Never Die Villain

"Mother."

Ilya stepped closer, lightly taking Mariya by the shoulders before looking closely at her face, searching for even the slightest sign of an injury.

"Has Father done anything to you recently?"

Mariya blinked in surprise before quickly shaking her head, a reassuring smile finding its way onto her face.

"N-No... nothing like that." She reached up and placed her hands over his wrists. "We’ve been keeping our distance from one another recently... So you don’t have to worry about me."

Ilya looked straight into her eyes, judging whether she was telling the truth. Only after convincing himself that she wasn’t forcing a smile for his sake did the tension in his shoulders finally ease, and without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace.

"I’m glad."

"Ah..."

"...I’m sorry, Mother."

Mariya’s eyes widened.

"Because of me..." Ilya lowered his head against her shoulder. "You had to endure all of that..."

"...."

Mariya’s eyes softened as she slowly raised a hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair, just as she had done countless times when he was still a little boy.

Pulling him a little closer into her embrace, she rested her cheek against his head.

"So Ana told you..." she said with a faint smile. "That girl really does worry too much. It was only a small disagreement between your father and me."

"...."

"You know how he is whenever his temper gets the better of him. He raises his voice, says things he doesn’t truly mean, and by the next day, he’s already pretending nothing ever happened. I’ve learned to live with it, so I’d much rather you didn’t let something so trivial trouble you."

Her hand never stopped stroking his hair.

"I’ve always been fine, Ilya. You finally came home after all this time, and the first thing you did was worry about me. You really are hopeless."

A laugh escaped her lips.

"I was looking forward to seeing you smile, yet here you are apologizing instead." She gently pinched his cheek before shaking her head. "You’ll make me feel like I’ve done something wrong."

Her hand returned to his hair.

"So don’t think about those things anymore. If you keep worrying about me like this... how am I supposed to be happy that you’re finally home?"

She looked at him with the same warmth she always had.

Unable to meet her eyes any longer, Ilya lowered his head.

"...Yes."

"That’s better." She nodded in satisfaction. "Just seeing you safe and healthy is enough for me."

Ilya slowly nodded.

"...As long as you’re safe, Mother... that’s all that matters to me..."

"Hehe." Mariya let out a soft laugh before gently patting his shoulder. "Enough about all these gloomy things. We still have plenty to do before the ceremony, and if we waste any more time talking, your sister will be marching over here to drag you away herself."

Mariya opened the wardrobe and immediately reached for the set of clothes she had prepared beforehand.

A long black coat, a white fur mantle draped over the shoulders, silver embroidery woven into the cuffs, and the silver wolf crest fastening everything together. It was the formal attire worn by the sons of House Belozersky, an outfit as much a symbol of their status as it was protection against Severye’s unforgiving winters.

"Come here."

Without waiting for an answer, Mariya lifted one of the garments from its hanger and held it in front of Ilya, comparing its size against him before giving a small nod of approval.

"This should still fit."

As Mariya began helping him into the uniform, Ilya glanced toward the door.

"...Mother."

"Hm?"

"There are plenty of maids here."

"There are."

"...Then why are you doing this yourself?"

Mariya smiled without looking up, her fingers fastening the silver clasps under his collar before smoothing out the slightest wrinkle she found on his coat.

"Because I want to."

She chuckled.

"You’ve been away for so long. Am I really supposed to leave something like this to someone else after finally getting to see my son again?"

Her eyes remained on him as she adjusted the fur around his shoulders one last time.

"Besides, I used to help you get dressed every morning. Just indulge me this once, alright?"

"Of course."

Mariya took a step back, admiring him for a moment before giving a satisfied nod.

"You’ve grown so much."

Mariya always smiled.

But Ilya knew better than anyone that she was scarcely ever genuinely happy. If helping him into his clothes was one of the few things that made that smile even a little more genuine, then he saw no reason to deny her something so small.

Ilya turned toward the full-length mirror. The young man reflected in the glass was dressed exactly as one would expect of a son of House Belozersky.

"...."

If someone had told him Mariya had once worked as a stylist before becoming the Lady of House Belozersky, he would have believed it without a second thought.

* * *

The Winter Assembly was an event that spanned an entire week.

While the ruling elders spent their days meeting with the Grand Duke to discuss the affairs of their respective territories and the countless other matters involved in governing the vast Northern Krai, the younger generation was left largely to themselves.

Aside from the formal banquets, ceremonies, and gatherings they were expected to attend alongside their families, very little was required of them beyond spending time with one another.

After all, they were the future of Severye.

Whether they were the heirs of subsidiary branches or members of the Grand Ducal House itself, every one of them would one day shoulder the responsibility of governing a portion of the north.

The Winter Assembly was, therefore, just as much an opportunity for the next generation to build relationships as it was for their elders to discuss politics.

The evenings, however, were different.

Once the official meetings had concluded and the banquets began, the assembly transformed into a stage where every branch sought to present its children in the best possible light.

Talented sons demonstrated their accomplishments, accomplished daughters displayed their refinement, and more often than not, conversations eventually shifted toward engagements and marriage proposals.

After all, there was no greater honor for a subsidiary branch than strengthening its ties to the main family through marriage.

This year, however...

"My Lady!"

"Lady Anastasiya!"

Anastasiya had broken far more hearts than anyone could count.

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