The Villainess Captured The Grand Duke - Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Despite Erina’s words, Scheuer only tilted her head, not fully comprehending. After that, Scheuer consistently avoided taking up the sword. While the Duke of Netri initially dismissed it as a phase she would grow out of, he grew increasingly anxious as time passed.

Whenever this happened, the brunt of his frustration fell on Erina. 

‘The one who should be wielding a sword isn’t, and the wrong one is taking it up. Tsk.’

Since Scheuer refused to take the lessons meant for her, Erina was made to attend them in her place. After all, the swordsmanship instructor hired specifically for Scheuer had time to spare, and it didn’t hurt for him to use that time to train Erina. Everyone acknowledged that Erina had talent.

‘Lady Erina has quite the aptitude,’ they would say.

But for Erina, it was a talent she wished she didn’t have—one that was useless to her. The compliments did not bring her any joy. Occasionally, her swordsmanship instructor would gently suggest to the Duke of Netri:

‘Duke, perhaps it might be worthwhile to formally induct Lady Erina into the knights’ order.’

‘Erina? What would be the point? Once Scheuer eventually takes up the sword, Erina’s prospects in the order will be limited. Better for her to stay refined and wait for a good marriage proposal.’

A limit. Because she was the second daughter, Erina’s opportunities were capped before she could even truly begin. It was an absolute barrier that neither effort nor desire could overcome.

At first, Erina felt resigned. Then, over time, anger grew, followed by deep frustration. Meanwhile, Scheuer, who had all the qualities Erina desired, poured her efforts into flower arranging. By this point, the Duke’s patience had also worn thin. If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were in the guest reception room, he might have torn up all the flowers in the garden in his fury.

‘Why won’t you pick up the sword? ?’ He’d roar.

Crash. The sound of breaking vases had become so familiar that it barely registered anymore. Yet Scheuer would try to reason with him every time.

‘Father, I don’t want to wield a sword if it means sacrificing others. Do I really need to take up the sword to make something of myself?’

‘No ancestor of ours has ever refused to wield a sword! sword!’

Meanwhile, Erina, who was practicing with her sword, had grown utterly sick of this repetitive and tiresome exchange. The notion of not picking up the sword simply because one didn’t want to harm others seemed pathetically trivial to her.

If she had been in Scheuer’s position, she would have gladly accepted their father’s full support and taken up the sword without hesitation. Scheuer’s refusal, coupled with her stubbornness, seemed like mere defiance.

Finally fed up, Erina knocked on Scheuer’s door. When no response came, she opened it anyway, finding her sister surprisingly unaffected.

You’re here?’ 

Scheuer greeted her, still arranging flowers. With an armful of blooms, Scheuer was  humming a tune, utterly unbothered by her confinement.

Erina’s voice was hard as she asked, 

‘How long do you plan to hold out? This childish rebellion of yours is dragging on too long.’

‘Rebellion? I just genuinely have no interest in wielding a sword,” Scheuer replied as she carefully held up a flower. ‘

‘Do you think this would suit Silcaro?’

‘Silcaro?’

‘I saw him once, secretly. He’s quite impressive—kind and gentle.’

While Erina was treated like a commodity, displayed on a shelf awaiting an uncertain fate, Scheuer seemed content to while away her time among the flowers.

Scheuer’s embarrassed smile only made Erina let out a hollow laugh. 

‘You’re born into the Netri family and you should fulfill your duties. How can you be so selfish, only doing what you want? Are you a child?’

‘Selfish? I’m doing what’s best for everyone..’

Scheuer responded, her tone calm but resolute.

Erina’s frustration bubbled over. 

‘And who in Netri is happy right now? Father yells every day, the knights walk on eggshells, and yet, you’re the only one living in your little bubble.’

Scheuer tilted her head, genuinely perplexed. 

‘I just don’t want to live a life that involves hurting others. I don’t want to make harming people my job’

‘That again? I’m so tired of hearing it..’

Erina snapped. It was the same argument over and over. Scheuer talked about avoiding harm and finding other ways, yet she never presented any real solutions or results. It was all just empty promises.

‘When your life’s on the line, will you really be able to stand by those ideals?’ Erina thought bitterly.

Unable to take it anymore, Erina secretly reached out to the Count of Swans, who had recently begun an herb business. From him, she obtained a slow-acting poison. Gradually, Scheuer’s health declined, but even as her strength waned, she never let go of her flowers. As Scheuer grew weaker, the Duke naturally began postponing any talk of marriage for Erina, wanting to see what would become of Scheuer.

In this tense atmosphere, Erina visited her sister once more. Scheuer, sitting on her bed, greeted her as if it had been a long time.

‘What brings you here?’

‘Are you really not going to pick up the sword?’

‘That again?’

She replied she replied irritably, brushing her hair back with frustration. 

‘My body is like this, and you expect me to pick up a sword? Are you turning into Father?’

‘What, are you upset that Father’s no longer pinning his hopes on you?’

Erina retorted, her voice sharp.

Scheuer waved her hand dismissively. 

‘Enough. If that’s what you came to talk about, then let’s not see each other again. You finally visit, and all you can talk about is the sword. I’m so sick of it.’

‘You’ve suddenly started feeling ill, haven’t you? It’s been, what, two months now?’ 

Erina’s footsteps echoed as she walked up to the bed. Scheuer’s once vibrant skin had turned pale, almost lifeless, from lack of sunlight.

With a face full of contempt, Erina revealed,

‘I’ve been secretly adding something to your tea.’

‘W-What…?;

Scheuer began to respond, but realization dawned on her, and her eyes filled with fierce anger—an expression Erina had never seen before. It was the first time Scheuer, who always appeared so calm and gentle, looked truly human.

Erina’s voice was cold and cutting as she continued.. 

‘You want to kill me now, don’t you? Even after this, do you still believe you can live without harming others?’

In a sudden fit of rage, Scheuer grabbed the flowerpot on her bedside table and hurled it at Erina. But her strength was so diminished that the pot flew through the air sluggishly. Erina, who had been training with a sword for years, could have easily dodged it with her eyes closed. But she chose not to.

The pot struck her shoulder and shattered on the floor.

Crash.

The familiar sound echoed through Scheuer’s room, a sound that had become all too common in the Netri household. The shards of the broken pot scattered, one of them grazing Erina’s hand, leaving a small cut that quickly began to bead with blood.

Erina locked eyes with Scheuer, whose golden eyes were now burning with rage.

‘See? You’re just a hypocrite after all. You can attack like this.’

***

Blenga’s morning began with the arrival of a tailor. As Scheuer made her way to the office after dressing the statue of Raygrain in the early hours, she was suddenly intercepted by the attendants.

“Why? What’s going on? Is His Grace getting me new clothes?” 

She asked, wondering if perhaps the Duke was replacing the clothes she had worn during the recent monster subjugation, still stained with the remnants of battle.

Cali, her attendant, fixed her with a stern gaze. 

“Do you realize how soon your wedding is?”

“One week!” Scheuer replied confidently.

“Six days remain now. The dress design you were asked to choose in advance has finally been completed,” Cali said firmly.

Ah. Scheuer let out a small sigh. In truth, she hadn’t placed much importance on the dress. To her, the wedding dress was simply something that matched the white uniform Raygrain would wear beside her—a set piece, nothing more.

But then Cali added something with a solemn tone that piqued Scheuer’s interest. 

“And the artist for your portrait has been decided.”

“A portrait!” Scheuer’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Let’s go, Cali! We need to choose the outfit that looks best standing next to His Grace!”

“I never wish to be easily defined.” – Frans Kafka