villainess chapter 25

“Hmph.” Vivian momentarily held her breath, anticipating the pain that was about to engulf her. Seconds ticked by, yet she felt neither pain nor any jarring sound. Puzzled, she cautiously opened her eyes and looked around. 

“Flora?” Flora had managed to throw herself forward, shielding Vivian in a tight embrace. If it weren’t for her sister, Vivian’s head would have slammed against the carriage wall. Smaller and lighter than Flora, Vivian was still jostled in her sister’s arms. The persistent tremors made Vivian squeeze her eyes shut again. Flora held her close, enduring the movement. The horses seemed to struggle against their harnesses before coming to an abrupt, jarring halt. Flora exhaled in relief and asked, “Are you alright, Vivian?” 

“Flora… yes.” Her voice trembled, betraying her words. Flora’s expression darkened slightly, noticing her sister’s distress. Still holding Vivian, she reached out and drew back the curtain, then opened the small carriage window to peer outside. The coachman, having dismounted, paced anxiously, attending to someone in front of the now-calmed horses. 

One of the Duke’s knights, part of their escort, stood beside him. The rest of the knights surrounded the carriage, forming a protective circle. Why did we stop so suddenly? Were we attacked by bandits? Vivian’s eyes flickered with unease, her thoughts a mirror of the unknown situation outside. As if echoing her sister’s unspoken question, Flora called out, “What happened?” 

“My Lady, I beg your forgiveness! A person suddenly ran out in front of us. Are you unharmed? Please have mercy…” 

The elderly coachman prostrated himself as soon as he heard Flora’s voice, trembling too much to continue. Flora’s voice softened. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s alright. Are you and the others injured?” 

“W-we are unharmed. My deepest apologies, My Lady.” 

“A person?” Vivian whispered, having overheard the exchange. She lifted her head from Flora’s embrace and began to wriggle free. Flora looked down at her with concern. “Vivian?” 

“Flora, I’m alright now. Thanks to you, I’m not hurt. I just want to look out the window.” 

“Alright. But don’t open the door.” 

“I won’t.” Vivian leaned closer to the open window. Just as the coachman had said, a young man with tousled blond hair lay sprawled on the ground. This must hurt, on such an uneven cobblestone road. He appeared not only to have fallen but also to have been severely beaten. 

Bruises and cuts covered his exposed arms and legs, even extending up to his neck where his clothes had been torn. The unseen parts of his body were undoubtedly in a similar, if not worse, state. The injuries seemed too widespread to be from a simple fall. At least it appeared he hadn’t been directly struck by the horses; that would have been instantly fatal. The boy’s head was bowed, making it difficult to discern his identity. His messy hair completely obscured his face. 

“He looks badly hurt…” Vivian murmured, craning her neck further to get a better look, one hand gripping the window frame for support. Flora gently held her sister, reiterating her warning. 

“It could be dangerous. Don’t leave the carriage until the knights have assessed the situation.” 

“Yes, Flora.” As if startled by her presence, the boy stirred. He slowly pushed himself up, his palms scraping against the rough cobblestones. A harsh groan escaped his lips. 

“Ugh.” He was clearly in considerable pain. His bruised knees buckled several times. As he finally managed to stand, his face came into view. Vivian’s bright hazel eyes, the color of sunset, met the boy’s. His dull, dark blue eyes, devoid of emotion, locked onto hers. A desperate plea escaped his pale lips. 

“P-please, save me. Have mercy.” 

“Gasp!” 

“Please, save me. Help me.” Vivian’s eyes widened with unconcealed terror and fear. For a fleeting moment, she couldn’t even breathe, a suffocating pressure constricting her lungs. Her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably. The tremor spread from her tightly clenched hands to her very toes. 

A deep-seated fear, buried within the recesses of her soul, began to surface. It was an instinctive reaction, beyond her control, spreading through her like wildfire. The injured boy standing before the carriage… she knew him. Arthur? He was still a young boy, but drastically different from the image in her memory. Filthy and disheveled, he was a stark contrast to what she recalled. But how could she forget that beautiful, yet terrifying face?