The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen-Chapter 244: My name is ... (2)

〈666th Side Story〉 'In Your True Form...' begins now.

Mikhail exhaled, startled by the unfamiliar situation unfolding before his eyes.

'Where is this...?'

It didn’t feel like an illusion spell, as there was no trace of magic. Nor did it seem like a hallucination, as everything appeared too real. Mikhail widened his eyes, filled with questions.

'What is this...?'

Confused, Mikhail looked around, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

"This is...."

The Academy.

Mikhail, now standing in a place he had walked through countless times before, gasped in disbelief. Just moments ago, he had been in the dormitory, and now, in an instant, he found himself in front of the fountain. He couldn’t make sense of the situation.

It was night, yet now it was day...

In the midst of his confusion, a faint voice from the blue screen reached Mikhail’s ears.

[Do you remember?]

The screen’s sudden question about memory puzzled Mikhail.

'Remember what...?'

[Do you remember the memory from three days after you left behind the ill-fated ties at the Academy?]

The blue screen brought up a memory that Mikhail had thought little of.

[On that dawn, there was a letter in your shoe locker. It was written in such a terrible handwriting that it was almost impossible to decipher.]

Mikhail tried to recall the past. What was so significant about that letter?

'It was nothing...'

Mikhail vaguely remembered dismissing it as just another love letter, assuming it was from someone who was simply terrible at writing.

In his faint recollection, that letter was probably...

[You tore the letter up without a second thought.]

He had surely torn it apart.

Suddenly feeling a chill, Mikhail stared at the blue screen with trembling eyes.

'No...' he thought, as a foreboding sense of dread washed over him. He looked at the screen, which began to reveal more of the truth.

[You tore the letter without any hesitation, never knowing who the writer was.]

'No...'

[The author of the letter had spent two days sitting at a desk, painstakingly writing it. They filled the paper with worry, wondering what expression you would make, what you would think upon reading it.]

And then...

[That boy waited for you endlessly that day, and then left.]

The blue screen calmly narrated the events, detailing the boy’s survival, and methodically listing out the mistakes Mikhail had made in failing to discover the truth. It even recited the contents of the letter he had never read.

[I’m writing a letter after a long time.]

The letter bore a nickname that no one else knew.

[There were many things I wanted to say, but my handwriting is so bad that I thought it would be difficult to put them into words, so I won’t write much. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be able to read this.]

The words were slowly decoded.

[Before I leave, I wanted to leave you a letter. I wanted to see you one last time.]

'No...'

Mikhail shook his head.

He refused to believe it. He cursed himself for missing the opportunity, his eyes trembling as he stared at the letter.

[I’ll wait for you at the fountain at 6 PM tomorrow.]

Mikhail’s heart started pounding wildly at the last sentence. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking with the overwhelming resentment he felt toward himself.

Your old friend.

'Haa... Haa...'

[In a memory that no one else knew.]

[You read the boy’s letter. By chance, you happened upon the first line, clutching your chest as you desperately tried to decipher it.]

[On that day, you were smiling. You had never felt so excited before, you thought, as you eagerly decoded the letter and prepared to go to the promised place.]

Mikhail’s vision brightened.

As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the world, Mikhail stood in front of the fountain, surrounded by couples and passersby.

'Is this...'

The viewing begins.

With a cold voice, the scene before Mikhail sharpened, bringing into focus a girl standing by the fountain.

A white dress. White shoes. With pale red lipstick and fidgeting fingers, the silver-haired girl kept glancing at the clock tower, as if waiting for someone.

Mikhail stared at the girl with trembling eyes, a hollow expression on his face.

'Is that... me?'

Dressed in a way that he had never shown to others, Mikhail stood at the Academy fountain, shy and reserved.

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"...Phew."

She looked like a girl. The outfit she had carefully chosen. The makeup she had tried for the first time.

In that moment, she appeared to be nothing more than a girl of that age.

Fidgeting with her fingers, unable to keep her toes still, the Mikhail in the memory mumbled to herself as she stared at the clock tower.

"When will he arrive?"

She seemed on the verge of tears, whispering to herself, repeating the same words over and over.

"Will I do well?"

Mikhail in the memory, unsure of how to start the conversation, hesitated, letting the melody of the scene guide her.

Watching her, the present-day Mikhail felt a pang of envy. This version of herself had captured a moment she had never experienced—a missed opportunity that she now envied.

The excitement. The anticipation. Without a hint of either, the present Mikhail had only bitten her lips and swung her sword, a stark contrast to the girl in the memory.

At the same time, a feeling of anxiety crept into Mikhail’s heart.

What if that letter was a death notice? What if the person from those old memories had come to deliver sad news?

Mikhail erased the smile from her face as she watched the past, fearing the worst.

'Focus on reality... It’s already in the past....'

Forcing herself to concentrate, Mikhail took a deep breath.

In the memory, Mikhail muttered to herself, starting an awkward rehearsal. Ignoring the stares of others, she anxiously practiced what to say when she finally saw the boy from her memories.

"How should I greet him...."

"Ah... Hi! How have you been...? I’ve been doing well. Haha... I even graduated at the top of my class at the Academy..."

"The weather is really nice, isn’t it? If you have time, should we go to a café?"

"You must have been really surprised, huh? That I’m a girl.... You idiot, did you just figure it out..."

As the Mikhail in the memory mumbled to herself, her words suddenly stopped. Even as she spoke, her heart was pounding like crazy.

How much had he changed? He must be really handsome by now. He’s going to be so surprised when he realizes I’m a girl.

"..."

But still.

"When we meet, I want to give him a hug."

Mikhail had the same thought.

She desperately wanted to see the boy from her memories, to see his face, hear his voice, and feel the emotions she couldn’t remember.

Tick-tock.

The Mikhail in the memory swallowed nervously as the time drew closer, waiting for her past to come closer. At that moment, she was the only protagonist in the world. No, she was the woman named Misa.

"Sniff..."

Holding back tears, Mikhail slowly lowered her head.

Click-clack.

The sound of high heels echoed.

The Mikhail in the memory. The present-day Mikhail. Both held their breath and focused on that sound.

Click-clack.

The sound of the heels, neither fast nor slow, resonated gently with Mikhail’s heartbeat.

Click-clack.

"..."

The Mikhail in the memory swallowed hard. The Mikhail watching clenched her fists and bit her lip.

'We’re finally going to meet...'

The boy’s face was still hidden, concealed by shadows.

Click-clack.As his silhouette slowly emerged, Mikhail clenched her fists. It was the same boy she remembered.

Tall and broad-shouldered. Even from a distance, he looked handsome enough to draw everyone’s attention as he walked.

His face was hidden in shadow, but...

The boy who had been her hero during difficult times was still there.

'That’s right...'

Mikhail lowered her head, her heart pounding as she waited for the boy to approach. She wasn’t ready to face him just yet.

She desperately wanted to see him, but she feared that if she wasn’t prepared, she might crumble in an instant, so she hid her face for a moment.

What did he look like? What if something bad had happened to him? What if he thought I was ugly and ran away? The Mikhail in the memory, like the present-day Mikhail, lowered her head and swallowed hard.

Slowly, the boy approached.

The boy, whose heartbeat had quickened hers, took another step closer, stopping right in front of Mikhail and gently greeting her.

"Excuse me."

The man’s voice, soft and resonant. The boy’s childish voice had vanished, replaced by a deep, soothing tone that gently called out to Mikhail, who still °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° had her head lowered.

It seemed he was nervous too, as he swallowed dryly and then exhaled deeply before speaking again.

"Are you Mikhail?"

"..."

"Or am I mistaken...?"

Drip.

Tears began to fall onto Mikhail’s white shoes in the memory. She had planned to greet him with a smile, to start the conversation cheerfully, but her tears had come too soon, overwhelming her emotions, and she began to sob quietly.

"Yes...."

Mikhail nodded, struggling to hold back her tears.

She nodded vigorously, her voice choked with sobs, trying to prove that she was indeed the person he was looking for.

Affection. Love. Nostalgia.

A whirlwind of emotions surged within Mikhail, causing a small storm in her heart. Overwhelmed by these feelings, Mikhail couldn’t lift her head.

All she could do was nod, acknowledging the memories that had come to meet her, even though she couldn’t look at them.

"Ah..."

The boy sighed softly as he looked at Mikhail. Unsure of how to start the conversation, he took another deep breath before speaking slowly.

"You’re a lot different from what I imagined."

"..."

"But still...."

The boy opened his mouth slightly, smiling warmly as he reminisced about their past.

"You’re still the same crybaby, shaking your head when you cry."

The boy smiled softly as he spoke to Mikhail in the memory.

"You’ve grown up, my little one."

The boy’s voice, light and gentle, made Mikhail slowly lift her head. The boy began to speak carefully, bidding farewell to the fragments of the memory that had been shrouded in darkness.

"I suppose I should introduce myself again."

"..."

"My name is Rika... No...."

"..."

As his face slowly became visible, both the Mikhail in the memory and the present-day Mikhail shed tears as they looked at him.

Finally, seeing his smile.

"What...?"

'No.'

Mikhail felt her world collapse.

"My name is Lee Min-hyuk."

The memory of a cherished reunion crumbled in an instant, shattering the massive wall of hope Mikhail had built within her heart.

This couldn’t be happening. This was a lie. This man was up to something strange again, she thought, clenching her fists.

The man she had hated so deeply, whom she believed she could never reconcile with, was now looking at her with a wistful smile.

It made her skin crawl.

"What... are you doing?"

'Stop messing around.'

Both the Mikhail in the memory and the present-day Mikhail stared at him with pale faces, filled with anger.

But.

"..."

His awkward smile left her speechless. Holding a paper bag with a teddy bear in one hand, his sad smile didn’t seem like a lie.

"..."

'This is a joke, right...?'

Her lips trembled. Her fingers shook as a powerful wave of denial coursed through her, so intense that she could hear the beating of her heart in her ears.

"No..." 'No.' "This can’t be happening." "This can’t be happening."

Mikhail repeated the same words as the version of herself in the memory, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to accept the unbearable reality.

The more Mikhail denied it, the more awkwardly the man smiled.

"It’s been a long time."

"This isn’t right..."

"There’s so much I wanted to say."

"..."

"I don’t know how to start, but this is what comes to mind first."

"Shut up..."

With trembling hands, the Mikhail in the memory grabbed Ricardo’s hand. Desperately holding onto his sleeve, she shook her head, her denial growing stronger.

"You’re lying."

"...Haha."

"You can’t be that person."

"I’ve been watching you all this time."

"No!!!"

"You’ve worked so hard."

The present-day Mikhail collapsed to the ground. Her legs had lost all strength, unable to bear the weight of a reality she had thought impossible.

No. There had to be more to this. She thought the man was merely a messenger, someone delivering news. She cried out desperately, hoping for a different answer, but all she received in return was the anguished sobbing of her past self.

The person she despised the most. The person she thought could never be him. Her past hatred for him flashed before her eyes, causing her breath to shake.

"I’m sorry for treating you so harshly."

The viewing is now ending.

The reunion she had hoped for ended in the worst possible way.