Never Die Villain

"...."

From the balcony overlooking the training grounds, Anastasiya gripped the wooden railing so tightly that her knuckles had begun to pale.

Her eyes never once left the arena below, following every exchange between the two wooden swords without the slightest change in expression, though anyone who knew her well would have noticed the tension building behind that calm exterior.

Everyone believed she expected nothing from Ilya.

An untalented illegitimate son who had abandoned the sword and transferred to the Magic Department was hardly someone worthy of the future Grand Duchess’s attention.

That was what the rest of the family believed, and Anastasiya had never bothered to correct them.

But to Anastasiya, Ilya had always been the one person she could never afford to ignore.

To those circling the main family like vultures, Ilya’s existence alone was enough.

Whether he wanted the throne, whether they respected him, or whether they even believed he was worthy of carrying the Belozersky name had never mattered.

As long as the Grand Duke had a son, there would always be those willing to raise his name whenever it suited their own ambitions.

As long as the succession remained uncertain, the branch families could continue negotiating, opposing, and demanding concessions from the main house. Ilya was merely the most convenient excuse to keep that uncertainty alive.

"What am I looking at...?"

No, forget everything else for a second.

How the hell was Ilya keeping up with Aleksei?

She had watched enough duels over the years to know exactly how skilled Aleksei was.

Behind the carefree personality that so often got under her skin was one of the finest swordsmen of their generation, someone even she acknowledged had remarkable talent.

By every measure she could think of, this duel should have ended several exchanges ago.

"...Magic?"

The thought crossed her mind immediately.

Ilya had spoken more than once about transferring to the Magic Department and becoming a wizard, yet as far as Anastasiya knew, he had never seriously practiced magic while at home.

She had never seen him studying spell theory, carrying grimoires around the estate, or spending hours training the way every aspiring wizard inevitably did. If he had truly learned something during his time at the academy, then perhaps all those days he mysteriously disappeared had not been spent wandering around after all.

Even so... she couldn’t see anything.

Nothing about the duel suggested magic was being used in the slightest. Ilya was simply exchanging blows with Aleksei, and somehow, despite every expectation she had going into this duel, he was beginning to overpower him.

"W-Winner..."

The young noble standing closest to the arena looked around in confusion before hesitantly raising his voice.

"...Ilya Valentinovich Belozersky...!"

It had to be said, but there had been no referee appointed for the duel.

It was never meant to be anything more than a friendly spar between two cousins, so there were no officials to formally declare the victor.

Yet faced with what had just unfolded before their eyes, someone had to acknowledge the result that bordered on the impossible.

The training grounds fell completely silent. Even the conversations surrounding the arena had ceased.

From the balcony overlooking the arena, Anastasiya stared down at the scene below without blinking.

"...What in the world?"

* * *

That evening, Ilya’s victory over Aleksei had become the only thing everyone talked about.

Aleksei, however, never approached Ilya again that day.

The cheerful smile that usually adorned his face was nowhere to be seen. With his head lowered, he entered his father’s chambers without uttering a single word, fully aware of what awaited him on the other side.

The room was dimly lit as the moonlight spilling through the tall windows broke the darkness.

Margrave Dmitri Aleksandrovich Karskin stood with his back turned, his hands clasped behind him. He allowed the silence to drag on for several moments before finally speaking.

"Aleksei, what exactly have I been paying instructors for all these years? Was it so that you could march into the training grounds and lose in front of everybody?"

"...Father."

"No."

Karskin raised a hand, cutting him off.

"You will remain silent until I finish speaking."

His footsteps echoed through the room until he stood directly before Aleksei.

"You lost to a bastard everyone in this palace considers a disgrace, and you did it in front of every elder in Severye."

"...I’m sorry."

"Sorry? What exactly is your apology supposed to fix?"

Thwack——!

His fist drove straight into Aleksei’s stomach.

"Ukh...!"

Aleksei doubled over instantly, the air leaving his lungs in a violent gasp as he collapsed onto one knee, clutching his abdomen while desperately trying to breathe.

Karskin looked down at him without the slightest trace of sympathy.

"Was the plan truly that difficult to understand?" he asked. "All I told you was to challenge Ilya Belozersky, humiliate him before the branch families could make a spectacle of him themselves, and let House Karskin take the credit. But instead, you let everyone watch the exact opposite happen!"

Aleksei remained kneeling.

"Do you have any idea what people are saying outside? They’re no longer laughing at the Grand Duke’s bastard. They’re laughing at my son for losing to him! At our family!"

"...Father."

"Shut your mouth!"

His voice cut through the room like a blade.

"I have spent years building House Karskin’s standing among the branch families, and in the span of a single duel, you handed people a reason to question whether we deserve the influence we’ve earned."

He clicked his tongue in irritation.

Aleksei gritted his teeth through the pain before dragging himself the rest of the way forward. He lowered his head until it nearly touched the floor, one hand clutching at the hem of his father’s coat as he struggled to steady his breathing.

"...One more chance... Father..." he said between uneven breaths. "Please... give me one last chance. I swear I’ll make up for today’s disgrace..."

Karskin looked down at his son without speaking.

"Please... father... I won’t fail again..."

The room fell silent.

For several moments, only Aleksei’s strained breathing could be heard as he remained kneeling on the floor, waiting for a response that never seemed to come.

"...Very well."

Aleksei slowly lifted his head.

Karskin’s expression remained as cold as ever.

"I’ll give you one last opportunity." He pulled his coat free from Aleksei’s grasp before turning toward the window. "The Winter Assembly has only just begun. There will be more banquets, more gatherings, more opportunities for the younger generation to cross paths."

His eyes narrowed.

"I don’t care how you do it. But if you fail me a second time... I’ll appoint your younger brother as the heir."

Aleksei’s eyes widened for a moment before he hesitantly nodded his head.

"...Yes, Father."

* * *

"You cheated."

"Hm?"

Ilya looked up from his plate.

Standing across from him was Anastasiya.

Without saying a word, he calmly raised another forkful of cake to his mouth before taking a bite, chewing at an unhurried pace as though she had merely commented on the weather instead of accusing him of dishonesty.

"It just doesn’t make any sense," Anastasiya continued. "Aleksei Karskin is one of the strongest heirs of our generation. There’s just no possible way you should’ve been able to overpower him in a straight duel—"

"So you admit someone’s actually good."

"...."

Anastasiya froze. Her face flushed scarlet almost immediately as she realized what she had accidentally implied.

"I didn’t mean—"

She stopped herself, closed her eyes for a moment, then let out a sigh.

"A proper swordsman acknowledges the strengths of his opponent," she corrected herself. "Denying someone’s ability simply because they lost is beneath anyone who calls themselves a knight."

Ilya finished chewing the cake in his mouth.

"So now he’s a proper swordsman?"

"Ilya."

Ilya reached for another slice of cake as though the conversation had already ended, while Anastasiya watched him in growing frustration, silently wondering how someone could look so relaxed after turning the entire Winter Assembly upside down in a single afternoon.

"Ugh..."

Anastasiya let out a weary sigh before turning away.

She already knew there was no point arguing with him any further. Every conversation with Ilya somehow ended the same way, always leaving her with one more frustration.

That wasn’t what troubled her most, however.

Since the duel had ended, she had spent the better part of the evening overhearing the branch families whisper among themselves, and not a single conversation had escaped her notice.

——Perhaps the Grand Duke judged the young lord too harshly.

——To think he could defeat Aleksei Karskin... perhaps the rumors about him were exaggerated after all.

——A son is still a son. Blood is blood.

——Lady Anastasiya may be talented, but can the North truly afford to be led by a woman?

Every remark sounded harmless on its own.

Together, however, they painted a picture Anastasiya understood all too well. None of them genuinely cared about Ilya.

The same people speaking so favorably of him now had spent years mocking him as the Grand Duke’s disgrace, and she had no doubt they would do so again the moment it suited them.

The problem had never been Ilya himself. The problem was what his existence allowed them to say.

As long as Valentin had a son, no matter how illegitimate, there would always be those willing to use his name whenever it became convenient to challenge the succession.

Whether they respected him or despised him made no difference. They didn’t need Ilya to become the next Grand Duke.

They only needed him to ensure Anastasiya never became the next Grand Duchess.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!