Never Die Villain

"Hoo..."

Wrapped in bandages, Ilya stood alone in the cold night air with a cigarette between his fingers.

He took a slow drag and exhaled, watching the smoke mingle with his breath before disappearing into the darkness.

After everything that had happened, his family’s opinion of him hadn’t changed all that much.

If anything, the greatest difference was that most of them no longer bothered speaking to him at all, which Ilya personally considered an improvement over having to ignore their backhanded remarks whenever he walked past.

Naturally, the news had been impossible to contain.

Too many people knew that Ilya had joined the fight against Aleksei, and more importantly, that he had done so using magic.

Word spread quickly through the family, and by the following morning, practically every branch attending the Winter Assembly knew that the Grand Duke’s disgraced son had abandoned the sword and become a wizard.

Naturally, there had been complaints.

The wives of several elders had been particularly vocal about the matter, while more traditional members of the family demanded that the old laws be upheld regardless of what Ilya had done during the Distortion incident.

None of those complaints amounted to much, however, because Valentin had personally shielded his son from punishment, and the circumstances surrounding Ilya’s decision to pursue magic were reasonable enough that openly challenging Valentin’s judgment became difficult.

When the family needed him, that same magic had allowed him to fight.

There wasn’t much anyone could say to that without sounding like a complete hypocrite.

"...."

Ilya took another drag from his cigarette.

"So they decided to ignore me instead."

He considered that for a moment before nodding to himself.

"Not bad."

* * *

Finally, after several days, the Winter Assembly came to an end, though certainly not in the way anyone had expected when they first arrived.

What should have been another gathering of the Belozersky family had instead ended with a dead Head, a Black-Labeled Distortion tearing through the Northern Palace, and enough damage that repairs would likely continue long after everyone had returned home.

One after another, the Heads departed with their respective families and began the journey back to their territories.

Carriages rolled through the palace gates from early morning onward, accompanied by knights, servants, and enough luggage to make Ilya wonder how anyone could possibly need so much for a gathering that lasted only a few days.

House Karskin was the notable exception.

With Elder Karskin dead and Aleksei still under observation, the remaining members of their household returned without either of them.

Yarik left alongside several trusted retainers, while temporary authority over their territory had been handed to one of the senior members of the branch until the family could decide what would become of it permanently.

By noon, the palace had grown quieter.

The crowded halls gradually emptied, and the relatives Ilya had spent the past several days avoiding were finally gone.

For the first time since the Winter Assembly began, he could walk through his own home without encountering another cousin around every corner.

"Haa..."

Ilya stood by one of the windows and watched the last procession disappear beyond the gates.

"Finally."

He had survived the Winter Assembly.

Somehow, that felt like an accomplishment in itself.

No, it had been an accomplishment. After all, Ilya had achieved exactly what he had set out to do when the Winter Assembly began.

To force the family to accept that he had chosen magic without getting himself exiled for breaking centuries of Belozersky tradition.

In truth, Ilya had already prepared himself for exile.

He had considered where he would go, how much money he had available, and whether the Academy would even allow him to remain enrolled once he no longer had the Belozersky name supporting him.

It wouldn’t have been pleasant, especially considering how thoroughly his life had revolved around the North, but if the choice came down to abandoning magic or abandoning his family, Ilya had already decided which one he was willing to lose.

Fortunately, it never came to that.

His father had defended him.

"...."

Even now, Ilya wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

Valentin had never been the sort of father Ilya could depend on, and after Diane’s death, whatever relationship remained between them had deteriorated until they could barely speak without one of them becoming irritated.

Yet when those family laws had finally come down on him, Valentin had been the one standing between him and exile.

"Ilya."

Before he could think about it any further, Mariya appeared behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Ilya relaxed into the embrace, leaning his head back until it rested comfortably against her shoulder.

"Mother," he said. "Come with me and live in the capital."

"You’re still saying that?"

"I’ll keep saying it until you agree."

Mariya sighed and reached for the cigarette between his lips, casually taking it for herself before taking a drag.

Ilya watched her exhale the smoke into the cold air, then pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it without bothering to ask for the first one back.

"How’s Anastasiya?" Ilya asked.

"She’s recovering."

Mariya glanced down at him before her eyes settled on the bandages covering most of his body.

"But are you really in any position to be worrying about someone else right now? Just look at you."

"I am looking at me."

"This boy..."

Ilya took another drag from his cigarette rather than answering.

His wounds had been treated properly after the incident, but several days of recovery had done little to make him look any less battered, especially with the bandages around his torso, shoulder, and arms.

Mariya sighed and tightened her arms around him.

"You two nearly killed each other during that duel, and then both of you went straight into fighting a Distortion afterward. Sometimes I wonder whether being a Belozersky causes some kind of damage to the brain."

"You can’t be saying that when you married one, Mother."

"...Yes, and I question that decision every day."

"Understandable."

Mariya flicked his forehead.

"Ow."

"Don’t agree so quickly."

Ilya chuckled before returning the cigarette to his lips.

For a while, neither of them said anything, and Mariya simply remained behind him while they watched the smoke disappear into the cold night.

Eventually, Ilya spoke again.

"I’m sorry for not listening to you back then. I know how much you worry about me."

"It’s okay."

Mariya reached around and gently held his cheek, turning his face slightly toward her. There was no anger in her expression, nor any trace of the frustration she had shown when he slipped away from her and ran back into the palace.

"You only did what you thought you had to do, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I won’t be angry with you."

Mariya smiled and brushed her thumb against his cheek.

"Even if I end up crying because of it."

"...."

Ilya lowered his eyes.

"...It won’t happen again."

"You can’t promise me that."

"I can try..."

Mariya looked at him for a moment before pulling him closer against her chest. She rested her cheek against the top of his head.

"Do you still want to die?"

"...."

Ilya fell silent.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have needed any time to think about the answer.

He hadn’t necessarily been searching for death, but neither had he cared much if it found him, and there had been something almost comforting about knowing that eventually, one way or another, everything would simply stop.

Now, however, Ilya found himself strangely indecisive.

He still didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, nor could he say that he had suddenly discovered some grand reason to keep living.

Yet when he seriously considered Mariya’s question, the first thing that came to mind was, unexpectedly, the image of a certain black-haired woman, usually sitting somewhere with a cigarette between her fingers and smoking almost as much as he did.

"...."

Seeing the expression he was making, Mariya’s eyes widened before she tightened her hold around him.

"...."

Ilya really was changing.

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