Chapter 61 | How to Not Get Executed as an Otome Game Villainess

Rewind to a few minutes earlier.

The afternoon sun poured through the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm patch of light onto the white tablecloth.

Leonhart set down his glass and looked at the young lady dining opposite him.

Her table manners were impeccable—of course they were.

An upbringing in the Aldheim family wouldn't allow for any mistakes in this regard, but what he noticed wasn't her etiquette; it was her naturalness while dining with him.

A naturalness that bore absolutely no trace of being forced.

She would narrow her eyes slightly because the food was delicious, and after finishing a dish, she would subconsciously glance at the empty plate, as if saying, “What a shame, it's already gone.”

These subtle expressions were things he had never seen on the old Loris's face.

—No, rather, it would be more accurate to say he had never paid attention.

Because the former Loris had always been that flawlessly perfect noble young lady in front of him—the angle of her smile, the tone of her voice, and her actions while dining were all so precise they might as well have been measured with a ruler.

The atrocious attitude others spoke of when describing her was something he had never witnessed himself—and Leonhart understood that this was her way of showing her infatuation with him.

He had no objection to this facade of perfection either, for he himself was the same kind of person. In a way, he even felt it was quite convenient, requiring nothing more than step-by-step cooperation to fulfill their political duties.

Even his starting point for inviting Loris today had been exactly that.

But today's Loris was different—or rather, she had changed ever since enrolling. Could this change be a sign that she no longer loved him?

Leonhart did not understand. Thus, he had been paying close attention to her since they were at the opera house, and now, the truth seemed to finally be coming to light.

Lowering his eyes, he poked at the vegetables on his plate with a fork as his thoughts drifted back to two hours ago.

...

During the final act of the opera 《The Elf Queen》, Leonhart had noticed out of the corner of his eye that Loris was wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Loris von Aldheim—the duke's daughter who always held her chin high in social circles, wearing a gaze that told everyone they were unworthy of her attention.

She actually cried while watching an opera?

He had been quietly observing her from the corner of his eye, never once fully engaging in the so-called opera. He didn't turn his head immediately. Upon seeing this scene, he waited for a few seconds to confirm that the motion was indeed wiping away tears rather than rubbing her eyes before finally turning his face toward her.

“Are you crying?”

Leonhart had deliberately kept his voice low—so low that only she could hear him.

For he knew that if this had been the former Loris, those words would have been enough to make her instantly raise her defenses and draw a cold distance between them with a flat “Your Highness thinks too much.” She would never want anyone to see her in such a vulnerable state.

But her reaction had been—panic.

First came a flash of bewilderment, then she quickly turned her face away to rub her eyes, murmuring, “No, my eyes are just a bit dry.”

However, her actions betrayed her.

These were details that would seem insignificant to ordinary people, but to someone like Leonhart who had grown up in the royal palace, they were clear windows into her mind.

He figured that the Loris of the past would have either admitted it frankly (if it served her interests) or denied it with a cold sneer (if it served as a defense).

But she definitely would not have acted like this... like someone caught red-handed.

He had offered her his handkerchief for the time being.

Yet, he was still observing her inwardly.

When he handed it over, her acceptance of the handkerchief carried a subtle embarrassment. If a noble lady's typical pride would dictate that she had no need for his things but accepted them out of politeness, then her reaction was a much simpler, more commoner-like feeling of, “Ah, I've inconvenienced them.”

This was by no means information that she would express on the surface.

Rather, it was observed through the subtle shifting of her gaze, the height to which her brows raised, the slight tensing of her shoulders, and other microscopic cues.

Leonhart could roughly sense her emotions without even needing to use his 'Eye.'

But was this right?

No, it was not.

In fact, it was highly abnormal.

Next came the jewelry shop.

When he accompanied her into the shop, he had already prepared himself—she would head straight for the most expensive display and pick the largest gemstone.

The former Loris would have certainly done so.

But she didn't.

In that bustling jewelry store, her gaze had paused on that pair of sapphire stud earrings for just two seconds—a mere two seconds—before she simply commented that she found the color quite nice.

Leonhart had maintained his smile as he stepped closer to examine them.

The earrings were very small and simple. Their price was probably only low-to-mid range in that shop.

She wasn't even looking at something for her own use—because that design, size, and color were clearly more suited as a gift for a young girl than for a duke's daughter to wear herself.

When Leonhart bought them for her, her reaction had also been worth noting.

Unfortunately, compared to when they were in the opera house, she seemed to have masked her emotions better; that embarrassment only lingered on her face for a fraction of a second before she covered it up with calm indifference.

However, that didn't mean Leonhart couldn't deduce things.

Just selecting and purchasing such a plain gift was strange enough.

Then came the clothing boutique, the accessory shop, and the stuffed toy shop.

Leonhart had seen what women looked like when they picked out clothes—his mother, the noble ladies of the court, and even the maids—their eyes would light up with a certain brilliance when they saw something they truly liked.

Yet, the further they went, forget about any spark of excitement in Loris's eyes; they had nearly lost all their luster entirely.

She didn't seem to care what she wore, what she bought today, or about shopping itself. She was merely going along with him.

She was just completing the process of 'spending a day together'—a process that should have been filled with anticipation and excitement for a noble young lady, a date with the one she adored, and an opportunity to walk side by side with a prince of royal blood.

In her mind, it had probably turned into a social task that simply needed to be completed. It was truly baffling.

But perhaps... this could be chalked up to fatigue.

Leonhart thought, maintaining a cautious attitude.

And then they arrived at the present moment, which was also the most crucial point.

The restaurant.

“Is there anything you don't eat?”

When he asked this question, he already had an answer in mind. The Loris of the past would have listed a string of requirements without the slightest hesitation—she didn't eat this, she didn't eat that, the doneness had to be just so, and the seasoning had to be adjusted. The eldest daughter of the Aldheim family had every right to be picky, and she had never once given up her right to exercise it.

But today's Loris hesitated.

She hesitated for about half a second, then said, “I will leave the choices to you, Your Highness.”

She had handed the decision-making power to him.

...

His drifting thoughts came to an end.

Leonhart looked up at the young lady dining opposite him.

She was still that blonde-haired, blue-eyed daughter of a duke. She still possessed that unrealistically exquisite face, and she was still the eldest daughter of the Aldheim family, his fiancée, and the child of one of the most prominent political figures in the kingdom.

Leonhart set down his fork, picked up his glass of water, and took a sip. The icy liquid slid down his throat, bringing a brief moment of clarity.

He needed to confirm one thing.

Closing his eyes, he channeled the mana inside his body.

His Innate Magic—【The Eye of Longinus】.

This magic could see through lies, determining whether a person's words were “based on truth” or “based on falsehood.”

If a person's answer was based on what she perceived as fact, the magic would return a calm response; if it was based on something she knew to be false, the magic would return a chaotic response.

It was quite simple.

Thus, Leonhart opened his eyes and looked at Loris, his voice as steady as if he were merely commenting on the pleasant weather:

“There are some things I do not know if I should say.”

Loris paused in her movements, then looked up at him, a trace of alertness in her emerald-green eyes.

“Please, go ahead, Your Highness,” she said.

Leonhart took a deep breath.

He didn't need to ask any complex questions; he only needed to confirm one thing—whether she no longer had feelings for him.

Whether that lovely young lady who had danced with him at the ball, formed their engagement, and been filled with joy—who, despite being a villainous daughter behind the scenes, only ever showed her beautiful side to him—had already forgotten that heartbeat after two years.

If that was indeed the case, then he would also change his attitude and lay things out in the open. Since both of them were bound by a political marriage, they didn't need to put on a facade; they could just perform their roles and cooperate. Even after they reached adulthood, he wouldn't interfere with her social circle, and he would turn a blind eye even if she got involved in romantic scandals—that was the kind of attitude he would adopt.

What he cared about was whether they could discuss this openly.

For they were, after all, merely bargaining chips and chess pieces.

“Lady Loris,”

Leonhart wanted to ask her if her affection had vanished, but that was a bit too direct, not to mention a breach of etiquette.

So, he had no choice but to obliquely refer to it as “change.”

Although this was a question with no standardized answer, the judgment of magic would not lie. Furthermore, Loris herself was the one who knew best whether she had changed toward him.

Not finding enjoyment in spending time together was also a change.

With those thoughts in mind, Leonhart spoke, “You are different.”

Then, the magic was activated.

Deep within Leonhart's eye, mana wove into a fine, dense net that stretched toward Loris. It was a matter of a single instant—in less than a second, the truth of the world would touch her response and return a result.

But in that span of less than a second, Leonhart saw it—

Darkness.

Boundless, infinite darkness.

It emanated from behind her.

A deeper, more fundamental darkness.

It was as if something was coiled inside Loris's body—no, not coiled inside her body, but casting its gaze upon her. An existence he could not comprehend, could not describe, and could not even look at directly!

When the “gaze” of that existence fell upon him, Leonhart felt his mana seized by an invisible giant hand. Before the thought of resistance could even rise, he was ground to dust!

His eye of truth was burning as if bleeding.

It felt as if molten iron was being poured into his magic circuits. The pain was so intense he nearly cried out. It was a pain of the soul, a primal, deep instinct screaming at him:

Do not look.

One second. A mere second.

There was no change on Leonhart's face.

He did not frown, he did not twitch, and even his breathing pattern remained completely undisturbed. Only he knew that his back was already drenched in cold sweat, his fingers gripping the fork were trembling uncontrollably, and a bone-chilling cold was seeping outward, making him feel as if he were submerged in ice water.

And Loris's response—that “Your Highness thinks too much, how could that be?”—did not trigger any magical feedback.

No feedback whatsoever.

His Innate Magic, which had never failed him since the day he was born, was unable to provide an answer at this moment, completely incapable of discerning whether she was speaking the truth or a lie.

Because before his golden right eye could even reach her, it had already been swallowed by that darkness.

...

Leonhart covered his eye with his right hand, doing his utmost to act as if nothing had happened as he weakly picked up his water and took another sip.

The sourness of the lemonade burst across the tip of his tongue, dragging him back a fraction from that abyss-like chill.

He understood. He suddenly understood at this very moment.

—The lunch was still ongoing.

—Loris continued to eat with breezy nonchalance, but beneath the table, her toes were curling in anxiety.

—'Did he find out? Damn, why did he suddenly ask something like that? I'm still supposed to be playing the villainess against Liliana right now!'

He could not hear her actual inner voice.

But Leonhart understood that Loris had indeed changed.

It was not a change in personality, nor was it the change of growing up and becoming more sensible, and certainly not her affection shifting to someone else.

Rather—she had been targeted by something.

No, perhaps she had been targeted since even earlier.

Perhaps she had been watched by some entity since birth—something so dark, so terrifying... It was an evil god!

Leonhart suddenly realized something terrifying! Perhaps, perhaps the gaze of that evil god was what had shaped her, turning her into that Tyrant Daughter, that villainous daughter, the woman everyone felt was “doomed sooner or later”!

Perhaps that was the real reason she was so “bad”...

—That darkness was no longer something he could stand against.

He was the Crown Prince, a genius endowed with talent. Yet, the moment that gaze descended, he clearly felt one thing:

Insignificance.

He had never once felt insignificant. He was the eldest son of the Edelstein royal family, educated since childhood with the words, “You are the future king; you stand at the pinnacle of this country.” But in the face of such an existence, what was a king? What was a kingdom? What was the entire continent?

All of it was mere dust.

Leonhart set his glass down with difficulty, his fingers pausing on the glass wall for a brief moment.

So this was what the change was...

He said to himself in his mind:

Then let us investigate no further.

If things remained as they were—if Loris was merely being watched by an evil god, and for some unknown reason had become a bit gentler, a bit more normal, and slightly less like that Tyrant Daughter—then it would have absolutely no impact on his political plans.