The Unlikely Imprint of the Villainess and the Male Lead - Chapter 67
Chapter 67
Translator: Yonnee
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“Ah…”
Luciana awkwardly withdrew the hand that had been reaching out into the air.
Despite his extra attentiveness just now, Richt had already stepped about two paces away from her.
The cool interior swiftly erased any trace of him as if no warm presence had ever lingered there.
Yet, like a mirage, Richt’s shadow—which had vanished—still seemed to silently wrap around Luciana’s body, even though the only thing greeting her was the chilled night air.
‘What the. Such uncharacteristic kindness… what is he thinking!’
Who does he take himself for, anyway?
The expression on her face, which had softened slightly in bewilderment, immediately snapped back into place.
Luciana subtly frowned, recalling the cold admonition she had once heard.
“One last thing, just to make it clear—I’d prefer if you didn’t entertain any needless misunderstandings.”
The warning Richt had once thrown at her.
Recalling that memory, her mind was suddenly doused as if with cold water.
“Is this also because of the imprint?”
“What?”
Luciana added, squinting at him as if she had heard something odd.
“You don’t have to worry. I still remember your warning not to misunderstand.”
“……!”
For some reason, Luciana turned her gaze downward, leaving behind the unnaturally stiff Richt.
At first, when she heard those words, she was utterly flabbergasted—but considering his position, she gradually began to understand why he had said them.
‘It’ll probably never happen, but it would indeed be troublesome if I got the wrong idea.’
Objectively speaking, if you just looked at appearances, Richt was an excellent man.
As proof of this, the original work even mentioned that several people smitten by him deliberately dropped their handkerchiefs or spilled wine on their clothes to attract his attention.
‘The male lead must have taken a defensive stance, telling me not to get the wrong idea based on his past experiences.’
If Luciana were swayed by the uncharacteristic tenderness brought on by his looks or the imprint, and ended up with misplaced feelings, it would be a huge disaster.
What if she, abandoning her diligent research, clung to him and proposed to be together forever?
For Richt, nothing would be more catastrophic.
“While I appreciate your concern, how can I afford to take it easy? This research is integral to breaking the imprint.”
In a situation where anything could happen at any moment, laziness was a great luxury.
However, as Luciana looked up at him, unlike her, there was a grave, troubled expression upon his face.
“Um…”
She didn’t think she’d said anything particularly wrong.
‘Here we go again with this mood.’
Lately, whenever the topic of the imprint came up, Richt had grown rather reticent.
His expression, as stiff as if he’d been shocked, looked precarious in its own right.
‘Fine, whatever I say—there must be reasons he can’t speak of it.’
Though his reaction bothered her somewhat, Luciana decided not to dwell on it.
“By the way, because of me, your handkerchief got dirty. May I borrow that? I’ll wash it and return it to you.”
She noticed the expensive silk, pitifully crumpled in a fist with bulging veins.
It was only after Richt had stared at the hand she offered for a long while that he finally spoke.
“Doesn’t it look like a man’s handkerchief to anyone?”
“Huh? Ah…”
Only belatedly did Luciana understand his meaning and realize her mistake.
Labor was not a noble lady’s duty—the one who should clean the handkerchief would be a servant of the mansion, not her.
No one would be surprised to see a lady, especially one with bloodstains, carrying a man’s handkerchief out of the blue.
“Or are you planning to wash it yourself? With those hands?”
It was a relief that, while she was diligently wringing the laundry, her muscles didn’t even tense up.
“Not that I intend to… ahem, I made a mistake.”
What is this? That look—as if he were eyeing something insignificant. Is he mocking me, thinking my hand is laughable?
Richt’s gaze remained fixed on the back of Luciana’s hand, as if it were half of his own.
Luciana nearly bristled at that inexplicable look, but she decided to simply ignore it.
‘I need to get back and rest quickly.’
Not only had she conspicuously bled from her nose, but staying in the same space as Richt any longer seemed like it would soon drain all her energy.
“Then, I really must be going now.”
Luciana offered a light farewell and returned to the mansion without any lingering attachment.
Pop!
And with that singular bright sound, her figure instantly vanished like a midsummer mirage.
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