Chapter 44

When I shouted with both fists clenched, Tessarion beamed and spoke the most horrifying line of all ten of my regression lives:

“You finally got it. Should’ve done that sooner.”

“……”

Ah.

Oh goddess.

Why did you give him everything and forget to include common sense?

Emotionally shredded, I threw myself onto his bed, burying my face into a pillow and screaming “Uwaaaaah!” in despair. I also gave a few strong kicks to the giant mountain goat leather mattress—worth the price of a mansion in the capital.

When I turned with burning eyes at the sound of his laughter, I saw that vile man grinning down at me, mouth stretched wide.

That was the first time I ever saw Tessarion smile like that.

It made my blood boil.

Damn it, seriously! So annoyingggg!

❖ ❖ ❖

[Dear Altair,
Is there no magic to enlighten people who lack common sense?! Don’t tell me that’s forbidden too?
I read the newspaper and books to the Duke every morning and evening, yet his awareness hasn’t improved one bit.
Northern nobles are backing out of the marriage market, and he refuses to admit I’m the reason.
I feel like I’m going insane.
—Roy Dover]

I kept watching until the tiny bird, Omok, vanished completely from sight.

Then I returned to my seat and picked up the half-read magic book. After scribbling and erasing formulas a few times, I massaged my throbbing head and glanced at Tessarion. He was flipping through a report but looked up when he noticed.

“What is it?”

“……”

“Can’t concentrate because I’m too handsome again?”

“Yes.”

“Oh no. Then the magic of happiness may never be born.”

He chuckled slyly. What a smug jerk. I pouted and buried my face back in the book.

“It’ll be noon before you know it. Roy, today you must apologize to Lady Roswelden, and make sure you get an apology too. Girls her age like sweet things—try talking about chocolate.”

“Yes.”

I responded flatly, but inside I was anxious.

As Deputy Ibis had mentioned, the newspaper was filled with rumors of unrest in the northern noble society.

Olivieva, the center of attention last year, refused Madam Moress’s tea party due to “illness.” Then Edella and Pitunia declined next.

They were calling it an outbreak of inexplicable hysteria among eligible noblewomen. There were even articles claiming the “Spring Blossom No.1” couldn’t be chosen at this year’s tea party.

But Tessarion just scoffed at it.

He had canceled all previous meetings with minor villainess ladies, yet the one who slapped me and stormed off had now requested to meet again.

He took it as a good sign.

“Why so glum? Lady Roswelden’s cute, isn’t she? She’s got a bold personality like you.”

“Yes. So cute.”

…Her attitude was just so adorably vile.

“Do you like her?”

“Would anyone like someone who slaps them out of nowhere?”

I ended things last time so we’d never meet again. And yet she was the one who wanted to meet?

I couldn’t imagine she’d come just to apologize. Was she planning to hire a hitman and kill me?

And then this idiot said:

“You kept asking me to beat you for no reason—I thought you were into that.”

“……”

We are not associating anymore.

I raised my knees and rested a thick book on them to block him out. Then I focused on secretly advancing a spell to give his rotten love life a gentle push.

The draft was done.

Drugs? Too many side effects—pass.
Hypnosis? Doesn’t work on swordmasters with resistance—pass.
But an enchanted accessory worn by a specific individual? Now we’re talking.

If you remove emotion, both daily life and social function fall apart. So I decided to sidestep the “forbidden” part.

The goal was to cause physical symptoms of love, making the wearer wonder, “Why am I like this?” and come to their own conclusions.

Thankfully, there was a long magical history tied to cardiovascular health and vitality, so there were plenty of spells in that area.

Now, the key was to set the trigger: wearing the item and being near, or thinking of, a specific person.

Hmph!

I sneaked a glance at Tessarion and smirked. He was leaning lazily on one arm and gave me a half-smile in return.

“……”

Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat and I got chills.

Damn him.

I dove back into the book, cheeks burning, and hid my ears.

❖ ❖ ❖

The villainess asked to meet at the same sponsored garden as before. This time, Madam Moress and her crew had clearly gone all out. The dead vines were gone. New carpets, furniture, and flowers were arranged on the massive terrace.

Where once the garden felt empty, now floated magical hearts and shimmering illusions. Everything smelled sweet and dreamy.

Birds sang in harmony with the violinist’s melody.

Chirp chirp!

I thought. No—calculated.

“This setup alone… could probably buy a huge house in the capital.”

Was all this expensive, cringey fanfare really necessary for a second meeting with a background villainess?

“Do well.”

Tessarion patted my shoulder and pushed me forward. I glanced up at him with tearful puppy eyes like I was heading to the slaughterhouse. But Madam Moress’s sharp gaze made me straighten my back.

I walked down a path of flowers. The surreal beauty—new even after ten regressions—made my heart flutter.

But at the end of the flower path, in front of the grand fountain that symbolized spring’s jubilation, was not the heroine.

Just a pink-haired villainess holding a white parasol.

“Haa…”

I sighed involuntarily.

Chirp chirp!

Omok flew around me with a small note in his beak. Grateful for the excuse to delay, I stopped and let him land on my hand. The note simply read:

[Let’s talk in person.]

“…Huh?”

What the?

There was no name, time, or place listed.

“Roy.”

The third background villainess called to me from the fountain. Maybe she noticed my reluctance, or maybe she was mad I made her wait. I hurried over.

As I reached the fountain, she raised her dress slightly and bowed her head—a big change from last time when she didn’t even greet me.

Ugh.

Reluctantly, I clenched my jaw and bowed back.

“Good day, Lady Pitunia.”

“……”

She silently held out her hand. I stared at it blankly for three seconds. According to Madam Moress, a gentleman’s greeting meant kissing the back of the lady’s hand, offering your arm, and walking in step with her.

Urgh. Damn it.

I clenched my teeth and kissed her hand. But when I looked up—

“…?”

There wasn’t a pink-haired villainess in front of me.

There was a bespectacled man in a dark brown wool robe, smiling gently.

“We finally meet, Roy.”

“…?!”

My jaw dropped, and I froze.

Omok chirped happily and perched on Altair’s shoulder.

He helped me up and smoothly guided my hand onto his arm.