Shortly afterward, the duke invited my family to spend a vacation at the duchy.
The duke’s family is clearly pulling out all the stops to keep me tied to Isaac, aren’t they?
While horseback riding, Isaac gave me a light tour of the duchy.
Though I had learned to ride on my own and had even raced him once, for the tour, he insisted on riding double. He claimed he just preferred it that way.
“Thanks to you, Linntia, I’ve realized how enjoyable the duchy can be. I never knew how much I liked this place. Thank you.”
When he turned to me with such a radiant smile, his positivity made me happy too.
Isaac is always eager to know what I think—more specifically, what I enjoy and find fun.
At first, I thought everything would be based on my tastes, but that wasn’t entirely the case. He would also discover things he liked on his own and share them with me. If I resonated with his discoveries, he’d beam with exaggerated joy, his face lighting up.
We naturally began recommending things to each other.
“The sweets from that shop are delicious.”
“That author’s book is amazing.”
“The new release was great too.”
“From the reviews I’ve heard, you’ll probably enjoy the latest play.”
“That was fun.”
“Let’s go again.”
We exchanged experiences, shared them, gave and received joy, and spent truly delightful days together.
I think it’s a wonderful relationship.
Even though we are technically engaged, it feels like there could be a different, more fitting term for what we share. Yet, I don’t know what that term would be.
Isaac and I have a very comfortable connection—a close bond between fiancés.
It feels like there’s an even better word to describe our relationship.
Before I knew it, we were entering the academy, the stage for the otome game.
As per the game’s scenario, the heroine transferred in shortly after the opening ceremony.
In the original game, the opening involved the heroine accidentally bumping into the villainess (who clung to the prince as his fiancée). The angry villainess would need to be calmed down by the prince, who would protect the heroine.
However, since I wasn’t clinging to the prince, that opening never happened.
Isaac, not yet inheriting the duchy, spent his academy days in a role akin to the prince’s attendant. Given the duke family’s royal lineage, it was part of their duties to observe the prince’s surroundings, expand their network, and foster relationships.
This naturally led to me interacting with the prince to some extent as well. However, so far, I hadn’t heard him mention anything about the heroine. The other noble sons who were romanceable targets in the game had also made no mention of her.
Without the original opening, would the otome game scenario just fail to begin entirely?
The heroine followed the standard template: a baron’s illegitimate daughter raised as a commoner. Her mother, who was once the baron’s lover, had separated from him after he got engaged, despite already being pregnant. When the mother fell ill, she contacted the baron, who took responsibility and vowed to raise the child. It was a touching story, often romanticized.
Just like in the game.
I caught a glimpse of her once—her hair was pink.
Why is the heroine’s hair pink? Is it some biased assumption that “girls love pink”?
Pink is, honestly, a pretty outrageous hair color... especially in a world without magic.
One afternoon after class, the pink-haired heroine stood in my way.
Isaac had reluctantly told me to go home ahead of him, claiming the prince had called for him. Yet, despite his words, he looked disappointed and held my hand tightly before I gently pulled away and began walking to my carriage.
Her glare, filled with resentment, was straight out of the otome game.
“You’re a reincarnator too, aren’t you?!”
She pointed a finger at me accusingly.
Oh, so the heroine is a reincarnator too? That’s a common trope.
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