Why Did I Reincarnate as the Heroine When I Wanted to Be a Villainess?

Chapter 90: Chapter 90 — "Let Me Explain"

Her mother asked at dinner.

Not immediately.

Not that morning.

Not even that afternoon.

Elena Valois had the particular patience of someone who understood that some things needed time before they could be spoken.

She waited until evening.

Until the table was cleared.

Until her husband had stopped pretending to read.

Until the house had settled into the quiet that came after sunset.

Then she looked at Seraphina.

"Tell us."

Two words.

Carrying everything.

Seraphina looked at her tea.

Then at her father.

Who had put down whatever he was pretending to read.

His golden eyes patient.

Waiting.

She exhaled once.

"Okay."

She said.

"But it’s long."

"We have time."

Her mother said.

Seraphina looked at the table.

Then at the window.

At the dark garden outside.

At the stars appearing one by one.

Then she started talking.

Not from the beginning.

From the part that mattered most right now.

From the part she needed to say before anything else.

"Someone died."

The words landed quietly.

Her father went very still.

Her mother’s hand moved slightly on the table.

Not reaching out.

Just present.

"His name was Corvin."

Seraphina said.

"He was a scholar."

"He found things nobody else was looking for."

A pause.

"He adjusted his glasses when things went wrong."

Another pause.

"And laughed."

She looked at the table.

"He’s buried outside an estate called Valemont."

"Under a tree."

"It’s a good spot."

She said the last part quietly.

Like she was still convincing herself.

Her parents said nothing.

Which was exactly right.

Her father’s hands were still on the table.

Her mother had stopped moving entirely.

Just listening.

Just present.

Seraphina continued.

"There were others."

"A wolf named Fen."

"A crow named Ash."

She paused.

"They weren’t pets."

"They were guardians."

"There’s a difference."

Her father nodded once.

Small.

Understanding without needing explanation.

She told them about Waystation.

About the underground city.

About citizens who had forgotten themselves.

About the ancient guardian in cracked armor.

Her mother frowned slightly.

"Underground city."

"Yes."

"How large."

"Very."

"How large specifically."

Seraphina looked at her.

"Imagine our entire noble district."

A pause.

"Underground."

"Preserved."

"For centuries."

Her mother processed that.

Then nodded once.

Accepting it.

Moving on.

Her father asked:

"How did you find it."

"The compass."

"Whose compass."

"Rowan’s."

"Who is Rowan."

"The merchant."

"You traveled with a merchant."

"Yes."

"Why."

"He needed help finding his uncle."

Her father looked at her.

"Did he find him."

Seraphina looked at the table.

"Not the way he hoped."

Her father accepted that too.

Quietly.

The way he accepted difficult things.

By not making them larger than they already were.

She told them about Valemont.

About the estate that maintained itself.

About the Door beneath it.

Her mother’s expression changed when she mentioned the Door.

Something careful entering it.

"You went through it."

Not a question.

"Yes."

"Into Hell."

"Yes."

Her mother was quiet for a long moment.

"Obviously."

She said finally.

Her voice completely even.

Seraphina blinked.

Her mother looked back at her.

"You found a door leading to Hell."

"Yes."

"And you went through it."

"Yes."

"Obviously."

She said again.

The word landing exactly the way Seraphina herself used it.

Dry.

Certain.

Resigned.

Seraphina stared at her mother.

Her father was looking at his wife with an expression Seraphina had never seen on him before.

Something between amusement and complete understanding of how he had ended up with this family.

"Mother."

"Seraphina."

"Did you just."

"Continue."

"Were you just."

"Continue please."

Seraphina continued.

She told them about the Trial of the Heart.

Her mother appeared.

Standing in the white void.

Arms open.

Her mother listened to this without moving.

Without reacting.

Until Seraphina said:

"I knew it was fake."

Then her mother looked at her.

"How."

"Because you were too soft."

Silence.

Her father made a sound.

Not quite a laugh.

Controlled immediately.

Her mother’s expression did something complicated.

"Too soft."

"You always look slightly tired."

Seraphina said.

"Even when you’re happy."

"The version in there didn’t."

Her mother was quiet.

Then:

"That’s very observant."

"Obviously."

Her father had given up controlling whatever his expression was doing.

He looked at the window.

Her mother picked up her tea.

Put it down without drinking.

"Continue."

Seraphina told them about the First Guardian.

About the merge.

About Corvin’s barrier dissolving.

About Daren taking the hit.

About Kael’s Severance revealing itself for the first time.

Her father looked up sharply at that.

"Severance."

"Yes."

"Kael has Severance."

"Yes."

Her father looked at his wife briefly.

Something passing between them.

Something that had history in it.

Something Seraphina filed away immediately for later.

"Continue."

He said.

She told them about the Guardian being defeated.

About coming back through the Door.

About Valemont dying around them.

About finding Lyra.

Her mother asked:

"The old woman."

"Yes."

"She was young before."

"Yes."

"The immortality left when her purpose ended."

Not a question.

Her mother said it like someone connecting pieces.

Like someone who understood more than she was showing.

Seraphina looked at her.

"Yes."

Her mother nodded.

Said nothing else.

Her father was watching his wife.

Then looked at Seraphina.

"The woman explained herself."

"Yes."

"What did she say."

Seraphina told them.

The fiancé’s sister.

The illness.

The King of Hell.

Her family.

His family.

Everyone gone.

He was just hungry.

Her mother closed her eyes when she reached that part.

One second.

Then opened them.

Her father’s hands had tightened on the table slightly.

Released.

"Then."

Seraphina said.

"She turned to dust."

The dining room was very quiet.

"Not dramatically."

Seraphina added.

"Just."

She looked at her hands.

"Quietly."

"Like she was finally done."

Her mother reached across the table.

Touched Seraphina’s hand once.

Brief.

Real.

Then pulled back.

Her father said nothing.

But his posture had changed.

Something in it that Seraphina recognized as grief acknowledged and set aside because other things needed to happen.

She told them about Atlas.

About what he said.

About trying to remove her memories.

Her father’s eyebrows moved.

"He tried to remove your memories."

"Yes."

"And you stopped him."

"Obviously."

Her father looked at her.

"How."

"I yelled at him."

A pause.

"And hugged him."

Her father was quiet.

"That worked."

"Yes."

He looked at the table.

Something crossed his face.

Quick.

Gone.

Her mother’s expression had become something Seraphina couldn’t fully name.

Complicated.

Soft in a way she rarely showed.

"Then he disappeared."

Seraphina said.

Her voice came out different on that sentence.

Smaller.

She didn’t try to fix it.

The dining room received that quietly.

Her parents let it sit.

Neither rushing past it.

Neither making it larger.

Just letting it exist.

The right amount of space.

Then her father said:

"The crow."

Seraphina blinked.

"Tax."

"Yes."

"He’s still here."

"Obviously."

Her father nodded once.

Something in his expression shifting slightly.

Toward something that might have been relief.

Seraphina looked at him.

Then at her mother.

"You like Tax."

Her mother picked up her tea.

"He stole three spoons from the kitchen this morning."

"Obviously."

"And a decorative button from the east hallway."

"Obviously."

"And somehow a letter opener from your father’s study."

Her father looked at the study doorway.

Then back at Seraphina.

"I liked him before the letter opener."

Seraphina laughed.

The first real laugh since waking up.

Short.

Genuine.

Her parents looked at her when she laughed.

Not commenting.

Just looking.

The way parents looked when something they’d been worried about appeared again and they didn’t want to acknowledge how worried they’d been.

She told them about Kael.

Not the Severance.

Not the battle.

The end.

The garden.

The "I find you funny."

Her mother went very still.

Her father looked at the window.

Very specifically at the window.

"He said funny."

Her mother said.

"Yes."

"After everything."

"Yes."

"He said funny."

"Yes."

Her mother looked at her husband.

Her husband continued looking at the window.

With the particular focus of a man deciding the window was extremely interesting.

"Father."

"Hm."

"You’re doing the thing."

"What thing."

"The thing where you look somewhere else when you’re trying not to react."

Her father looked back at her.

His expression perfectly neutral.

"I don’t know what you mean."

"Obviously you do."

Her mother set down her tea.

"And after he said funny."

"He went unconscious."

"And then."

"I used a transportation technique I absorbed."

"From where."

"Noctaire originally."

Her mother accepted this.

"And transported everyone to Ashford Crossing."

"Yes."

"And then collapsed unconscious yourself."

"Yes."

"On the road."

"Yes."

Her mother nodded.

Processing everything.

Then looked at her husband.

Something passed between them.

The wordless communication of people who had been married long enough that whole conversations happened in a glance.

Her father looked at Seraphina.

"The Crown Prince found you."

"Apparently."

"He brought you all here."

"Apparently."

Her father’s expression did the complicated thing again.

"He was looking for you."

A pause.

"Himself."

"Apparently."

Another pause.

"For three weeks."

Seraphina looked at the table.

Something uncomfortable settling in.

Not because of Cassian specifically.

Because of what three weeks of searching meant.

How worried he must have been.

How worried everyone must have been.

Her mother watched her face.

Then quietly:

"He’s been asking after you."

"Every day."

"Since you arrived."

Seraphina said nothing.

Her father leaned back slightly.

His golden eyes steady on her.

"Your birthday is in four days."

Seraphina looked at him.

"I know."

"There are people."

He said carefully.

"Who have been requesting."

"An answer."

"To certain questions."

"For some time."

Seraphina met his eyes.

"Father."

"Yes."

"Are you telling me."

"I’m informing you."

"Of a situation."

She stared at him.

He looked completely neutral.

Which meant he was feeling something significant.

"The birthday ceremony."

She said.

"There is."

Her father said.

"A gathering planned."

"Which we did not plan."

Her mother added.

"Which was planned for us."

"By people we could not refuse."

Her father finished.

Seraphina looked between them.

Her parents looked back.

The particular expression of two people who had done everything they could and had run out of options.

"The prince."

Seraphina said.

"The prince."

Her father confirmed.

The dining room was quiet.

Then Seraphina picked up her tea.

Drank it.

Set it down.

"Four days."

She said.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Her parents looked at her.

She looked at the window.

At the dark garden.

At the stars.

At nothing specific.

Something moving behind her golden eyes.

Then she stood up.

"I’m going to sleep."

Her mother nodded.

Her father nodded.

Seraphina walked toward the doorway.

Stopped.

Didn’t turn around.

"Thank you."

She said.

"For waiting."

"For not asking immediately."

The dining room was quiet.

Her mother’s voice came quietly behind her.

"Obviously."

Seraphina smiled.

Small.

Private.

Then walked upstairs.

The house settled around her.

Familiar and real and present.

Outside the late spring garden breathed under the stars.

Four days.

She had four days.