The Villainess Intends to Have It All (13 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 16
“Ron, I’m really fine. So you can go ahead and leave now, okay? Hmm?”
“You collapsed right in front of my eyes. You’re someone whose body is already so frail.”
Feyron’s voice, as he gently stroked Rose’s forehead while she lay down, was filled with worry.
“It was just… a momentary shock. I’m fine now.”
Rose’s eyelashes trembled faintly, and her eyes grew moist.
Overcome with guilt, Feyron gently kissed her eyes—bright and fresh like green grass.
“I’m sorry, Rose.”
“I really am fine. As long as you’re here, as long as Ron stays by my side…!”
Seeing her shiver helplessly, Feyron pulled Rose tightly into his arms.
“I’m sorry for loving you, Rose. I’m sorry for daring to desire you.”
“Huh…”
Rose weakly clung to Feyron and sobbed.
Though her voice sounded pitifully sorrowful, her eyes were cold as frost-covered grass.
‘You fool.’
Inwardly scolding Feyron as indecisive, Rose quickly fashioned a pitiful expression.
“Tomorrow’s Founding Day—you must have a lot to do. I’ll rest here, so please go now, okay? I’m just worried about you.”
Carefully slipping out of his embrace and gently pushing his shoulders, Rose faced Feyron, her eyes once again glistening as if nothing had happened.
With both trembling hands, Rose gently cupped Feyron’s cheeks.
“I’ll rest well, so go and come back soon.”
Seeing Rose’s forlorn smile, with her eyes drooping sadly, Feyron’s heart ached.
“I’ll be back.”
“I love you, Ron.”
Feyron carefully laid Rose back down, repeatedly voicing his worries before finally leaving the room.
Once the door closed and Feyron had gone, confirming the room was empty, Rose abruptly sat up from the bed.
“Ha, damn it.”
Rose irritably pushed back her falling hair and bit her lip.
Nothing had been going right since she entered the mansion.
She was so frustrated that she nearly cursed in front of Feyron—the very man before whom she had to maintain the image of a lovely woman.
Rose’s eyes, which Feyron always described as beautifully deer-like, were now sharply raised, twisting her gentle face into something spiteful.
Rose walked toward the beige vanity that Feyron had newly placed in her bedroom.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she fixed her messy hair and tried to smooth out her crumpled expression into something pretty.
“Why, why won’t it come back to me?”
From between her clenched lips spilled a dark, unbecoming voice—utterly unlike that of a woman with a soft face and wistful smile.
Rose struggled desperately to piece together the fragments scattering through her mind.
‘Rose, you and Feyron Iols are love… fate… him… you two are in love… as if destined.’
‘You, Rose, are the heroine of this world.’
‘Erina… is obstructing you… the villainess. So you must stay pure and lovestruck… in the Iols mansion…’
‘Remember this: Erina will ruin you.’
Inside Rose’s head, it was as if a gentle voice reading her a fairy tale kept looping, broken and disjointed.
On the day Alisa realized her own life was nearing its end, she revealed an untellable truth to her young daughter Rose.
Alisa claimed she was the heir of the Lisqui family—descendants of fairies—and could foresee the future of her kin.
To Rose, who refused to believe such an absurd tale, Alisa relentlessly recounted her daughter’s future.
She repeated the events that would happen after her death until young Rose had memorized them by rote.
When Rose could finally recite the crucial parts herself, Alisa passed away with a peaceful expression.
Everything Alisa had prophesied came true.
Shocked by how perfectly the first prediction matched reality, Rose reviewed every prophecy daily, terrified of forgetting.
She was certain she remembered everything clearly.
But the moment she first met Feyron, her memories began fading—patchy and faint—as if someone had snipped them apart with scissors.
Yet, one phrase Alisa always started with remained crystal clear:
‘If you don’t act according to the prophecy, everything will be ruined. Remember that, Rose.’
Thus, Rose forced herself to piece together her fragmented memories and act accordingly.
She was the world’s heroine; Feyron was her destined love.
Erina was the ultimate villainess who would surely try to ruin her.
She deduced that if she stayed in the Iols mansion appearing pure and lovestruck, everything would unfold as foretold.
But after meeting Feyron, Rose sensed something was wrong.
It was certain they were fated lovers—Feyron had fallen for her instantly, as if by destiny.
Yet, Rose felt no destined love for him.
Remembering Alisa’s warning to follow the prophecy, Rose pretended to be utterly in love with him—acting as if she’d sacrifice everything for love alone.
She entered the Iols mansion with him, yet strangely, her position kept shrinking while unpleasant incidents piled up.
Rose opened the vanity drawer and pulled out a box hidden at the back.
It was a necklace—Alisa’s last keepsake.
At the end of the necklace hung a pendant: a deep crimson rose-shaped gemstone surrounded by jet-black leaves.
The jewel glinted faintly with golden light when touched by sun—a treasured heirloom Alisa had strictly warned never to lose.
Clutching the necklace tightly, Rose suddenly recalled Erina’s haughty gaze looking down on her and grew furious.
Unable to foresee the future clearly, Rose pitied herself endlessly for enduring such humiliation.
She wanted to scream in anger, but remembered Feyron’s knights who might be standing guard outside.
“This damn necklace…!”
Rose hurled the innocent keepsake onto the bed.
But as she did, the beautifully adorned gem grazed her hand, leaving a shallow cut.
“Ugh.”
Glaring pointlessly at the necklace, Rose recalled Alisa’s brainwashing words and, without even wiping the blood forming on her wound, grabbed the necklace lying haphazardly on the bed.
At that very moment, a single drop of blood from her fingertip seeped into the gem—and it sparkled.
Startled, Rose dropped the necklace, and one line from Alisa’s hazy prophecy suddenly became vividly clear.
‘Because of Erina’s wickedness, you miss Founding Day and seek the stone mountain behind a nameless village. That mountain holds a magic ore mine imbued with divine power. Rose, you shall become its master—and the perfect [Rose Iols].’
Simultaneously, the location of the stone mountain surfaced in her mind.
But Rose’s astonishment lasted only a moment—overwhelming pain struck her so fiercely she could barely stand.
“Huhh!”
Collapsing to the floor, Rose clutched her arms and trembled violently.
Even in that state, determined not to forget Alisa’s prophecy, Rose’s green eyes briefly swirled with gold before it faded.
It was an eerie, heavy golden hue.
[This is the timeline separator]On Founding Day itself, the Iols mansion was bustling with commotion since morning.
Mirea, indulging in every luxury she’d purchased, required multiple maids to help her dress.
Nearly ten maids had labored meticulously to adorn her exactly as she wished, yet all they received in return was scolding.
“Why is there not a single maid here who satisfies me!”
Covered head to toe in jewels, she resembled a ludicrously decorated peacock—but no one dared say a word.
Once Mirea finished dressing and boarded the carriage, she found Feyron already seated inside, his face deeply furrowed.
Feyron looked at his mother and asked,
“What about Erina?”
“How should I know that, child?”
Mirea flicked her eyes dismissively while stroking a newly bought ruby ring with large stones.
“By the way, has Rose returned to House Ashila? Since it’s Founding Day, it might be awkward to enter together.”
“No. She’s unwell—probably won’t be able to attend.”
Feyron sighed, his head pounding.
Since morning, Rose’s complexion had been so poor she could barely get out of bed.
She’d told him she likely couldn’t attend Founding Day due to her condition and urged him to go without her, which made Feyron reluctant to leave her behind.
But Rose insisted he go with Erina, even worrying about the Iols family’s reputation.
Hoping to check on Erina, then return and speak with Rose again, Feyron went to her room—only to find it already cold and empty.
For the first time, Feyron carefully observed Erina’s room.
He’d never visited it on purpose after their marriage, since she’d always tried coming to his room instead.
Compared to the room Mirea had used as Countess—vibrant and frequently redecorated to match each year’s trends—Erina’s room felt excessively barren.
The only notable furniture was a cherry-brown vanity.
To Feyron’s recollection, that vanity was the first and last gift he’d ever given Erina after their marriage.
He felt strangely unsettled.
“Let’s go.”
As the carriage began moving slowly, Mirea fiddled with the jewels on her dress, sneakily watching Feyron’s expression.
It was fortunate he hadn’t pressed her further about yesterday’s incident, yet she still felt uneasy under his gaze.
Noticing his mother’s glance, Feyron called out to her.
“Mother.”
“Y-yes?”
Startled, Mirea answered, and Feyron stared fixedly at her as she deliberately avoided his eyes.
“This month is the last. Don’t touch Erina’s funds anymore.”
Mirea had expected Feyron might say something like this, but hearing her son firmly draw the line still stung deeply.
Annoyed, she stayed silent on purpose—prompting Feyron to issue a warning.
“Mother, you must answer me.”
“Hmph! I have no intention of touching that measly money anyway!”
Mirea’s insides boiled, but she held back.
After all, once Rose officially became the Iols daughter-in-law, Mirea believed she could spend as freely as she pleased.
“You just take good care of Rose. How frail must the poor girl be to collapse like that? That Erina girl…”
“Mother.”
“Fine!”
Seeing Mirea about to continue nagging, Feyron cut her off by turning his body away.
Recognizing it as silent protest, Feyron said no more.
They remained silent toward each other until they reached the imperial palace.
Mirea stayed quiet, fearing any word would turn into another scold; Feyron couldn’t speak, his head aching from thoughts of Erina crowding his mind.
Passing by commoners gathered at the palace gates shouting, “Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”, they saw a line of carriages entering ahead.
Once a palace gifted to a favored imperial consort a century ago, the Rafilen Palace now hosted grand noble gatherings.
Founding Day—the grand assembly of all Asilium Empire nobles—had opened Rafilen Palace’s beautiful gates wide.
One by one, carriages passed through the palace gates as nobles disembarked.
Noble pairs met their partners or acquaintances waiting at the entrance before proceeding together into the hall.
When the Iols family carriage halted before the palace, the door opened, and Feyron and Mirea stepped out.
Nobles standing near the entrance quickly whispered among themselves upon seeing Feyron without a partner.
It struck them as odd that the Iols Count and Countess—married barely a year—were entering separately.
Unaware or indifferent to the stares, Feyron immediately began searching for someone as soon as he stepped out of the carriage.
Spotting Erina ahead, he hurried toward her.
“Erina!”
At Feyron’s quiet call, not only Erina’s gaze but also those of many nearby nobles instantly turned toward him.
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
Chapter Comments (1)
Inline Comments (15)
Her golden hair, glinting in the sunlight, fluttered in the breeze, and her brig
shouldn’t this be He instead of Her? so confused
“I stole everything you had—your honor, your wealth, even Feyron.”
Now things have turned around. The heroine became the villainess. Is it possible that Irina is not transmigrated but living a second life?
“It’s the first time since becoming Arch Sage that someone has called me by name
Erina broke my heart! Erina hasn’t had a real family yet.
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I have an inkling