I Will Become the Villain’s Poison Taster

Chapter 2

I rubbed my face in frustration and stared blankly at the dead assassin.

This couldn’t be a dream. There was no way something like this was a dream. As much as I wanted to escape reality, the visceral nature of this situation was impossible to ignore. From this unfamiliar physique to the color of my hair, which fell to my chest—this was all undeniably real.

“This is madness. Why Giselle, of all people?” I muttered aloud.

Even when I read the novel, I thought Giselle had made quite a few enemies. But now, experiencing it firsthand, it was clear. The original Giselle hadn’t just made a few enemies. She had made everyone in the entire world her foe.

As a result, this was the fifth assassin sent to my cell. On top of that, every single poison they had brought so far was of a completely different variety.

“Excuse me! Guard! Guard!”

I shouted as usual, and the soldiers came rushing in. They seemed just as exasperated by the endless assassination attempts as I was. At this point, they didn’t even flinch. Instead, one of them sighed.

“Can’t they just hurry up and execute the wicked witch already?”

“Why are you blaming me for these people coming here and poisoning themselves?” I asked.

“You’re completely deranged.”

The guard didn’t bother responding properly. He had long since decided I was a madwoman.

Hence, I no longer felt the need to desperately plead my innocence. Instead, I muttered complaints under my breath. Not so much appeals for freedom—just a stream of grievances meant for my ears only.

Being locked in solitary confinement all day meant the only people I could talk to were assassins and guards. If I didn’t talk now, I’d go even longer with nothing but silence.

Fine. Becoming the villainess, I could accept. But at the very least, shouldn’t I be given a chance to fix things? Why throw me into the body of a villainess who was already on death row? And to top it all off, why was I made immune to poison too? I didn’t want to die, sure—but the idea of being hanged was more terrifying! It was just inhumane!

“Excuse me. How much longer am I going to be stuck here?”

While I was already thinking about it, I decided to ask about my execution date. The guard shot me an annoyed glare but eventually answered in a tired tone.

“They’ll set a date soon enough.”

“Is that really necessary?”

He stared at me in disbelief for a moment before turning around without another word.

“So coldhearted...”

Muttering gloomily to myself, I slumped down onto the floor. I was left abandoned in the darkness once more, and I forced myself to sleep until the next assassin showed up. It was the only way to avoid going mad.

Lying on the cold prison floor, my body ached. Oddly enough, I wasn’t as hungry as I’d thought I’d be. They gave me food that was barely edible which I could barely stomach more than a few bites of. Yet, I didn’t feel the pangs of hunger.

Was it because of all the poison I’d ingested? If so, that was a rather pitiful thought.

“Surviving on poison. What a tragic existence.”

Surely, no prisoner was as wretched as—

“Pfft.”

The sound of someone stifling a laugh echoed in the silent prison.

Startled, I quickly lifted my head and scanned my surroundings. But everything was quiet again, as if the sound had been a figment of my imagination. I strained my ears, but there were no telltale signs of breathing or movement.

Had I heard wrong?

“Am I starting to hallucinate from mixing the poisons?”

This was why you weren’t supposed to mix substances.

“Pfft...”

There it was again. It was a faint chuckle! It was undeniable now—the laugh I’d just heard was the kind that burst out despite one’s best efforts to stifle it!

“Hey. It’s a little late to be hiding now. Why don’t you just come out?”

“Well, darn,” the mouth muttered, thick with amusement. Where was it coming from?

I squinted, peering through the bars of my cell, but I couldn’t see anything. The dim torches scattered here and there left large patches of the prison shrouded in darkness. My eyes stung as I strained to search the shadows.

“Hello? Are you an assassin, by chance?”

“Pft. And if I am?”

The voice, barely composed after laughter, answered my question as calmly and steadily as possible. I still couldn’t pinpoint its location.

Up until now, the assassins had always shown up with several hours between them, making me think they had some sort of waiting system in place. I hadn’t expected one to appear so soon.

I gave up on trying to find him for the moment, staring blankly into the empty space outside my cell. If nothing else, he’d eventually have to show himself to give me the poison.

“Look, I just drank a poison. I need some time to digest it. Can you wait your turn?”

“Hahaha!”

The assassin didn’t even try to hold back his laughter this time. Oddly enough, despite how loud and blatant it was, no guards came rushing in. I couldn’t tell where the laughter was coming from either.

Don’t tell me the poison’s messing with my hearing now.

Worried, I fiddled with my earlobes, hoping it was nothing serious. Suddenly, a small bottle dropped out of nowhere, landing neatly in front of me. It was pitch black, the kind of bottle you’d lose forever if you lost it in the shadows.

I picked it up with both hands, and the assassin, still sounding amused, said, “This one’s a smaller dose. It’ll be fine.”

No, I wasn’t fine with it!

“Go on, drink it.”

Even though I couldn’t see his face, his tone made him sound like someone trying to feed their pet, eager to see if the new kibble suited its taste.

I stared at the bottle with a sour expression before reluctantly opening it. Unlike the previous poisons, which had sweet scents, this one smelled sharp—somewhere between tangy and citrusy. Whatever it was, it didn’t smell appetizing.

“This doesn’t seem like it’ll taste good.”

“Are you scared you might actually die this time?”

“It’s not that. But if I don’t die, are you going to stab me?”

In the original story, Giselle Rozevin had died from poisoning, so I’d assumed every assassin sent my way would stick to the same method. But this one felt different from the others.

Something about him told me he wouldn’t hesitate to try something else if the poison didn’t work.

“I don’t use swords.”

“But you’re an assassin. You only brought a bottle of poison to kill me?”

“Usually, one bottle is more than enough. You’re the exception. But if you survive this too, maybe it’s just your fate.”

“Is this also a lethal dose that’ll take me to the afterlife with just one drop—”

“Stop stalling and drink it already.”

His voice was cheerful yet commanding. My relaxed heart tightened upon hearing it.

No matter how casual his tone was, he was still an assassin. The bottle in my hand was poison. Just because I hadn’t died from the previous ones didn’t mean I’d survive this one.

Right?

“Okay, fine. I’ll drink it. But can I ask you one thing first?”

“Hm?”

“If I survive this, can you just let me go since you can’t poison me anyway?’

“Let you go?”

“I mean, help me escape. I’m going to be executed if I stay here anyway. I promise I’ll live quietly, like a completely different person.”

Even if I survived this person, I couldn’t just sit here indefinitely, relying on poison from failed assassination attempts to keep me full. I couldn’t wait for the day they dragged me to the gallows, either.

Why I was in this situation could be figured out later. What mattered most was getting out of here.

The guards standing outside wouldn’t help, obviously, so the only one I could appeal to was this mysterious assassin.

“You think you can survive if you get out of here?”

His question, laced with amusement, left me speechless. Once I got out of here…

“You’ve already been labeled as a wicked witch across the entire empire. The moment anyone sees you, they’ll throw stones. Even if you manage to run, your wanted posters will be plastered everywhere. Your family’s been wiped out, and there’s no one left to help you. You’ll die a miserable death, stabbed in some back alley while wandering the streets. Whether you die here or out there, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”

To end up dying as a nameless person wandering in some back alley—it was a seamless yet bleak conclusion.

Forgetting my strategy to flatter and coax the assassin, I scowled fiercely.

So what? Since I was doomed to die a miserable death anyway, was I supposed to sit here, wait for my execution, and take some poison when I was bored in the meantime?

“You’re incredibly pessimistic, aren’t you? What’s the harm in thinking positively? It’s not like it costs you anything,” I complained.

“What?”

“Sure, this girl—uh, I—might’ve made a lot of enemies here and there, but come on, there’s bound to be some place for me, right? Where there are good people, there are bound to be bad ones, too! I’ll just find an evil boss to work for. Evil folks should help each other out, no?”

Whether any villain would actually hire me was a separate issue altogether.

To my relief, my argument about villainous camaraderie seemed to intrigue the assassin. His reply carried a distinct note of interest.

“Sounds like you’ve already got a specific villain in mind.”

“Yeah. A very wicked one.”

Of course, I didn’t have anyone in particular lined up. In this story, the only villain I knew of who was strong enough to ignore a wanted poster was one specific individual.

I clamped my lips shut in annoyance, but the assassin pressed me further.

“Tell me. If it’s interesting enough, I might just grant your little request.”

The assassin turned out to be easier to sway than I expected. His nonchalant agreement left me momentarily speechless.

“Well, uh... it’s not a done deal or anything. I’m still job hunting, you know?”

“I figured. You’ve been too busy chugging poison in this cell to finalize any contracts.”

Maybe I shouldn’t tell him after all.

I hesitated, irritated by his mocking tone.

But then again, if this conversation fell apart and I ended up facing the next assassin, there was no guarantee they’d entertain my proposal like this guy. Plus, the looming prospect of an imminent execution was a major concern.

I’d toyed with the idea that dying on the gallows might free me from this surreal nightmare, but the uncertainty was too terrifying.

But what was the name of that shadowy mastermind again? I racked my brain, the name dancing just out of reach.

“It’s someone you probably wouldn’t know. Uh, Wayne... something. Wayne... Ire... Ire-something?”

“Wayne Aiore?”

“Yes! That’s it! Wait, how do you know him?”

Weren’t shadowy masterminds supposed to be, well, shadowy? Did he know of him because they were in the same line of work?

“Coincidentally, yes.”