Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 419 - Skye

She was such a failure.

Skye let her head rest against the cold stone, staring at the illuminated ceiling. The light was steady, clinical — too clean for the weight pressing down on her chest. A dull sense of defeat, pushing at the edges of her thoughts.

A fraud.

That’s what she was.

She’d played at being the one who pointed the way because someone had to. Because someone had to stand at the front and say this way, even when they didn’t know where they were going. Because she was supposed to be that someone.

But she wasn’t a leader. She wasn’t even particularly brave. She just acted like she was, and now her friends were paying for it. Now she was the reason they might be hurt, or worse. The reason the entire world might be tipping closer to the edge.

Her head tapped the wall behind her.

It was humiliating how easily they’d been captured. Almost effortlessly, the moment that woman appeared. Worst of all, Skye hadn’t even fought back. She’d locked up, helpless and useless, because something about Scarlett Hartford just stripped the will straight from her bones.

She clenched her fist and drove it into the floor, feeling nothing but the sting.

“That will not help.”

The voice was quiet, close — and wrong.

Skye turned her head towards the robed girl at the centre of the cell, sitting perfectly still. The mask she wore—if it was a mask—had three eyes, all open, all watching. They looked real. Too real. Skye couldn’t see anything beneath the crimson robes, but her voice carried a layered quality, like several whispers folded into one another.

She was unsettling.

Skye wasn’t sure she wanted to know why that woman kept someone like this imprisoned under her home.

She looked back to the ceiling and didn’t answer.

“We are curious,” the masked girl said.

“…About what?” Skye muttered. The girl hadn’t spoken until now, and Skye hadn’t felt like talking.

“Why you are here.”

“I don’t know.”

The others hadn’t been brought with her. She didn’t know where they were. She didn’t know if they were alive.

The thought twisted, a cold knot of guilt tightening in her chest.

She never should have told them to come here.

Her head dipped forward, hair sliding into her eyes. Through the strands, she glared at the floating pane of text in her vision.

[Main Questline: A World’s Fate — The Villainess’ Impetus]

[Status: Failed]

She already knew.

It didn’t need to keep reminding her. Not after it had pushed her forward in the first place. Not after it had dumped responsibility on her shoulders and offered nothing but silence in return. She wished she could scream at it. Tell it to go to hell, to take its expectations and burn. All that weight—choices she didn’t understand, stakes she hadn’t agreed to—forced onto her because of what?

She still didn’t know.

And she wondered, absently, why ‘hell’ was among the words that had come to mind. They had Blazes here. So why wasn’t that what she defaulted to? Why was she like this?

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Skye lifted her gaze past the bars as the white-haired man approached. The one with that edge to him.

Fynn.

He stopped in front of the cell, yellow eyes settling on her.

She tried glaring.

He didn’t react. His attention slid to the masked girl, weighing her for a moment.

The girl watched him. “We sense the old man on you,” she said. All three eyes blinked slowly in sync.

Fynn frowned. “Old man?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he looked back to Skye. “Scarlett wants to see you.”

Skye tensed. “…Where are my companions?”

“I was told not to answer your questions.”

“What, you don’t have a will of your own?”

“That’s a question.”

Skye snorted quietly. She pushed herself to her feet. He opened the cell, watching her as she stepped out. The instant she crossed the threshold, the magic that had been suppressing her lifted. Her strength came rushing back, only for exhaustion to drag at her limbs instead.

They’d knocked her out, and whatever healing they had used afterwards had left its own cost.

Skye glanced back once. The masked girl’s eyes tracked her in unison.

“Come,” Fynn said.

He gestured down the corridor. After a moment, Skye went.

It didn’t escape her that he could probably kill her in seconds, the state she was in. Without the blood and grime, he looked nothing like the savage force she’d seen earlier. He looked almost harmless. That disconnect unsettled her more than the blood had.

She wondered what kind of life produced someone like him.

How many someone like him had killed.

They moved through bare stone corridors and narrow stairs before emerging into the upper levels. Plush carpets softened her steps, and ornate paintings lined the walls. A maid paused mid-dusting by a window, glanced at them, and curtsied silently.

She didn’t even blink.

Was imprisoning people just…routine here?

They crossed the mansion and stopped before a pair of dark wooden doors flanked by tall, garnished vases. From inside, Skye heard two voices.

“—what would you have done if they had succeeded in taking her?”

“I don’t know, honestly. We tried, but we got caught off guard by their skills. She in particular was a slippery one, you know. And that undead fellow was a whole lot craftier than you’d suggested.”

That first voice made Skye go cold.

“Are you saying you would have been unable to stop them had I not arrived in time?”

“Well. Maybe. Maybe not. I had a couple of aces left up my sleeve, but who knows if they’d have worked. Would’ve been easier if Slate had at least tried to resist.”

“It would have, yes. But it is for the best that she did not.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Suppose so.”

Skye glanced back at Fynn. He met her eyes without expression, then tipped his chin at the doors. “Go inside.”

She stared at them a moment longer before reaching out and pushing.

The room beyond was spacious and carefully arranged, with polished marble floors and tall windows that overlooked the darkened grounds, lamplight reflected in the glass. Two women sat on matching sofas facing each other. Both turned as Skye entered.

She stopped just inside the doorway, suddenly very aware of herself under their combined attention.

They looked like they could both have just stepped out of some lavish stage drama. Meanwhile, Skye felt like she’d been running a marathon for a night and then some.

One of them had single-handedly dismantled Skye’s entire party without breaking a sweat. The other was some kind of demon wearing the skin of a bard, with a smile that was just too easy and bright, like everything was a game.

The latter flashed Skye one of those very smiles and rose. “Looks like the guest of honour’s arrived. That’s my cue.”

She crossed the room unhurriedly. Skye felt a shiver run down her spine when the bard stopped beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Best of luck, yeah? And don’t get yourself tied in too many knots. She only eats babies. Adults are too stringy. All that sinew.”

“Rosa,” the other woman said flatly.

The bard lifted a hand. “Right. Sorry. Leaving.” She gave Skye a quick, conspiratorial glance. “Toodles.”

She slipped past Skye. The doors closed behind her, soft but final.

Skye was alone in the parlour with Baroness Scarlett Hartford.

She looked at the woman.

Amber eyes met hers. There was no open hostility there, like she might’ve expected. No triumph. No gloating. Just attention. Very sharp and very deliberate, dissecting Skye piece by piece.

Seconds stretched.

Finally, the Baroness gestured to the sofa opposite her. “Take a seat.”

It was a simple request.

But it didn’t sound like it.

Skye crossed the room and sat. The motion itself felt…wrong. Exposed, even though she moved normally.

The Baroness watched her, one arm along the armrest, fingers supporting her cheek.

“Did you place a Severance Anchor on your way here?” she asked.

Skye stiffened. This person really did know things about her…

“To spare us both the effort,” the woman continued calmly, “there is little point in attempting to escape. Wherever you relocate within this estate, I can return you here just as easily.”

She flicked her hand.

The world lurched.

Skye found herself seated a short distance to the right, as if she’d always been there.

“Skyler,” the Baroness then said.

Skye froze. Her whole body tensed. “…What?”

A faint crease touched the woman’s brow. “That is your name, is it not?”

Skye stared at her, then shook her head. “No. It’s Skye.”

The Baroness held her gaze for a long moment. “Skye?”

“Yes...”

Skye had gone by that name since waking up. It was close enough that maybe the woman had just gotten it wrong. She felt like the type who wouldn’t care about details like that.

And yet—

That other name made Skye’s stomach dip.

“And your surname?” the Baroness asked.

“I don’t have one.”

Her gaze sharpened. “…You do not?”

“No.”

For the briefest instant, Skye could have sworn something fierce flashed across the woman’s face — before it smoothed away as if it had never been there.

“I see,” the Baroness said simply, calm again. But the tone put Skye on edge.

Skye clenched her jaw. She’d fought demons. Monsters that could spark nightmares. She could handle this.

“Where are my companions?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

She couldn’t afford to spiral. This was her mess. Whatever happened next, she had to keep it together.

The Baroness arched a brow. “Do you truly wish to know?”

“Yes.”

“What if I were to tell you that they are dead?”

Skye’s breath hitched, but she forced it back under control. She ignored her pulse pounding in her throat and made herself smile.

“They’re not.”

They couldn’t be.

“Perhaps,” the Baroness said. “Though it would be generous of me to spare those who intruded upon my home and sought to take what is mine.”

Skye’s mouth flattened. The ease with which she said something like that made her skin crawl. “…If you’re expecting anything out of me, you won’t get it if a single hair on them’s been touched.”

“And what, exactly, is there that I could expect from you?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The woman was quiet, then shook her head. “This is surprisingly aggravating.”

“What—?”

“You do not need to force yourself to be calm or collected.” The Baroness’ voice stayed even. “If you are angry, be angry. If you are afraid, then say so.”

“I’m not—” Skye began.

“There is no advantage in pretending for my sake. If your companions’ fate is your primary concern, know that their fate will not change regardless of what you say to me now.”

Skye stared, words stuck.

She was angry. She was afraid. But above all, she was hesitant, because she didn’t understand this person. She couldn’t handle them — so she’d been careful.

“What the hell is your deal?” she snapped, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “What do you even know about me? What are you? Do you have something to do with me? Why’d you let us go last time? And why do you act so over-the-top when you’re so—”

“So…?” the Baroness prompted.

Skye cut herself off. “…Just tell me if the others are safe.”

The Baroness studied her for a long moment. Then she inclined her head. Just slightly. “They are.”

Relief punched out of Skye as a shaky breath.

“As for your other questions…” The woman’s calm slipped for an instant, her gaze turning inward. “Perhaps you will earn the answers in time.”

“Earn…?”

“Yes. Since it appears I am not permitted to simply give them to you.” A thread of venom crept into her words, then vanished.

Skye’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“Let us play a game,” the Baroness said. “If you answer me honestly, I will grant you one request. Regardless of what it is.”

Skye examined her expression, hunting for the catch. “…Anything at all?”

“Anything.”

She went quiet. It had to be a trap. There was no way it wasn’t.

The Baroness’ mouth curved faintly, like she’d read the thought straight from Skye’s face. “It is not a trap.”

That helped exactly zero. Skye nodded anyway. What choice did she have?

“Alright. Fine.”

“I expect complete honesty,” the woman continued. “If I suspect deception, I possess the means to confirm it.”

“Okay.” Skye wasn’t sure she believed that — but if this really meant a request… “Just shoot. What’s the game?”

The Baroness’ smile faded. “Do you know who I am?”

Skye frowned. “…What?”

“I asked if you know who I am.”

“…Yeah. I do.”

“Then say it.”

“You’re Baroness Scarlett Hartford.”

“And who is that?”

Skye hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“Who is Scarlett Hartford to you, ‘Skye’?”

Her brow pinched. “What are you actually asking?”

Was this supposed to be a riddle?

“I am asking a question. You agreed to answer honestly.”

Skye’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve never met before Beld Thylelion.”

She was sure of that. Completely. She couldn’t recall it as a concrete memory, but she could tell that they were strangers.

And yet something about this woman was wrong.

She was dangerous, for one. That much was obvious. She knew things that were suspicious. She reacted to details about Skye as if they mattered. There was some connection there that Skye couldn’t see.

But that wasn’t what was off.

There was something else.

What was it?

When the answer surfaced, it didn’t even feel like a revelation. It actually made complete sense in a way Skye didn’t entirely understand.

Scarlett Hartford wasn’t what she was supposed to be.

In too many ways.

“We had never met before Beld Thylelion,” the woman said. “That much is true. But it is not what I asked.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“If you were to describe me with a single word, what would it be?”

Skye dragged a hand through her hair. “…A single word?”

“Yes.”

“Any word?”

“If you would prefer.”

She searched her face — and let the first thing that rose slip free.

“Cold.”

A brow lifted.

“Pretentious.”

The Baroness’ mouth thinned.

“Cocky.”

Something darkened behind her eyes.

“Creepy.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“—And—”

“That is enough,” she said.

Skye fell silent.

She hadn’t planned any of that. The words had simply spilled out, one after another. Like she’d been grabbing at whatever surfaced first, searching for anything that might piss the woman off.

Which was stupid. It couldn’t be that. This was someone who worked with demons. Someone who could end her with a thought if she felt like it. Skye’s life was balanced on a knife-edge here. She had no reason to waste her chance. It had to be something else.

The Baroness continued watching her. “Is that all?”

Skye held her gaze.

One more word surfaced.

“Villainess.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

But Skye knew—somehow—that this was the word she had been waiting for.

It was the word the quests used. The word that had driven Skye to come here, that had convinced her they had to take the Tribute. The word that had sat in the back of her mind every time she wondered whether she was doing the right thing.

The word that had made her feel like a failure when she couldn’t live up to whatever it expected from her.

And now—after speaking to her, after sitting across from her—it didn’t fit as neatly as it should have.

The Baroness regarded her for several long moments, then let out a quiet, humourless breath. A faint, derisive smile touched her lips.

“I would have accepted two answers,” she said. “Perhaps this is the more appropriate of the two.”

Skye blinked.

Two?

Then what was the other—?

“One request, as promised,” the woman continued, gaze never leaving Skye. “I will not grant more.”

Skye swallowed.

She realised this wasn’t just generosity.

This was why she’d been brought here.

It was a test. Or a negotiation. Or maybe something worse. Maybe it was why they’d been spared in the first place.

Skye thought hard. She tried to think past whatever layers the woman was hiding behind. There was something she was missing.

She tried to come up with a request that would actually matter. Something clever. Something strategic. Something she wouldn’t regret later.

Nothing came.

She could ask for the Tribute. She had a feeling the woman might even give it to her.

She could ask for answers. She’d probably get those too.

But when she stripped everything else away, there was really only one thing she should ask for.

There hadn’t been a choice. Not really. The woman had already decided the shape of this moment before Skye ever walked into the room.

“Will you let us go?” she asked quietly.

The Baroness studied her for a second, then inclined her head. “Very well.”

She snapped her fingers.

Regina, Briana, and Oveth appeared on the sofa beside Skye, all three motionless.

Skye moved immediately, checking them over.

“Melody is also safe,” the Baroness said, leaning back in her seat. “I will return her to you after I have spoken with her.”

Skye turned to her.

“Now, let us discuss your future.”

A pane of text flickered into view before Skye’s eyes.

[Main Questline: A World’s Fate — A Villainess’ offer]