Never Die Villain

"Excuse me... Cousin Ilya?"

"Hm?"

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Ilya turned around.

Standing a short distance behind him was a young woman with the same silver-gray hair that had long been regarded as the hallmark of the Belozersky bloodline.

Although her surname had become Vysotskaya generations ago, there was no mistaking the family she had descended from.

The moment Ilya turned around, she fixed her posture before offering him a somewhat nervous smile.

"Cousin Ekaterina...?"

Ekaterina Sergeyevna Vysotskaya.

The eldest daughter of the Elder of Vysota, the mountainous northeastern territory that watched over Severye’s passes leading toward the eastern frontier.

Seeing that she had successfully gotten his attention, Ekaterina gathered the hem of her dress and offered him a graceful curtsy, a hint of relief appearing on her face once she realized he had recognized her.

"It’s... been a long time, Cousin Ilya."

"It really has."

A faint smile found its way onto Ilya’s face as he looked at her more carefully.

"My... you’ve grown." He held a hand out at about shoulder height. "The last time House Vysota attended the Winter Assembly, you were only about this tall. That was four years ago, wasn’t it?"

Ekaterina let out a soft laugh before giving a small nod.

"Hehe. That’s right. Four years ago." Her smile turned sheepish as she tucked a loose strand of silver-gray hair behind her ear. "I’m honestly surprised you remembered."

"I’d be a terrible cousin if I couldn’t remember someone I’d grown up with."

Ekaterina blinked before lowering her gaze, unable to hide the small smile that spread across her lips.

"...I’m glad."

She clasped her hands together once more.

"To tell you the truth, I spent the entire morning wondering whether I should come and say hello. Everyone kept telling me you’ve changed since going to the academy, so I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me anymore."

"...."

"But then I thought there was no way those rumors could be true. After all, you’re the one who stood up for me when the other cousins kept picking on me."

Ilya remained silent, searching his memories.

"I was always the youngest whenever Father brought me to the Winter Assembly," Ekaterina continued. "The older cousins loved teasing me because I’d cry over the smallest things, and every time it happened, you’d tell them to leave me alone."

"...Ah, yes. That did happen."

Ekaterina scrutinized him for a moment before letting out a chuckle.

"You didn’t remember until just now, did you?"

"...My apologies."

Ilya smiled wryly.

"A great many things have happened over the years." He lowered his gaze before looking back at her. "I’m afraid there are only so many memories I can keep perfectly intact. Still... I do remember that we were close."

"...That’s enough for me."

Her smile softened.

"I was honestly afraid you’d look at me and wonder who I was."

"You’re family."

"And you’re still the same Cousin Ilya."

She giggled before extending her hand toward him.

"Would you walk with me for a while?"

Ilya glanced at her outstretched hand before placing his own into it.

"...I’d be happy to."

* * *

"Just once, My Lady."

The young noble lowered his head.

"One duel. Grant me that much as a fellow descendant of House Belozersky. I won’t ask for your hand in marriage, nor will I trouble you with another proposal. Just... allow me the chance to know you better."

Anastasiya let out a sigh.

Ever since the Winter Assembly had begun, barely an hour had passed without another young heir approaching her.

They always found a different excuse to start the conversation, yet somehow every discussion eventually circled back to the same subject.

By the time the sun had begun to set, Anastasiya had already grown thoroughly tired of it all.

She knew whose idea it was.

None of these heirs had suddenly decided, on the same week, that they wished to pursue her.

Their parents had likely sent them, hoping that one conversation, one duel, or one favorable impression might someday grow into an engagement that would bind their branch to the Grand Ducal House.

"...Alright."

To Anastasiya, the entire affair bordered on insanity.

"Just one duel."

Anastasiya walked past the wooden practice swords without so much as glancing at them and stopped in front of the rack holding the steel ones, before pulling one free from its scabbard.

"I’ll indulge you."

Her expression remained as indifferent as ever.

"Only if we use real swords."

She had no intention of accepting any of them.

It wasn’t because she doubted their sincerity, nor because she looked down on the subsidiary branches. Rather, she understood better than anyone what marriage would mean once she inherited the Grand Duchy.

The moment she accepted a husband, whether he desired it or not, another center of influence would inevitably be created within the Grand Ducal House. Factions would gather around him, branch houses would seek his favor alongside hers, and authority that ought to belong solely to the Grand Duke would gradually become something to be shared.

"What’s the matter?"

Anastasiya pointed the tip of her sword against the ground, watching him with an expression that was equal parts impatience and disappointment.

She had spent her entire life preparing to inherit the Grand Duchy, and the thought of sharing that responsibility with anyone had never once crossed her mind.

If she were ever to stand beside someone, then at the very least, that person needed to prove they could stand beside her in the first place.

"Don’t tell me you’re backing out now."

"N-No..." The young man tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword before swallowing nervously. "I’m just... worried that I might accidentally hurt you..."

Anastasiya stared at him for a moment before letting out a scoff.

"Hurt me? Forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but I’ve never once lost a duel at any Winter Assembly I’ve attended."

She slowly raised her sword.

"If you’re going to worry about someone... worry about yourself."

The surrounding conversations gradually died down as nearby members of the family noticed steel being drawn instead of wooden practice swords.

One by one, heads turned toward the training grounds, curious to see which unfortunate soul had managed to convince Anastasiya Belozerskaya to unsheathe a real blade.

"...I’ll ask you one last time," Anastasiya said. "Are you certain you want this duel?"

"Of course! Allow me to prove myself!"

Naturally, Anastasiya recognized him.

Maksim Viktorovich Morozsk.

The second son of the Elder of Morozsk, which governed the western territory of Severye, Maksim had never been expected to inherit his family’s lands. That responsibility belonged to his elder brother, leaving him to spend his entire life standing just a little behind someone else.

If there was ever an opportunity to distinguish himself before the eyes of the ruling elders, it was here, at the Winter Assembly, and no opportunity shone brighter than crossing swords with the future head of House Belozersky herself.

Whether his courage came from genuine admiration or desperation to step out of his brother’s shadow hardly mattered to Anastasiya.

To her, he was simply the next challenger.

"Very well."

She raised her sword until its tip pointed directly toward him.

"Come."

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