I Can See the Villain’s Future, and It’s Disturbing
Chapter 3
On my way back to my room after treating the stable hand, I ended up witnessing something unpleasant.
Perhaps because the weather was nice, the lord was outside, conducting business. When he spotted me, he called out in recognition.
“My lady. It’s rare to see your face.”
Perhaps wanting to play the role of a husband in front of his retainers for once, he reached out his hand toward me.
I quickly wiped the sour look from my face and approached him with the composed expression of Garnet Willinger.
He was smiling with his usual slyness, but I immediately sensed something off.
…What’s going on?
It seemed that just before I arrived, something serious had been discussed between the lord and his retainers.
Huh? That man…!
One of his vassals was kneeling on the ground, his face battered and swollen as if he had been badly beaten.
With a tense face, I glanced at the man and took the lord’s outstretched hand.
“Where were you headed, my lady?”
“I heard there was a patient with a leg injury, so I went to check on him.”
“You’re always so diligent.”
The lord curled his lips in satisfaction.
His eyes roamed slowly up and down my figure, cloudy and sticky with intent.
I could guess exactly what he was thinking.
Snatching the daughter of an old widower and keeping her only as a decorative wife wasn’t enough for him.
The Garnet I possessed was young, beautiful, and gifted in medicine.
If not for the bad-tempered concubine in the annex, he probably would have forced himself on me long ago.
The way he held my hand now, groaning like a frustrated dog, made his true intentions obvious.
“May I ask what happened while I was away?”
I subtly pulled my hand free from his grasp, finding his unusually burning gaze even more repulsive today.
Smacking his lips in regret, he leaned close to whisper in my ear.
“You came at the perfect time. Since you’re here, stay and watch—see what happens to those who defy their master.”
Turning back to his retainers, he raised his right hand in a commanding gesture.
Two intimidating soldiers stepped forward, swords in hand.
Sensing the shadow of death falling over him, the kneeling vassal cried out in despair.
“Foolish lord! If you turn your back on Grand Duke Shiraz now, you’ll weep tears of blood!”
“Silence! How dare a wretch like you lecture me!”
The moment the name Grand Duke Shiraz left the vassal’s lips, my breath caught.
“Mark my words! You may take my head today, but soon, every head in this castle will fall—because of our foolish master!”
“Y-you…! Kill him at once!”
The vassal, having already given up on life, closed his eyes.
As soon as the lord lowered his hand, the soldiers’ blades swung down, severing the man’s head.
Urgh.
I turned my head away and squeezed my eyes shut.
It had all happened too quickly for me to escape the scene.
“Listen! Have the letter I wrote personally delivered to General Marcus at once!”
“Yes, my lord!”
The lord grinned in satisfaction at his decision as he looked at the corpse.
The blood spread across the ground, seeping toward my feet.
In this world, human life was treated as insignificant, and one never knew when a blade might strike their neck.
Only then did I fully grasp the reality of where I was.
This was not a romantic fantasy world of balls and glittering court life.
This was the middle of a war—after the emperor’s assassination, two massive factions were locked in a ceaseless, bloody struggle.
From the title A Flower Blooming in Darkness, I had expected a beautiful love story.
But the novel had turned out to be something else entirely.
Once I start a story, I have to finish it, so I had kept reading it in my spare time back in my original world.
As I turned page after page, I found myself less interested in the romance between General Marcus and the heroine, and more curious about the fate of the cruel villain, Shiraz Rudkayev.
I wanted catharsis—not to be dropped into the story myself.
But here I was, and the world really was as dark as the title suggested.
“I… I’m not feeling well, so I’ll return to my room.”
“As you wish, my lady. Sorry you had to witness something unpleasant.”
I turned away from the lord, clenching my fists, and walked away quickly.
Once I was sure I was out of his sight, I stopped dead in my tracks.
“What’s wrong, my lady?”
My maid, puzzled by my sudden halt, asked the question.
“It’s finally happened.”
“Pardon?”
I muttered to myself, ignoring her confusion, and looked up at the sky.
The summer heat had passed, and a cool autumn breeze was blowing.
Autumn was my favorite season—yet this was the first time I had ever feared its arrival.
On that clear autumn day when Grand Duke Shiraz reduced Lord Willinger’s castle to ashes, the sky was black with crows. The place became one vast grave.
This passage from the original novel flashed through my mind like lightning.
That idiot of a lord had ignored the last wise counsel from one of his few intelligent retainers, and now he had set events in motion.
The day Shiraz learned of the letter pledging the lord’s loyalty to Marcus would be the castle’s funeral day.
I can’t just stand here doing nothing.
Realizing there was little time left, I returned to my room at once.
I tried to estimate how long it would take for the letter to reach Marcus’s camp—and for Shiraz to find out.
I have to escape before Shiraz knows.
In a few days, the lord’s birthday party would be held at the castle.
The halls would be crowded, and everyone would be too drunk to notice anything. That would be my chance.
Rumors spread quickly through the small countryside town that Grand Duke Shiraz Rudkayev would be passing through.
Every household bolted their doors and held their breath.
Hoping his army would simply pass without incident, the townspeople hid so thoroughly that not even a strand of hair could be seen.
The man who had murdered his uncle, the emperor, and plunged the empire into terror—the demon, the butcher of men.
The horrifying stories about him had layered upon each other until he was a monster in the eyes of all, and they had spread across the continent like wildfire.
And indeed, wherever the army of the Black Lion passed, not even an ant could be seen.
They didn’t need to control the crowds—people instinctively cowered for their lives.
Tak, tak.
The army moved like a slow, black river.
Even though their numbers seemed endless, not a single idle chatter could be heard.
The strict discipline of the troops inspired awe.
“Your Grace.”
Mikhail, the captain of the knights, rode up in haste and bowed his head to the duke.
“There’s something you should see.”
Shiraz glanced down indifferently at what the captain held out.
Hughie, the aide riding alongside the duke, also looked on.
“We caught a suspicious man near the village outskirts. He was carrying this.”
A letter sealed with red wax.
“The crest of House Willinger.”
Without hesitation, Shiraz broke the seal.
As his golden lashes cast shadows over his sculpted features, he quickly scanned the contents.
Under the sun, his platinum hair gleamed, and his upright posture on horseback drew every gaze.
“Hmm.”
A cold glint flashed in his eyes as he finished reading.
What’s wrong?
Sensing the duke’s displeasure, Hughie’s neck stiffened with tension.
“Willinger thinks he can play me for a fool. The rat.”
“Your Grace, has he sided with Marcus?”
Guessing the contents of the letter, Hughie clicked his tongue.
He had known the man was cunning, but thought at least he had survival instincts. It seemed Willinger had just signed his own death warrant.
“We’ll change course.”
Shiraz slowly crumpled the letter in his hand, a twisted smile on his lips.
“We’ll send Marcus Willinger’s head. If he wants to go to him so badly, I’ll grant his wish.”
Even in the breeze passing through the army, there was already the faint smell of blood.
The castle had been bustling for days.
As the celebration would host not only outside guests but also the lord’s relatives, the showy lord had ordered a lavish banquet.
Watching him, I secretly smirked.
Yes, enjoy yourself to the fullest while you still can. No regrets.
Though part of me dreaded the arrival of his birthday, another part longed for it to come sooner—because it would mean my escape.
I had to finalize my plan. There could be no mistakes.
The day before the lord’s birthday arrived.
I rose at my usual hour, dressed neatly, and sat at the vanity.
“I’ve brought your meal.”
My maid, Rosalyn, placed the food on the table with her usual lack of care.
Normally, the lord’s wife would share breakfast with him in the dining hall.
But that seat was occupied by the red-haired real mistress of the castle. So I was left to eat cold food alone like an unwanted guest.
Which, honestly, was fine by me—seeing either of their faces over breakfast would ruin my appetite anyway.
Rosalyn, stuck bringing me my meals every day, wore her usual morning scowl.
I ignored it and combed my hair.
“I think I’ll go check if the preparations for the guests are going well.”
