The timeline rewinds a few days.
It was late. Inside the Aldheim family's mansion, in the younger brother's room.
Silver moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a faint blue hue, full of melancholy and longing.
Eliot von Aldheim—the good younger brother of this story's villainous daughter—was sitting at his desk.
His back was perfectly straight, for his elder sister often said, “People with hunched backs look like good-for-nothings.” This was one of the hundreds of teachings Eliot held close to heart.
「To My Dearest Sister,」
He was writing his weekly letter.
「Are you enjoying your time at the academy?」
「I imagine you must be, as you are so exceptional, Sister, you shine wherever you go.」
It seemed everyone was like this; after a separation, all images were idealized in memory, flaws forgotten, merits remembered.
Although Eliot still remembered his sister's awful personality, there was no doubt that she was outstanding in appearance, physical ability, and talent.
She was a sister to be proud of, save for her slightly worrying figure, which had yet to fully develop.
「My physical training has increased significantly since last week, and my swordsmanship teacher has allowed me to practice some advanced techniques.」
「I've been training for an extra hour every day—running, push-ups, sit-ups, and swinging a wooden sword two hundred times. My teacher says I'm progressing very quickly.」
「However, he never scolds me.」
「So I don't know if he's being serious or just comforting me.」
Eliot hesitated when he wrote the word 'comforting'.
He recalled his sister Loris's way of comforting people—not with obvious, straightforward praise like 'it's okay' or 'you did great'.
Instead, when his sister saw something amiss, she would curse with a tight face, 'So stupid,' then personally teach him. Though he was scolded, he could clearly see his progress every time.
The quill pen scratched across the parchment.
In the empty room, the candlelight flickered faintly, casting Eliot's slender shadow on the wall.
「I shall conclude my letter here. I wish you good health and all the best, Sister.」
「Your loyal younger brother, Eliot von Aldheim.」
After finishing.
Eliot exhaled softly, returned the quill to the inkwell, picked up the parchment, and blew on the ink to dry it by the candlelight.
He placed the envelope on the corner of the desk. Tomorrow (which was Wednesday this week), he would have a messenger deliver it to the academy.
It would likely be delivered by Saturday afternoon (the day of the duel). Eliot eagerly anticipated what kind of expression his sister would have upon receiving this letter, and what kind of reply she would send.
He smiled with satisfaction.
...
The timeline returns to the present, Saturday afternoon.
In a first-year dormitory building at the Royal Grammar Academy.
“Oh, oh, oh, kill me...”
I'm Loris.
At this moment, I was wrapped in my blanket in an extremely undignified posture, wriggling around on the bed like a caterpillar.
No, not wriggling.
It was wailing.
Or, more precisely, it was「an unseemly shriek of anguish, entirely unfitting for the Eldest Daughter of a Duke's family, brought on by extreme embarrassment」
“Ugh ahhhh—!”
I buried my face in the pillow, letting out muffled wails as shame tortured my pride.
Ah. Ah. Ah.
I don't want to remember.
I don't want to remember what happened today.
I don't want to remember the battle in the training ground, or the severed iron sword, or Waldenburg kneeling on one knee and saying, “I lost.”
What I least wanted to remember was that scene afterward.
Liliana's face.
Though I appeared calm and composed, a textbook villainess, it was merely my survival instinct at play.
I wasn't calm at all. I wasn't the kind of person who would say those words, nor did I want to torment the other person at all!
In short, after it was all over, it was enough to make me want to bash my head against the ground in sheer mortification.
“Ehhh—!”
Curled into a ball under the blanket, I covered my face with my hands.
Rolling, back and forth.
I tried to pass it off as if nothing had happened.
But in reality, this was my true torment—like violently banging my head against the pillow, once, twice, as if to make the feathers fly out.
Although I'm a girl now, although I'm forced to maintain the persona of a villainess, although it was the prize for the duel, although it was an agreement, although Waldenburg would be even sadder if I didn't kiss him—although, although, although—
“...I don't want to live anymore.”
I buried my face in the pillow, letting out one last, weak wail.
A small patch of the pillow was already damp.
It wasn't tears; it was drool forced out by my face pressing against it. Anyone who's accustomed to afternoon naps would surely understand the feeling.
In short, my current state could be summarized in four words: utterly mortified.
…Well, it's already happened.
Even after wailing, I still had to face life.
There was no one else in the room at the moment, or I wouldn't have been so unconcerned with my image, nor would I have indulged in such a satisfying complaint.
I rolled over, lying on my back, and stared blankly at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.
Pale golden light streamed down from the chandelier, casting fragmented specks of light on the ceiling, like a sky full of stars.
The pillow had a faint scent of lavender, a fragrance Shirune sprayed when she changed the pillowcase every day, saying it was to help me sleep better. But I suspected she simply believed a Duke's Eldest Daughter shouldn't sleep on an unscented pillow.
“...Alright, Loris, that's enough.”
I told myself this, trying to hypnotize myself.
Just as I was self-hypnotizing,
a crack appeared in my mental defenses.
And then I broke.
“Fine, I really can't do it, ahhh!”
I started rolling again.
From the head of the bed to the foot, and back again, the blanket wrapped around me, indulging in a cathartic release of emotion.
My pale golden hair was scattered everywhere, some strands sticking to my face, tickling.
I slowly stopped, took a deep breath, focusing my qi in my dantian, pushed my hair aside, and then stared blankly at the ceiling.
Calm down.
Just calm down.
Think about something else.
Think about tomorrow...
Speaking of which, tomorrow afternoon there was the tea party with those young ladies—or rather, 'well-connected noble daughters.' They would bring exquisite refreshments and tea, gathering in the academy's pavilion or an outdoor garden, discussing topics fitting for noble young ladies, and spend Sunday together.
Such as newly released perfumes, which young lord was handsome, or the latest academy gossip.
—Speaking of gossip, I'm probably the very embodiment of it now.
Of course, the matter was already over, and they wouldn't mention it in front of me, but just thinking about it, I buried my face heavily into the pillow once more.
Life was unexpectedly busy.
“...Can I not go to the tea party?”
The moment this thought surfaced, I rejected it myself.
I couldn't.
Because I had already declined two tea parties.
As the Eldest Daughter of the Aldheim family, my social obligations were troublesome and numerous. Even though I naturally disliked such things, what it meant to be an adult, to be mature, was to wear such masks, oh, the agony...
I sighed, sat up from beneath the blanket, and tucked my disheveled hair behind my ears.
Golden strands of hair slipped through my fingers.
Just then, I heard a knock at the door.
“My Lady.”
It was Shirune's voice.
“What is it?”
I took a deep breath to collect myself, trying to make my voice sound normal—not too hoarse, not too tired, not too much like someone who had just rolled around in bed a dozen times.
“A letter from Young Master Eliot.”
What, little brother... again?
Shirune's voice held a subtle hint of admiration.
I was silent for three seconds.
“Bring it in.”
The door was pushed open a crack, and Shirune stepped in sideways.
“Place it on the table,” I said.
Shirune nodded, placed the letter on the small round table beside the bed, then stepped back two paces and stood by the door, her hands at her sides, as if awaiting her next command.
Her expression was calm.
Very calm.
“...Shirune.” Wait, I suddenly realized something.
“Yes,” she said.
“You today...”
I paused, suddenly unsure how to ask.
“What would you like to say, My Lady?” Shirune tilted her head slightly, her silver-white hair sliding from her shoulder, glinting with a cold luster in the light.
“...Never mind, it's nothing.”
I pretended to be calm, shaking my head, then stood up and reached for the letter.
I no longer thought about the strange annoyance from earlier.
I looked at it.
A pale blue envelope, consistent with my younger brother's usual style. The wax seal was carefully applied, without a single excess drop, indicating his attentiveness while sealing it.
Lately, I'd felt he had indeed grown up a little.
Separation makes one mature, I suppose.
I used a letter opener to slice open the seal and pulled out the letter.
...
「To My Dearest Sister— 」
「Are you enjoying your time at the academy?」
「I imagine you must be, as you are so exceptional, Sister, you shine wherever you go.」
I: “...”
Suddenly, I had no desire to read further, even feeling a bit indignant. Was this guy trying to get revenge for past bullying...? Okay, just kidding, how could he possibly know what was happening here at the academy?
If he knew, his mouth would probably be wide enough to swallow an egg.
Nevertheless, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was kicking me when I was down.
Sigh!
With renewed patience, I read a few more lines.
「Although your personality is a bit awful, Sister, your looks and grades are very impressive—the most impressive in my eyes. I think you have the capital to be awful, so any potential gossip...」
“...”
I, who had originally intended to forgive him, silently put the letter back and decided to write to him, telling him we'd only contact each other once a month from now on. Otherwise, I would truly shed tears.
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