The next morning:
“This time for sure!” declared Arianju at breakfast as she decided to share her memories of her past life with her family.
Her “Villain Savings Plan” needed their cooperation.
Her parents and brothers were shocked by her sudden revelation. However, her explanation was so logical and coherent that they couldn’t dismiss it as a child’s imagination.
But then…
“Waaah!”
“Arianju!”
Midway through her story, the sloth-like Arianju dozed off, her small head nearly landing in her soup. Her brother caught her just in time.
“Oh no! She got so caught up in her story that she forgot to eat breakfast!”
“Arianju! At least drink the soup!”
With her short waking hours, food and hydration were essential. While she inherited sloth traits, her body was human and couldn’t survive on just a few leaves.
The next day, after waking, Arianju was given an unpleasant but nutritious green juice.
“Drink up, Arianju. You’re too thin,” her meat-eating brothers insisted, their imposing presence forcing her to comply.
“If you drink it, we’ll help you with your Villain Savings Plan,” they added, baring their sharp canine teeth in smiles. Delighted, Arianju drank the juice, albeit reluctantly.
“So, what’s the plan for your villainy?”
“Well,” she began, “I thought I’d steal the achievements the heroine will accomplish in 11 years. Taking credit for someone else’s success is a really bad thing, isn’t it?”
Her brothers exchanged glances.
While it was technically villainous to steal someone’s achievements, wasn’t this more like preempting the future than outright exploitation? Still, seeing their adorable sister puff up with pride, they said nothing.
“So, what kind of accomplishments will this heroine achieve in 11 years?”
“Well,” Arianju began, “she’ll discover treatments for conditions like magical hypertrophy, infertility caused by excessive magic, and magical circulation disorders. Since the heroine is a magic specialist, she’ll solve lots of problems related to magic.”
Her brothers gulped audibly.
“Do you… already know these treatments, Arianju?” they asked, their words unnaturally stilted. Arianju tilted her head curiously.
“Yes. I loved that game, so I read through all the settings and details. Oh, by the way, this isn’t related to villainy, but next year there’ll be a terrible drought in the western part of the kingdom. You should prepare for it.”
“Whaaaaat?!”
Her brothers immediately scooped her up and bolted toward their father’s study at full speed.
“Father, great news! There are treatments!”
“Father, urgent news! A drought is coming!”
Her brothers didn’t doubt Arianju’s words for a second. She was their adorable little sister, and to them, her cuteness was justice itself. Justice, as they saw it, didn’t require impartiality or rational judgment—it was self-evident, as subjective as it might be.
Moreover, magical hypertrophy, infertility caused by excessive magic, and magical circulation disorders were incurable diseases, particularly common among high-ranking nobles with large magical reserves. These illnesses caused immense physical and mental suffering, often leading to untimely deaths.
If Arianju’s claims were true, it would cast a radiant light upon the kingdom’s future.
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