Taming The Villainesses-Chapter 379: Survivor of the Old Castle (5)

Shhk.

With a subtle look of anticipation, Mirna opened the leather cover of the notebook.

But almost immediately, a hint of bewilderment clouded her face. Narmee, peering at the notebook alongside her, spoke.

“All the writing’s smeared! You can’t read a single word like this.”

Just as she said, it seemed the text had once been written in ink or black dye, but now it was horribly smeared—like it had been soaked in rain and washed away.

Considering how long the notebook must have been sitting here in this monster-infested fortress, it wasn’t surprising the writing hadn’t held up. Now that I noticed it, the area where the notebook had been was terribly damp and reeked of mold.

Narmee said,

“This thing was abandoned in a dump like this. It probably didn’t contain anything important to begin with. What were you even expecting?”

What had I been expecting? I let my imagination wander for a moment.

Maybe... this leather-bound notebook was Isaiah Gospel’s personal journal.

What had he been thinking when he came to this far-off land?

Why had he hidden himself in a place like Fortress Gargarta, surrounded by monsters?

Why did he leave the imp behind, and where had he gone afterward?

Perhaps the notebook contained answers to all that. Maybe even something about the nymph Beatrice he met... or the child they supposedly had together.

But with the pages this badly soaked, there was no reading it unless it could somehow be restored.

Flash.

A sudden thought struck me like lightning.

I reached out and took the notebook from Mirna’s hands and quickly set off. I knew exactly who I needed to bring this to in order to decipher it.

She had once restored and read a book I’d burned to ashes. So something as simple as smeared ink should be far easier than charred pages.

She could definitely do it.

I stood once again in front of Ayra’s door. It was now just past 1 p.m. Surely she had woken by now.

Brushing the dust off my clothes to properly receive an audience with the queen, I cleared my throat.

“Ahem.”

Then, with two fingers, I knocked gently on the door.

“Ayra-nim, are you awake?”

Rustle.

This time, there was movement inside the room.

━Come in.

Having received permission, I gently turned the knob. Creak, the door opened.

Inside, Ayra was still lying in bed in her underwear. It seemed her mind was awake, but her body wasn’t quite ready to get up yet.

I approached her quietly.

She gestured with her hand toward a nearby water bottle. Understanding what she meant, I poured some water into the cup beside it and brought it to her.

Shhk.

“......”

The queen silently accepted the cup. Her pale, cherry blossom–colored lips touched the rim and she drank.

The way she drank water made it look like a commercial for a luxury water brand. For a moment, I couldn’t help but stare in awe. After placing the cup down, Ayra spoke.

“So, what brings you to me?”

“Well, that is...”

I briefly explained the situation: the imp I had found, her master, and the notebook # Nоvеlight # he had left behind.

***

“That’s how it happened.”

It was a simple enough story—hardly needed a long explanation.

But whether she didn’t understand, or something about it displeased her, Ayra furrowed her brow slightly.

“I see. Here I thought you’d come back to pick up where you left off earlier.”

“Earlier?”

I asked, and Ayra lifted her hand into the air, then slowly clenched it like she was grabbing something.

Seeing that gesture—like she was cupping a woman’s breast—I understood exactly what she meant. She thought I’d come to fondle her chest again.

My expectations suddenly shot up.

“So... can I?”

“Anyway, let me see this book you mentioned.”

Ayra brushed off my question without hesitation. Was that a no? All the rising excitement immediately plummeted back down to my feet. She really knew how to toy with a man’s heart.

Was this what they meant by push-and-pull?

I was beginning to understand why so many men would’ve soared to the heavens and crashed into the dirt at the mercy of a beauty’s whims.

Ayra’s composed face practically radiated the sentiment: I hold all the cards in this relationship. You’re beneath me.

She saw me as someone a step below her.

The thought made me feel a sudden resolve—someday, I would see her face twisted in embarrassment, gasping for breath.

But for now...

I handed her the book. Ayra took it, inspecting the dusty leather cover front and back.

Rustle.

At last, Ayra flipped open the cover and began turning through the pages. Ink smeared across the old paper filtered through her fingers as she turned the pages. She muttered quietly.

“It’s an old book.”

“Can you read it? You said once that writing carries intent and meaning. If you could read that book I burned, maybe you could decipher this water-damaged one too?”

“Who do you think I am? This kind of text is no challenge. But if I do read it for you, Teo—what will you give me in return?”

“Me?”

The sudden question made it feel like a lump of foam was stuck in my throat. Ayra was asking for compensation. Even for her, this was a rare demand.

She explained,

“In a partnership, what matters is exchange. Giving and receiving. That’s how healthy, stable relationships are built.”

“I see...”

It did seem reasonable. Gratitude grows when something is earned, not just given.

Was Ayra taking our marriage seriously in her own way? Or was this just another form of push-and-pull?

I asked,

“What would you like me to do for you?”

“Nothing. I’m a queen. The queen of Angmar. I possess all the treasures, wealth, beauty, and honor of the world. I lack nothing. So no repayment is needed.”

She said it with such pride that her face almost glowed.

...So what am I supposed to do then?

She asked for something in return, then said she didn’t need anything.

Even after all these years together, I still couldn’t figure Ayra out. She was a mystery.

Rustle rustle rustle—

She began flipping through the pages rapidly. And then, something truly remarkable happened. Across the creased, smeared paper, the text began to restore itself—letters becoming sharp and legible again.

Her personality was strange, but Ayra’s magical ability was undeniably astonishing.

Fwap.

At last, Ayra had fully restored all the text.

After receiving the book back from her, I opened it to see writing I could actually read—neatly written in a familiar hand. I felt the presence of the paper-spider Bael stirring within me.

━Hioooong...!

I know. The handwriting is identical to Solomon’s journal that you once showed me. Isaiah and Solomon really are so similar they could be the same person.

“So, what does it say?”

At Ayra’s question, I began to read from the first page.

***

Nothing much.

That was my first impression.

As I read through the restored text, I realized this notebook was basically a scratchpad.

It contained notes on the behavior of nearby monsters, the local geography, what he’d done that day, and what he planned to do—like a planner. At times, it doubled as a diary.

Was there anything more interesting?

As I flipped further, I noticed something strange about the later pages.

“The sentences stop making sense toward the end. Are you sure it was restored properly?”

Ayra nodded lightly.

“Yes. That’s how it was written to begin with.”

So it was originally like this. Sentences with no connection between them. Words missing here and there. It felt intentional.

Was it coded?

No—it reminded me of something else. The further I read, the more it resembled the disorganized writing of someone with schizophrenia.

Ayra said,

“My guess is that the author wasn’t in a normal state. You could call it paranoia or delusion. The curse running through Angmar’s blood.”

A curse...

I became curious.

“Why is it that people from House Angmar suddenly go mad?”

Ayra narrowed her eyes and looked at me.

“Shouldn’t you know best? You are Teo Gospel of Angmar.”

“Me?”

“They see what others can’t. Hear what others don’t. They witness what must never be seen, hear what must never be heard. Teo, isn’t that your case as well?”

“I’m not sure...”

“Angmar’s blood calls it revelation. It’s what made them kings—and what turned them into madmen. The endless whispers in their minds. That’s their god.”

God.

I remembered now. The notebook’s title meant god.

Was this the written record of a madman’s revelations?

It gave me chills. Could the Church of Flame know anything about this?

House Angmar and the Church of Flame were born from the same fateful origin. If I wanted to ask someone, who would it be? A theologian? A high priest?

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While I pondered that, Ayra stood up.

“Well then. It’s time to receive my compensation.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you didn’t need one?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”