I Don't Want To Do a Romantic Comedy With a Villain! - Chapter 8
Episode 8
Min-joo, placing the sandwich on the desk and frowning at Permette, asked.
“Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t help it, Your Excellency cares about me so much. I’m here to make a living, so why don’t I have one of my own?”
Permette, shamelessly replying, looked down at the messy sandwich. Vehen, leaning on the sofa and flipping through documents, answered instead of Min-joo.
“I’m done, so you eat. And where did you hear those false rumors about me cherishing you?”
“Even without rumors, I can tell. The affectionate gaze you cast upon me… Ouch!”
An empty cup hit Permette’s head. While the impact wasn’t enough to break the glass, it wasn’t weak either. Holding his head, Permette glared at Vehen.
Vehen, seemingly disgusted and unable to endure, was holding the cup and trembling. Permette, holding his head, asked.
“Why did you hit me?”
“Because you deserved it, so be quiet.”
As Min-joo poured coffee into the cup that passed through Permette’s hair, Vehen glanced at her. With a stern and hardened expression, he only nodded slightly in response to Min-joo’s gaze.
Having learned from a week of close contact that Vehen’s actions meant to speak if you have something to say, Min-joo confidently spoke up.
“Master, please eat something. You might collapse if you keep going like this.”
“You sound like you want me to.”
“Busted.”
Suddenly, Permette had both hands on the sandwich and was eating without letting a single drop of filling spill. Vehen, fascinated by how Permette managed not to spill anything, watched him and took a sip of coffee.
“Rumors have spread well. It was challenging to directly criticize His Highness the Crown Prince, so I started with other rumors.”
After swallowing his food, Permette grabbed the rest of his sandwich and continued.
“Slaves took away jobs from commoners, participated in gambling, and earned large sums of money.”
“Why did it suddenly turn out that way?”
Min-joo asked, leaning on the sofa. Vehen, stuck between Min-joo’s arms, couldn’t move but stood still. Min-joo’s shoulder touched Vehen’s head.
With a bit of tension, Vehen sipped the lukewarm coffee only.
“People easily get incited when anger piles up. If His Highness the Crown Prince is behind it, there will undoubtedly be resentment.”
“Slaves haven’t committed any crimes. They have nothing to do with it.”
Permette tilted his head, as if not understanding Min-joo’s question. His attractive eyes blinked slowly.
“The goal is to tarnish the Crown Prince’s image and gain support from the third prince. Means don’t matter.”
Min-joo was flabbergasted.
The picture she wanted wasn’t like this. She expected rumors about the Crown Prince being a heartless person who didn’t care about the lives of commoners and operated a gambling den to fill his own pockets.
What crimes have slaves committed?
In any case, even if you wear glasses, it’s ethical to think of it as pretty garbage.
“Why do you look so unpleasant? Haven’t I spread the rumors to undermine the Crown Prince’s support, as you instructed?”
“Just tarnishing the Crown Prince would be enough.”
“If it’s for the goal, means and methods don’t matter. You’re intoxicated with a horrific fantasy.”
“Why are you……!”
Min-joo raised her voice but stopped herself when she felt the warmth in her hands. Vehen quietly covered Min-joo’s hand to calm her down.
Min-joo looked at Vehen and then turned her gaze to the indifferent face of Permette. She was furious at his attitude of not understanding what the problem was.
He was this kind of character even in the scenario. Seemingly affectionate and soft, but just someone who only cares about the results. If only he achieves the goal, it doesn’t matter how he gets there. So he became a supporter and shot his family with a gun, thinking it was for the greater good.
He was the kind of man who mildly regretted that he hadn’t spared a family member to attend a party.
He blended in easily with the commoners and traded with them, so it was a mistake to entrust him with the rumors. There had to be another way.
“It may be an effective method, but there are ethical issues, and in the long run, it will also impact the nobles who use slaves.”
Min-joo looked down at Vehen as he spoke.
“Slaves are their assets, and if they are exposed to violence and get injured, it means a loss for them. It wasn’t a good solution.”
Vehen was also a noble, a person who ruled over others. It was a position looking down from above, not the plight of the weak. It was natural for a noble, but as a human, it shouldn’t have been that way. Min-joo couldn’t express the rising anger at the back of her throat.
“This isn’t right.”
She couldn’t stand being with these people. She wanted to go to Neriant, the female protagonist, as soon as possible. When Min-joo tried to pull her hand out of Vehen’s grasp and stand up, Vehen tightened his grip.
“So support nobles who advocate for the rights of slaves.”
Min-joo looked at Vehen with surprised eyes. Vehen sat calmly and firmly, seemingly indifferent and unmoved, not for Min-joo, not for them. But in the end, he was siding with the weak.
“Portray slaves as pitiful and in unfortunate situations, gain sympathy. Break the support for the prince who neglects and violates their rights. Make the third prince, who closes the gambling den, a hero.”
If sympathy is gained and human rights for slaves become a topic, the result will be the liberation of slaves, even if it’s not a favorable judgment from the noble’s perspective.
Min-joo suddenly realized that among Vehen’s employees, there wasn’t a single slave.
The story had taken a turn. Originally, using rumors to tarnish the image of the gambling den and divert people’s attention, the natural progression was to create a law prohibiting gambling.
It seemed like the scale was getting too large.
Min-joo held onto Vehen’s hand slipping away from hers, realizing that this wasn’t just trouble; it was a massive problem.
Permette frowned and crossed his legs. It wasn’t the direction he wanted, and it became troublesome.
“Do commoners step forward just to gain sympathy? People only move when they are disadvantaged, and they speak out only when they suffer.”
“It won’t be them stepping forward.”
Permette, as if unable to comprehend, bowed his upper body. It was frustrating to the point where he might turn away. There was an easier way, so why keep turning back? He was just a slave brought from a defeated country. However, Permette, working under orders, judged that continuing the conversation would yield no income and stood up.
Vehen, still gazing intently out the window, spoke quietly to Min-joo.
“You should go with him.”
“Me?”
Vehen let go of Min-joo’s hand and turned to look at her. Min-joo stepped back, taken aback.
“Go, buy some clothes, and come back. Use the back door for your exit.”
“Come quickly. I’ll leave you.”
Permette, standing crookedly by the open door, nodded his head. He seemed like a wanderer. Min-joo alternated her gaze between Vehen and Permette before following Permette out of the study.
Min-joo and Permette got into the carriage.
Permette, with a grim expression, gazed out the window, while Min-joo glanced around as if sitting on thorns.
The carriage left the mansion through the back door, heading towards the market. Permette still kept his eyes fixed beyond the window as he spoke.
“I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“About the slaves and why His Excellency is so protective of you.”
It was something Min-joo couldn’t understand either. Even if she knew the future, she deemed it unnecessary. Being a noble and working for the sake of slaves’ rights was also incomprehensible. Min-joo couldn’t answer and clenched her skirt.
“And your words.”
On the first day of the Prince Taunting Project, Permette recalled Min-joo’s words and frowned slightly.
Knowing the future is not reliable. Restless, perhaps irritated, fingers that seemed to look annoyed or maybe irritated tapped on her chin.
“I can only assume that you deliberately erased any trace of where you came from or who you are.”
Permette’s yellow eyes shone brightly. Sharp, calm, like the eyes of a beast that found its prey.
“And asking about a sorcerer, is that your true identity? Is that why you almost suffered the punishment of the fire?”
Permette’s hand moved quickly. The revolver that emerged from his bosom aimed at Min-joo in an instant. Min-joo held her breath, standing tense in suspense.
Why this guy always pointed a gun when faced with her, she couldn’t understand. If it were Permette, he could commit a crime, lie that Min-joo had escaped, or boldly say that he killed her due to suspicion.
“I’m not going to ask you again, but who are you, and the fact that we only have a month’s worth of recent activity can’t be explained by anything other than a spy or a sorcerer, and what does this have to do with the Crown Prince?”
“It has nothing to do with His Highness, and I traveled through dimensions.”
“Did you escape from the hospital?”
Permette, thinking she might be delusional, aimed the gun more accurately.
“Really. It’s too absurd and unbelievable for me too. What I want is just to go back home. You don’t have to force-feed the Crown Prince, I just want to go home.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Anyway, in a little while, I’ll cling to Neriant. So, until then, just don’t bother.”
Neriant. Permette, rolling the word inside his mouth, glared chillingly at the tense Min-joo.
It was amusing to see someone desperately arguing against the topic that terrified them.
Moreover, if it was Neriant Seguez Velirian, she belonged to the prestigious and wealthy Count family. Calling a noble’s name so easily, was it Min-joo’s habit?
Permette flicked his finger on the trigger.
“A spy sent by the Velirian family.”
Communication was not working. Min-joo was overwhelmed by the impulse to smack her forehead.
It seemed like no explanation would be heard.
No matter how much Min-joo persuaded and persuaded, she was dealing with a person who stuck to his own opinion. Min-joo leaned back against the backrest and sighed.
“Why would they send a spy from there to here?”
“It doesn’t make sense. Neither your identity nor the fact that you know the future.”
Unlike Min-joo, Permette, if he couldn’t understand, would persist until the end.
In a situation where she didn’t know when the gun might go off, Min-joo raised her trembling hand with tension.
“Some things in the world can’t be explained. Like my situation.”
With a serious expression, Min-joo spoke, pushing the gun barrel away with her index finger.