin said with a sigh, unbuttoning his heavy cloak. "It's different."
Dylan massaged her temples, the lingering effects of her drink causing her vision to become hazy. She leaned back on her stool, nearly falling over from her action. "Just pretend you didn't see me," she muttered.
"You really are something else," he sighed, taking a seat on the stool next to her. He gestured to the bartender who watched him with fluttering eyelashes from the other side of the counter. "Get me a drink," he said.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Uh oh... Dylan + alcohol + Laikin... what could go wrong?
