The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen-Chapter 290: The beauty is in my eyes (3)

It was an old story.

If you wanted to call it a scary story, it could be. If you saw it as a sad one, that would be fair too.

I wasn’t sure if I could tell it in an entertaining way since it was something I had never shared with anyone before. But with a little bit of embellishment, I thought it might turn into a good story.

After all, it was the kind of tale you could hear anywhere.

With a small smile, I carefully parted my lips to begin.

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

A silly story. One I hoped would be enjoyable.

A long time ago, there was a boy who was hated by everyone.

—A boy? —Yes, a boy. —Oh...

The boy’s name was “Nameless.” There was no one to give him a name. And no parents to call him by one.

—That’s sad. —I think so too. —But Ricardo, you’re less sad. —... —You have me. —Haha! That’s true.

For this boy, the world was cruel. The kind of cruelty that comes from living without parents—people who are supposed to be there for you.

—But you didn’t have any either. —I had a pretty rough childhood too. —But now you're living well, aren’t you? —That’s because I met you, Lady. —Hehe! Right!

There was no one to protect him. No one to rely on. He had to face the world alone. It wasn’t an easy life, especially for an orphan.

But despite everything, the boy was happy.

His life wasn’t full of luxuries, but he had friends in the orphanage. There were teachers who, despite their grumbling, took care of him. Since he didn’t know what his parents looked like, he didn’t have to long for them either.

—Oh...

The boy loved the other children. And he loved the orphanage. If he behaved, he got food. Sometimes, he even got punished with a switch, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Of course, the other children didn’t like him.

—Huh? Why didn’t they like him? —Because he was too mature compared to the other kids. —What? —Hmm... how should I explain this? Ah! Imagine, Lady, that you stole ice cream from a little kid walking by. —Was it chocolate-flavored? —Is the flavor the most important thing here? —Yes. —Then let’s say it was chocolate. —Hehe... sounds tasty.

‘...’

—What do you think the little kid would do after having their ice cream stolen? —They’d cry. I know because I’ve stolen a lot. —But what if that boy said, “Hmm... Isn’t this something only an adult would do?” —That’s creepy. —That’s exactly how the boy acted. —Ew.

No one welcomed the boy’s maturity. Some even said he could see ghosts. At that age, I would have been scared of ghosts too.

—What a positive spin. —Isn’t it? —Sounds kind of dumb. —He was kind of dumb, yes.

Then one day, when it was pouring rain like today, the boy went out to beg on the streets.

—Huh? Why would he beg? Wasn’t he in an orphanage? —The headmaster embezzled a lot of money. —Ugh... What a bad person. —Right? —Yeah. —Well, people do what they have to in order to survive. That orphanage wasn’t founded for any noble purpose. —Huh? —It’s a story, so don’t get too caught up if the plot feels strange. You’re listening for the scare, not the fun, right? —That’s true. —Shall I continue, then? —Yes.

The boy snuck out from an empty alley and, as usual, began begging with his little tin cup. As a child, harming others to earn money was impossible, so he did what he could.

As people passed by, he tapped the cup. 'Clink!'

He watched people with umbrellas rush by and tapped again. 'Clink!' The boy kept tapping, hoping someone would notice.

As the rain grew heavier and the streets grew emptier, the boy’s begging continued.

That night was especially cold.

Night fell. No people were around. And the wind blew hard.

The boy shivered in his soaked clothes and mumbled that the day’s begging was a failure. He thought he might as well stay out a little longer to earn some money for the other children’s snacks.

Then, after about an hour passed...

“Hey!” a shrill voice called out.

A girl, a little shorter than him.

She wore a large hat, obscuring her face, but she looked about three years younger than the boy.

The girl said to the boy:

“I found you.”

—Huh? —I don’t know either. That’s what my friend who told me this story said. —That’s scary...

That’s how the boy and girl’s story began.

The girl always gave the boy a large sum of money while begging him to tell her stories.

—Talk to me. —I can’t. I have to make money. —Clink. —I gave you money, so now talk to me. —Huh...? Are you rich? —Hehe...

They shared trivial stories. Talking about the weather, where they lived, and so on. Even though the conversations were dull, the girl always smiled as if she found them fascinating.

—I like talking to you. —What’s there to like? I smell, and I’m dirty. —Hehe. I still like it.

—Was she pretty? —Hmm... I don’t remember clearly, but I think my friend said she was pretty. —Well, she couldn’t have been prettier than me.

I smiled at the lady’s grumbling and continued.

—This is where the scary part starts. —Huh? —Even my friend who told me this story said things got strange after this.

The boy and the girl continued to meet.

Even after the boy started school...

—It’s been a while, huh? —Yeah. —Why haven’t you been coming to beg lately? —I have to go to school now. It’s starting to get noticed... don’t you go to school? —I can’t. —Why? —Hehe... That’s a secret!

Even after the boy became an adult and started working...

—Ta-da. —What the...? When did you get here? —I came to see you. —I have to go to work. —Come on, let’s play. I’ll give you money. —I can’t. I’m busy. —Hmph...

The girl always appeared in the same spot where the boy used to beg, wearing her large hat and smiling brightly.

—But you know what’s strange? —What? —No one else ever recognized her.

—What?

Even though the boy was clearly talking to the girl, people saw him as a lunatic talking to himself.

One day, a passerby called out to the boy, asking him why he kept talking to himself.

—What?

My friend said he was just as shocked as you are.

—He thought it was nonsense, considering he had been living off the money the girl gave him all this time. But to others, it seemed like he was talking to himself.

That’s what they said: he had been talking to himself all along.

—Was she a ghost? —I don’t know. The money she gave him was real, after all. —Ugh. Now I’m scared. —Right?

Despite learning the truth, the boy didn’t resent the girl. After all, she hadn’t done anything to harm him, and in a way, she had helped make his tough childhood a little more bearable.

After realizing the truth...

The boy saw the girl again at the same spot.

As always, she smiled brightly, but the boy couldn’t look at her the same way.

How should I put it?

It made him feel sad.

He wondered how she had died, what circumstances had led her to wander like this. Instead of feeling betrayed that she was a ghost, he felt a kind of melancholy.

—Oh...

So the boy asked her:

“Are you okay?”

For the first time, the girl—who had always smiled—began to tear up. My friend said they didn’t know why, but there was sorrow in her eyes.

—What? Did she like him? —Who knows? —That’s boring. —Haha! Isn’t a mild scare perfect for getting you to sleep on your own? —Ugh! It wasn’t even that scary! —I think the next part will be a bit scarier. —Huh?

With a gentle smile, I began to wrap up the story.

The girl said to the boy:

“Yes, I’m okay.” “Really?” “Yeah.”

Then, in a trembling voice, the girl asked:

“How about you?” “Me?” “Yeah, are you happy with your life now?” “Uh... why are you asking all of a sudden?” “Just curious.” “I guess I’m...”

The girl never visited the boy again.

She left him with just one final message:

“See you again. And... I’m sorry.”

The lady stared at me with a pouty expression.

“That wasn’t fun.” “Hey, I came up with that story on the spot.” “But it wasn’t «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» fun. I wanted a ghost to show up and—!”

—Boom!

“Eeeek!!!”

She screamed as a bolt of lightning struck, clutching onto me tightly. Her eyes, full of water, glared at me as she bit her lip.

“Ricardo, make it stop.” “Make what stop?” “The lightning.” “...What?” “Ugh...”

She snuggled against my chest, trembling as the rain continued to pour. Then, looking up at me, she asked another question.

“Ricardo... aren’t you cold?” “Huh?” “You didn’t bring any clothes, did you?” “Oh...”

I awkwardly smiled and shrugged.

“I’m fine.” “You look cold.” “It’s nothing compared to the northern winds.” “No, you’ll get cold since we talked about ghosts. That’s why.”

She shivered, and then in a determined voice, she scolded me.

“Ricardo, you can’t catch a cold.” “Oh my, are you worried about me?” “If you get sick, you won’t be able to cook for me.” “That didn’t last long.”

Smiling at her petty reasoning, I ruffled her damp hair.

“Hey! Stop that!” “I can’t help it.” “Ugh!”

The lady, her head shaking from my teasing, gave me a mischievous look.

“Just wait, I’ll make you like Gomtangi.”

—Bear?

“No, not you.”

She glanced at Gomtangi, who was yawning, then turned back to me with a short, blunt command.

“Take it off!” “Huh?” “Take it off!” “...?”

The lady reached out toward me, her hands grabbing hold of my clothes.