My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 36: The Girl Who Shouldn’t Exist.

Chapter 36: The Girl Who Shouldn’t Exist.

Ignacio opened his mouth to retort, his red eyes blazing with fury, but before he could say another word, a soft voice interrupted the tense exchange.

"Lady Luzia, it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

A young nobleman stepped forward, his presence gentle but commanding. His platinum blonde hair shimmered under the light, a striking contrast to his lavender eyes, which held a quiet wisdom. The boy was dressed in an elegant, yet understated ensemble befitting his status, his demeanor polite and composed, as though he were accustomed to handling situations just like this.

Luzia’s gaze shifted to him, her mind racing. Platinum blonde hair, soft lavender eyes? she thought, recognition dawning. That is Isidro de Salazar, the second male lead!

Ignacio, still bristling with anger, paused at the interruption. He glared at Isidro, but the young noble’s calm presence seemed to deflate the air around him, as if the tension itself were melting.

Isidro gave Ignacio a slight nod, before turning his attention back to Luzia. His voice was gentle but firm, and he offered her a respectful bow. "Please forgive my friend’s behavior. He does not mean to cause any offense. He is fortunate to have you at his birthday party."

Luzia raised an eyebrow, watching the interaction closely while Ignacio’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or amused. Isidro was certainly playing the role of the well-mannered noble, but his intervention had definitely saved Ignacio from making an even bigger fool of himself.

Still, she maintained her composure, giving Isidro a small nod. "Thank you, Lord Isidro," she said, her tone polite but cool. "It’s quite all right. I know how to handle myself."

Isidro gave her a reassuring smile, the warmth in his eyes at odds with the coolness of the evening air. "I hope the rest of the day is more to your liking, Lady Luzia," he said, his gaze briefly flickering to Ignacio, who was now sullenly standing off to the side.

Luzia walked away from the exchange. Elena and Stephan followed her at a distance, their expressions filled with concern and uncertainty. As they made their way toward the quiet corner of the hall, where she had chosen to stand alone, the soft murmur of guests and the clink of fine china filled the air.

Behind them, Isidro and Ignacio remained. Isidro’s lavender eyes never left the retreating figure of Luzia, his expression calm but unreadable. Ignacio, on the other hand, watched them go, his irritation still simmering.

"Why did you stop me?" Ignacio asked, his voice sharp and tinged with frustration, eyes narrowing at Isidro. "She’s just an orphan. She’s no one."

Isidro turned to him slowly, his face soft but his gaze carrying a weight of unspoken thoughts. "Because you were about to do something foolish again," he replied, his voice quiet but carrying an air of authority. "You should never speak to a lady like that, especially when you don’t understand who you’re dealing with."

"But she is an orphan..." Ignacio’s words hung in the air, as if that was supposed to be an excuse.

Isidro’s voice, though calm, carried an edge that made the air feel heavier. "And what about me? Aren’t I an orphan as well?"

Ignacio froze, his breath catching in his throat as the realization hit him. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, the arrogant smirk faltered. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t made the connection. His mouth opened and closed, as if searching for the right words, but none came.

Isidro’s smile barely touched his eyes. "Why don’t you treat me the same way?" His tone was light, almost playful, but the weight in his words pressed like a dagger against the air between them.

"I didn’t mean it like that..." Ignacio stammered, his confidence faltering under the weight of Isidro’s words.

Isidro’s gaze never wavered, and his smile twisted into something darker—something that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Why don’t you treat me the same way you did to her?" he asked, his tone casual, but the implication hung heavily between them.

Ignacio, still caught off guard, struggled for a response, but the words died on his lips. The realization of his mistake was sinking in, but it was too late. Isidro had already said what needed to be said, and his message was clear. The young nobleman turned, his face a mask of quiet contemplation, before walking off to join the other guests, leaving Ignacio standing there.

---

Luzia, having found her place in the quiet corner of the hall, glanced over her shoulder as Elena and Stephan approached. The exchange with Ignacio still lingered in the air, and the tension in her chest began to settle as the words of her companions reached her ears.

"My lady, that was... amazing, the way you stood up to him," Elena remarked, her voice filled with admiration. Her eyes sparkled, clearly impressed by Luzia’s calm composure and sharp words, though there was a hint of nervousness beneath her admiration. "But at the same time it was dangerous."

"His lordship will be proud," Stephan added with a nod of approval, his tone a little more reserved but no less sincere. He had always respected Luzia’s ability to navigate delicate situations, and this was no exception.

Stephan crossed his arms. "But that doesn’t mean Ignacio will forget."

Luzia raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small but knowing smile. "Aren’t you two supposed to reprimand me more than that?" she asked, her voice playful but laced with an underlying challenge.

Elena exchanged a quick glance with Stephan, but neither of them immediately responded.

Instead, they both gave small, hesitant shrugs, as though they knew better than to contradict her now. Stephan, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat. "Well, my lady," he said with a slight grin, "what you did was necessary, wasn’t it?"

Elena, who often admired Luzia’s ability to balance grace with assertiveness, smiled warmly. "Indeed, it was. Sometimes, you have to make people understand their place."

Luzia’s smile widened, though her gaze softened as she looked between the two of them. "I didn’t do it for approval," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of the conversation had settled in. "But sometimes, a lesson needs to be taught. Even to those who think they have the right to speak so freely."

Stephan inclined his head. "And you certainly made that point."

Luzia’s expression grew thoughtful, a flicker of something deeper behind her eyes. "We’ll see if the lesson sticks. If not, it will be my privilege to remind them."

The grand hall suddenly fell into a hush as the herald stepped forward, his voice ringing with authority.

"Announcing the arrival of Her Highness, Princess Benedicta de Aragón, and His Highness, Crown Prince Crisanto de Aragón!"

The heavy doors at the far end of the hall swung open, revealing two royal figures. Princess Benedicta entered first, adorned in regal splendor. Her gown, a masterpiece of deep sapphire and gold embroidery—the colors of the royal house—flowed gracefully with each step. She held her head high, exuding effortless elegance and authority.

Beside her was the young Crown Prince Crisanto, only ten years old, yet already carrying himself with the composed confidence befitting an heir to the empire. His blonde hair gleamed beneath the chandeliers, his sapphire-blue eyes sweeping over the gathered nobles with silent authority.

A ripple of awe and whispers spread through the crowd, but Luzia barely heard any of it.

Luzia’s breath hitched. The grand hall, the murmuring nobles—everything blurred as a crushing realization stole the air from her lungs.

What...?

Her wide eyes locked onto Princess Benedicta. The same delicate features, the same soft plantinum blonde hair that shimmered under the chandeliers, the same presence she once carried.

Didn’t I die as Princess Benedicta before entering Luzia’s body?

Her fingers curled into her gown, her pulse quickening. No. That’s impossible. I died. I died as Princess Benedicta. Yes, I did...

Then who... who is standing there?

In that body...

A memory surged forth—one she had buried, one she had almost convinced herself was a dream. The last thing she had heard before her death, the voice that had echoed in her fading consciousness.

"It is too bad I had to get rid of you early. You don’t own this body—it has always been rightfully mine, so I’m just claiming what’s mine!"

Luzia’s hands turned cold.

Her gaze remained frozen on the princess standing before her, the very image of who she used to be.

And for the first time since awakening as Luzia, she felt true fear.