The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 26

The palace was too big.

Beatrice had lived here for weeks, yet somehow, she still managed to find new ways to get lost. This wasn’t just an ordinary mansion, it was a kingdom disguised as a house. An endless maze of halls, courtyards, secret rooms, and apparently, a whole underground pantry.

He had his arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes scanning her like she was an unsolved riddle.

"You have been here for weeks."

"And yet, I continue to surprise even myself," Beatrice said cheerfully.

Francois stared at her for a long moment, then muttered something under his breath before turning on his heel. "Come on."

Beatrice blinked. "Wait, where are we going?"

"You clearly can’t be trusted to wander alone," Francois said flatly. "So, until I’m certain you won’t end up in the royal vaults or accidentally start a war, I’ll escort you back."

Beatrice scowled, trailing after him. "First of all, I wouldn’t start a war."

Francois shot her a side glance.

Beatrice huffed. "...Not on purpose."

Francois didn’t bother responding.

They walked in silence for a while, the grand halls of the palace stretching endlessly before them. Beatrice, despite herself, found her attention drifting toward him.

Francois Montague was a frustratingly composed person. He walked with the kind of effortless grace that only years of strict discipline could create. Everything about him, his tone, his posture, and his expression was controlled.

And yet.

Beatrice had caught him slipping before. Tiny, barely noticeable cracks in his perfect royal mask. An exasperated sigh. A twitch of his lips when she said something ridiculous. The way he had looked at her back at the archery range, like he was seeing her for the first time.

She glanced up at him now, watching the way his jaw was set, his eyes fixed forward as if she wasn’t even there.

Beatrice smirked. "You know, for someone who’s supposedly ignoring me, you sure do spend a lot of time looking after me."

Francois didn’t even blink. "You require constant supervision."

Beatrice gasped dramatically. "Is that concern I hear?"

"No," Francois said immediately.

Beatrice grinned. "Are you sure?"

Francois finally glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. "You are a walking catastrophe, Lady Beatrice. Concern is an inevitability."

Beatrice squinted. "That... sounded suspiciously like an insult."

"Observant of you."

Beatrice opened her mouth for a snarky comeback, only for Francois to suddenly stop walking. She nearly bumped into him.

She frowned. "What—"

Then she saw what had made him pause.

At the far end of the hallway, a pair of maids were talking in hushed voices, their backs turned. Beatrice wasn’t the best at eavesdropping, but the words Johanna and weak were enough to make her pause.

Francois didn’t move.

Beatrice, on the other hand, had no such self-restraint. She cleared her throat loudly.

The maids jumped, spinning around in alarm. Their eyes widened as they registered who was standing in front of them.

"My lady! Your Highness!" One of them stammered, immediately lowering into a bow. The other followed suit, both of them looking absolutely terrified.

Beatrice smiled sweetly. "Now, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure palace gossip is usually frowned upon."

The maids paled.

Francois remained silent, his gaze cool and unreadable.

Beatrice took a step forward. "So, tell me. What exactly were you whispering about?"

The maids exchanged a panicked glance. One of them fidgeted with the hem of her apron. "W-We meant no disrespect, my lady. We were only discussing how Lady Johanna has been... unwell lately."

Beatrice’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Unwell how?"

The second maid hesitated. "She hasn’t been leaving her rooms as often. Some of the other servants say she’s been—" she hesitated, then lowered her voice, "—worried about something."

Beatrice frowned. Johanna? Worried?

That didn’t make sense.

She was supposed to be the heroine. She was supposed to be strong, unwavering. The original novel had never mentioned her being this shaken, not even when Beatrice had actively schemed against her.

So why now?

Francois finally spoke. "That will be all."

His voice was calm. Unbothered. But Beatrice wasn’t convinced.

The maids bowed quickly before scurrying away, leaving them alone once more.

Beatrice turned to Francois. "Okay. That was weird."

Francois didn’t respond immediately. He simply exhaled slowly, adjusting his cuffs. "Johanna has always been sensitive to change."

Beatrice frowned. "That’s not an answer."

Francois glanced down at her. "No, it isn’t."

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "You know something."

Francois didn’t react. Which meant he definitely knew something.

Beatrice crossed her arms. "Oh, so that’s how it is? We’re playing the tall, brooding, and mysterious card?"

Francois sighed, already walking again. "Come along, Lady Beatrice."

"Oh, don’t Lady Beatrice me," she grumbled, following after him. "I’m onto you."

"Then you are wasting your time," Francois said dryly.

"That’s what you think."

Francois didn’t answer, and soon, they reached the main corridor leading back to Beatrice’s wing.

He stopped just short of her door, turning slightly toward her. "Try not to get lost again."

Beatrice smirked. "Aww. You do care."

Francois exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned away.

Beatrice watched him go, her grin fading slightly as she replayed the conversation in her head.

Something was off.

Johanna’s behavior. The maids whispering. The way Francois was definitely keeping something from her.

The story was changing again.

And Beatrice had no idea what was coming next.

Beatrice leaned against the doorframe, watching Francois disappear down the hall. She drummed her fingers against the wood, her mind still spinning.

Johanna had always been poised, unshakable. Even in the original novel, when Beatrice had schemed against her, the girl had never faltered. She had faced every obstacle with a gentle but unwavering strength.

But now?

Now, she was avoiding people. Staying in her room. Worried about something.

Beatrice bit the inside of her cheek.

What was she missing?

Lily peeked out from Beatrice’s room, looking mildly alarmed. "My lady, you look like you’re about to commit a crime."

Beatrice sighed dramatically, stepping inside. "Not yet."

Lily closed the door behind her, giving her a wary look. "Should I be concerned?"

Beatrice flopped onto the chaise, arms spread. "Yes. No. Maybe." She groaned. "Ugh, I hate not knowing things."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You do seem... unusually invested."

Beatrice rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. "Listen. If this was a normal story, the heroine should be fine. She should be thriving. But Johanna? She’s acting off."

Lily hesitated, then cautiously asked, "Do you... care what happens to her?"

Beatrice scoffed. "Of course not."

Lily didn’t look convinced.

Beatrice sighed, rolling onto her back. "Okay, maybe a little. But only because if something happens to her, everything changes."

And Beatrice had already derailed the novel enough.

Lily hummed. "Well, if you’re so concerned, why not go see her?"

"Absolutely not!"

Lily frowned. "Why?"

"Because if I randomly show up at her door, she’ll think I’m plotting something."

Lily crossed her arms. "So, you’re just going to sit here and sulk instead?"

Beatrice groaned, collapsing onto the cushions. "Yes."

She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should check on Johanna. Just a casual, non-threatening visit. A quick Hey, you good? You’re not dying, right?

And then she could leave.

...Or she could just pretend none of this was happening.

She mulled over her options before an idea struck.

"Lily," Beatrice said slowly.

Lily, who had started tidying the room, paused. "...Yes?"

Beatrice grinned. "What if you checked on her?"

"Why would I—" Then she stopped, realization dawning. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I am not spying for you, my lady."

Beatrice gasped, clutching her chest. "Spying? Lily! I would never ask you to do such a thing!"

Lily stared.

Beatrice cleared her throat. "I’m simply suggesting that, as a concerned servant of the palace, you might happen to overhear some things while going about your day."

Lily sighed, rubbing her temples.

Beatrice clasped her hands together. "Please?"

Lily exhaled slowly, then muttered, "I’ll see what I can find out."

Beatrice beamed. "You’re the best."

As Lily left, Beatrice stretched out on the chaise, already feeling slightly better.

At least now, she had a plan.

And if there was one thing Beatrice was good at, it was improvising.