So welcome to volume 2 of The Villainous Noble Woman’s Slow Prison Life Began With Her Broken Engagement. I feel the need to say the story’s full name to remind people that the nickname I gave it because of my laziness isn’t what it’s actually called. Two things to note real quick here. The first is another thanks to Amarrez for providing the images for volume 2. Getting those off of bookwalker is way more work than it should be. I already posted the beginning images if you haven’t taken a look. The second thing is a quick correction about the character Bolanski. Apparently his name in roman characters is Wolanski, but the W still makes the B sound. Curse my ignorance of Polish names. Although I feel that me getting his name wrong all this time is somehow poetic. Not sure why though. Have a nice day everyone. BTW, sorry this one took so long. A friend of mine is getting married, and his bachelor party was this week.
Noblewoman Holds a Session Underground
“Is there something or isn’t there!?”
Today as always Prince Elliott’s anger refused to die down.
His former fiancee had tentatively taken over the dungeon, and she has been performing insane deeds inside ever since. The Prince decided that something had to be done about this, and his mind hasn’t been able to calm itself ever since.
……….Originally all he had wanted was for that noblewoman to beg for her life, but in time he started to think, “It’s only of that level.” His goal continued to move back……..and eventually, he started pretending to not notice things and ignoring anything he deemed to only be an inconvenience.
Living for the moment. That was Elliott.
But then the other day, the Duke’s son George Ferguson, a staff officer in Elliott’s entourage, submitted his withdrawal saying the reason was because it just couldn’t be helped.
His fiancee had returned home from her inspection tour and started beating his ass, forcing him to focus on his successor education. Day after day, morning til night, his bride-to-be drilled that successor education into his head.
Seeing his completely worn-out figure, Elliott and the rest couldn’t hold back their tears.
That was how it was…….but, however.
That fiancee is a longtime friend of Rachel Ferguson, and there were suspicions that she may have been hired as an assassin to deal with George. Using your friend who your target can’t lift his head up to, that woman is using a really dirty trick!
For the sake of world peace and his future with Margaret, Elliott’s drive to leave Rachel speechless had been renewed.
Although he says that.
He always makes the first move, and he has never come out ahead. During a meeting held with his closest associates, no good ideas ever came out, and any idea they did have had already been beaten by Rachel long ago.
As each man groaned out their confirmations, Margaret came by and poured them some tea.
“Everyone, here you go~”
The men swarmed around ‘their angel’ as she poured them their tea before Margaret picked up the paper marking down the meeting’s proceedings.
“Elliott, have you come up with some good ideas?”
“Ah, nobody suggested anything even remotely like that…….no matter what hand we play, she’ll always counter it…….”
The Prince was accepting his defeat before even trying.
Margaret glanced through the attack plans and list of opponents, drawing a line between the two.
“Elliott. Even if you don’t try anything new, what if you were to take something Rachel had done, improve it, and sent it back at her? That is the limit of Rachel’s imagination right? So if you were to improve it and send it back, wouldn’t there be nothing she could do?”
With Margaret’s simple suggestion, Elliott hit his hand.
The Prince, he is quite slow on the uptake.
And so while revealing a rather unfortunate trait as a future policy maker, Elliott and his cronies began happily discussing their plans.
Having lazily wasted another day away, Rachel gradually began making her bed in preparation to go to sleep.
Right when she was wondering if she should spill a little lavender on her pillow, the sound of the dungeon door opening echoed down, and the clunk of a great many footsteps making their way down the stairs resounded. She didn’t need to hear them say anything for her to know it was the Prince.
“My, how rare for such a time.”
“Hahahah, we’ve come to disturb you Rachel!”¹
“How nice of you to visit.”
It was already night yet Elliott was being strangely energetic, a fact that made Rachel tilt her head curiously.
No, perhaps he is so high energy because whatever he is thinking has gone to his head…….but then why did he have something like a violin? No, it was a violin.
And then behind him was Sykes carrying in two barrels.
Further behind him was Margaret with a large pot.
There was also a guy whose name Rachel couldn’t remember, and he was carrying a basket full of empty cans.
And finally there was the Prison Guard who was carrying a triangle while making a fed up face.
Rachel put her hand to her forehead.
“As you could guess, I have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Mwahahahahaha! What do you think Rachel? Take a guess!”
“……..are you collecting garbage?”
“Is that what the Prince’s job is?”
“Even if we weren’t in a dungeon where the sun doesn’t shine, that still wouldn’t be what the Prince’s job is.”
The odd crew started arranging the junk they had in the front room of the dungeon.
It wasn’t until she saw how they were placing their garbage that Rachel understood their intentions. The pots were being arranged to create a makeshift drum set.
“I see……….you’re going to give me a lullaby.”
Elliott gave off a triumphant air as the corners of his mouth lifted up, and as he held up his violin, he made an announcement to Rachel in an unnatural tone.
“We had a little ensemble practice tonight, but we couldn’t find a place where the noise wouldn’t travel. But then we thought if it was a dungeon, then it would be fine if it were to get a little loud. We’re playing because of our own selfishness though, so feel free to sleep instead.”
And then, with a face that screamed, “I did it!” he continued.
“Ah, but of course there’s no problem if you want to listen to us you know? I’d be more than happy to hear what you think of us later.”
In the end, each member made a big show of putting in ear plugs right before getting their instruments(?) ready.
Elliott’s violin made a high-pitched screech like opening an iron door that had rusted to the wall after not being used for a hundred years.
Sykes was forcefully showering his barrel with blows, mostly making an idiotic thunderous roar as Margaret sat beside him, creating a high pitched ringing as her steel stick bounced off of the steel-lined pots.
The guy who during the preparation stage declared his name was Wolanski was creating a loud cacophony brandishing his empty cans all tied together with string, and finally the Prison Guard was hitting his triangle at odd intervals with a far-off look in his eyes.
The dungeon reverberated with the echoes of chaos. Each of them were just making their own disruptive noises, and even with the earplugs it made a noise that hurt your eardrums.
“This, it’s surprisingly fun!”
“Um, do I really need to be here……….”
Regrettably the Prison Guard’s mutterings were unable to reach anyone’s ears as the dungeon was just too loud.
Rachel meanwhile had put in the earplugs she used when napping before quietly sitting down in her chair and listening.
Although she hadn’t yet said anything nor gone to the edge of anxiety, the fact that she had responded so quickly brightened Elliott’s mood even further.
“Let’s keep going!”
“Um……… My shift’s already over, and I’d really like to go hom…….”
“Hahaha, we’re going all night tonight!”
There was just one thing that Elliott failed to take into account
If you are going to try and nonsensically beat something around, when a person has been repeatedly doing that after a long time………eventually you’ll pick up a rhythm.
Even if you intend to only create a bunch of loud noises that mean nothing, if you continue to do that, eventually before you realize it, a steady beat will be born.
Gradually. And so, a melody slowly grew from the chaos.
Rachel, who had been sitting there with her eyes closed until now, suddenly stood up.
She started rummaging through her mountain of crates, coming back with a trumpet in hand. A night some time ago, when Elliott was roused out of bed with a piercing scream by the gentle timbre………it was that trumpet.
The girl put her instrument to her lips, pointing it towards the moon as she had done that night. She closed her eyes as if she were about to sleep, and after a deep breath, filling her lungs with air, she breathed into her brass instrument.
……..That underground room filled with a wonderful noise that ran across your back and seeped into your bones.
At that time, history moved.
Of those gathered there, Rachel was probably the only one with any real knowledge on music.
By her joining in on the war, some direction was born between the instruments(?) and their hubbub.
With the previously born melody used as a base, the rhythm that had been born in each performance(?) flowed together into a single stream. The violin’s melody changed in order to match with Rachel’s trumpet. The rhythm of the pot drums became more constant.
By the time you noticed, the six’s instruments(?) had completely joined together, making a delicate ensemble with no overlap. Somehow it came to be that any dissonance found in the ensemble was irritating.
Although they had done nothing but try and make unpleasant noise until now, everybody had begun listening to the rhythm, paying attention to what everyone else was doing to match up their sounds.
“………Ku, even though I’m supposed to be center-stage! If it’s like this then Rachel will look like the star!”
Elliott moved away from the noise of a cat scratching glass and frantically began playing his violin the best that he could. He couldn’t have Rachel steal away the leadership of the band just by having herself jump in like this.
The Prince who had completely forgotten the original reason why he was doing this tried challenging the trumpet to take over the main melody.
The violent shouts of Rachel’s trumpet was overflowing with spirit.
Elliott’s violin resounded with his red-hot feelings as the noise from Sykes carefreely striking his barrel set the beat.
Margaret was enchanting as she filled a splendiferous interlude with a drum solo using her crowd of pans. Wolanski had gotten drunk on himself and continued shaking around his bundle of empty cans.
And finally, you had the indifferent strikes of a triangle from the Prison Guard who has wanted to go home since earlier.
It was perfection.
A perfect session.
Each person’s strong feelings collided, somehow making one powerful timbre while colliding off of each other.
There was no score. No tune for reference. This improvised melody washed over its six musicians, amplified by their emotions, and a brand new song had been born.
There was no audience to be charmed by its beauty, nor anyone to catalogue the score for future use. However, the spirit of this moment is something that would live on.
Five people entrusted themselves to this song they would never again hear in their lives.
Although the Prison Guard wished he had gone home earlier.
And then, at the climax when their minds had reached the peak of their enthusiasm,
“Shut up! Right now, what time do you think it is!?”
a court lady burst in yelling at the top of her lungs.
“Shape up Your Highness! It’s fine to want to play a little, but you’re no longer a child! There are many other people living inside the castle, do you understand that!?”
Elliott’s eyes were darting about as the court lady swiped away his violin.
“N, no, I was……….”
“Yes! ……….I, I didn’t mean……”
“Do you think it’s funny grabbing all this junk together, lining up, and pretending to be a band in the middle of the night!?”
Sykes tried to chime in from the side.
“B, but Madame. His Highness was, for Rachel…….”
He was trying to voice his objections.
But the court lady cut him off with a sigh and a firm nod.
“Yes, that too! Even if you were to think that the noise wouldn’t be able travel far outside the dungeon, did you spare even a thought for how you would inconvenience Ms. Ferguson who is trapped here? Look, the poor girl has her blanket covering her head…….”
At her words, everyone turned back around to find that Rachel, who should have been playing her trumpet since earlier, was now curled up in bed underneath a blanket.
“Oh, first being trapped in such an awful place and now being harassed like this, how pitiable……….”
“No no, wait! Until just a moment ago, Rachel was”
The Prince tried making an excuse, but Rachel’s appeal with tears in her eyes shut him down.
“Madame……*sniffle*…………I wanted to get some sleep, but then His Highness and them broke in………”
“Y, bastard! How sneaky can you be pretending you were the only one not involved!?”
“Weeeeeeeell!? Your Highness! Do you not think that Ms. Ferguson being forced to deal with these annoyances in the middle of the night is too pitiful!?”
“No but, when the music picked up this woman……..”
“How can those words be coming out of your mouth when you see her like this!? Come on up, it’s time for a sermon!”
“It’s true, ask them!”
“Eh? Us too?”
“Me too!? Why!? I want to go home already!”
With the exception of Rachel, the entire impromptu band was all taken away and forced to take part in the court lady’s sermon until dawn had finally broken.
Meanwhile inside the dungeon where it seemed as if all the noise from before had just been a lie.
Rachel was shaking her head while prepping her pillow, and quietly turned out the light.
1. So the word Elliott uses here is ‘邪魔する’ which can mean both disturb and visit. Elliott means disturb, but Rachel is taking it as visit.