I'm a Villainess, Can I Die?-Chapter 63

Before he knew it, Ian had become a medicinal herb, but he seemed quite satisfied with it. The way he looked at me was almost blinding. If I hadn’t known him well, I might have mistaken it for a glare, but since we had spent a lot of time together, I understood—it was an expression of genuine appreciation.

Though the High Priest was still staring at me strangely, well... as long as Ian was happy, wasn’t that all that mattered?

I nearly applauded myself for my brilliant metaphor.

"It means that Priest Ian is as precious as medicinal herbs. He wants to stay with the ducal house, and the ducal house wants him to stay as well."

As soon as I finished speaking, silence fell over the room. The High Priest’s gaze alternated between Ian and me.

Even though priests had a low status, he was still a leader among them, and his eyes carried a certain weight.

Now that the benevolent smile had disappeared from his face, he suddenly looked much more imposing.

Our eyes met, and I didn’t look away. Neither did he.

Standing like this... it almost felt like we were in a love triangle over Ian. Or... was I mistaken?

"Very well. I will allow it."

The simple and direct response from the High Priest cut through my wandering thoughts before they could go any further.

With a firm voice, he answered, then softened his gaze and smiled at me again, his expression once again benevolent.

"Ian, now that I know someone like Lady Selina is here, I can rest assured in letting you go."

"...Pardon?"

"I was very worried. You always struggled to get along with others at the temple, didn’t you? So, I wondered how you would manage in a place filled with high nobles... My worries led me to send that letter."

Ian’s expression wavered. The High Priest reached out and took his hand, his voice warm.

"But now I see that you are cherished here, and she even stepped forward to say she doesn’t want you to leave... I can let you go with peace in my heart."

"High Priest..."

"Ian, if you ever miss the temple, you’re always welcome to return. I will always be your father, and you will always be my son."

After saying such kind words, the High Priest did not stay long. I offered for him to rest here for the night, but he shook his head.

However, he did say he wanted to speak with me privately. So, we decided to take a short walk in the garden.

"Ian is a soft-hearted child. He struggled to connect with others... and, for some reason, even the other priests didn’t seem to like him much. I felt sorry for him, so I cared for him deeply."

As the High Priest spoke about Ian as though reminiscing about an old lover he was sending off, I nodded mechanically.

"But now, looking back, I wonder if the advice and actions I thought were for his sake actually stifled him instead..."

He paused in his steps and whispered a short prayer. The sudden prayer caught me off guard, so I simply stood still, my eyes darting around.

"He is a child who has always been a source of pain in my heart in many ways. Please, take good care of him."

Then, the High Priest bowed deeply.

Much more politely than when we first met earlier that day. His waist bent nearly ninety degrees.

Looking at him, I could understand why Ian called this man his father.

Afterward, the High Priest left in the carriage prepared by our household. Before departing, he promised to meet again if the opportunity arose.

In the end, getting approval for Ian to stay at the ducal house had been surprisingly easy.

I had worried that I might have to throw away my dignity and cling to his robes... but nothing of the sort happened.

After the High Priest left, I returned to the reception room.

"Priest Ian."

"Lady Selina."

Ian, who had remained in his seat, blankly staring at the side table, stood up as soon as he saw me enter. He glanced behind me, as if wondering about the High Priest’s departure.

I, on the other hand, did the opposite and sat down across from him.

"The High Priest left safely. He seems like a good person."

"Ah, yes. He is a good person."

Ian nodded as he sat back down.

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"Honestly, I didn’t think he would allow it so easily. He never liked me using my abilities."

"Oh? So the High Priest knew about your abilities?"

"Yes... he did."

At that, Ian’s face darkened slightly. He looked like he had a complicated past, but I wasn’t the type to pry into personal matters.

Instead, I absentmindedly stirred the tea in the cup the High Priest had left behind with a teaspoon.

"Lady Selina, I am here at the ducal estate thanks to you."

"Me?"

"Yes. On the day I first met you, I had actually sneaked out of the temple without the High Priest’s permission. He never liked me going outside alone."

What, did he treat Ian like a child? A grown man over twenty being restricted from going out alone?

It seemed ridiculous at first, but then I thought about my own situation and quickly let it go.

I mean, I had basically done this to myself, so I had no right to judge.

"But the High Priest had been away for a long time on a pilgrimage, so I took the opportunity to slip out under the excuse of running an errand. That’s when I saw you in the plaza."

I nodded. I remembered that day.

Lukas had been on high alert because of the intimidating figure approaching me. Even I had thought it was a new villain.

But that "scary-looking" man had ended up healing my injured knee and leaving.

Ian seemed to be recalling the same moment. He fell silent for a while.

"The way you saved that child in the plaza... it left a deep impression on me."

Huh? So my first meeting with Ian went further back than I thought.

Did he witness that insane stunt of mine too?

"You were different from me—always lacking courage, always lacking confidence. That’s why, later, when I had the chance to help you, I was genuinely happy."

"...Helped me? You mean my knee? Or my head?"

Ian blinked. He seemed surprised that I brought up my head injury so casually. Whenever I mentioned that day as if it were nothing, people always reacted like this.

"My knee."

"Ah, the fireworks."

"Yes, well... That’s why, after coming to the duchy and hearing that you needed me, I was sincerely happy."

It was an embarrassingly heartfelt show of gratitude. But really, what had I done?

Treat my cracked skull, heal the wounds and scars on my arms, restore my stamina whenever I collapsed...

...Hold on. Now that I think about it, haven’t I basically been exploiting Ian for labor?

Guilt nearly washed over me.

"I should be the one thanking you. You always work hard for the duchy and for me."

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"Not at all. I’m simply doing my duty. I should be thanking you instead."

If we kept going like this, it would turn into a ridiculous gratitude contest. So, I simply nodded to end the conversation.

I looked at the solemn-faced man staring at me.

With the issue of the High Priest resolved, I still had one more matter to address—my long-postponed search for a hobby.

"Priest Ian."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a hobby?"

Ian’s hobby was painting.

It was a little surprising that everyone seemed to have a pastime of their own. So, after learning this, I brought Ian to my room and asked Jane to fetch some painting supplies.

Fortunately, the household had some, and Jane prepared them quickly.

"I only paint as a hobby, so I’m not very good at it."

Oh, thank goodness.

Every time I tried a hobby, the other person was always so ridiculously skilled that my own attempts ended up looking... well... awful.

I rolled up my sleeves. As I sketched on the small white canvas Jane had brought, I found myself enjoying it more than expected. What should I draw? After some thought, I decided on a cake.

At this point, I had to wonder... was it really Aiden and Jane who loved cake, or was it actually me?

I kept my hand moving. I hadn’t drawn anything since high school, but doing it again after so long felt nostalgic. As the lines came together to form shapes, and the shapes merged into a slice of cake, I felt oddly satisfied.

I put down the pencil and picked up a brush.

I had no idea how to properly use a brush or mix paint, but I just filled in the colors as I saw fit.

It wasn’t even my favorite type of cake, but for some reason, I wanted to paint a chocolate cake today.

I mixed dark colors for the base and added pink on top for the strawberries.

Before I knew it, I was completely absorbed in the painting. The fact that I could focus this intensely on something as simple as drawing a cake... others might find it ridiculous.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been painting, but eventually, I completed the small canvas.

For a first attempt, it wasn’t bad.

I nodded in satisfaction. My first art project was complete. I turned to sneak a glance at Ian’s canvas.

I didn’t follow any religion, but I knew there were certain rules. Some faiths forbade eating beef, drinking alcohol, or lying.

Aren’t priests supposed to be honest?

"Priest Ian. Doesn’t Chief God Ariana’s teachings include a commandment against lying?"

"Yes, there is one."

Then, Priest Ian, you are committing a grave sin.

His canvas was stunning. Or maybe subtle. Subtle yet dazzling. The colors blended perfectly.

Above, white clouds drifted across a vast blue sky. Below, there was an expanse that could be the sea, or a lush green field, its colors rippling like waves.

It was, in short, a masterpiece.

"Fraud."

Whether he heard my small muttering or not, Ian widened his eyes and stared at me.

I pretended not to notice and turned to Jane instead.

What do you think, Jane? Doesn’t Priest Ian seem like a bit of a fraud?

Somehow, she must have read my thoughts, because with a solemn expression, Jane gave me a dignified nod.

"You did quite well for your first time, Lady Selina."

Ian, who had been staring at me in confusion, glanced at my painting before offering a cheerful compliment.

It didn’t sound like a lie.

It had been a long time since I last received praise, so I felt a little strange.

Though, to be honest, it felt like a legendary singer clapping politely for a child’s off-key performance.

"After finishing a painting, writing down the date is a good idea. A painting can be a kind of diary. It’s not just words that preserve memories—when you look at a painting, it brings back the day you created it."

I nodded. A date, huh?

I picked up a pencil and carefully wrote the date at the bottom of the canvas. Since there was no paint in that area, the pencil left a clear mark.

Holding the canvas in both hands, I stepped back and examined it again.

Well... just as Ian said, it wasn’t bad.