Taming The Villainesses-Chapter 387: The Bird of Hochungcheon (2)

"Fortune favors the bold."

That saying was so well-known that there was no need for me to elaborate.

But here, I began to reflect—what exactly does boldness mean? I used to think it was simply the courage to approach a beautiful woman.

However, after pondering these last few days, I realized that the boldness spoken of here isn't just about risking embarrassment or challenge. No, it's about life itself.

To win a beauty, you must be prepared to risk your life.

Courage that stakes your very existence.

Males have evolved that way since the beginning. Willing to risk their lives fighting rivals or throwing themselves into peril to protect the female.

And if that female happens to be the most beautiful of all—

"I could die today and have no regrets."

It wouldn’t be strange if many men thought that way. I myself once felt the same. I thought—If I could just hold Ayra, even death would be worth it.

But thankfully, I didn’t die.

Perhaps our magical compatibility turned out to be surprisingly good? Knowing just how dangerous a relationship with a female mage can be, I considered that a stroke of luck.

Yes—

I didn’t die.

For someone already prepared to die, losing an eye... isn’t that a small price to pay?

But Elga, standing there in the corridor, stared at me—my left eye completely wrapped in bandages—as if I were someone risen from the dead.

“Hey, your eye...”

Before she could finish her sentence, I offered a sheepish reply.

“It just sort of happened that way. I’m not hurt or anything.”

“......”

Elga fell silent, a complicated expression on her face. Just then, Ayra, who was still holding my hand, tightened her grip firmly.

“......”

She didn’t say anything, but I figured it meant something like Don’t go being friendly with other women in front of me. At least, that was how I interpreted it.

“Lady Elga, if the chance arises, I’d really like to talk with you.”

“......”

Elga was quiet for a moment. She pressed her thumb against the space between her brows, as if she had something to say but was holding it back.

“Even if the chance doesn’t arise, we need to talk. High Inquisitors from the Church have arrived. They brought an official warrant issued by the Holy See. They want this expedition halted. A Prosecutor’s here too.”

Her words shocked me. Inquisitors and Prosecutors from the Church? That meant they were here either to interrogate or detain someone.

And they were notorious for ignoring rules and procedure when it suited them—I’d heard plenty of rumors.

Could that commotion I sensed outside the window yesterday morning have been this? I had no idea such a thing had happened while I was tangled in Ayra’s web.

Elga added one more thing.

“This fortress needs a leader—someone to show direction. And that leader, right now, is you, Ayra von Tarantella. I don’t care what you two were doing in there, but it’s time to act.”

Her voice was surprisingly calm. Once known for her fiery temper as the eldest daughter of House Leones, Elga had clearly matured, learning patience and composure.

But Ayra just let out a snort.

“You do it.”

“...What?”

Elga frowned, and Ayra continued.

“You’ve always wanted to stand above everyone. You wanted to beat me. So take it—the role of leader in this fortress. If you want it, it’s yours. Just don’t interfere with the time I have with Teo.”

At those words, the atmosphere turned ice-cold. My own heart froze solid too. But Elga just let out a laugh, like she’d heard something truly ridiculous.

Like a balloon deflating.

Then, with a chilling expression, she slapped Ayra across the face.

Smack—the sharp sound echoed down the corridor. Ayra touched her reddened cheek slowly.

Elga looked at her and said,

“You really haven’t changed. You’ve always been completely self-absorbed.”

Ayra scowled.

“...I’m self-absorbed? You all don’t know a thing. All of you. I’ve let you live. Without me, you’re nothing...!”

Here we go.

Maybe I’d made a mistake bringing Ayra outside in her condition. People began to crowd into the hallway, having heard the commotion.

—"What’s going on?"

—"I don’t know."

Their eyes were filled with fear. They were terrified of the queen, who had the power to destroy this fortress single-handedly.

Among the crowd were the Draco sisters and Professor Stella. Mirna, the calmest among us, scanned the scene and spoke.

“What exactly is happening here?”

Elga growled in response.

“Ask her. That damn woman.”

Even without further explanation, Mirna seemed to get the gist from the murmurs around her.

“Queen Tarantella. This one’s on you. We’re facing a crisis, and we don’t have time for tantrums.”

Ayra trembled.

It was like watching a boiling kettle rattle.

Sensing that something terrible might happen if this kept going, I grabbed Ayra’s arm and slipped through the crowd like we were fleeing.

“Excuse us—just passing through.”

***

“Tch. Seriously.”

Elga spat on the ground to try and vent her lingering anger. But the frustration remained, welling up again.

Mirna said to her,

“What was that about? Slapping the queen? I know you’ve always been reckless, Lady Leones, but that was dangerous.”

Lately, Elga had been noticeably cautious. And Mirna knew the reason—Elga no longer lived for herself alone.

Even so, to slap a queen, especially one as unstable as Ayra, was dangerous. Though Mirna herself had also been on edge, that was going too far.

Elga muttered under her breath,

“I don’t know either. I just couldn’t hold it in without slapping her at least once.”

From behind her sister’s side, Narmee peeked out and chimed in,

“I totally get it! Queen Ayra was being a complete bitch! If it were me standing in front of her, I’d have slapped her on both cheeks!”

Narmee, the younger twin, was always blunt. And when it came to action, she had no brakes. If it had been her, she really might’ve slapped both sides.

Maybe it was a relief that it had been Elga instead of Narmee. As Mirna thought that and felt a vague sense of relief, Stella—who’d been observing silently with her arms crossed—spoke up.

“So, what exactly happened? Queen Ayra’s condition looks worse than ever. I’ve seen a lot of people in my life, but those were the eyes of someone totally broken. There was no focus.”

Stella had lived a long time.

She’d met all kinds of people and gained a lot of insight. And to her, Ayra’s eyes looked like someone cornered—desperate.

Nothing like her usual cold, composed self.

More like a cornered rat, ready to bite if anything came near. And that kind of person was usually very dangerous.

“Teo must have some kind of plan. He’s not the type to act without thinking. Sure, his plans are reckless and wild, but... well, we should do our best too.”

Stella, drawing on her years of experience, tried to offer some comfort.

But the younger girls didn’t seem moved. Stella felt a generational gap. Half a century ago, motivational talk like this would’ve worked just fine!

Then Mirna spoke.

“So... where is Sir Teo now? Is it really okay to leave him alone with the queen? Shouldn’t one of us be watching over them?”

They hadn’t been able to follow us.

But Teo and Ayra were the kind of people who drew attention wherever they went. Wherever they were, things were bound to get noisy soon enough.

***

I took Ayra by the arm and escaped to somewhere that looked relatively empty.

Of course, I knew exactly the right place. I just had to bring her into the secret location once used by that imp who lived inside Gargarta Fortress.

When I activated the hidden mechanism on the wall and opened the secret door, Ayra—who’d been silent for quite a while—finally seemed to loosen up a little. That was when I let myself relax, too.

That was close.

If things had gone on like that, a serious fight might have broken out. No matter the reason, I didn’t want to see my women fighting. If possible, I wanted them all to get along.

Even if there are all kinds of problems right now... Someday, I really hope they can live like a true family.

“So there was a place like this.”

Swish, swish.

Ayra said this as she glanced around.

Compared to how anxious and obsessive she’d been inside the bedroom, she seemed surprisingly normal now that she was outside.

I told her,

“This is the place where that imp I mentioned used to live.”

Then something caught my foot, and I stumbled forward.

It was because my left field of vision had narrowed due to the bandages over my left eye—I hadn’t seen the protruding rock on the floor in time.

If I take off the bandages, Ayra will definitely be furious.

Because I’m supposed to have “given” that eye to her.

“Ugh...”

Looks like I scraped my palm a bit.

“Let me see.”

Ayra took my hand, gently unfolded it, and slowly licked the raw skin where it had been scraped.

The smooth, sensual motion of her tongue was oddly seductive and erotic. My blood surged in an instant.

No good.

Rustle.

I pulled my hand away from Ayra’s tongue. Then I grabbed her by the hand and led her somewhere—anywhere, just far away from that room.

At last, we arrived before the painting of the two nymphs.

It looked like a disorganized secret hideout, with scattered belongings and clutter everywhere. Ayra looked around curiously, showing brief interest.

“This place is fascinating. You can feel the will in it.”

“The will?”

“A will to live. A will to encounter something. Human will, tangled and knotted together. This is the second time I’ve ever felt such a powerful will.”

Ayra’s words were charged with surprising strength.

Just last night, she had been whispering bizarre things. But now her gaze was sharp and focused again.

Ayra said,

“I understand now. This secret room is the true center of Gargarta Fortress. The source of its power. From this room, I can feel everything happening in the fortress.”

I had no idea what she meant—but I was simply relieved that her condition was improving.

As I thought—people really can’t just stay holed up in a room forever.

Going out, taking a walk, airing out your mind—it helps. Now that I had proof to support my theory, my confidence grew.

I figured anything I said now would be good for her, so I replied casually,

“I never thought this place was the fortress’s center.”

“You said an imp lived here?”

At her question, I looked around.

Isaiah’s imp... Who knows where it went? Hopefully the girls were taking good care of it. I had especially asked Mirna—who had a fondness for imps—to look after it.

“Doesn’t look like we can meet it right now.”

“Hmmm.”

Ayra let out a faint nasal hum, sounding disappointed. I’d felt it before—she has a soft spot for nymphs and imps.

“The fact that the imp really lived here... though, aside from very old traces, I don’t feel much presence.”

Maybe part of the reason Ayra shows me such affection is because I’m half-nymph.

Not the whole reason, but probably at least half.

Slide.

Then Ayra’s eyes landed on the frame hanging on the wall.

A painting of a brown-haired nymph—one of the portraits of the two Beatrices. Staring at the picture, Ayra spoke.

“It’s the same person. The same person painted them. For the same purpose.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The will I’m sensing—it’s coming from this painting.”

I asked,

“Is there a way to figure out the purpose behind these paintings?”

Through one of those portraits, I had experienced time travel. Maybe Ayra could uncover the secrets behind these images. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Slide.

Ayra ran her hand over one side of the painting and spoke.

“There’s a strong desire to see someone again. Longing. A yearning to return. A wish to go back to a certain moment. A yearning...”

She trailed off, seeming to doubt her own words.

Then she corrected herself.

“This painting... it’s a prayer.”

“A prayer?”

In response to my question, Ayra said with complete calm,

“A prayer. True prayer arises from a burning longing for something humans cannot achieve on their own. Magic, in a way, is born from the same root.”

The shared root of magic and prayer.

I knew a little about that. The magic that makes fire appear in one’s hand—what conjures that flame isn’t mana or incantations.

It’s desire. The will to bring it forth.

But there’s one key difference between magic and prayer. Prayer requires a subject—someone to receive it. A god, or something equivalent.

“A prayer... Solomon prayed to a god...?”

Just as I was following that line of thought, Ayra suddenly fell silent.

Her sudden quiet made me fear her madness was returning.

“...Teo. That record of Isaiah Gospel you showed me before. Open it again. Maybe I’ve been mistaken about my opponent this whole time.”

Ayra murmured something I didn’t quite understand. But unlike the night before, her expression was deadly serious.

So I pulled out the book Teo from my inventory, the 《Squirrel Storage》, and handed it to her.

As she took it, her face lit up with intensity.

Her black eyes moved quickly—then slowly came to a stop.

“...How could I not notice something so obvious? Solomon wasn’t a magician. Strictly speaking, he was like his ancestor David. More like a priest...”

Ayra clutched her head and began to mutter to herself.

Her condition seemed unstable again. I began to grow afraid.

“Lady Ayra, are you alright? If you’re struggling, should we go back to the room?”

“I’m not going back to that room. In fact, now that I think about it, there might be something in there. Have someone dig up the floor or ceiling. No, I’ll dig it myself.”

Whoosh.

Ayra brushed past me and headed back toward her room.

“Be careful not to close the door.”

She warned me not to shut the door, then shoved the bed aside with force and pulled away the red rug beneath it.

The stone floor beneath was exposed—and when she shattered it with telekinesis, something began to emerge deep beneath the surface.

What I saw there made my jaw drop.

“What is this...”