I’m a Villainess, Can I Die?

The moon was veiled by clouds.
A man gasped for breath as he pushed through the dense undergrowth. The faint magic flickering at his feet revealed his identity—a mage.
Huff, huff, huff.

In the silent forest, where even wild beasts seemed absent, only the ragged sound of his breathing echoed. Consumed by fear, he could see nothing ahead—only the desperate urge to keep running. His body swayed unsteadily, as if he could collapse at any moment.
Even with his burning lungs and trembling legs, he forced himself forward for one reason alone.
Survival.

Clenching his chapped lips together, he struggled to focus.
The spell enhancing his legs had grown unstable due to his fraying state of mind.
If the mages at the Magic Tower saw his pitiful excuse for spellwork, they might scoff at him, saying it barely qualified as magic. But to him, it was a lifeline—a thread keeping him from falling into the abyss.

“Live. Live. I have to live.”
As if speaking directly to his own legs, he repeated the words over and over, pounding against the earth with all his strength.
If he survived this, then he would live a humble life.

He would work an honest job, build a modest home, and never let his magic make him arrogant.
He wouldn’t envy those with greater power.
He would live simply.

Tears threatened to fall, but he forced his eyes open. Right now, even shedding tears was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Then—through the haze of exhaustion—he saw it.
A faint light in the distance.

Beyond the forest—was that the glow of civilization?
That dim glow felt like salvation, and the man, overcome with relief, pressed forward.
Yes. Keep going.
As the light grew clearer, a weak, trembling smile formed on his lips.

But that smile soon faded.
It wasn’t the light of a village.
It was a lantern—held by a middle-aged man.

Disappointment flickered through the mage’s relief. He had hoped to escape the forest entirely, but at least he had encountered another human—someone new, someone who could help him.
Panting, he slowed his pace, trying to catch his breath.
The middle-aged man, his features warm and friendly, regarded him with a puzzled expression.

“What’s wrong? Why are you running through the forest, gasping for air?”
His voice was so gentle that it nearly broke the mage’s resolve.
I’m alive. I finally escaped.

Memories of his suffering flashed through his mind, and he struggled to form words, his throat parched from exhaustion.
Still wheezing, he forced the words out, his voice breaking.
“T-That… Ha… A noble… is imprisoning mages… promising power to the weak… only to kill them and steal their magic…”

“Oh my… What a dreadful thing.”
The man’s voice remained warm.
“So, you fled from the Marquess’s estate?”

The mage jerked his head up in a frantic nod—then froze.
…Wait.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.

Did he just say the Marquess’s estate…?
The man still wore a look of concern. His face was perfectly unassuming, utterly harmless.
…Hah. No, it’s just my imagination.

This uneasy feeling—it had to be paranoia. A trick of his exhausted mind.
He had been running for so long that his thoughts had become muddled.
But even as he tried to rationalize it, his body moved on its own.

A single step back.
At the movement, the man’s expression shifted.
His brow furrowed in worry—

But his lips curved into a smile.
A furrowed brow, and a smiling mouth.
“Why?” the man asked.

“Are you thinking of going back to the Marquess’s estate?”
The voice remained soft, kind—yet twisted.
The mage’s breath caught in his throat.

The forest, once filled with his ragged breathing, fell silent.
The man simply stood there, watching him—motionless.
As if to say, I won’t even bother chasing you.

A wordless standoff.
The mage’s mind raced.
Do I run? Can I fight him? Who is he?

But his thoughts were cut short.
“Grrrrr.”
This translation is the intellectual property of .

Somewhere nearby—no, far too close—a deep, guttural growl rumbled.
And that sound became the last thing he ever heard.
A short while later, the man nudged the bloodied corpse at his feet with the tip of his boot.

The mage didn’t move.
Smiling darkly, the man crouched down and drove a stake into the corpse’s chest.
One must always be thorough.

Otherwise, nuisances had a way of appearing.
Like her.
Like Selina.

At the thought of her, anger flared in his chest.
The man inhaled deeply and exhaled, pressing his fingers together.
There was no point in fuming over the past. It was far better to prepare for the future.

Regaining his composure, he raised his hand toward the beast that had torn the mage apart.
“Grrrrr.”
At his call, the creature slunk forward, rubbing its head against him like a dog seeking affection.

Its face was still stained with blood.
The man didn’t seem to mind.
Instead, he ran his hand over the beast’s grotesque face, his touch as gentle as ever.

“Good job. Well done, my beautiful thing. The one who will bring me the empire.”
His voice was softer than his touch.
Golden evening light spilled onto my bed, warm like autumn wheat.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it grain, since wheat was more common than rice in this world.
Lost in pointless thoughts, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Stretching out a finger, I traced the shape of a face in the air.

Mother. Father. Brother.
When was the last time I properly saw all of their faces?
After returning from the capital, I think I had meals with my family for about a week… but after that, even sharing a meal, let alone exchanging simple greetings, became difficult.

They were always out.
The only glimpses I caught of them were either their backs as they boarded their carriages or their exhausted faces as they returned home.
And even then, I only ever watched from my [N O V E L I G H T] window, careful not to be in the way.

“There’s no time left.”
“Pardon, my lady?”
“Just talking to myself.”

Jane smiled lightly and continued her work.
Always so composed.
I stretched my fingers out, then curled them back in, repeating the motion.

One, two, three.
About half a year, if even that.
That was how much time I had left.

I blinked slowly.
Time continued slipping away, indifferent and meaningless.
I had only just begun to grasp what happiness was—just the faintest shape of it—and yet, the days I could spend with the people who taught me that happiness were disappearing.

What if… what if the monsters weren’t dealt with within the next three years?
Would I have to close my eyes forever while still clutching this vague, fragile happiness?
Would that mean Eunji’s wish had been fulfilled? Or would it mean it had failed?

Ah.
My family would have a hard time.
Fighting monsters, arranging my funeral… I hoped they wouldn’t cry too much.

I closed my eyes and cursed the gods.
Not for the monsters—I had played too large a role in their appearance to blame anyone else.
No, my resentment toward the gods was for something else.

It wasn’t for making my family busy.
It was for giving me a fixed amount of time.
More precisely, it was for allowing every other consequence of my actions to shift and change—except for my death.

Selina’s death in the original story was due to illness.
External factors could be altered, but how was I supposed to stop a disease ravaging a human body from within?
I wasn’t a god.

Selina’s illness was a rare disease.
In truth, she had already developed symptoms before being imprisoned, but by then, she had already been labeled the Villainess of the Century.
No one remained by her side.

She had dismissed her own symptoms as mere fever and exhaustion, never realizing she was truly ill.
Only after being locked away in prison did the illness rapidly worsen, until she eventually died—alone and abandoned.
No matter what, she had always been fated to die around this time.

Just as every villain’s end was meant to be wretched.
…Or at least, that’s how the story went.
But honestly, the more I thought about it, the more it felt like they had simply decided to kill Selina off and then scrambled to justify it afterward.

Regardless of how absurdly forced that justification was, the conclusion remained the same.
Selina—meaning me—was doomed to die of illness.
The third-person omniscient narrator of a novel was practically a god, so what stronger proof could there be?

Really, what a disgusting personality.
I guess the higher someone’s position, the worse their personality gets.
For a moment, the face of my old boss from my previous job flashed through my mind.

I was about to solidify that suspicion when I suddenly remembered—
Our family was also technically the ruling power of our land.
…Right. Maybe I should let that thought go.

Narrow-minded thinking is dangerous.
Yes. That’s right.
I slowly raised my limp hands and rested them lightly over my stomach.

Lying here like this, eyes closed in a perfectly straight posture, almost felt like experiencing my own deathbed.
Three years…
Would the monsters be dealt with in three years?

Or would I die first?
Imagining that precarious race, I abruptly sat up—then immediately collapsed back down.
Ah. Damn orthostatic hypotension.

Holding my spinning head, I blinked a few times.
Even though I hadn’t closed my eyes, my vision had gone dark for a moment, only now regaining its color.
“Do you need something, my lady?”

Jane had noticed me abruptly sitting up only to lie down again and had stopped what she was doing to check on me.
I waved her off.
No, it’s nothing.

Just wondering how I could get rid of the monsters before I die.
No matter how I thought about it, I had to outlive the monster crisis.
Would the ones left behind be able to endure their grief?

Could they truly remain composed enough to handle everything?
And what if monsters attacked while they were still overwhelmed with loss?
I forcibly shoved those thoughts away.

They were good people.
People I wanted to see live long, peaceful lives.
So the monsters had to be dealt with before I died.

…Not that I had some grand plan or anything.
Even walking around was exhausting these days—there was no way I was about to throw myself into the front lines to fight monsters.
That was absurd.

I might as well believe the Earth was actually flat.
I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself trying something beyond my ability, only to become a burden everyone had to carry.
No, what I intended to do was something I had attempted in the capital a few times before giving up.

Somehow, some way—by wracking my brain if I had to—I needed to figure out which of my changes had triggered the appearance of the monsters.
If I could identify the cause, then eliminating the problem would resolve the crisis.
Yes. That made sense.

All right, then.
Now get to work, brain!