“Dear Sister,” a voice came from my side.
Eliot had walked over at some point, still holding his glass of juice. He stood about a meter away from me—not too close, but not too far. It was the perfect distance to avoid being scolded with a “Why are you standing so close?”
His gaze drifted to the side, not daring to look at me.
“What is it?”
“Um,” he paused. “Happy birthday.”
His voice was very quiet, as if he were afraid of being overheard.
“...”
“...”
“...Thank you.” What else could I say?
Even the worst older sister couldn't lose her temper over something like this, so the will of the world didn't interfere with my thanks.
Eliot's eyelashes fluttered. He quickly glanced up at me, then lowered his gaze again, looking immensely relieved.
It seemed he had to mentally prepare himself just to wish me a happy birthday.
“Um, Dear Sister,” he said, his expression turning somber.
“Yes?”
“Is His Highness... good to you, Dear Sister?”
I froze. Did he notice something?
Wait, what kind of question was that? What was this nine-year-old little sprout worrying about?
“Why do you ask?”
“...Because,” his fingers tightened around the stem of his glass, “every time you finish talking to His Highness, Dear Sister, your expression becomes very strange.”
“...” Well, it was indeed strange. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest, and I still hadn't found a solution for it.
Sigh!
“It's just...” My little brother hesitated. “It's different from usual. Usually, when you scold me, Dear Sister, your eyes are bright (what the heck?). But after you talk to His Highness, your eyes... look exhausted.”
I fell silent. It was indeed exhausting. Even Superman would get tired if his heart raced like this every time.
Still, this kid usually seemed so spacey, but his observation skills weren't half bad. Should I nurture him a bit more? It was just a passing thought.
“His Highness treats me very well,” I said, waving my hand. “There is no need to worry.”
“But—”
He seemed to have more to say.
But I brushed it off, wanting a moment of peace to prepare myself for the rest of the birthday banquet.
Seeing this, he tactfully shut his mouth.
There was something in my little brother's eyes that I couldn't quite read. It wasn't fear, it wasn't caution, and it wasn't the usual “I'm about to get scolded” nervousness.
“Go play,” I said anyway. “Today is a banquet. You don't need to stand by my side the whole time.”
“...Yes.”
He lowered his head, turned, and walked away.
I watched him weave through the crowd, his silver head bobbing up and down amidst the gorgeous gowns and military dress uniforms, finally stopping at his original spot next to the marble pillar.
He didn't chat with his friends anymore. He just stood there alone, looking down at the juice in his hand.
A melancholy youth?
That was indeed very melancholy.
Melancholy worthy of debuting as the center of a popular boy band.
“—Miss Loris!”
Ah, someone else was coming.
A voice came from behind me, and I politely turned around.
A girl in a pastel green gown walked over quickly, her hem tracing a fine arc across the floor.
Her light brown hair was tied in a simple bun, with a few stray strands framing her ears.
She wasn't strikingly beautiful, but she was quite delicate and pretty.
Her eyes were bright and sparkling.
Misha Noren, the third daughter of a viscount family.
She was the girl I had rescued from a few noble ladies at the autumn banquet half a year ago, and also my best tool to exploit in the original game's plot.
“Miss Noren,” I nodded first.
“Miss Loris, happy birthday!” She ran up to me, pulled a small box out of her little handbag, and presented it with both hands. “Th-this is the gift I prepared... It's nothing expensive, but I made it myself... I hope you like it...”
I feigned surprise as I took the box and opened it.
Inside was a hand-woven cord bracelet, with deep blue and silver-white threads interwoven into a fishtail braid pattern.
It was woven very meticulously.
The tension of every strand was consistent, and the end was tied with a tiny knot, securing a small silver bell.
“I-I heard you've been practicing horsemanship lately, Miss Loris, so I wove a bracelet you can wear while riding... The bell has a lovely sound, and it's very quiet, so it won't startle the horse...”
Misha's voice grew softer and softer. Her nervous demeanor was quite cute, resembling those shy, insecure schoolgirls who constantly twiddled their fingers in front of their skirts.
“Um, if you don't like it, that's totally fine! I know such a cheap thing is unworthy of you, Miss Loris—”
“It is very beautiful.”
I interrupted her with a genuine smile.
Misha looked up, her eyes wide.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I took the bracelet out of the box and elegantly slipped it onto my left wrist.
The deep blue and silver-white threads overlapped, shimmering softly under the lights. The bell swayed slightly, letting out a tiny, crisp chime.
“Thank you. I like it very much,” I said.
Misha's eyes welled with tears. She bit her lip hard, as if trying desperately to hold back her emotions, and then bowed deeply.
“N-no, I should be the one thanking you! Thank you, Miss Loris! To be invited to your birthday banquet today, I am truly, truly happy—”
“That's enough,” I reached out and gently patted her head. “What is with all this crying all the time?”
“Yes...”
She nodded shyly, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
I looked down at the bracelet on my wrist—deep blue and silver-white. The Aldheim family crest was a silver-white wolf, and deep blue was our family's representative color.
To weave this bracelet, she must have done a lot of research and asked her parents. Come to think of it, this might have been her parents' idea too, but regardless, it was her genuine sentiment. She had chosen the most fitting colors and probably woven countless attempts before producing this perfect one.
“Miss Noren.”
“Y-yes!”
“Come to the manor to have tea with me every Wednesday afternoon from now on.”
I decided to expand my social circle—even though my life was currently hanging by a thread, I still needed to keep pushing for changes in the plotline.
Hearing this, she froze.
Then, those light brown eyes lit up bit by bit, filled with the shy, ecstatic joy of someone who had just been proposed to.
Hey, hey, there's no need to go that far.
“I-is that really okay? Am I really allowed to—”
“If I say it's okay, it's okay,” I flicked the bell on the bracelet. “But let me warn you beforehand. If you get close to me, people will gossip. Be prepared for that.”
Perhaps because today was my birthday banquet, and because she was already destined to be very close to me in the original plot, this attitude didn't trigger any punishment.
She could be considered the second person I could actually talk to, after Shirune.
“I-I don't mind at all!”
“...Good,” I said. “See you on Wednesday then.”
“Yes! Thank you, Miss Loris!”
She bowed once more, then clutched her little handbag like it was the most precious treasure in the world, stumbling away in a frantic, deer-like run. I watched her figure disappear into the crowd.
Having nothing else to do, I flicked the bell on my wrist again. Ding. It was a very tiny sound.
It was almost inaudible amidst the noise of the banquet hall.
This was the first time I had ever received a gift from a girl. My feelings were truly complicated... but I was quite happy.
“Miss,” Shirune's voice came from behind me.
“Yes?”
“You smiled.”
“...” Oh, right, right, right, I'm a villainess. Thanks for the reminder. How could I show such a gentle smile?
Her tail swished gently.
I cleared my throat and ignored her.
Halfway through the banquet, it was time to cut the cake. It was a three-tiered white cream cake, with eleven slender silver candles on the top tier.
The candlelight flickered under the lamps, looking like eleven tiny stars.
I stood in front of the cake, slowly clasping my hands together.
Make a wish?
Ah, God, please let me go back.
No response.
So I might as well just mutter something and let nature take its course.
I hope I can survive past the plot point at age eighteen.
When I opened my eyes, a nameless breeze swept through my hair and blew out the candles. Applause erupted.
I smiled and nodded to everyone, then picked up the silver cake knife and elegantly made the first cut along the edge.
“Miss Loris.”
Leonhart's voice came from the side. He had already walked up to me, holding a glass of champagne—no, it was juice in his glass, since he wasn't of drinking age yet either.
His ice-blue eyes looked at me, his lips curled in that standard, gentle smile.
“Your Highness.”
“The cake looks delicious. Would you mind cutting a slice for me?”
“...Of course.” Bro, give me a break.
Helplessly, I cut a slice of cake and placed it on a small silver plate.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
He walked away with the cake. This was purely a performance for the onlookers; he didn't say another word.
I'll give you credit, bro, you've got good situational awareness.
As the banquet drew to a close.
I went out to the terrace to get some fresh air. The night breeze was cool against my face, dispersing some of the scent of perfume and alcohol from the banquet hall.
Below the terrace was the garden, where moonlight fell upon the rosebushes, dyeing the red petals silver.
I leaned against the railing, looking up at the night sky.
There were few stars, and the clouds were thick. It would probably rain tomorrow.
Footsteps sounded behind me. I was too lazy to turn around.
“Dear Sister.”
Eliot's voice.
“Yes?”
He walked up beside me, keeping a distance of about half a meter. We just stood there like that, neither of us speaking. The wind blew between us. He placed his juice on the railing, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the stem of the glass.
“Dear Sister.”
“Yes?”
“Just now... Miss Vera of Count Klein's family came to find me.”
I turned to look at him. “What did she want with you?”
“She said...” He hesitated. “She said that you are using me, Dear Sister. She said you're only nice to me so that I'll speak well of you to Father... She said you don't actually care about me at all.”
Ahhhh, did she see right through me?
But that was the original owner, right? I wasn't like that now. I treated him as kindly as I would a little sister, and besides, I wasn't that kind of person anyway.
“And then?”
“And then I said,” he paused, “‘What does that have to do with you?’”
I froze.
“...Weren't you afraid she'd get angry?”
“A little,” he whispered. “But I didn't like her talking about you like that, Dear Sister.”
Oh, not bad. What a good little brother.
I didn't think too much of it, only feeling that my careful nurturing over the past year had borne fruit. Since he was actually standing up for my reputation, we surely wouldn't head toward the worst possible ending.
Selling out his older sister... ah, older brother... well, I guess I can only refer to myself as his older sister anyway.
In the end, I simply smiled and replied.
“Why do you care what someone like her says? Let her say whatever she wants. It's not like it hurts us anyway.”
“...Yes,” he accepted the advice humbly.
With nothing left to say, I leaned over the terrace railing, my long hair fluttering in the wind as I pondered abstract concepts like the meaning of life.
“Dear Sister,” he spoke up nervously again.
“Yes?” I tilted my head weakly.
“Are you really going to come watch my horsemanship competition?”
“...We'll see.” It felt like a very familiar conversation.
“I will work hard.”
He thought about it, his voice small but firm.
“I will work hard to place—and then—I hope you can praise me just once...”
I could tell my status in his heart was skyrocketing. I had never heard anything like this from my little sister in my past life; at most, she would only cling to me when she was broke, calling me a middle-aged loser and begging me to cough up some cash.
I thought about it, then gently patted the top of his head.
“Do not disgrace the Aldheim family.” The heavy hand of the world's will exerted its power. Originally, I wanted to say “Sure.”
But considering it was only natural to be praised after winning, it probably just modified my line, right? At least it didn't make my palm heat up and force me to slap him or anything.
“...Yes.”
His voice was muffled.
Upon returning to the banquet hall afterward, however, I noticed that Eliot's state seemed a bit off.
He stood next to the marble pillar.
He was still holding his glass of juice, but he wasn't drinking it. His eyes were fixed in one direction, his facial expression incredibly complex.
I followed his gaze.
Leonhart was standing among several high-ranking nobles, slightly tilting his head as he listened to them speak, his golden hair shimmering softly under the lights.
“Eliot, what are you looking at?” I asked as I passed by.
He didn't react.
“Eliot?” How rare.
He suddenly snapped out of it, nearly spilling the juice in his hand. “D-Dear Sister—”
“What are you looking at?” My tone wasn't particularly strict.
“N-nothing.” He lowered his head, his fingers tightly gripping the stem of the glass. “I was just... looking at His Highness.”
Out of habit, he kept his head down.
“Why are you looking at His Highness?” I asked.
“I was wondering... when was your engagement decided, Dear Sister?”
Oh? He seemed to care about this? To think he even knew about it. Though I didn't quite understand why he was asking, I answered anyway.
“Two years ago.”
“...”
“Dear Sister,” he suddenly looked up at me, a look in his emerald-green eyes that I had never seen before. “His Highness—he is your fiancé, Dear Sister. So you will marry him in the future, leave the Aldheim family, and move into the royal palace.”
His voice was trembling.
“In the future, you won't be here anymore, Dear Sister...”
I was a bit lost for words, momentarily dazed by his sudden barrage of statements.
But it was indeed true.
If the plotline proceeded normally, according to the rules of this world, a noblewoman would leave her family home after marriage and live with her husband's family. If Loris truly married Leonhart as planned, she would leave the Aldheim estate and move into the royal palace.
And Eliot would be left behind here.
The two of them would be separated.
But I was Loris now.
Please spare me from such a fate.
“...That is a long way off,” I said weakly.
He didn't speak. He just kept his head lowered, staring at the juice in his hand. The surface of the juice reflected the fractured light of the crystal chandelier, mirroring his turbulent inner thoughts.
“Go back and rest. You've been standing all night; you must be exhausted,” I said.
“...Yes.”
He bowed silently and somewhat helplessly, then turned to leave. His silver head bobbed through the crowd, eventually vanishing into the shadows of the banquet hall's side door.
I stood in place, watching the direction he had gone.
The warmth in my palm slowly dissipated without triggering any warnings. Probably because my words still fit the “Tyrant Daughter” style. Even so, his sudden display of concern had caught me completely off guard. Fortunately, I managed to handle it.
Still, looking at it now, if I influenced the story's characters and they went on to alter the plot themselves, there wouldn't be any punishment!
I just couldn't directly do anything to change it myself; I could only act in a roundabout, beating-around-the-bush manner.
After letting my mind wander for a while.
“...Miss,” Shirune's voice called out.
From the shadows, my cute, silver-haired, aloof personal female bodyguard emerged, her tail hanging still in midair.
“Yes?”
“Young Master Eliot went in the direction of the riding ground.”
I fell silent for a moment. “...What is he going to the riding ground for so late at night?”
“This subordinate does not know.”
I looked toward the side door of the banquet hall. Moonlight leaked through the gap, drawing a thin silver line on the floor.
I was a bit curious, so I decided to go check it out.
Anyway, the main event of my birthday party was already over. Now it was just the adults discussing business transactions and the like, which was the real focus of these events.
Noticing that I was leaving, Shirune simply followed behind me like a silent shadow.
The riding ground was vast.
The white fences shimmered with a faint silver-gray under the moonlight. The sandy ground was flat and open, the hollows stamped out by hooves during the day turning into varying depths of shadow in the moon's glow.
The night wind blew in from afar, carrying the scent of maple leaves and hay.
Eliot stood in the center of the riding ground.
He hadn't changed out of his formal suit yet. The dark gray hem of his coat swayed gently in the wind, and the top button of his collar was undone—probably by his own hand. He held a wooden sword, the kind typically used for daily practice.
And then, he swung the sword.
Again and again.
His movements were forceful, but he wasn't aiming at anyone. He was just slashing at the air, as if fighting an invisible enemy.
I stood in the shadows at the edge of the riding ground, watching him with utter boredom. It was rather baffling. The banquet wasn't even over yet; what was he doing out here in such a rush?
However, his breathing grew heavier and heavier, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, glistening under the moonlight. It was clear he was truly practicing something.
He didn't stop, swinging stroke after stroke.
Finally, the wooden sword slipped from his grip and flew out, landing on the sand with a dull thud.
He didn't go to pick it up. He just stood in place, head lowered, his shoulders rising and falling violently as he gasped for air.
And then, I heard his voice.
“...Take away.”
It was extremely reluctant, as if squeezed through his gritted teeth.
“Why...”
His hands clenched into fists, hanging at his sides, trembling slightly.
“...She's clearly my only family... Sister... I don't want this...”
Tears as large as beans rolled down his cheeks.
Wow.
Was this some heavy, deep emotion?
Was my nine-year-old little brother actually this starved for affection? Come to think of it, given this kind of family environment, it was quite normal. He'd probably be fine in a few years once he entered the academy. I felt a tiny bit of pride for him, since he valued me so much.
I stood in the shadows, watching him.
The moonlight fell upon his silver hair, his trembling shoulders, and his clenched fists. He was only ten, a ten-year-old boy, swinging a sword at the air in the dead of night.
Because he had heard that his older sister would enter the royal palace in the future, separating from him and never returning to the estate.
His only family, his kind (though perhaps that deserved a question mark) sister, would disappear.
In this estate, their father stayed in the royal capital year-round, barely returning a few times a year. When was the last time they saw him? Three months ago? Four months ago? He had stayed at the manor for one night and left early the next morning.
The words he spoke to Eliot added up to less than five sentences.
“How are your studies?” “How is your horsemanship?” “How is your swordsmanship?”—all of them were questions, without a single word of genuine concern.
Not to mention their mother.
She had her own social circle in the royal capital and only returned to live at the estate for a week or two during the summer. The last time she came back, she ran into Eliot in the hallway, froze for a moment, and then said, “Are you Eliot? You've grown so tall.”
It was as if she truly barely recognized her own son.
The massive Aldheim manor had dozens of rooms, hundreds of servants, and countless portraits of past dukes hanging on both sides of the corridors.
Father, mother, ancestors.
They carried burdens that were far too heavy and solemn.
In such a world, not a single person truly looked at him. Except for his sister—the one who would scold him, beat him, and mock him when he tripped. The same sister who would help him rebutton his coat when he got it wrong, crouch down to apply medicine when he scraped his knee, and tie his bandages in neat little bows.
Of course, I didn't know any of this. Watching him practice his swordplay was incredibly boring, and his form was riddled with errors.
Having been taught by Shirune, I had achieved some basic mastery of swordsmanship myself, so I couldn't stand watching his amateurish moves.
I decided to go over and give him some pointers.
“What are you doing here so late?”
My voice sounded very quiet in the open riding ground.
Eliot's body suddenly stiffened. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand to hide his embarrassing side, the moonlight illuminating only his youthful and stubborn face.
“...Dear Sister.”
“I asked what you are doing here.”
“...Practicing.”
“Practicing what?”
“...”
I silently walked up to him, bending down to pick up the fallen wooden sword. The hilt was covered in sand, so I wiped it clean with my sleeve.
“Your swinging posture is all wrong,” I said with a sigh.
My dear brother, let's see what else you can change about the plot. A portion of the burden of my future lies on your shoulders.
“...Huh?” He was stunned.
“Your center of gravity is too far forward; you'll injure your ankle,” I stuffed the wooden sword back into his hand. “Also, don't let your wrist get too stiff, or the power won't transfer to the tip of the sword.”
He held the wooden sword, staring at me blankly.
“...How do you know all this, Dear Sister?”
“Shirune taught me,” I said nonchalantly.
He looked down at the wooden sword in his hand, his fingers slowly tightening until his knuckles turned white as he swallowed hard.
“...Dear Sister.”
“Yes?”
“The horsemanship competition,” he paused. “His Highness will also be participating.”
“So?” Oho, is this a plot point?
“So,” he raised his head, looking at me.
A thin layer of tears still lingered in his emerald-green eyes, but his gaze was unwavering.
“I will win.”
He said.
“I will win over His Highness, and then—I will make him break off the engagement!”
Pfft.
I wanted to laugh a little but managed to hold it in. What are you, Xiao Yan? Still, his sheer fighting spirit truly made me feel like I might actually survive past eighteen. If he really could get the engagement broken off... Oh, my dear brother! In the future, I will treat you just like my own flesh-and-blood sister!
I decided to encourage him.
The moonlight fell upon his silver hair, his hand tightly gripping the wooden sword, and his still-moist, glistening eyes.
Then, I reached out.
He instinctively shrank his neck, but my hand landed on the top of his head, gently patting it.
“...Do not disgrace the Aldheim family.” Under the restrictions of being a villainess, this was the best encouragement I could offer him.
Any better than this, and I'd be crossing the line and getting slapped by the world's will, haha.
Well, maybe I shouldn't laugh...
His eyelashes fluttered, and then he nodded vigorously.
“...Yes.”
His voice still carried a slight nasal quality.
I withdrew my hand and turned to walk back, but on second thought, I decided to be a bit more severe. Hehehe.
“Tomorrow morning at seven, the riding ground,” I said coldly. “I will practice with you.”
Silence reigned behind me for a few seconds.
And then, an incredibly soft voice drifted over.
“...Yes, Dear Sister.”
Was he depressed?
But this was awesome! I could use this excuse to skip classes!
I really didn't want to attend the morning etiquette and magic theory classes. With a legitimate excuse, even the butler wouldn't be able to say anything, right?
Time to go back and eat more cake.
I left the riding ground, leaving Eliot there alone.
(Voiceover: Eliot stayed on the riding ground alone until very late. The head maid woke up in the middle of the night to do her rounds and saw a figure swinging a sword from afar. She wanted to go over and check, but she was stopped by Shirune, whom Loris had left behind.
“Let him practice.”
Shirune leaned against the fence at the edge of the riding ground, her arms crossed over her chest, her silver-white ponytail swaying gently in the night wind. The head maid looked at her, then at the small, tireless figure on the riding ground. In the end, she nodded and turned to leave.)
Rate on N.U.
