Reincarnated as a Villainess

I am Loris von Aldheim.

The eldest daughter of the Aldheim Ducal House, and the notorious “Villainess” whom everyone in the territory knows.

—At least, that is the setting.

In reality, just three days ago, I was an ordinary student. I died suddenly after pulling an all-nighter to finish a newly released galgame, and when I opened my eyes, I had become this girl with blonde drill-hair twin-tails who looked like a textbook antagonist.

To put it simply, I transmigrated.

How tragic.

Even worse, I know exactly which world I transmigrated into.

The world of the game Starlight Knights: The Maiden's Legendary Journey of Love and Vows.

An otome game my sister was obsessively addicted to last year. She would play and curse at the screen, and the character she cursed the most was—

Loris von Aldheim.

Which is to say, me.

Dammit! Help!

How did I end up transmigrating into a game world?!

And of all things, it wasn't even a galgame I liked, but an otome game my sister loved!

If my sister hadn't been acting like a fanatical cultist next to me, letting me know the general plot of this game, I probably would've skipped the stairs and the elevator and just jumped straight into a life remake.

Anyway, I remember the ending of this character very clearly, especially my own.

First of all, on that day.

I will be killed by the male lead on charges of bullying the heroine, colluding with demons, and so on.

The game's comment section was a unanimous wall of “Good riddance,” “So satisfying,” and “Finally, this woman is dead.”

And now, I've become this villain.

Haha. (Cue my second hysterical laugh.)

I don't want to die!!!

...

“I must correct the plot...”

In my room, I huddled in the corner with my head in my hands, grinding my teeth in near-despair. Thanks to my experience reading trashy web novels, I accepted reality pretty quickly.

My brain was working at warp speed, piecing together the fragments of the game's plot that I had been forced to listen to in my past life.

My character setting is the villainess. To put it plainly, I'm the antagonist responsible for making the heroine's life miserable in the early stages of the game, while simultaneously highlighting the “righteousness” of the other capture targets.

Things like putting thumbtacks in the heroine's shoe locker, publicly humiliating her background at a ball, using my family's influence to threaten members of the knight order to frame her...

In short, whatever was most obnoxious, she did.

And after making enemies of everyone, she just waits for her sentence.

Tragic. I haven't even done anything yet, and I'm already sentenced to death!

“Milady, are you alright?”

A cautious inquiry came from outside the door, the maid's voice thick with obvious fear.

Probably because she saw me rolling on the floor, clutching my legs. The sheer momentum of my thrashing was like a T-Rex that just got chili oil in its eyes, wailing as I slammed my head against the floor.

I snapped back to reality, cleared my throat, and tried to make my voice sound shrill and haughty. “I-I am fine! Dismissed!”

“Y-Yes, Milady!”

The hurried sound of retreating footsteps immediately echoed outside the door.

Listen to that. What kind of treatment is this?

The servants of the entire ducal manor look at me as if they've seen a plague. This is the renowned villainess, Loris.

To emphasize once more, that is me.

How tragic—

Anyway, after calming down slightly—because I had to—I crawled back up and painfully counted on my fingers.

There is still time before the deadline. It's enough for me to turn the plot upside down.

But speaking of which... who was the heroine of this game again?

I tried hard to remember.

I think... her name was Liliana?

But I won't interact with her until the academy arc, which is two years away, so I don't need to worry about that for now.

Still, I should write down the information first so I don't forget.

The true protagonist of the game is a commoner girl who holds the title of “Light of Healing.” Because of her outstanding magical talent, she was exceptionally admitted to the Royal Knight Academy. Her personality is the standard template of an otome heroine—kind, strong, saintly, and loved by all.

And my own plot as the villainess begins with bullying her at the knight academy.

Writing up to this point, I couldn't help but look down at my still-childish, pale fingertips.

Repentance.

“No, no, now is not the time to think about this.”

I shook my head vigorously, my blonde drill-hair twin-tails swaying back and forth.

Picking up the quill again, I scribbled a few large characters on a piece of parchment:

【MUST CORRECT THE PLOT】

Underneath, I added another line:

【ABSOLUTELY CANNOT BULLY THE HEROINE】

Below that:

【STAY FAR AWAY FROM THE CAPTURE TARGETS】

Finally, biting the end of my pen and thinking for a moment, I added one more sentence:

【...Come to think of it, can I just not be a villainess?】

“Sigh...”

Staring at the crooked words on the parchment, I fell into a subtle silence.

Alright, I admit that my galgame experience can't be applied here; the plan is too childish. If my sister saw this written by the self-proclaimed “God of Conquest” myself, I would definitely be mocked to death.

But whatever. It's better than having no plan at all.

I, Loris von Aldheim, was an ordinary high school student in my past life, and now I am the tyrant daughter of the Aldheim Ducal House.

Although the soul inside my head is still that useless slacker who died playing games, for the sake of survival, I have decided—

From today on, I will be a good child.

Probably.

“It is time for your afternoon classical literature lesson, Milady.”

The butler's respectful voice came from outside the door. Loris (me) had no choice but to stand up and prepare to change.

Looking at the girl with blonde twin-tails in the mirror, the girl stared back at her expressionlessly.

The two of us stared at each other in silence.

“Bro,” I said to my reflection in a heavy tone, “you've got it rough.”

The bro in the mirror didn't reply.

...

“I must correct the plot...”

During the afternoon classical literature lesson.

This was taught by a private tutor, who would leave thirty minutes after the lecture for homework tutoring. Right now, that was in progress.

Loris was writing her classwork.

And she wasn't alone in the class.

The Aldheim family was naturally a flourishing one, and Loris had a younger brother. Currently, the two of them were doing their homework in the manor's study.

...

I crossed my hands and rested my chin on them, my gaze sharp.

Yes, I am Loris, currently taking a classical literature class. As an essential part of noble upbringing, the most outstanding teacher in the country was hired to teach at home. It is said that a single day's fee is enough for an ordinary person in the borderlands to live on for half a season.

So very capitalist.

But that's how the Western feudal era is.

The tutor had just left, and the Kingdom Chronicles and Foundations of Magic Theory were still spread out on the desk. Outside the window, the sun was bright, the roses in the garden were in full bloom, and the faint sound of birdsong drifted in.

And opposite me sat a trembling boy.

Eliot von Aldheim.

Loris's (my) younger brother. He had short silver hair, emerald-green eyes, and looked like a startled rabbit.

Right now, this rabbit was looking at me as if I were the Goblin King.

“Eliot.”

I spoke.

Because I was preparing to correct the plot, I wanted to try out the idea I had written in my notebook.

“Eek—!”

My brother flinched violently, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. No, even a cat couldn't jump that high.

He shrank back, his chair legs scraping lightly against the floor. His emerald-green eyes were wide, and they practically screamed four words:

I. Am. Dead.

...What on earth did the original Loris do to him?!

Calm down, Loris. You want to live past eighteen and see some handsome guys. From now on, you can't lose your composure.

I forced my expression to soften, pulling my lips into what I thought was a friendly smile.

“Today's homework... just write your own.”

Eliot froze.

The expression on his small face changed from “I am dead” to “Did I hear that wrong?” and then to “This must be the prelude to some new form of torture.”

Hey, that expression is really hurtful, you know.

But it was no wonder he reacted this way.

According to my memories, the “good deeds” Loris had done to her brother were too numerous to count.

Stealing his snacks was a daily routine. Tearing up his picture books was what she did when she was in a good mood. When she was in a bad mood, she would push him directly into the garden pond and scream at him, calling him a “useful waste,” “unworthy of the name Aldheim,” and asking “how could Father give birth to a son like you?”...

Recalling these memory fragments, only one thought came to my mind—

That's pretty savage, bro.

This is no longer a simple “villainess.”

This is the word “villain” taking physical form. In the original game, she could even do this to her own younger brother. No wonder she got a sword through the heart at eighteen.

Good riddance.

I wanted to say good riddance too.

...Wait, I am her now!

I don't want to die-e-e-e-e!

“J-Just write my own...?”

My brother's voice pulled me back to reality.

Eliot blinked, his voice thick with confusion. His emerald-green eyes carefully sized me up, as if trying to confirm whether the elder sister in front of him had been swapped out by some strange magic.

According to my memories, after every class in the past, Loris would dump her homework directly on her brother to copy.

If he copied too slowly, he would be scolded; if he made a mistake, he would be beaten.

And what about her? She would go out horseback riding, eat snacks, bully the servants, and basically do nothing but atrocious things.

But today was different.

As a high school student transmigrated from the modern world, I was determined to become a legend who survived to see freedom.

“Yes.” I nodded solemnly, resting my chin on my crossed hands, trying my best to look like a proper elder sister. “Doing one's own homework is a student's duty. From now on, I will do my own homework too.”

Silence.

Eliot's expression became even stranger.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, looking exactly like a fish flopping on dry land.

And then—

My right hand suddenly burned.

It wasn't a metaphor. It was a genuine burning sensation, as if a ball of fire had ignited in my palm. The temperature surged, and it was so hot I almost cried out.

【Warning.】

A cold, emotionless voice rang in my head.

【Significant plot deviation detected.】

【“Loris von Aldheim's” attitude toward “Eliot von Aldheim” has undergone a fundamental change, severely deviating from the established trajectory of destiny.】

【Please correct immediately.】

Huh?

What the hell?

【This is the will of the world line. Please correct immediately.】

My hand lifted uncontrollably.

Wait, wait, wait—

My palm cut through the air, making a sharp sound.

It struck Eliot's cheek.

I lost it.

Eliot lost it too.

He clutched his slapped left cheek, tears quickly welling up in his emerald-green eyes. The expression on his face changed from confusion to a despair that said, “As expected.”

No! That's not it!

I didn't want to slap you!

My heart screamed, but my hand—the hand controlled by that “will”—had already drawn back.

A slight warmth still lingered in my palm.

As if to remind me that everything that had just happened was real.

Eliot lowered his head, his small shoulders trembling slightly.

He didn't cry out loud, only bit his lip hard. His desperate attempt to hold it in was more heartbreaking than loud sobbing, and it even gave off a shattered vibe of, “Yes, this is the sister I know.”

The air seemed to freeze.

...I want to die.

No, I want to live.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do—

My hand started to heat up again.

That “will” seemed to urge me to continue—continue to scold him, continue to bully him, continue to be a qualified “tyrant daughter.”

Then, I suddenly noticed something.

That heat only appeared when it reminded me to “do bad things.”

It focused on my outward performance, on the words I spoke and the actions I took.

But it didn't read my mind.

It didn't know what I was thinking.

There should be... room to maneuver.

My brain worked at warp speed. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to try. I forced my expression back into that high-and-mighty look.

“Eliot.”

“...Y-Yes.”

His voice was shaking.

“Do you know why I make you write my homework for me?”

He shook his head, then quickly nodded, and then shook his head again. He clearly had no idea how to answer without getting scolded.

“Because,” I said, pausing between words as I tried to make my tone sound harsh and arrogant, “having you do my homework is to consolidate your knowledge. Only by writing the same content twice will it leave a deep impression. This is a necessary exercise for a man of the Aldheim family.”

Eliot froze.

He raised his head, looking at me with tear-filled eyes, his small face a mask of bewilderment.

I reached out a hand and gently placed it on the cheek that had just been slapped, extremely gently.

His body stiffened visibly, as if in fear, or perhaps waiting for a second wave of pain.

“Remember this pain.”

I tried my best to make my voice sound cold, but my palm gently rubbed his cheek. The skin was still a bit red. Oof, my strength is really no joke.

“Remember it, so you won't make mistakes in the future.”

Silence.

My palm didn't heat up.

The cold voice in my head didn't ring again.

...It worked?

I quietly breathed a sigh of relief, withdrew my hand, and resumed my dignified posture.

Although this approach seemed useless—like giving a sweet after a slap, and any normal person would wonder why they were slapped in the first place—I felt things wouldn't be that simple.

But what bad intentions could an eight-year-old kid have?

I delivered the slap in the name of education. Surely, it would improve his impression of me a little, right?

“Alright, go back to your homework,” I said.

“...Yes.”

Eliot quietly lowered his head and picked up his quill.

The moment he lowered his head, thank goodness, I saw his ears turn red. I didn't know if he was blushing or angry, but either way, it was good news.

Only he knew that the hand holding the quill was trembling slightly, but not from fear.

He lowered his head to continue his homework, his pen gliding across the parchment to write crooked letters. My little brother was writing very seriously, more seriously than ever before.

Because he thought about what his sister had said—

This was a “necessary exercise.”

This was something he, as a man of the Aldheim family, had to achieve. So all the abuse for so long had been training? The ethics classes he took at home taught him that his sister was to be respected and that her words were always correct. Humility and order—this was the cultivation of a noble.

He was just a kid, so naturally, he believed it.

After finishing a page, Eliot quietly looked up, stealing a glance at his sister opposite him through his bangs.

Blonde drill-hair twin-tails, upturned eyes, and a proud expression—exactly the same as before.

But it also felt like something was different.

Even though his sister's slap really hurt.

But rubbing his cheek afterward was a first.

Is she... a good sister?

She said “remember this pain,” but her tone seemed to hide something else. Concern?

Eliot didn't quite understand what it was.

But he temporarily took it as concern.

After all, today's elder sister was so, so gentle after slapping him, and she had said so many words. You should know that in the past, after slapping him, she would only call him a “useless waste” and turn away.

Eliot's thoughts gradually settled as he refocused on his homework. He decided to make his handwriting ten times better than usual today.

In a strict and oppressive family, bearing the label of a noble child, that gentle caress on his cheek was engraved in his young heart. It was one of the few times he could feel familial warmth.

It was just a tiny bit, but thinking about it made him murmur softly: “Sister's slap today was still so familiar. Did I really misunderstand her?...”

...

Back to my perspective.

Meanwhile, I, Loris von Aldheim, was maintaining my proud exterior while frantically analyzing everything that had just happened in my mind.

I can't directly change the plot.

My outward behavior must maintain the “villainess” persona.

But how “evil” I am, and in what way I express that “evil”—there is plenty of room to maneuver.

I slapped him, but I also showed him concern.

I scolded him, but my words could be logically explained as being for his own good.

The heavens only saw the “slap” and the “scold.”

It didn't see what was hidden underneath.

...Tragic.

But I guess it's fine?

At least it's not a dead-end anymore. I can correct the plot on a small scale. Although it's a self-deceiving trick, can I really survive to the end with this level of correction?

I stole a glance at my brother, who was writing seriously across from me, and thought pessimistically:

Let's just stay alive first.

As for Eliot, this silly brother of mine, let's see if I can gradually turn him from a “victim” into an “ally” using this self-deceiving plot trick.

♫ Oh, life, can't you just give me a break for once?

I sang the popular DJ track Innocent Eraser in my heart as I finished my afternoon noble homework.

(Voiceover: That night, Eliot uncharacteristically ate an extra bowl of rice. The maid responsible for taking care of him was surprised to find that after the young master returned to his room, he stared at the moon outside the window for a long time, then whispered: “Sister's slap today was still so familiar. Did I really misunderstand her?...”)