I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 165: A Day Without Saving The World

Damien sat on the sofa by the window. "Tea’s fine. Better than wine – I don’t think my decision-making needs any more impairment."

She smiled.

Lyristae poured carefully, her movements precise in that way people get when they’re overthinking simple tasks. She handed him a cup and took the opposite end of the sofa, tucking her legs under her.

"So," she started, then stopped. Frowned at her tea. "I had this whole speech prepared. Very eloquent. Covered all the important points about expectations and boundaries and how we navigate this with your existing anchors."

"And?"

"And now it sounds incredibly boring in my head. Like I’m negotiating a trade agreement."

"You probably are, in a way. Just with feelings instead of tariffs."

"That’s depressing." She took a sip. "Can we just... not do the serious relationship talk right now? I’d like to try being spontaneous for once."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I have absolutely no idea. That’s the spontaneous part." She looked genuinely distressed by this. "I don’t know how normal people spend time together. When I’m not managing a kingdom or preventing apocalypses, I just... read tactical treatises. Or practice shadow manipulation. My hobbies are terrible."

Damien laughed.

"What do Seria and Elara like doing? When you’re not actively in crisis?"

"Seria sharpens her swords and reorganizes supply inventories. Elara prays and volunteers at orphanages." He paused. "We’re all terrible at leisure activities."

"That’s oddly comforting." Lyristae set down her tea. "Okay, new plan. Let’s leave the palace. Go somewhere in the city. Do something completely normal people do."

"Like what?"

"I don’t know! That’s the point!" She was getting animated now, her usual composure cracking. "I’ve been queen since I was eighteen. Everything I do is ceremonial or political. I want to just... be somewhere without being Queen Lyristae for a few hours."

"You realize people will recognize you."

"Then we’ll disguise ourselves. Use shadow magic to alter appearances. It’s practical application of our abilities."

"You want to use ancient forbidden magic to... go shopping?"

"Yes! Or eat at a normal restaurant. Or watch street performers. Literally anything that doesn’t involve someone bowing or asking for political favors." She stood up, suddenly energized. "Unless you’d rather stay here and have the awkward defining-our-relationship conversation."

"Disguise magic it is."

---

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in front of a mirror examining their altered appearances.

Lyristae had given herself darker hair and slightly different features. Still attractive, but in an unremarkable way that wouldn’t draw attention. She wore a simple traveling dress borrowed from one of her maids.

Damien had gone for nondescript brown hair and a more common build. The shadows muted his features just enough to make him forgettable.

"This is weird," Lyristae said, touching her face. "I look like a baker’s daughter."

"That’s the point."

"I know, but it’s still weird. I haven’t looked like anyone other than myself in years."

They snuck out through a servant’s entrance, which Lyristae navigated with surprising ease.

"You do this often?" Damien asked.

"Sometimes. When the palace gets suffocating. Though usually I just walk the gardens at night, not venture into the actual city."

The streets of Valdara were crowded with afternoon activity. Merchants hawking wares, children playing, workers heading home, the constant flow of urban life. No one gave them a second glance.

"This is amazing," Lyristae breathed. "Nobody’s staring. Nobody’s whispering. I’m just... another person."

"You sound way too excited about being ordinary."

"You have no idea how exhausting it is being extraordinary all the time." She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward a market stall. "Look! Actual commercial goods at non-diplomatic prices! I want to buy something completely frivolous!"

She proceeded to examine cheap jewelry with the intensity of someone evaluating military intelligence. The vendor, a weathered woman with sharp eyes, watched her with amusement.

"First time at a market, dear?" the woman asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You’re holding that bracelet like it might explode. It’s copper wire and glass beads. Won’t bite you."

Lyristae flushed. "I’m just... not used to shopping. For myself. Without attendants."

"Ah. One of those fancy noble types slumming it for kicks?"

"Something like that."

"Well, the bracelet’s two silver if you want it. Three for the matching earrings."

Lyristae looked at Damien. "Is that a fair price? I genuinely don’t know."

"It’s slightly inflated for commoners but reasonable for tourists."

"I’m being charged the tourist rate!"

"You’re dressed well and examining goods like you’ve never seen commerce before. What did you expect?"

The vendor laughed. "Your man’s honest, at least. Tell you what – two silver for the set since you’re entertaining."

Lyristae bought them, looking unreasonably pleased with her cheap jewelry. She put the bracelet on immediately.

"I negotiated a purchase," she said as they walked away.

"You’re celebrating basic commerce."

"I’m celebrating autonomy! Do you know how many things I’m not allowed to do myself? Everything goes through intermediaries and official channels and bureaucratic processes. I wanted a bracelet and I just... bought it. With my own money. That I’m carrying. Like a person."

Her genuine delight was oddly endearing.

They wandered through the market, stopping at random stalls. Lyristae wanted to try street food – something she’d apparently never done – and ended up buying some kind of fried pastry that was too hot and burned her tongue.

"Ow! Why didn’t you warn me?"

"I assumed you’d have the basic sense to let it cool."

"I was excited! I’ve never eaten from a street vendor!" She waved the pastry around, trying to cool it. "Is all commoner food this aggressively temperature-inappropriate?"

"Most people just wait before eating."

"That’s boring."

She insisted on buying him one too, then watching with intense focus as he ate it properly.

"You’re staring at me eating fried dough."

"Actually, I’m observing proper street food consumption technique."

"There’s no technique. You just don’t burn yourself."

"Everything is technique if you’re bad enough at it."

They found a small fountain in a plaza and sat on the edge, watching people pass. Street musicians were playing nearby – not professionally, but enthusiastically. Children ran around chasing each other while their parents conducted business.

"This is nice," Lyristae said quietly. "Just watching. Being part of the background instead of the focal point."

"You really hate being queen, don’t you?"

"No. I love my kingdom. I’m good at ruling. But..." She trailed off, watching a mother scold her child for running too close to the fountain. "Sometimes I wonder what I’d be like if I’d had a normal life. If I’d grown up learning to bake bread or tend shop instead of managing political intrigue and demonic invasions - six or seven times over."

...

"You’d probably be bored out of your mind within a week."

"Probably," she admitted. "But I’d like the option to find out."

A commotion drew their attention. Street performers setting up – actors preparing for some kind of play. People were gathering, children pushing to the front for better views.

"Want to watch?" Damien asked.

"I’ve never seen a street performance. Palace entertainment is all formal theater and orchestrated presentations."

They joined the crowd as the performers began. It was a comedy – something about a hapless merchant trying to court three different women simultaneously and the chaos that ensued. The acting was over-the-top, the jokes were crude, and Lyristae laughed harder than Damien had ever seen.

"This is terrible," she said between giggles. "The timing is all wrong and that one actor keeps forgetting his lines."

"But you’re enjoying it."

"Immensely! It’s so genuinely bad it loops back to being good!" She wiped her eyes. "Palace performances are always perfect. This is refreshingly incompetent."

The merchant character had just been discovered by all three women simultaneously when someone in the crowd bumped into Lyristae hard enough to make her stumble.

Damien caught her reflexively, steadying her.

The man who’d bumped into her was already apologizing. "Sorry, sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was—"

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at Lyristae. His eyes went wide.

"Your Majesty?"

The shadow disguise had slipped when she’d stumbled. Just for a moment, but enough for someone looking directly at her to recognize the face beneath.

"I... you’re mistaken," Lyristae tried. "I’m just—"

"It’s definitely you. I’ve seen you at public addresses. Your Majesty, what are you doing at a street performance?"

People were starting to notice. Turning to look. The performance continued, but attention was shifting.

"Damn it," Lyristae muttered. She dropped the shadow disguise entirely – no point maintaining it now. "Yes, fine. I’m the queen. I’m watching a play. That’s allowed, isn’t it?"

The crowd was murmuring now. Some people dropping into bows, others just staring.

The performers had stopped, noticing the commotion.

"Should we... is there protocol for this?" one of them asked.

"Please keep performing," Lyristae said, her composure returning even as her spontaneous afternoon evaporated. "I was enjoying the merchant’s predicament."

"The queen was enjoying our play?" The lead actor looked like he might faint. "Your Majesty, we’re honored, but this is just street theater. Hardly suitable for—"

"It’s funny. I like it. Continue."