Chapter 10.
The Appearance of the Decadent Handsome Man
“Di-Diabell…la? Ugh, th-that… Diablo?”
The man’s eyes widened like he’d just seen a ghost, his pupils trembling in shock.
Yes, that’s right. That’s me.
“Th-the villainess… no, the Marchioness!”
The shopkeeper, too, flinched and stammered, only to be elbowed by his wife into bowing his head, pale as death.
That’s me too.
Really, what name could carry more weight in this situation? Even if the Empress herself walked in, she couldn’t inspire this much shock and terror.
Diabella, deeply satisfied, smothered her smug laughter. Heh-heh-heh.
Then, the sound of many footsteps rushed up outside the shop, halting at the door.
“Seize that man at once!”
That’s not me… right? Diabella turned toward the entrance.
Gasp. A new handsome man!
Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp jawline, high-bridged nose.
Under his thick brows, his deep-set eyes might have looked severe—but the clear, luminous blue of them softened that intensity, like sunlight over a cold lake.
If Marquis Raymond was the archetypal pretty-boy, this one had an alluring, decadent edge.
Both were the kind of stunning men Hajin had never seen in her real life before—men you’d thank heaven to meet in fiction—but if she had to choose a type…
Hard choice. But that tragic, decadent vibe? Delicious.
Diabella quickly covered her mouth. Those sorrowful, languid eyes, that faintly plump mouth—it was enough to make her heart throb.
The decadent dreamboat looked at Diabella too. His eyes widened briefly in surprise, the tips of his ears flushing red. But just as quickly, he frowned and glanced around the wrecked shop.
Slurp.
Ah, crap. Did I just drool? Did he see? No, he couldn’t have. She feigned dizziness, tilted her head, and hastily wiped her mouth.
Get a grip. You’re Diabella—most beautiful woman in the Empire, notorious for your icy hauteur. Don’t break character just because of a pretty face.
But still, every time she stood in front of such a man, she forgot her “villainess setting.”
To be fair, even I still can’t get used to this face when I look in the mirror.
The man seemed not to notice her slip. He turned his gaze instead to the thug sprawled on the ground.
“How dare you terrorize helpless merchants and women! We’ve had reports of unlicensed loan-sharking.”
“Me? I’m the one being assaulted here, can’t you see—”
The thug tried to protest, but by then Diabella had already moved her foot off his hand, and had arranged her face into the delicate mask of a trembling maiden, hiding her mouth with her hand.
“Drag him out and deliver him to the guards.”
The handsome man gave the order coolly. Still limping from his injuries, the thug was hauled away.
“Are you unharmed?”
The stranger checked the shopkeepers first, then cast only the briefest glance toward Diabella before moving on.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, my lady? Do you have something to say?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking after my safety as well?”
“Ah. When I entered, you looked perfectly unharmed, so I neglected to ask. Are you well?”
He inclined his head—not toward her face, but toward her shoes. Inquiring after her shoes.
Wait. He saw that?
Flustered, Diabella glared, but he only smiled brightly, the weight of his tragic aura melting into a boyish grin that could thaw even a thousand-year grudge.
Damn. That contrast… the switch from brooding to playful. How did he know that’s my weakness?
“My apologies, my lady. I’m relieved you’re safe. My name is Vernus von D’iarte.”
This time, his bow was perfectly polite, every inch the gentleman.
Even his name is gorgeous!
A perfect fit for a tragic, decadent hero.
“I am…”
“Lady Diabella de Crimten, the Marchioness. I know.”
“Wait… do we know each other?”
“No, this is our first meeting.”
“Then how do you know my name?”
“Anyone who lays eyes upon you would know immediately.”
…Was that a compliment? Or an insult?
Was he referring to her fame as the most beautiful “Black Rose” of the Empire—or her infamy as its greatest villainess? Hard to tell.
“Well then, Sir Vernus… are you connected to the city guard?”
“No. I was merely passing by when I heard of a disturbance. I summoned them.”
“I see. Well, thank you. That brute was… quite something.”
Diabella conveniently forgot that she had been even more brutal than the brute.
“But if he was really an unlicensed loan shark, does that mean the shopkeeper doesn’t need to repay him?”
“Not exactly. The loan was real. But the assault, the threats, and the usurious interest—that will all be punished.”
Vernus stooped to retrieve the pouch of coins dropped in the scuffle, then offered it to her. His brow twitched when he saw the amount. Ten million marks?
He had seen her fling money and stomp the man earlier, but he hadn’t heard her words. He hadn’t expected her to toss around that kind of sum.
It was unusual—noblewomen rarely carried much actual cash. They usually paid by promissory note under their family’s name.
“Good. That’s a relief.”
Diabella took the pouch smoothly, tucking it away. Any chance to save money was a blessing.
“Anyway, thank you again.”
She inclined her head slightly—her signal that he could leave. Vernus removed his hat and bowed once more, every movement flawlessly elegant.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I hope we may meet again.”
“Yes, farewell.”
Diabella curtsied lightly, though in her mind she thought, Will I ever see him again?
He was handsome enough to lock up in her basement and stare at forever—but she doubted fate would cross their paths again. She had more urgent matters to attend to.
As he left, Diabella quickly turned back to the shopkeepers.
“Are you well? I’m glad that thug is gone.”
“Yes… thank you, my lady. You’ve done us a great service.”
The shopkeeper bowed deeply, though his heart trembled even harder than before. To think the infamous villainess herself had come to his shabby shop—and even taken his side, punishing his tormentor without mercy.
Was this a blessing, or was he simply trading one predator for another? He couldn’t tell.
“How much was the original loan?”
“Five million marks.”
“And he demanded twice that? Ridiculous.”
“I knew the interest was high… but my child needed medicine. I had no choice…”
The shopkeeper’s face fell.
“You put this shop up as collateral, correct? What’s the building worth?”
Puzzled by her interest, he answered anyway.
“About seven million marks.”
“Hmm. At the far edge of the square… not bad, though not as high as I thought.”
Diabella propped her chin in thought—then suddenly strode outside.
Across the street, Vernus hastily pulled deeper into the shadows.
As he suspected, she had come out alone without attendants or guards. Even if she was a fearsome “villainess,” he couldn’t leave her unprotected in such a place. He would watch over her until she returned safely.
And those rumors…
Her beauty far surpassed the gossip. To call her merely the Empire’s “Black Rose” was too small a title.
And that reputation as a villainess? Yes, she was blunt, not shy or demure like other noble ladies. But her straightforwardness was refreshing.
Maybe those very qualities had been twisted into the “villainess” slander. Because what he had seen was a woman who stood fearlessly against danger to protect the powerless.
Unlike the coy, calculating women who feigned innocence—she was genuine.
But she’s already married…
Vernus sighed softly, fingers brushing the tips of his ears, which still burned red.
Still… who’s that shadow watching her?
He had noticed another figure lurking across the way, eyes fixed on Diabella. His hand tightened on his sword. If need be, he would step in at once.
Meanwhile, Diabella, oblivious, was examining the shop’s exterior. It was a shabby three-story building, paint peeling. Like others on the street, the first floor served as a shop while the upper floors were rented lodgings.
About 20 pyeong (700 sq ft), maybe?
Compared to the grand stores nearby, it was tiny, unimpressive.
But… this could work.
After a long inspection, she nodded, reentered the shop, and slapped her hand down on the table where the shopkeeper and his wife sat.
“Sell me this shop!”
The shopkeeper’s face went deathly pale.
