The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 23 -

Francois was used to order.

His life was structured, disciplined, predictable. He valued logic, control, and efficiency in all things.

And yet.

And yet.

Beatrice Da Ville had single-handedly thrown his world into absolute chaos.

It started small.

A shift in demeanor. A stray remark that sounded too sharp, too modern for a noblewoman. The way she no longer fought for his attention yet somehow ended up getting it anyway.

And now, standing in the dimly lit hallway with Johanna at his side, he had just witnessed the latest proof that Beatrice was an uncontrollable force of nature.

Because she had walked straight into their conversation, ruined the moment, and somehow left with zero awareness of what she had done.

Johanna let out a soft breath, clasping her hands in front of her. "She's quite... unpredictable, isn't she?"

Francois exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That is an understatement."

Johanna smiled faintly. "I don't think she means to be disruptive."

R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.

Francois wasn't so sure. Because disruptive was the perfect word for Beatrice Da Ville.

She disrupted the court. She disrupted expectations. And most infuriatingly, she disrupted him.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Beatrice was supposed to be insufferable, obsessed with the throne, constantly scheming for his favor.

Instead, she avoided him. She treated their interactions like a mild inconvenience. She talked about things that made no sense. She was frustrating and impulsive and...

He sighed.

...and absolutely unforgettable.

Johanna studied his expression, her soft smile never wavering. "She's changed, hasn't she?"

Francois glanced down at her. Johanna was always composed, always exactly how she was expected to be. She was thoughtful, kind, graceful. He had known for a long time that she was the ideal choice. And yet...

"Yes," he admitted. "She has."

Johanna tilted her head slightly. "Do you like it?"

Francois hesitated.

Did he? He wasn't sure.

He wasn't used to uncertainty.

And Beatrice Da Ville was the most uncertain thing in his life.

Instead of answering, he turned back toward the hall, already moving. "We should return."

Johanna let out a quiet hum before following behind.

As Francois walked away from his conversation with Johanna, he felt it again.

That irritating awareness.

It had only started recently, ever since Beatrice changed. He wasn't sure when it began, but now, it was impossible to ignore.

He had always dismissed her before. She had been predictable, shallow, and desperate for his attention. But now?

Now, she made no effort to chase him.

And yet, she was always there.

Not in a way that suggested she was scheming, but in a way that defied logic entirely. Somehow, without even trying, she had wedged herself into his daily routine.

And he was beginning to hate how often he noticed her.

Francois sighed, brushing the thought aside. He had other matters to attend to.

The falconry had always been a place of peace. Training the birds required patience and precision, two things he excelled at. It was an escape from the politics of court, from the expectations placed upon him.

Which was why, when Beatrice showed up, Francois felt an immediate sense of foreboding.

Instead of reacting like a normal person, she had stared down the falcon like it was negotiating a hostage situation.

Francois had never seen someone so tense over something so harmless. Lila, of course, had been delighted watching Beatrice suffer with great enthusiasm. And Beatrice, in turn, had grumbled, cursed, and muttered about "feathered assassins" until the entire scene had devolved into absurdity.

Somehow, he had ended up watching her the entire time.

And now, as Beatrice and Lila walked ahead, their banter echoing through the halls, he found himself unable to shake the conversation.

It wasn't the first time Beatrice had said something absurd. In fact, she spoke in nonsense so frequently that he should have learned to tune her out by now.

Denial is a river in Egypt.

Francois exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. What does that even mean?

He was a well-educated man. He had studied geography, politics, war strategy, and yet somehow, Beatrice managed to make him feel like an idiot in his own palace.

Lila, still chuckling beside Beatrice, glanced back at him with a smirk. "I think you broke him."

Beatrice hummed. "That's fair. He's had a rough day."

Francois narrowed his eyes. "You are both insufferable."

Beatrice beamed. "Aww. You say the nicest things."

Francois clenched his jaw and walked faster. If he stayed near them any longer, he might actually lose his mind.

And yet, as he rounded the corner, putting distance between himself and whatever nonsense Beatrice would spout next, he found himself still thinking about her words.

She was ridiculous. Frustrating. Completely without filter.

And yet.

She was always laughing. She was always making others laugh. And somehow, without meaning to, without even trying, she had become impossible to ignore.

Francois turned down another corridor, trying to push all thoughts of Beatrice Da Ville out of his mind.

It should have been easy. He was skilled at compartmentalizing, at focusing on what truly mattered. His future. His duty. The stability of the kingdom.

But Beatrice had a way of disrupting even that.

He exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. There were reports to review, meetings to attend, actual important things that required his attention. And yet, what was currently occupying his mind?

A woman who talked nonsense, made questionable life choices, and had absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

Unbelievable.

Francois shook his head, moving with steady precision toward his next obligation. But just before he turned the final corner, something caught his ears.

Laughter.

Beatrice's laughter.

It was bright and unrestrained, echoing off the stone walls like something alive.

Francois slowed his steps without thinking, wanting to hear more of it.

She wasn't even speaking, yet somehow, she still demanded attention.

And the worst part of it all?

He was starting to give it to her.