Never Die Villain

Anastasiya returned her attention to the little girl standing in front of her, whose practice rapier was still clutched awkwardly between both hands.

She gently corrected the girl’s grip once more, then tapped the weapon aside when another child wandered dangerously close to its point.

"Keep the blade down when you’re not using it. A sword doesn’t suddenly become harmless just because you aren’t fighting."

"Yes, My Lady!"

"Good girl."

The praise immediately made the child beam.

Mikhail watched the exchange from behind her with an increasingly wounded expression, seemingly unable to reconcile the woman patiently teaching a little girl how to hold a rapier with the same woman who had forgotten his existence despite being relatives.

When Anastasiya finally stood again, he couldn’t help himself.

"My Lady, we’ve actually met ten times..."

"Have we?"

"Yes." Mikhail placed a hand against his chest. "We’ve... even danced together once..."

Anastasiya stared at him.

Mikhail waited hopefully.

"...Did we?"

A few of the children burst into laughter, and Mikhail closed his eyes as though the question had wounded him. Anastasiya merely tilted her head, genuinely trying to search her memory for the occasion before eventually giving up.

"My apologies. There are many Mikhails in the family."

"There are only three..."

"Then perhaps you should try harder to distinguish yourself from the other two."

"...I’ll keep that in mind, My Lady."

"Please do."

Anastasiya nodded solemnly before feeling another small tug at her sleeve, at which point her attention immediately abandoned him again.

Mikhail could only watch as she bent down to entertain yet another one of her younger cousins, apparently having decided that their conversation was already over.

Anastasiya continued attending to every guest who approached her throughout the evening, accepting congratulations from the branch families and exchanging the appropriate courtesies with the elders who came to reaffirm their support.

There was hardly a moment when someone wasn’t waiting for her attention, and by the time she finally managed to excuse herself from the latest conversation, the banquet had already been underway for quite some time.

"Haa..."

She released a sigh as she returned to her father’s side.

"You seem exhausted, daughter."

"I’ve spoken to more relatives tonight than I have in the past three years."

"You’ll have to get used to it."

"...Yes."

Anastasiya settled into the seat beside him and allowed herself to relax for the first time that evening. Even then, several guests continued glancing in her direction, and whenever she happened to meet their eyes, they would raise their glasses toward her in congratulations.

Anastasiya reluctantly returned the gesture.

The two watched the banquet unfold before them. The musicians had moved on to a slower piece, servants continued weaving between the tables with fresh food and wine, and the younger members of the family had begun gathering near the open floor now that most of the formalities were finished.

Anastasiya reached for her glass.

"Father."

"Hm?"

"Are you satisfied?"

Valentin looked toward her. "With what?"

"With me."

Her fingers remained around the stem of the glass as she kept her eyes forward, as though the question had been nothing more than an idle thought.

"How could I not be?" Valentin said. "You’ve exceeded everyone’s expectations, including mine. There were people in this family who questioned whether you were ready to succeed me, and today, you answered every last one of them without leaving anything for them to argue about."

"...Even yours?"

"Especially mine."

Anastasiya finally turned toward him.

Valentin rested an arm against the table, looking out across the banquet hall where members of House Belozersky continued drinking and celebrating his daughter’s succession. Yet even as he praised her, his eyes never once settled on her, as though his thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

Anastasiya lowered her gaze toward her glass.

"...I see."

It was a monotonous, practiced response, because Anastasiya already knew there was little else to say.

Her father had not been quite the same man since Lady Diane’s death, and over the years, the grief had hollowed him out until only pieces of the man she remembered from childhood occasionally surfaced.

He still fulfilled his duties as Grand Duke, attended the necessary meetings, commanded his knights, and made every decision expected of the head of House Belozersky.

He spoke when spoken to and offered praise when it was deserved, yet everything about him seemed mechanical now.

Anastasiya had learned not to expect anything more.

But even so, somewhere deep inside her, the little girl who had spent years chasing after her father’s back still wanted to hear those simple words.

Not as his successor, not as the future Grand Duchess, and certainly not as the person who had finally silenced the branch families, but simply as his daughter.

’I’m proud of you.’

That was all.

"Father, I—"

Before she could fully voice the words, however, a distant sound echoed through the estate.

Rumble——!

The glasses on the table trembled.

Anastasiya stopped, while Valentin’s eyes immediately shifted toward the doors of the banquet hall.

The conversations around them gradually quieted as more people noticed the vibration, although it was faint enough that several guests merely glanced around in confusion before continuing to speak.

"What was that?"

"I don’t know."

"An earthquake?"

Anastasiya frowned.

The North experienced the occasional tremor, but there had been something strange about that one, and judging by the way her father had shifted in his seat, he had noticed it as well.

She set her glass down and waited.

Then it came again.

Rumble——!

This time, the entire banquet hall shook.

Several glasses toppled over at once, spilling wine across the white tablecloths, while the chandeliers began swaying hard enough to send crystals clattering against one another. Chairs moved backward as the guests rose from their seats, and the younger children who had been playing near the edge of the hall hurried toward their parents.

Valentin was already on his feet.

"Everyone, remain calm. Guards, find out what’s happening. Have someone inspect the foundations and send men through every wing of the estate."

"Yes, Your Grace!"

Several knights moved immediately.

Anastasiya stood as well. Something about the rhythm bothered her, because the tremors did not feel continuous like an earthquake, but rather came and went at irregular intervals.

Then shouting came from somewhere beyond the banquet hall.

At first, it was too distant to understand.

Anastasiya turned toward the doors.

"Did you hear that?"

Valentin narrowed his eyes.

The shouting came again, accompanied by hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor outside.

A moment later, the doors were thrown open, and one of the estate servants stumbled into the banquet hall, his face drained of color as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Y-Your Grace!"

"What happened?"

"A Distortion!"

The hall fell silent.

"There is a Distortion inside the estate! Lord Ilya is currently dealing with the situation!"

"...."

Without even thinking twice, the first person to move was Anastasiya.

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