The Morning I Realized I Had Been Reincarnated as a Villainess Noblewoman
On that particular morning, when I realized I had reincarnated as a villainess noblewoman, I didn’t panic.
There was no point in panicking—it wouldn’t change the fact that I had been reborn into the role of a villainess in an otome game.
I decided to calmly tread a path that wouldn’t lead to ruin.
The villainess was named Linntia Goldie. She was a stunning young lady with soft, platinum blonde hair that cascaded gently and fiery ruby eyes that complemented her bold and determined features. She was also the daughter of a marquis.
At the moment, she was ten years old.
Soon, she was supposed to become engaged to the prince—or so my hazy memory suggested. Unfortunately, I hadn’t played the otome game thoroughly enough to recall all the details. It was simply the last otome game I had played.
If I remembered correctly, the prince was a paragon of virtue—a quintessential prince charming. He would condemn the villainess noblewoman for harassing the heroine, which usually served as the climax of the game. The villainess frequently made appearances because other romanceable characters were part of the prince’s entourage. Inevitably, she would become the instigator of the harassment and be judged by the prince.
Frankly speaking, as long as I didn’t become engaged to the prince, I could live a peaceful life.
...But why did the villainess become engaged to the prince in the first place?
I tilted my head, falling silent as I racked my brain.
Then, with a small “pom” sound, I lightly hit my palm with my fist.
Oh, right. The villainess had fallen in love with the prince at first sight and had essentially forced the engagement. I didn’t remember the game’s exact settings, but thinking about it logically, the Goldie Marquisate’s wealth and connections likely made the engagement mutually beneficial.
Hmm. I’ll wait until I actually meet the prince to decide whether or not to go through with the engagement.
In the otome game, I didn’t particularly dislike him—neither his looks nor his personality.
If we end up being mutually attracted to each other, we can discuss and proceed with the engagement. Since this is reality, I’ll take a realistic approach.
The real issue lies in the “scenario enforcement” mechanic, doesn’t it?
Still, even if it’s an unavoidable fate, there’s bound to be a way around it.
Dwelling on it won’t help, so I decided to let it go.
Thus, I began enjoying the leisurely life of a ten-year-old noblewoman. However, as it turned out, children of high-ranking nobles were already at the age to start matchmaking. Invitations poured in, and I began attending tea gatherings one after another.
It seemed inevitable that I would eventually have a matchmaking tea party with the prince as well.
After two such tea gatherings, my impressions weren’t great.
The first boy froze in silence and nearly burst into tears, while the second bragged endlessly about himself and his family. Both were instant rejections. But given that they were also ten years old, I couldn’t be too harsh. If they were adults, it would’ve been unbearable.
Then came the third tea gathering.
My partner this time was a character from the game’s romanceable options.
He was a lethargic yet strikingly handsome duke’s son—a classic apathetic beauty. Despite his lazy demeanor, he had a brusque way of expressing affection, often indulging the heroine in his own unique style.
So, the villainess had a matchmaking tea party with him too.
His name was Isaac Kisarar, the duke’s son. He had yellow cat-like eyes and wavy hair of a deep, calm blue.
When we met face-to-face, he was already slumped in his chair, his shoulders drooping in apparent boredom. His expression all but spelled out the words “this is such a hassle.”
So, he was this lethargic even as a child?
Barely offering a greeting, he spoke bluntly.
“Teach me the joy of living.”
A boy who declared this with a thud.
It made me want to ask what had happened to him.
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