I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead
Chapter 134: A Romance Beyond Me?! Finally!

Chapter 134: A Romance Beyond Me?! Finally!

After countless relentless attempts to poke, prod, and generally be a delightful menace, the woman of steel, Clarina herself finally cracked.

Whether it was due to Verena’s finely honed skill in irritating people to death (an art she mastered as an HR manager), or simply because she was naturally infuriating, the outcome was the same.

Resistance was futile. People hated her for it. She bathed in their hatred like it was a morning spa soak.

Once classes ended, the two found themselves in the cafeteria, tea cups in hand, basking in a rare moment of calm.

"Come on, come on! Spill it already!" Verena leaned in, eyes glittering with scandal-hungry anticipation.

Clarina sighed like a woman who’d just lived through a war. "M’lady... fine. I’ll tell you. But only if you stop pestering me. Honestly, what’s so amusing about poking into people’s private affairs?"

"Um, the tea? The drama?" Verena grinned. "Look, Socrates would probably write a whole symposium just to drag me for this, but gossip is human nature. Let me enjoy it!"

***

Penelope was a disaster.

Not just in the average "oh-no-I-tripped-again" kind of way.

No, Penelope was a full-blown, sword-wielding, chaos-hurling natural disaster wrapped in the illusion of nobility and effort.

The training grounds were mercifully empty that morning, save for the usual chirping of birds and the occasional gust of wind until she arrived.

"Haah!" Penelope shouted, swinging her sword like she was fencing an invisible piñata.

Clarina stopped in her tracks at the sight.

She had come here for her usual morning routine: a private, meditative bout of swordplay to keep her senses sharp. But this was a blasphemy to the blade.

Penelope charged forward, blade raised awkwardly above her head, and nearly tripped on her own footwork before recovering with an inelegant spin that ended with her landing flat on her butt.

Clarina exhaled through her nose.

Gods.

She debated turning around, pretending she never saw any of this.

But something about the sheer offense to everything sacred in martial discipline glued her feet to the spot. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched her own sheathed sword.

Penelope, noticing the presence behind her, perked up and smiled brightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh! Clarina! Fancy seeing you here!"

"No," Clarina said flatly. "I live here."

"Right! Hehe... well, I’ve been trying to train a bit. You know, be more active. More... self-sufficient!" Penelope chirped, swinging her sword in a wobbly horizontal arc that would’ve gotten her disarmed in an actual duel. "Look! I even named her. Her name is Destiny!"

"That is not destiny," Clarina replied, her voice sharp. "That’s a butter knife in distress."

"Harsh," Penelope muttered, puffing her cheeks out. "But fair."

Clarina walked forward, her steps precise. "If you plan to wave that thing around like a toy, at least do so out of sight. There are children in the kingdom who will grow up misled."

Penelope winced. "Jeez, okay. It’s not like I’m trying to be a knight or anything..."

"You’re holding the blade with your thumb over the guard. That is a recipe for a broken hand."

"Well, maybe if someone offered to teach me—" Penelope shot a look her way.

Clarina narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"I’ll buy you tea for a week!"

A pause. Clarina grimaced. She did enjoy her rose-infused earl grey...

"Fine," she said, unsheathing her own blade with a smooth flourish. "But if you try to name my sword, I walk."

Penelope saluted, poorly. "Yes, ma’am!"

Clarina immediately took charge, adjusting Penelope’s grip, stance, posture, and breathing—only for the girl to forget it all within the span of two minutes.

"You’re not breathing," Clarina snapped.

"I am breathing! You just told me not to breathe so loud."

"I said not to pant like a pug in summer. Not to asphyxiate."

Penelope gave an exaggerated wheeze. "You’re scarier than all three of my instructors combined."

"That’s because I’m not paid to tolerate idiocy."

"You’re not paid at all."

"I volunteer out of bitterness."

Despite the biting tone, Clarina remained by her side, adjusting her form again and again, correcting every wild flourish, every poorly balanced stance.

Penelope, to her credit, kept trying. Sweating, stumbling, panting, but still swinging.

It was when Penelope miscalculated a swing and the tip of the blade sliced through the air toward Clarina’s arm that something snapped. Not the sword. It was Clarina’s patience.

She raised her arm instinctively, catching the edge with her sleeve as she sidestepped and disarmed Penelope in a single motion. The sword clattered to the ground with a dull metallic thud.

"Ow—wait—!" Penelope reached for Clarina, whose expression was unreadable.

A small cut bloomed across Clarina’s forearm, staining her pristine white sleeve.

"You—" Clarina began, lips tight.

"I didn’t mean to!" Penelope panicked, rushing toward her. "Oh my god, I—I’ll get a bandage! Or a healing salve—maybe one of those pink potions Verena hoards—"

"Stop."

Penelope froze.

Clarina examined the wound. It wasn’t deep. Nothing fatal or even serious.

But she sighed and sat down on the training bench, wrapping a handkerchief over the cut with practiced ease.

Penelope plopped down beside her, shoulders slumped. "I really messed up, huh..."

Clarina didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she glanced sideways, noting how Penelope’s usually bright energy dimmed into something soft and almost—genuine?

"You’re not suited for combat," Clarina said eventually, not unkindly. "But you are trying."

Penelope looked up at her, blinking.

"I’ve seen worse," Clarina added. "You still breathe."

"That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

Clarina arched a brow. "You have a low standard."

There was a quiet moment between them. The wind rustled the nearby leaves. The morning sun crept higher, casting soft golden light across the field.

"You’re kind of like a cool mentor who pretends not to care, but secretly does."

Clarina stared at her. "I will kill you."

"With what, your wounded arm?"

"Don’t tempt me."

But there was no venom in her voice, and Penelope clearly knew that.

"Seriously," Penelope said more softly this time, "Thanks for not just walking away."

"Don’t misunderstand. You’re an ongoing disaster, and I have a deep need to correct all forms of chaos."

Penelope beamed. "So... you care."

"I care about symmetry and form."

"And me!"

"...Regrettably."

A long pause passed.

"...So, Clarina," Penelope nudged her gently. "When you were smiling earlier... was that because of me?"

Clarina stiffened. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"Oh my god. It was me!"

"No, it was schadenfreude."

"You’re smiling right now!"

"Get out."

"But you’re blushing!"

"Out."

Penelope laughed as Clarina chased her out of the training grounds, wooden sword in hand this time for dramatic effect.

But even as she fled, a victorious glint danced in her eyes, and Clarina—well, Clarina was sure her day had been thrown off its axis.

Worse still, she didn’t mind.

The next afternoon, the courtyard was quieter, the buzz of students gone with classes now over.

Penelope was already there, twirling her sword with noticeably less reckless abandon.

Clarina arrived with her usual grace, sword in hand, and raised an eyebrow as she watched Penelope attempt a practiced stance. "Well, well, look who actually remembered what I taught her."

Penelope beamed, clearly proud. "I have been practicing! Don’t underestimate me."

"Oh, I’m not underestimating you. I’m just preparing for the inevitable chaos."

They stepped onto the practice ground, the quiet sounds of swords sliding from their sheaths breaking the silence.

Clarina moved first, demonstrating a clean series of strikes — each one crisp and purposeful.

Penelope watched closely, nodding as if committing every move to memory.

"Alright, your turn," Clarina said, stepping back to give Penelope space.

Penelope took a deep breath, adopting a stance that was actually solid this time.

She swung the sword forward, and it cut through the air smoothly — a marked improvement from the last time, when it had mostly sounded like a flailing broomstick.

"Hey, not bad," Clarina admitted, eyes scanning Penelope’s posture. "You’ve got better control. Your grip isn’t choking the sword anymore."

Penelope puffed out her chest. "Told you! I’m learning."

They continued like this for several minutes — Clarina offering pointers, Penelope trying her best to absorb every correction. Her footwork was still a bit clumsy, but it was definitely getting there.

"Just remember to pivot on your feet, not just drag them around," Clarina advised.

Penelope tried again, this time making an effort to swivel her stance with more fluidity. Her sword swung through the air in a better arc.

But then, as she tried a quick sidestep combined with a downward strike, her concentration faltered for just a split second.

Clarina moved in to demonstrate a counter, but Penelope’s blade clipped Clarina’s forearm unexpectedly.

"Ah!" Clarina gasped, pulling back her arm quickly.

The sword hadn’t cut deep, but the sudden contact sent a sharp jolt through her muscles.

"Oh no! I—I didn’t mean to! Are you okay?"

Clarina looked down at her arm, then back at Penelope. "I’m fine. Just surprised."

"I’m so sorry! I thought I had more control."

"Accidents happen. Part of training."

Penelope bit her lip, clearly mortified. "I feel like such a klutz."

"Hey," Clarina said gently, stepping closer and resting a hand on Penelope’s shoulder, "you’re getting better. It’s okay to mess up sometimes. The important thing is you learn from it."

For some reason, Penelope was startled seeing that gentle side of the usually stern woman.

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