The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 233:

A Restaurant Named ‘Youlam’ (1)

***

10 years ago.

A sorrowful voice of a woman echoed through the streets of a slum.

“…Where did you go?”

The young woman’s voice resonated, unanswered, spreading mournfully.

She wandered through the slum streets, murmuring to herself.

Where did you go?

I told you to wait here.

The woman knew how irresponsible and difficult her one-sided promise to the child had been. But to endure the flood of regret, she believed this was the only way.

Even though she knew too much time had passed for a child to bear alone.

“Misa…”

The woman called out the name, burdened by her own guilt, as she walked. She ran toward a passing child, overlaying her past mistakes onto them.

“Misa…?”

She grabbed the shoulder of the child walking ahead and turned them around to check their face.

Hoping, just maybe, this child was the one she was looking for, she gazed at the startled child’s face with trembling hands and a sorrowful expression.

“Who are you, lady?”

“S…Sorry.”

The woman’s appearance was far from good. The ambition she once had to return as a successful person was nowhere to be seen. She now roamed the slums in worn-out clothes.

Her bag was tattered.

Her once delicate hands were now covered in calluses. Her beauty remained, but the traces of hardship etched into her appearance couldn’t erase the word ‘tragedy’ from her presence.

She had only loved, yet was abandoned.

She had only dreamed of a happy future, but received no reward. She had cruelly cast everything aside to escape this wretched life, thinking she would return once she became a respectable mother. Yet, having achieved nothing, she continued to search the slums.

One day.

Two days.

A week.

And then a month.

The streets of the slum, where she had come to fulfill her role as a mother with the money she had in hand, only deepened her sorrow.

Dust rolled by.

The sight of begging children weighed heavier on her than she had imagined.

If only she had chosen an orphanage instead of the slums, if only she hadn’t feared the rumors that orphanages sold children, things might have been different. ?

The woman belatedly realized how terrifying the consequences of her rash decision had been, driven by the impatience to rid herself of her burdens.

Back then, she hadn’t known.

Her own future had seemed more important than the child’s, and she had selfishly believed that everything would be fine.

Every night, she spent her time dreaming of a child who resented her.

Then, one day.

The woman met a boy in the slums.

-Have you seen a girl named Misa?

-Hmm. She’s about this tall, with silver hair.

-I’ve seen a boy named Michail, but never a girl named Misa. I’ve lived in this area for quite a while, but I’ve never heard that name. Not anymore, at least.

The red-haired boy frowned as he spoke. He had never seen the child she was searching for.

-Hmm… I don’t know.

The boy spoke politely to the woman.

-Do you have a picture?

-…

The woman couldn’t answer.

She had no memories with the child to speak of, and back then, she hadn’t even wanted to keep any memories of the child in a photograph. Of course, she had no picture.

Seeing the woman’s silence, the boy answered without hesitation. He said, “You won’t find her.” He explained that several years had passed, and with such scant information—just a name—it was nearly impossible to find a child in this vast slum.

The boy looked at the woman and asked.

-Do you remember?

-…

-The face.

He pointed to his own face with his finger, offering a possible solution.

-Do you remember her face?

-…

The woman couldn’t lift her head.

Too much time had passed.

“Sigh…”

The boy didn’t know who the woman was.

He didn’t know who she was looking for.

He didn’t know whose mother she might be.

To him, she was just another person who had come, filled with regret, like so many others. He didn’t attach any special meaning to it.

In a trembling voice, the woman asked.

-What usually happens to those abandoned here?

The boy replied.

-You know.

-…

-It’s not good.

As he passed by the woman, the boy spoke.

-Think of it in a positive light. That’s the best you can do.

Not long after, the woman found a discarded teddy bear under a bridge.

Kneeling in front of a pile of stones large enough for a child to lie down on, she hugged the teddy bear and wept.

The bear was full of stitched-up scars.

She clutched the worn-out teddy bear, which had no intact part left after so much time had passed.

And in front of the unmarked grave, she cried her heart out.

***

A peaceful morning at the mansion.

Humming a tune as I prepared breakfast, I placed the grilled meat on a plate, listening to the birds chirping and the sunlight streaming in.

The meat was well-done.

I poked the center of the meat with a fork and brought it to my lips to check how well it was cooked.

“Perfectly done.”

It seemed thoroughly cooked.

“Maybe I should open a restaurant.”

The young lady didn’t like her meat rare. She always said meat should have a chewy texture to be tasty. I once served her rare meat, and she threw the fork at me, saying it was so raw it could still be revived as a calf. Since then, I’ve always cooked the meat thoroughly. Though, oddly enough, she enjoys steak tartare.

Satisfied that the meat was cooked just the way the young lady liked it, I glanced up at the second floor of the mansion.

‘She’ll probably call for me soon.’

I counted to three in my head.

One. Two. Three.

“Go…Go! Air raid siren…!!!”

“Pfft…!”

As usual, her energetic morning call echoed through the mansion, and I headed upstairs with the breakfast tray.

The young lady, with a sullen expression, was chewing on the grilled meat as she ate her breakfast. Though I had confirmed the doneness of the meat, she still looked displeased for some reason, her face full of dissatisfaction.

“…Ugh.”

Watching her struggle to lift her fork, I raised a questioning brow.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“No.”

“Is the meat undercooked?”

“That’s not it either.”

“Then why the long face?”

The young lady shook her head and let out a deep sigh. She stabbed her fork into the meat and spoke in a refined voice.

“I’m broke.”

“Excuse me?”

“I spent all the money I had stashed away from Ricardo.”

She shamelessly admitted to theft.

I chuckled at her blunt confession and asked why she was so upset. It wasn’t just about the theft—what had she spent all that money on?

The young lady lowered her head, looking dejected.

“I bought pajamas and chocolate, so it’s all gone. I also gave some to Ricardo’s friend.”

“My friend?”

“Yeah.”

The young lady nodded, thinking of Hans, who had been away due to personal matters.

“I saw Ricardo’s friend up north the other day. The one with glasses, the ugly one.”

“He’s not that ugly.”

“To me, he is.”

I already knew she had high standards, but I smiled and nodded. I had been wondering how to explain Hans to her, but thankfully, she considered him a friend, so I didn’t need to overthink it.

The young lady counted the remaining money with her fingers and said.

“I gave Ricardo’s friend some money as a reward.”

“…”

“Ricardo wouldn’t pay his friend, would he?”

“…That friend of mine is quite wealthy.”

“Huh?”

“He’s rich. He doesn’t even pay taxes because of his illegal dealings.”

“Does he have more money than me?”

“Yes.”

“Argh!!!!!!”

The young lady clenched her fists in frustration, like someone who had been scammed. She vowed to take back the reward she had given him, now regretting her generosity. But as her appetite returned, she began to eat the meat with gusto.

By the time the plate was empty, I placed the cookies I had prepared for her snack on the table.

“Poop!”

“No, they’re cookies from the tea party.”

“Ugh… Who made these?”

The young lady frowned at the cookies, which looked like giant lumps of poop.

“They look disgusting.”

I smiled lightly and answered her, wondering where her conscience had gone.

“You made them, young lady.”

“Eek!”

“The cookies that are left over the most are the ones you made.”

The young lady pushed the cookies away, shaking her head.

“I didn’t make those.”

“Are you abandoning your cookies?”

“They’re not mine. Gross.”

“The cookies will be hurt.”

“They’re gross. If I eat that, I’ll get a stomachache.”

I smiled and urged her.

“We need to move a little faster today.”

“Huh? Where are we going?”

“Yes.”

I smiled softly and told the young lady.

“We’re going out to eat today.”

“Out to eat?”

“Yes.”

The young lady’s eyes widened. Perhaps the meat she had just eaten had already digested, as she looked at me with excitement, drooling slightly.

“Are we going to Friends of Forest?”

I answered vaguely.

“Something like that.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going with the owner of Friends of Forest.”

“Why with him?”

“He said a rival restaurant has opened.”

I gave her a satisfied smile.

“Oh, and the owner is treating us.”

“Really?”

The young lady erased her disappointed expression and nodded vigorously.

“That’s fine, then.”

As expected, she couldn’t resist anything free.

And so, we arrived.

In front of a restaurant with a sign that read ‘Youlam.’

End of Chapter