The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

The Iron-Blooded Lord.

"... "

A woman consumed by bloodlust.

Long ago, in an ancient time so distant that no living soul remembered it, there existed a woman feared by all. She was known as the Iron-Blooded Lord, a name that struck terror into the hearts of many.

Wherever she passed, blood and war followed in her wake, and the streets filled with the sorrowful wails of mothers who had lost their children.

“Bring back my son!”

“... "

“My son...”

People feared her. To challenge someone with her overwhelming power meant paying the price of death.

The weak prayed for a hero to rise, to vanquish the evil that terrorized them. Their prayers were answered when the gods chose a person with a pure heart to stand as the hero who would end the woman's atrocities.

But the woman never repented, even in the end.

"Why should I?!" she screamed. "I only gave you what you wanted...!"

The hero, realizing he couldn’t fully sever the woman’s powerful will, sealed her away. She became a sword, losing the brilliant light that once surrounded her.

One hundred years.

Two hundred years.

Centuries passed, and as her story faded into myth, the Iron-Blooded Lord began preparing to rise again.

Yes, the Iron-Blooded Lord...

"Stop, please!"

"Gooooom!"

"Hehehehehe!!!"

...was now nothing more than a toy.

I watched with an awkward smile as Gomtang ran around with Caliburn clamped in his mouth. Who could have imagined that such a sword would end up being treated like this?

"What’s this?"

"A new sword I acquired."

"Oooh... It’s pretty."

"Would you like to hold it?"

"Yes."

"Here you go."

The young lady took Caliburn, and with a satisfied grin, declared that it was the perfect toy for Gomtang. She threw the sword across the yard, and Gomtang, ecstatic, fetched it back repeatedly, leading to the sight now before me.

"I was once the ancient and mighty progenitor of blood...!"

"Eeeek! Ricardo! The sword is talking!"

"It’s a very expensive sword, that’s why."

"Hoo... I see. Can I still throw it?"

"Play with it for a little while longer, but be careful—it’s dangerous."

"Okay."

"Gomgom."

"Fetch!"

Well, as long as the young lady was happy, that was all that mattered. I decided not to overthink things.

"I’m not a toy... I was a terrifying person once..."

It was a relief that the young lady seemed to like her new companion.

After playing for a long while, she returned with Caliburn in hand, pouting as she handed it back to me.

"Here."

"Are you finished playing?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have fun?"

"It wasn’t as fun because it didn’t talk."

"What?"

"I was the Iron-Blooded Lord... sniff... I was so terrifying once... nobody talked to me back then..."

I couldn’t help but smile awkwardly at Caliburn’s pitiful state. It was clear that this once-mighty sword had been thoroughly broken.

‘Next time, I’ll have to console it,’ I thought.

Listening to Caliburn mutter to itself, I decided that maybe it was worth looking into its past. Perhaps reading up on its history would help me build a stronger bond. When we first spoke in the carriage, I had assumed it was the spirit of a minor noble, but it seemed Caliburn was far more significant than I had thought.

‘I’ll need to do some studying.’

As I sheathed Caliburn, I turned to the young lady, asking about how she’d been while I was away.

"Did you manage well while I was gone?"

"Yep."

"Did you eat well?"

"Ricardo’s friend cooked for me."

"Oh, that’s wonderful."

"And I played with Gomtang, too."

"Good job."

"I even exercised my legs and took two whole steps."

"That’s truly impressive."

The young lady beamed at me, tilting her head forward, clearly asking for a head pat. I smiled warmly and placed my hand on her soft, white hair.

"Hehe..."

"You’re amazing."

"Praise me more."

"You’re absolutely incredible."

"Hehe, I know..."

She was still bound to her wheelchair, unable to walk with a cane just yet. The nerves in her legs hadn’t fully healed, and after so many years of immobility, it would take time to regain full function. Her progress was slow but steady, which was only natural.

As much as I wished for her to be able to run freely again, there was a proper order to things.

While gently stroking her hair, I thought about the gradual rehabilitation plan I’d set up for her to regain confidence and mobility.

"By the way, have you sent a letter to the head of the house yet?"

"Hm?"

The young lady looked at me with a large question mark practically hovering over her head.

"Why would I send a letter to my father?"

"..."

"He’s busy earning money."

Why would she send a letter? Hearing such a remark from someone so full of filial love, I couldn’t help but smile and reply gently.

"Don’t you think «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» you should tell him that you can walk now? Even if it’s not perfect, you’ve made enough progress to walk by yourself."

"...Oh."

"Right?"

"Yeah."

The young lady nodded vigorously, holding out her hand.

"Give me some paper."

"Weren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t write a letter?"

"That person’s dead."

"Puhaha! Alright, I’ll bring you some lovely pink paper."

"Pink...?"

"Okay, how about blue?"

"Eeeeeek!"

"Red, then?"

"Eek...?!

"Hmmm, I’ll get white paper then."

"Yeah."

She took the paper and sat at her desk, focusing on writing a letter. Her lips pursed in concentration, and I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my chin on my hand.

‘She looks just like an angel...’

"To my useless father..."

‘...but acts like a devil.’

The young lady muttered the contents of her letter aloud as she wrote, letting me hear it.

"Father. Did you eat? You need to make lots of money. That way, I can live an easy life."

"Such filial piety."

"Exactly. I think about him a lot."

"You’re amazing."

"Yeah. And..."

“...”

"We need to work my brother harder. If he does well, I can take it easy. And if those journalists keep writing strange articles, we’ll just grind them up."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

A faint smile spread across her lips as she finished the last lines of her letter.

She pressed her lips together tightly, writing the final words in silence.

"Father, I can walk now. I still need Ricardo to help me, but I’m trying hard so that one day we can walk together. Aren’t I amazing? So don’t worry about me anymore, and take some time to rest."

With a small smile, I chose not to peek at the letter’s contents. Judging by her bashful expression as she hid it, I had a pretty good idea of what she had written.

The young lady, who hated showing vulnerability, had surely written something sentimental. Smiling to myself, I watched her from behind.

‘What a filial daughter.’

Though she still had her rebellious moments, Desmont would undoubtedly be thrilled.

He was the kind of man who would want to treasure her handwritten letter as a family heirloom. Who knew—he might even come running the moment he reads it.

Thinking about the likely arrival of the Desmont family at the estate, I smiled to myself.

"Maybe I should clean up the mansion a bit."

"Eek?"

After all, we were likely expecting guests soon.

Meanwhile...

The members of the academy, recently returned from their long journey, sat around the conference table, their faces unusually heavy.

Shartia, looking as though a great burden had been lifted from her, was flipping through documents, her expression filled with fatigue. The other officers, too, nodded silently as they reviewed their paperwork.

With a nod, Shartia spoke.

"You all worked hard. This must have been exhausting, but did everyone manage alright?"

“...”

The officers remained silent. None of them had done much during the battle.

Their faces were clouded with worry. These were people who once thought that, after graduating from the academy, they would become the heroes of the world. But now, they had tasted real danger. They had seen people scream in pain, and the sheer force of the enemy had shaken them to their core.

They had witnessed overwhelming power. An unstoppable foe.

If Ricardo hadn’t appeared when he did, they would likely have been wiped out. The officers’ faces reflected their grim realization.

Sighing, Shartia cleared her throat, attempting to lift the mood.

"Don’t be discouraged. It wasn’t just us—many soldiers were wounded, too. We’re lucky things ended as well as they did. We even managed to obtain the Holy Sword."

“...”

"I’ll cover the drinks tonight, so let’s try to lift our spirits..."

“...”

Just then, the door creaked open, and someone entered the room, causing the officers to fall silent in tension.

"Why is everyone so tense?"

Wrapped in bandages around his head and hands, Malik entered, his stern expression softened by the documents he carried.

“...”

Malik glanced at the silent students and let out a dry laugh.

"It feels like I walked into a funeral."

"..."

"Why so down? We completed our mission successfully."

"..."

"Did you lose a friend?"

"..."

"No? Then why the long faces?"

Malik sighed deeply, looking at the officers, and asked them to reflect on what they had learned from the recent experience.

"How was the real battle?"

"..."

"And how did you feel?"

"..."

"Were you scared? Or were you just frustrated, outmatched by the healers running around the battlefield?"

"..."

"Didn’t I tell you to train and prepare yourselves?"

"..."

"The battlefield is not as kind as you imagined."

"..."

"Do you think that elf would have spared you if you’d begged? No, there’s no need to imagine. If luck hadn’t been on your side, you’d all be dead by now."

"..."

"I hope you learned something valuable from this journey."

Malik’s sharp smile concluded his speech, and the officers let out deep breaths, slowly reigniting their resolve.

Looking at them, Malik smirked and made a suggestion.

"Let’s have an after-party."

Malik knew how to handle people.

"We’ll even have a free-for-all, so look forward to it."