The Unlikely Imprint of the Villainess and the Male Lead - Chapter 66

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Chapter 66

Translator: Yonnee

—

‘Haah.’

It felt like his throat was being scorched black, as if a raging fire had swept through.

Logically, what she said wasn’t wrong, so why did it grate on his nerves so much?

But what irritated him the most was not being able to refute her words at all.

“In any case, even if we’re not destined partners, there’s no reason to take things slowly. You understand that better than anyone, don’t you, Your Grace?”

“……”

Of course he did. No one despised the curse of the imprint more than he did.

But instead of feeling grateful to her, who was working harder than anyone, his throat felt parched, as if he were on the path to self-destruction.

“Once the materials are ready, please send me a signal. I’ll be heading back now.”

Although Luciana was concerned about Richt’s expressionless demeanor, she refrained from probing further and quietly took out her artifact.

She poured her mana into it, as she always did, to return to her mansion—

Drip.

“Huh…?”

Suddenly, the warm, sticky sensation of a metallic liquid trickling down her upper lip made her stop in her tracks.

“Hey!”

A voice, sharp with urgency, followed.

Richt’s eyes widened as he saw blood droplets falling to the floor without resistance, his face showing genuine shock.

“Don’t move.”

“Ack!”

Luciana winced at his stern tone as Richt rushed toward her. Without hesitation, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it against her nose, tilting her head slightly downward.

“And you still think overworking yourself is fine?”

His light scolding brushed against her ears.

“Mmgh…”

“Bear with it for a bit until the bleeding stops.”

Embarrassed by the sudden physical contact, Luciana squirmed like a bird trapped in a cage. But instead of releasing her, Richt clicked his tongue and told her to stay still.

‘His first aid is fine, but does he have to be this close?’

With her nose blocked by the handkerchief, she could only breathe through her mouth, yet the scent of him—imprinted in her mind since that fateful night of his rut—seemed to flood her senses.

The arm wrapped around her was firm, holding her securely, and each subtle shift in his warm body created an indescribable sensation that coursed through her.

When Richt pulled her in just a bit closer, her small shoulders instinctively flinched.

The moment she became aware of his solid body pressing against hers, even her smallest movements became hesitant.

Eep—

Unable to do much of anything, Luciana focused on steadying her breathing.

Sure, he had rushed over because her nosebleed had surprised him, and sure, the handkerchief pressed against her face was just him helping out.

But sticking to her like glue to take care of her? That felt a bit… excessive… didn’t it?

‘I have hands too, you know.’

The warmth from his body slowly seeped into hers, as if they had become one. Even when Luciana waved her arms as if to say she could manage on her own, Richt remained as still as a boulder, repeating the same instructions for her to stay put.

After about five minutes, he finally spoke again.

“Wait here.”

“Huh?”

Once the bleeding had mostly stopped, Richt turned and headed toward the attached bedroom, returning shortly afterward.

“Ah!”

Without a word, he pressed something damp against her face, and Luciana flinched at the unexpected, moist sensation.

‘So that’s where he went. He wet the handkerchief?’

While Luciana awkwardly darted her eyes around to avoid the tension, Richt quietly wiped away the traces of blood with the damp silk cloth.

‘What’s with him? First the apology, and now this. Sure, his attitude has softened a bit since he apologized, but this is… a bit much.’

With the height difference making things difficult, Richt leaned forward slightly, holding the back of her head firmly to wipe her face, much like cleaning up a messy child.

His clumsy, cautious touch was far from his usual demeanor, resembling someone handling a fragile child.

The act alone was enough to leave her flustered, but what unsettled her more was the way his crimson eyes—like the color of blood—were focused on her, as if genuinely concerned.

“I-I can do it myself!”

“Never mind. It’s done already.”