Never Die Villain

Night eventually gave way to dawn as the second day of the Winter Assembly began.

News of Ilya’s victory had spread throughout the Grand Ducal Palace overnight, and by morning, what had begun as whispered speculation had already turned into open discussion.

Few among the younger generation were willing to believe Aleksei’s defeat at face value, and before long, one challenge after another found its way to Ilya.

"Cousin Ilya, would you honor me with a duel?"

"I’ve wanted to cross swords with you since yesterday."

"If the rumors are true, then surely you won’t refuse."

"My apologies. But I’ll have to decline."

However, Ilya rejected each and every invitation.

Aleksei had underestimated him from the very beginning, and that alone had made all the difference.

The others would not make the same mistake. They would enter the arena expecting the Ilya who had defeated Aleksei Karskin, and to win against opponents who fought with that expectation, he would have to rely on far more than he was willing to reveal.

For now, there was no reason to expose any more of himself than he already had.

"You called for me, Father?"

Standing inside the Grand Duke’s office, Ilya clasped his hands behind his back as he faced Valentin Belozersky across the room.

The office was as austere as he remembered, with shelves lined by military records and maps of the Northern Krai, while the man seated behind the desk barely looked up from the documents before him.

"Sit."

Ilya gave a small nod before taking the seat opposite him.

Nothing had changed.

Even after all these years, sitting across from Valentin never felt like sitting across from a father, and Ilya had long since given up expecting anything more.

Swallowing the resentment he had kept bottled inside, he maintained the indifferent expression on his face.

"I’ve received a letter from Holy Trinity Academy."

Only then did Valentin set the document aside.

"Your transfer has been approved."

"Yes, Father."

"So... you truly have been pursuing magic."

"I have."

"And do you understand what that means?"

"I assumed it would be best to keep it from the rest of the family."

Valentin scoffed. "No."

"...No?"

"You’re under the mistaken impression that the branch families know less than they actually do." Valentin leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands together. "Several of the elders have people within the academy. They already know you’ve transferred to the Magic Department. They just haven’t brought it up."

"They know...?"

"They’re waiting."

Valentin’s gaze remained fixed on his son.

"They’re watching to see what you intend to do with it."

The room fell silent.

Only then did Ilya understand why he had been summoned.

"So," Valentin continued, "winning that duel was a mistake."

"...."

"I don’t know what you did," Valentin said. "Whether it was magic, some trick you picked up at the academy, or something else is of little interest to me. What interests me is the fact that people have started paying attention."

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk.

"You’ve given them a reason to watch you."

Valentin’s eyes narrowed.

"So I’m willing to test you."

"...."

"Can you withstand the scrutiny that comes with that?"

Only then did Ilya realize something.

Even after defeating Aleksei, not a single elder had approached him. None had offered congratulations, none had tried to strike up a conversation, and not even their wives had come over to exchange pleasantries.

They had all remained exactly where they were, content to watch from afar while leaving the younger generation to surround him with challenge after challenge.

"...But if that’s true..." Ilya said. "If the elders already know... then wouldn’t their children know as well? Why didn’t Cousin Aleksei?"

Valentin shook his head.

"Because they have no reason to tell them."

He leaned back in his chair, his expression remaining as unreadable as ever.

"The elders aren’t interested in satisfying their children’s curiosity. Information has value, and the fewer people who know something, the easier it is to control how and when it is used."

His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.

"If you slip up, they’ll use it against you."

"I see."

Ilya lowered his gaze for a moment before nodding.

"And if they use it against me... then they’ll use it against House Belozersky as well."

The conversation continued for some time after that.

None of it came as a surprise to Ilya. House Belozersky had survived for generations through politics as much as through the sword, and if even Anastasiya had sensed the branch families beginning to move, there was no possibility that Valentin had overlooked it.

Eventually, the discussion came to an end.

Ilya rose from his seat and made his way toward the door. Just as his hand reached for the handle, however, he suddenly stopped, as though remembering something he had nearly forgotten.

"...Father."

He walked back to where he had left his belongings, opened the small bag resting beside the chair, and carefully took out a bundle of fresh flowers.

Without another word, he stepped forward and gently laid them upon Valentin’s desk.

Valentin lowered his eyes.

"...What is this?"

"Flowers."

Ilya answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"If you have the time... take them to my mother..."

"...."

"...Diane."

"...."

"You haven’t visited her in quite a while... have you, Father?"

The office fell completely silent.

Ilya had not intended to bring up the subject, yet as he looked across the desk, he noticed something he had never expected to see.

Valentin’s eyes... they were trembling. It was so subtle that anyone else might have dismissed it as imagination.

* * *

The third day of the Winter Assembly arrived under a clear winter sky.

Despite the snow blanketing every corner of the Grand Ducal Palace, the morning sun still found its way through the clouds. The cold remained as chilling as ever, yet the weather was calm enough that breakfast had been prepared outside.

Under a small gazebo overlooking the snow-covered grounds, Ilya sat across from Mariya as the two shared their morning meal.

Warm tea steamed between them, accompanied by fresh bread, smoked fish, fruit preserves, and several pastries brought over by the servants earlier that morning.

Every now and then, Mariya would glance at Ilya with a smile before taking another sip of her tea.

"Mother."

Mariya looked up from her teacup.

"Yes?"

"...How have the elders been treating you?"

The smile on her face remained exactly the same, though she lowered her eyes toward the tea in front of her before answering.

"They’ve always treated me the same way."

"I wasn’t asking about the past."

"...."

Mariya let out a small laugh. A laugh so soft it almost disappeared into the morning air.

"You’ve become quite persistent since coming home."

"I guess I’ve been picking up bad habits here and there."

"Hehe."

She gently shook her head.

"They’re cordial. We exchange greetings whenever we meet, speak during the banquets when necessary, and occasionally discuss matters concerning the household. That’s all there is to it."

Ilya remained unconvinced.

"And behind your back?"

Mariya’s hand stopped just before the teacup reached her lips.

"...People will always have something to say, Ilya." She smiled as though it hardly mattered. "If I spent my life worrying about every unkind word spoken behind closed doors, I don’t think I’d have much time left to smile."

"...."

"Do you worry about me?"

"I’ll never stop worrying about you, Mother."

Within House Belozersky, Mariya was the only person he could truly call his ally. If there was anyone he wanted to protect in this family, it was the woman sitting across from him now.

Yet that was exactly what frustrated him. No matter how much he tried, he still couldn’t protect the one person most precious to him.

Every smile Mariya gave him only made him wonder how many grievances she had swallowed before he had arrived, and how many more she would continue to endure after he returned to the capital.

"By the way..."

Mariya took another sip of her tea before looking back at him, a hint of curiosity appearing in her eyes.

"I heard your transfer to the Magic Department has finally been approved."

"Yes."

"So it was true after all. I honestly thought you were only saying it to tease your sister."

"Teasing Anastasiya is a bit..."

They weren’t in the kind of relationship for that kind of banter, after all.

Mariya rested her chin lightly against her hand.

"I’ve never actually seen you use magic before." She tilted her head. "Would you show me?"

"...Here?"

"Why not?" Mariya glanced around the snow-covered garden before spreading her hands. "It’s only the two of us, and the servants are far enough away that they won’t overhear us."

She smiled.

"I’d like to see the path you’ve chosen with my own eyes."

Ilya looked at her for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"...If that’s what you want, Mother."

He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. Stepping away from the table, he raised a single hand, and a tiny ember flickered above his fingertips before blooming into a small flame no larger than a candle’s light.

It wasn’t impressive.

The flame danced in the air at his command, twisting into shapes that dissolved one after another before becoming something new.

A bird spread its wings only to melt into a blooming flower, the flower then turned into flowing ribbons of fire, and the ribbons gathered once more into a tiny dancing flame that circled above his palm.

"...Beautiful."

Mariya watched in silence.

Her eyes followed the little flame as it floated through the morning air before slowly returning to Ilya.

The smile she wore never disappeared, just as it never disappeared around anyone else, yet for the briefest instant, something behind it shook.

"When did you learn to do something like that?"

"At the academy."

"I see..."

Mariya lowered her gaze to the flame once more.

"So you’ve finally found something you truly enjoy."

For years, she had always been the one patching up his wounds after sword practice, listening whenever he spoke about the frustrations of House Belozersky, and telling herself that as long as he returned home, everything would somehow be alright.

Now he was changing, as if he had found a road that no longer needed her to walk beside him every step of the way.

"...I’m happy for you, Ilya."

She smiled.

"I really am."

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