I’m the Villainess, So I’m Taming the Final Boss, Vol. 4, page 21
“…Thank you.” Lowering his eyes, Claude gives the water dragon’s back a gentle push. “If things ever get hard for you, come home anytime.”
“—Do you think you can gloss this over by talking like you’re giving your daughter away in marriage?! Look, I know you’re enjoying yourself! Is this payback because we took Aileen?!”
Baal tromps forward, discarding his regal expression, and hauls Claude up by his shirtfront.
Claude responds impassively. “You never took my wife.”
“Oh-ho, is that right? Yes, we suppose you can’t yet call Aileen your wife anyway, can you…?!”
“—What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. For a husband who doesn’t perform, you sure talk big.”
Aileen feels as if she’s heard a crack form in Claude’s impervious blank expression. It isn’t her imagination; he proves as much by setting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “And you have a mountain of consorts, but you’re still lonely. So lonely this dragon pities you.”
“Why you— You’re bringing that up now?! Fine, then… We’re keeping Aileen.”
“What?!”
“Since you’re a coward, we’ll take over for you and make her moan every night! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
The crash of swords echoes through the harem, where the fighting had supposedly ended. The demon king has fully drawn, and the holy king blocked with his own blade.
“Magic won’t work on us.”
“Fine words from someone who can only defend.”
“We never said we couldn’t use a sword!”
True to his words, Baal raises his blade against Claude in style. The blast wind is probably from the magic and sacred power they’re both using to supplement their skills.
“W-wait, you two! Don’t!”
“Aileen is my wife!”
“No, she’s ours!”
The two slash away at each other. Neither looks like they are about to start listening. War has suddenly erupted between the demon king and the holy king— Put that way, it sounds impressive. However, this is just a brawl, and the people around them have no idea what to do.
If the kings keep this up, we won’t get anything resolved!
Someone taps her on the shoulder. When she turns around, Roxane is standing there, holding two buckets. “This is holy water. I drew it over there. Please take one.”
I see. Nodding, Aileen accepts a bucket from Roxane. Between the two of them, they may have enough to make a river.
Then they promptly slosh it over the brawlers.
“…………”
“…………”
Soaked from head to toe, the two turn to look at them. Tossing her bucket aside, Aileen speaks up. “It appears that neither of you is sufficiently conscious of your position as king.”
“If you must continue this, please indulge yourselves out of the public eye.”
“…Wait just a minute, Roxane. Don’t tell us this is holy water—”
Before Baal can finish his question, the ground sinks under their feet. Water floods away from them in a muddy torrent, mingling with the canal, and washes the pair downstream.
In the blink of an eye, they’re out of sight. After she’s seen them off, Aileen turns to Roxane. “Shall we get the terms hammered out while we have the opportunity?”
“Yes, let’s. Someone bring us tea.”
“Sweetened with sugar that isn’t sand, if you would,” Aileen says, and Roxane gives the faintest hint of a smile.
It may be holy water, but it isn’t harmful to humans. He’d let the current take him because he was startled, but when he uses magic, getting out is easy enough. Watching the water rush under him toward the canal, Claude pushes his dripping hair out of his face. “What a thing to do to her husband…”
“We couldn’t agree more.” The remark comes from a short distance away; Baal has climbed up onto the bank. He shrugs. “Well, it probably means one shouldn’t defy one’s wife.”
“Yes, there’s no telling what that wife of mine may do.”
“Apparently our wife is also frightening if we anger her. We didn’t know that until today.”
For some reason, laughter works its way up from Claude’s insides. Then, the same happens to Baal.
The two kings laugh on the riverbank for a while, looking like a pair of drowned rats. Then they both sneeze dramatically.
Final Act
The End of the Villainess’s Journey
James is at the demon king’s desk, buried in paperwork, when the door opens. He glances up. “What, you’re back, Auguste?”
“Uh-huh. The holy king can use teleportation, so he sent us back instantly.”
“How did it go?”
Isaac has given him a report already, so he knows the rough story. However, unusually, Auguste has worry lines between his eyebrows. In the middle of signing his name with the quill pen, James pauses, puzzled. “What’s the matter? Did something else come up?”
“Oh, um. Everyone’s safe, and they’re going to ratify an official treaty…? Or something like that. The holy king and his wife are going to visit Ellmeyer one of these days, and we caught the bad guys, so that went well, but… James? Can I ask you something?”
“Ask me what?”
“You and I are friends, right? —Do you ever want to hug me or touch my hair or hold my hand?”
James’s fingers snap the quill pen. Auguste has good instincts, at least, and he straightens up.
“So you’re trying to get me so angry I turn into a demon, hmm? Is that what this is?”
“Oh— Sorry! You don’t think those things, of course you don’t! I knew that. I just thought I’d ask…!”
“Even getting a question like that is extremely unpleasant!”
“I said I was sorry! But… Yeah, you’re completely right… Haaah…”
Auguste is so dejected that he crouches down on the spot. That cools James’s temper, but he isn’t nice enough to try to draw him out.
“What am I going to do? I really don’t think I can be friends with Serena.”
So it was something stupid. He feels like grumbling Finally, but he changes the subject instead. “Never mind that. When are Master Claude and Aileen coming back?”
“Oh, probably by next week or so? Come on, James, help me out. I don’t know what to do.”
“No. Go ask Walt.”
Auguste whines about it, but just then they hear footsteps out in the hall; someone’s heard that Auguste is back. It’s a familiar sound, part of their daily routine.
To James, the fact that life is returning to normal is far more important.
“…Don’t you think that’s just mean?”
Claude sounds unusually despondent.
Aileen, who’s left the after-dinner cleanup to Rachel, gives him the same answer she’s given him several times before. “Well, you did make Master Keith angry.”
“But telling me not to come home for the time being? He’s gone too far.”
“There’s no help for that. Your fever’s come down, but if you leave the holy king’s barrier while you’re in poor health, there’s no telling what will happen to the weather.”
“That’s true, but…”
Claude, who’s sitting up in bed in his nightclothes, doesn’t seem convinced. He sighs, looking at the response from Keith.
The words on the paper say, Take it easy in the Kingdom of Ashmael until you recover. However, interpreted rather freely, it means Dimwitted fools who’d visit the Kingdom of Ashmael without permission and then catch a cold aren’t welcome home until they’re better. Keith is probably mad he’s been forced to run around trying to make sense of the fact that Claude, the crown prince of Ellmeyer, aided the Kingdom of Ashmael. His anger is palpable in every word of the impeccably polite letter.
Aileen herself has received a heartwarming message from her father, Rudolph, the prime minister, telling her to come have dinner with the rest of the family once she’s back. If she doesn’t prepare herself thoroughly before going home, she’ll probably die instantly.
“Just take your time and rest, Master Claude. There will be work waiting for you when you get back. After the incident in Ashmael, there’s no longer any need to visit the Queendom of Hausel, but we do have to deal with them as well in due time. There’s a mountain of problems… Yes, think of this as our honeymoon and relax, please!”
“Our honeymoon…? This ridiculous, chaotic mess…?”
Claude looks at her as if he doesn’t want to believe it, but she nods firmly. “Yes. We should have had the others stay here as well, instead of just Rachel. Isaac and the rest returned without even sightseeing. A change of location can often result in a change of mood, too…”
“Ah… Well, that’s all right, isn’t it? They held hands and embraced. Really, Cedric’s the only one who made no progress. And he calls himself my little brother. Pathetic.”
“…What are you talking about?” She blinks at him.
Claude shrugs and changes the subject. “I should be able to get out of bed by tomorrow. How’s the holy king?”
“Much the same as you, Master Claude. He tried to sneak out of bed, saying he was well enough to move around, but was discovered by Lady Roxane and sent back. Still, he seemed rather pleased to have her caring for him.”
“She’ll have him firmly under her thumb before he knows it. Is the holy dragon consort being a good girl?”
“Yes. She was enjoying a bath a little while earlier. Master Baal seems to have given in and allowed her into his bedchamber. I’m told they’re going to expand the current room and make a place for her to sleep.”
“I’ll order her to be sure to get into bed with him. That’s a wife’s duty,” Claude declares, with an oddly invigorated smile. If she does that, Master Baal may never be able to sleep with anyone again, Aileen thinks. However, if she points that out and the two start fighting again, they’ll have an epic war between good and evil on their hands, so she decides to not mention it.
“The rebuilding also seems to be going well… The harem consorts are putting in a surprising amount of effort. They’re also taking meticulous care of the water dragon.”
“They are, hmm? That’s good to hear.”
As a matter of fact, many of them are motivated by the belief that if the dragon takes a liking to them, the crown prince of Ellmeyer may fall in love with them at first sight, but she doesn’t tell him this, either.
“So the remaining problems are how to handle the Daughter of God and the Queendom of Hausel, hmm? …I assume it would be best to coordinate our efforts on both fronts with the Kingdom of Ashmael.”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Either way, there can be no specific support, trade, or policies unless the holy king and I sign a treaty. If possible, I’d like to get at least that done by tomorrow.”
“I thought you would say that, so Lady Roxane and I have been making preparations.”
“…You and the principal consort get along well, don’t you?”
“It’s less that we get along and more that we both have troublesome husbands.”
“That’s the other one. I’m not a troublesome husband.”
Baal is probably saying the same thing to Roxane. Giggling, Aileen checks to see how much water remains in the pitcher on the nightstand, then lowers the lights. Ordinarily, she would leave these things to Rachel or the servants, but she wants to nurse Claude herself as much as possible.
Once they leave this place, it’s going to be hard to relax and spend time with him again.
“Tomorrow will be a busy day. Please hurry and go to sleep.”
“—Aileen.”
He’s caught her hand. When she turns back, the sight of the red eyes smoldering in the dim light makes her freeze up.
“You should sleep here tonight.”
She’s fully aware of what he means by that.
“…B-but, this is… I mean, we are guests…”
“It doesn’t matter. Actually, the fact that they gave us separate rooms even though we’re married made me murderous… Besides, this may not be the best way to put it, but because of the holy king’s barrier, it’s a sure thing here.”
“But I haven’t bathed yet.”
Both physically and emotionally, she’s completely unprepared for this. Should she call Rachel and get ready as quickly as possible? But she feels as if doing so may spoil the mood. While she’s dithering, he pulls her toward him, and she falls onto the bed. Claude’s mischievous red eyes are laughing at her. “You kissed me, remember? What happened to all that courage?”
“Th-that was the heat of the moment…”
“Thanks to that, my plan was ruined. I’d intended to make your first time something you wouldn’t forget as long as you lived, and then you stole away my opportunity so callously.”
The way he phrases it embarrasses her so badly she feels as if flames may shoot from her head. “I-if you put it that way, um… I—I was startled, too.”
“Oh, I startled you, hmm? —In that case, let’s practice. Your hands, Aileen.”
“P-practice?”
“Yes. Kissing.”
The honeyed mood has dulled her wits, and as she’s trying to puzzle out what he means, Claude takes both her hands and pulls her arms around his waist. “Hold on to my shirt. That’s right. Now close your eyes.”
Obeying his pleasant voice, she closes her eyes, and he gently covers her lips with his own.
Oo-ooh…
The embarrassment makes her want to scream, but she squeezes Claude’s shirt and endures it.
“Breathe. You don’t have to be nervous, Aileen. We’re still just practicing.”
“P-prac…practice… I-I’ll, do my, best, but…”
“Good girl. Don’t be embarrassed, just—open your mouth.”
“Y-yes…?!”
When his tongue slips between her lips, her voice cracks. I—I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, this is too much, I’ll die!
His tongue seems to steal her very breath away. The back of her head tingles, and that sweetness is the ultimate poison. She tries to shake her head, but it won’t budge. As if he’s picked up on Aileen’s faint resistance, Claude whispers between kisses. “Aileen, relax. It’s all right, you’re doing well… And now for the real thing.”
“I—I can’t, Master Claude. I’m not, c-confident I can manage more than—”
“I love you.”
He’d say that now? Not only that, but he pushes her down, and his kisses grow deeper. Even so, because she’s grabbing at his shirt for dear life, she can’t push him back.
Not being able to breathe properly makes tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she should do, or how. She’s simply at his mercy, and she calls his name, as if asking for help. “Master…Claude.”
“I won’t do anything frightening. I’ll cherish you. Only you, for as long as we live.” In a husky voice, Claude implores her. “I want you.”
In the dim bed, his red eyes beseech her desperately. If she rejects her beloved husband when he tells her he wants her, when he begs, simply because she lacks confidence, she doesn’t deserve to be his wife. Besides, to truly become husband and wife is what she’s been wanting this whole time.
Women must be bold. Mustering up her courage, Aileen nods. “A-a-all…right… B-but, Master Claude, please promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“I-if you don’t feel well…”
“If you mean my cold, it won’t be a problem.”
“B-but you, erm… You have another issue, don’t you?”
Claude blinks at her, once. When he responds, he seems to be sounding her out. “…As I said before, we’re inside the holy king’s barrier. Right now, I’m no different from a normal human.”
“I—I know that. These symptoms are precisely because you are a normal man.” These are the times when a wife must put her best foot forward. Aileen makes a firm request. “And so, even if it doesn’t work this time, please don’t lose confidence!”
“……”
“I promise I’ll help you! …Master Claude?”
“…I’d like to check on one thing. Just to make sure we’re on the same page.”
What could it be? It seems late for a question like this, and she’s perplexed, but she nods.
With eyes so mild that their earlier passion seems like a dream, Claude strokes her hair gently. “What issue of mine do you mean?”
“…Oh, n-no. Are you asking me to say it aloud?”
“It’s the sort of thing you can’t say?”
“O-of course. I…I couldn’t possibly speak of a man’s, erm, you know what, in explicit terms.”
“—Is that what this is? Do you think I have trouble functioning as a male?”
He’s speaking about it quite directly. She tries to get mad about that, but his smile is oddly intense and overawes her. She blinks.
Claude lowers his head. His shoulders are quivering. He’s laughing. “I see… I see, yes, so that’s what it is. I’m so glad this happened in Ashmael.” But his eyes aren’t smiling. She has a bad feeling about this. “If this were Ellmeyer, the shock would have made me blow the castle away.”
“U-um, actually, let’s not do this tonight after all!” Shuddering, Aileen tries to get up, but he promptly pins her shoulders down.
“I take it back. I’m going to get a little rough. You just stay beneath me and moan all night long.”
There’s anger mingled with his passion now, and his red eyes glitter ominously. A shiver runs down her spine. “M-Master Claude, don’t tell me…um…”
He smiles back at her, and while she doesn’t understand what’s going on, she does realize that she had the wrong idea. In that case, this anger of Claude’s is— When it hits her, she feels the blood drain from her head. “W-wait, Master Claude! Calmly, let’s discuss this calmly!”
