The Villainess Just Wants to Study

Chapter 7 ~ The Male Lead's Resentment

Beside him stood a young man who watched the girl with curious eyes. They were the blue of the afternoon sky, a colour Dylan admired more than anything else. The young man's brown hair fell in neat waves just above his ears, seemingly woven with strands of gold. Unlike the old man, he was dressed in an expensive coat—an outfit that Dylan knew represented his status.

'I didn't expect to meet another noble here of all places.'

"My goodness, I"—The old man staggered on his feet in an unsteady manner—"thought you were dead. You just disappeared when I came back to find you."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, rising to her feet to greet him properly. She took the old man's hand in hers, his skin feeling calloused from his days of labour against the fabric of her glove.

"No, no," the old man smiled, the gesture heavily stained with an expression of deep sadness. "I'm glad you're okay, dear."

"I never got a chance to thank you for all you've done for me as a child," Dylan told him. "I never even got the chance to learn your name, mister. I'd like to welcome you as a guest at my father's estate one day, if that's alright with you."

"Your father? I thought your mother didn't have a husband."

"She didn't," Dylan told him, feeling bitter as the thought of Ruenz briefly crossed her mind. "But someone else came along and took me in when I had nowhere to go."

"I'm glad," he replied, offering her a warm smile. "Edwin. My name is Edwin."

Dylan's eyes softened upon hearing the old man's name. Her mother wasn't a popular woman in town. She was a young, single mother who often bounced between jobs due to her lack of employable skills. She struggled to raise Dylan, often borrowing money from others out of desperation and failing to pay them back as promised. Despite knowing this, Edwin never hesitated to help her.

That day, when the clouds were stained grey and the rain fell harshly, Edwin was the one who tended to Dylan's head injury and checked up on her unconscious mother. He often shared his bread with them, never hesitating to show kindness when they needed it most.

Most nobles from lowly backgrounds desperately tried to hide their commoner roots, but Dylan didn't care. She didn't care because her roots were what connected her to this man—the one person who helped her believe that there was good in a world filled with suffering. 

"I truly owe you so much," Dylan said, recalling the times he had helped her. "I want to pay you back for everything."

Edwin chuckled softly. "If that is the case, allow me to introduce you to my grandson. If you two became friends, it would make this old man very happy."

'Huh, your grandson?'

Dylan felt eyes on her. She turned, his blue irises flickering in the sunlight as their gazes locked. The young man was unquestionably handsome. From head to toe, he was well-dressed and polished like a perfectly crafted statue. 

"Dylan was a sweet and gentle child when I knew her," Edwin explained to him, touching the young man on his shoulder. "I would like it if you two became well acquainted." 

'Is Edwin a noble?'

The young man greeted her with a slight nod, a clear look of indifference plastered across his handsome face. It wasn't customary for nobles to greet one another as such, but he probably wasn't aware of her status.

Dylan was a ghost in society whose absence was the chief subject of conversation in all assemblies of ladies. Nobody knew what she looked like or why she was adopted. Dylan intentionally let it be that way, since entering society would only speed up her downfall.

'Not that it matters, anyways. Status is something trivial in my eyes.'

"Hello," she replied half-heartedly, lowering herself into a graceful curtsy. "My name is Dylan de Beaumon. It's nice to meet you."

The young man's shell of indifference cracked upon hearing the Duke's family name. He instinctively bowed his head, cheeks flustered with embarrassment. "I apologize for my improper greeting, Lady Dylan."

'Now I know why Dylan used her father's influence to get what she wanted in the novel.'

"That's alright," Dylan assured him, feeling awkward at his apologetic bow. 

The man raised his head hesitantly. "My name is Laikin de Frederique."

Dylan's face washed blank with confusion. 

Laikin saw the shock registered on Dylan's face before she could hide it. "Is something the matter?" he asked her. "You look awfully pale, milady." 

Laikin de Frederique was one of the male leads in the novel, "Faerchester's Flowers". He was the son of a Marquis and had an unrequited love for the heroine. Laikin despised everything about Dylan. From her background to her personality—he despised her every being. 

Laikin was one of the characters Dylan feared the most. He was a sick puppeteer who pulled strings controlling people like his puppets. He was a character who had no respect for human life and worth. 

"I'm fine," she replied, quickly pushing the thoughts away. There was a sadness in her eyes as she spoke, the brown clouded with feelings of confliction.

"Lady Dylan, is everything alright?" a distant voice called. 

"Ah, I must've been gone for a while. I should head back before my maid gets worried."

"Yes," Edwin agreed, offering her one last genuine smile. "Please send the invitation to my shop below the hill. I'd be honoured to visit your father's estate."

"Yes. I'm afraid I must go now," she said with a slight curtsy, "but I very much enjoyed conversing with you both."

Under the blue sky lined with clouds, the girl's fluttering golden locks tailed her movements like a flame. Laikin watched her with a strange expression as her small back faded further away into the distance with every step she took. 

The sight of her surrounded by the scenery of the hill looked like a beautiful portrait. Laikin wished he could've captured the image so he could carry it with him forever.