Chapter 44 | How to Not Get Executed as an Otome Game Villainess

Time flew by.

In the afternoon, the student council was at work.

The Student Council President, Leonhart von Edelstein, sat at the head of the long table.

He held a list in his hand.

It was the newly drafted list of the incoming first-year students.

Historically, the student council used an invitation system to recruit suitable members. This year, there were twenty-seven recruits in total—a highly selective number considering there were over six hundred students across the Swordsmanship, Magic, and Comprehensive Departments.

The invited students were divided into two categories.

The first consisted of core members groomed to eventually succeed the Student Council President, Vice President, and Secretary. Since the student council underwent a transition of power every year, new faces were needed to fill the vacant positions, necessitating early training.

The second category consisted of officers trained to assist with specific, day-to-day operations.

The student council's responsibilities were numerous—club approvals, event planning, disciplinary patrols, and logistical coordination. These tasks did not require the personal involvement of the President or Vice Presidents; instead, they were handled by the officers.

It was akin to the relationship between politicians and civil servants.

As Leonhart was reviewing the list, there was a knock on the door.

It was neither too loud nor too soft, perfectly adhering to proper etiquette.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

Loris von Aldheim walked in.

She wore the deep blue uniform of the Magic Department, the silver trim at her collar buttoned up neatly. Her pale golden spiral twin-tails hung past her shoulder blades, swaying gently with each step.

Her emerald-green eyes swept across the office's furnishings—the bookshelves, the long table, the academy crest on the wall, the potted plant on the windowsill—before finally resting on Leonhart.

My fiancée... huh.

“President,” her voice was neither too loud nor too soft. “You wished to see me.”

Leonhart nodded and gestured for her to take a seat, his eyes reflecting a perfectly measured, subtle warmth.

“Have a seat first, Loris. There is no need to be so formal.”

Loris remained silent for a moment before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Her hands were placed neatly on her lap, her posture absolutely flawless—anyone who saw her would marvel that she was indeed the meticulously raised eldest daughter of the Aldheim family.

But everyone had two sides.

Just as cruel as the contrast between past arrogance and present deference.

Leonhart pushed the list to the center of the table, lightly tapping his finger on the paper.

“This is the final list of first-years joining the student council this year,” he said. “Twenty-seven in total.”

A string of names was written in elegant calligraphy on the list. Scanning from top to bottom, one could see:

First-Year Student Council Members List.

Core Members (4):

・Loris von Aldheim (Assistant Vice President)

・Isabel von Mecklinger (Assistant Secretary)

・Liliana (Assistant Vice President)

・Waldenburg Edmond (Assistant Disciplinary Committee Chair)

Officers (23):

A long list of names followed. Loris scanned them, her brow furrowing slightly as she recognized a few, though Leonhart paid no attention.

After a brief silence.

“Starting next week, you will officially begin participating in the student council's work. If you feel it interferes with your studies or if you are unwilling, you may submit a withdrawal application now,” Leonhart explained patiently. However, he was confident Loris would join.

In truth, she had no other choice.

...

I am Loris, currently sitting in the student council office, facing the second difficult choice of my life.

Having finally finished a grueling day of classes, perhaps the incident that had just concluded could be explained away with: ‘A dominant life needs no explanation!’

Anyway, sigh.

Sunlight streamed diagonally through the arched window panes, carving alternating patterns of light and shadow across the dark brown table.

The air smelled of old books and parchment, mingled with the faint scent of ink and wooden furniture—the kind of atmosphere that belonged to a "serious setting."

Leonhart von Edelstein sat at the head of the table—directly opposite me. A few documents lay open in front of him, two stacks of parchment were piled on his right, and a cup of cold black tea sat on his left.

He wore the white uniform of the Swordsmanship Department, his golden hair gleaming softly in the afternoon light. Lifting his ice-blue eyes from the documents, he looked at me, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a faint smile.

I stared at the list, my expression completely unchanged, but inside, I was already feeling the overwhelming pressure.

Liliana. Waldenburg. Isabel.

Although I knew this scene would happen, where the three of us join the student council to play out a story of friendship and harmony, the things that happened just a short while ago make this incredibly awkward, don't they?

As for who that Isabel at the end is?

She's the sickly girl from the entrance exam.

In the original game, she is another "special existence" in the first-year Magic Department. As a trade-off for her exceptionally high mana capacity, she has been frail and sickly since childhood and barely ever attended school. This is her family's mission and curse—she cannot live past the age of twenty-five. It sounds tragic, but in reality, she still gets seven more years than my eighteen.

In short, this kind of "sickly genius" archetype in otome games usually serves only one purpose—to become the heroine's best friend, rival, or a catalyst for some emotional entanglement.

And in the original story, her relationship with Liliana is quite good. If there were a girls' love route, it would definitely be between the two of them.

My lip twitched slightly, but I quickly brought it under control.

“Is something wrong?” Leonhart's voice drifted over from across the table.

“Nothing,” I looked up, my expression calm. “I have finished reviewing the list. There are no issues.”

“That is good,” Leonhart nodded. “The four of you are the core members for the first years. The other officers will assist you in handling specific matters.”

He paused, picking up the cold black tea to take a sip. His movements were so elegant he looked like he was posing for a royal promotional painting.

“As for your position, you should have seen it: Assistant Vice President. Simply put, you will assist the Vice President with daily affairs while coordinating the first-year executive officers.”

“You should know that the student council transitions every other year. An assistant is trained as a successor to the position. The President is not included here because that role is chosen from the two Vice Presidents, while the Treasurer is selected from the officers... I suppose this is still a bit far off for you, since it won't happen until a year from now.”

“Although Isabel and Waldenburg are core members, their direction of work will be coordinated by you and Liliana.”

After listening to his headache-inducing speech, I nodded slightly, pretending to pay close attention.

“Speaking of which,” Leonhart's tone was leisurely, as if he were casually chatting about today's weather. “There have been quite a few rumors about you around the academy lately.”

Damn it, I swore in my heart.

“What does Your Highness refer to?” I maintained a blank expression.

“Regarding what you did... in front of the Magic Department building.” He chose his words carefully, as if selecting terms that wouldn't cause discomfort. “Of course, since I did not witness the details myself, it is not my place to jump to conclusions.”

“But since the student council is about to begin its work... as the President, I have a duty to remind you—”

He looked at me with a calm gaze, free of blame.

Nor did it hold any bias.

He was like a mirror, reflecting only the reality itself.

“—Watch your influence, and do not excessively suppress others.”

If injustice could summon snow, it would be a blizzard right now, akin to the grievance of Dou E.

“Your Highness is correct. I will be mindful.”

The corner of my mouth twitched imperceptibly.

After a few more minutes of loaded small talk, he mentioned we would have a meeting in a few days, and I was finally allowed to take my leave.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob,

Leonhart's voice came from behind me.

“Miss Loris.”

I paused. Though reluctant, I didn't let it show and didn't turn back.

“Yes?”

“...Nothing,” Leonhart's voice came from behind, carrying a trace of faint, unreadable hesitation. “Take care on your way.”

?...

Is he setting some kind of trap for me?

After a moment of silence, my mind a tangle of mixed emotions, I opened the door and walked out. The oak door clicked shut behind me with a dull thud.

A draft swept through the corridor, carrying the scent of stone slabs warmed by the afternoon sun. My pale golden twin-tails swayed gently against my back as I gradually vanished into the shadows at the end of the hallway.

...

Inside the office.

Leonhart sat at the head of the table, staring at the closed door in silence for a long time.

Lowering his head, he picked up the list once more.

Liliana (Assistant Vice President)

Waldenburg Edmond (Assistant Disciplinary Committee Chair)

Isabel von Mecklinger (Assistant Secretary)

Loris von Aldheim (Assistant Vice President)

His gaze fell on Waldenburg. He recalled a certain version of the rumors—one claiming that Loris had a new object of affection and had made a fool of herself out of jealousy. Although the credibility of this rumor was extremely low, as the Crown Prince, Leonhart rubbed his temples, feeling somewhat mentally exhausted.

Though there was no affection between them, the engagement had to be maintained. He hoped it wasn't like that... He recalled the way Loris had just looked at him.

Leonhart silently folded the list and placed it in a drawer.

He picked up the cold black tea and took another sip. The bitterness spread across his tongue. Everyone had their own life and worldview; this bitterness was not merely due to the idle gossip. He thought of the worst possible outcomes, mirroring the heavy heart he felt whenever he faced his father, the Emperor.

The power accumulated since his grandfather, Emperor Doresf, harnessing the legacy of six generations to wield supreme power over the realm, was all for the sake of revenge.

...The Aldheim family must be won over...

“Sigh.” “Sigh.”

A pair of misaligned sighs.

...

(Voiceover: That same evening, the southern outskirts of the Royal Capital Academy.

The training ground.

Coarse sand covered the ground, and flickering torchlight cast the elongated, shifting shadow of a black-haired swordsman.

Waldenburg stood in the center of the clearing.

He had taken off his shirt, wearing only a pair of dark gray training trousers. His short black hair was damp with sweat and clung to his forehead. His gaze had been quiet for so long that his face seemed frozen in a blank expression.

He held his longsword in his hand.

He was swinging his sword.

He had been swinging since dusk, his shoulders as heavy as lead and his fingers barely able to grip the hilt, yet he did not stop.

One strike.

Another.

And another.

Sword energy sliced through the magical training dummy in front of him, leaving over a dozen cuts in a matter of seconds. Yet, with a flash of magical light, the dummy restored itself to its original state, as if it were indestructible.

The silvery longsword sliced through the air, producing a low hum.

With every swing, a brilliant glow burst from the blade.

It would then fall upon the sandy ground, vanishing in an instant.

There was only one image in his mind.

It had been swirling in his head for a long time, like a thorn embedded in his flesh.

Perhaps for five seconds.

Perhaps for a century.

He did not know.

All he knew was that since then, he could see it when he closed his eyes, and he could see it when he opened them.

He saw it while swinging his sword.

He saw it while eating.

And he saw it while lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

His thoughts were blocked.

“...”

He suddenly stopped. His longsword hung at his side, the tip of the blade touching the sand, tracing a shallow groove.

He looked up at the night sky.

The clouds were thick, obscuring the moon. Only a few dim stars flickered through the gaps in the cloud cover.

He was not one to overthink.

Since childhood, his father had only taught him one thing—the sword does not lie.

Win or lose, the clash of blades was far more honest than the arguments of men. He was used to solving problems with his sword, expressing his emotions with his sword, and facing everything with his sword.

But now, he did not know who his sword should point to.

The golden-haired young lady of the Aldheim family?

Or... himself?

He did not care about the rumors circulating in the academy.

Whether it was version one, version two, or version three, he did not believe a single word.

He only believed what he saw—

And Liliana had not refused.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could not understand.

In the twelve years he had lived, this was the first time he had ever been interested in someone.

It wasn't because of how beautiful she was—though she certainly was—nor was it because of how high her mana capacity was—though it certainly was. It was because the way she looked at him was different from everyone else.

There was no admiration, no fear, and no calculation.

She just... looked at him normally.

Like looking at an ordinary person.

He thought that was some kind of beginning.

But before it could even start, it had been ended by that villainous daughter.

His thoughts were blocked.

Waldenburg thrust the iron sword into the sand, leaning on the hilt with one hand as he lowered his head. Sweat dripped from his chin, hitting the coarse sand and leaving dark, damp spots.

He suddenly recalled that evening by the fountain in the central plaza.

Standing beneath the colonnade, he had watched Liliana crouching among a flock of pigeons, holding breadcrumbs in her palm as the birds cooed and gathered around her feet. The setting sun had cast her long shadow, and her light pink hair glowed softly in the twilight.

He had placed the Continental Bird Illustrated Guide: Square Pigeons Edition on the stone ledge of the fountain, then turned and walked away.

He hadn't even left his name.

Because he felt it wasn't necessary.

If she wished to thank him, she would naturally do so the next time they met. If she didn't, that was fine too. He had simply done what he wanted to do, nothing more.

Thinking back now, perhaps he had been wrong from the very beginning.

“...This won't do.”

His voice was incredibly low, barely audible even to himself.

Pulling the iron sword from the sand, he held it horizontally before his eyes, using the moonlight to gaze at his own reflection on the blade.

In his dark gray eyes was an expression he had never seen before.

It was not anger.

It was not jealousy.

It was... a refusal to just accept this.

He hadn't even begun, so why did it have to end?

“...”

Sheathing the iron sword at his waist, he turned and walked toward the resting area.

As he passed the well, he drew a bucket of cold water and poured it over his head. The icy water ran down his back, sending goosebumps across his skin.

Finding a clean white shirt in the training locker room, he buttoned it up as he walked out.

He had made up his mind.

He would challenge the young lady of the Aldheim family to a duel, defeat her with his own swordsmanship, and set his troubled mind at peace.

This heavy burden had robbed his sword of its speed.

This was a flaw in his way of the sword.

...

Meanwhile, the person he intended to duel—the villainous daughter herself—was currently soaking in a warm bathtub in her room, enjoying a rare moment of peace.