I Am The True Villainess (Editing)

03

I scoff at how lacking the guards are, easily sneaking past them through the unkempt bushes and tall trees. There are three entrances to the mansion. The Front Gate, which leads directly to the city, the dungeon, which has a latch outside the walls, and the back wall, which my room happens to be directly by.

I approach the wall and feel against the bricks, the rough surface scratching at my fingertips. Soon, I push against a brick near the grass, watching as it plops out along with five others. The construction was quite lacking back here, so it makes sense they didn't take the time to glue all of these bricks together.

The hole, being just small enough for me to squeeze through, opens. I take my time crawling through, as to not alert the few guards in this area. Dirt covers my knees and hands, weakly standing and dusting myself off. "Guess anorexia pays off," I mumble under my breath, looking left and right before continuing my path to the city.

Exiting through the back wall had its major cons. It leads to nowhere special, other than deserted woods filled to the brim with beasts. It's so bad that Duke Agnus has to send guards out frequently to make sure they stay tame. It's not often, but sometimes they escape and make it to our house.

"Rubia!!" I groan, my brain throbbing mercilessly against my skull as I blink my eyes open. I ignore the tears running down my face at the horrifying sight.

My cheeks sting as I slap my face, shaking off the pain and the memory. I continue my way down the hill, making a right to the city.

This isn't the best idea I've had, especially since I'm still considerably weak. Walking to the city will already exhaust me far beyond recovery, but having to walk back? I grimace at the thought but shove it to the back of my mind. We'll deal with it when it happens.

It takes around two hours to walk there. The sun has almost completely set and the city is lit to the brim. I guess there must be a festival tonight.

The streets were crowded, vendors yelling out how cheap and amazing their food or items were, chatter filling in along with them. Families bundled near each other, couples held hands and the few people who were alone explored.

I walk into a small store called "Garold's Gadgets," pulling my hood down a bit father. It's not like anyone knows my face, but the red hair would be a giveaway that I'm not an ordinary person.

The store is cozy, and a few candles are lit on tables, giving the store nice cinnamon and apple smell. A bully man stood at the counter, a tight white long-sleeved shirt emphasizing his muscles. His eyes were deep brown, long eyelashes made it hard not to admire his tight facial structure. He was middle-aged, but it would've been hard to tell if he was just a little shorter. He stood fidgeting with a pocket watch, not bothering to look up and greet me properly.

"Hello," I call out, making my way to the desk. He doesn't bother looking at me as he replies. "Are you here for repair or pickup?" His voice was gruff and his response was curt, a subtle hint of irritation deep within. I figure it would be bad to drag out this conversation, so I give a short answer. "I need a weapon made."

His fidgeting stops, making the watch tick loudly. The air became tense as he creaks his piercing browns to my yellows. I hold eye contact, hoping he wouldn't decline or ask why a fragile thing like me needs a weapon. "I don't make weapons."

"I will fund you greatly."

"I said" his voice booms, his body now completely facing me before he leans down closer to my face. "No. Weapons."

I reach into my cloak, ignoring his body tensing, and place down a bag filled with gold coins on the counter, watching a few spill out. He growls lowly, not tempted by the coins at all. I guess this amount would be quite lacking if he used to make swords for a living. Reaching back into my cloak, I pull out two more bags of gold coins.