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12. Imitating the Villainess

“Are you alright?”

Becky stood anxiously by the carriage, visibly relieved to see that I was in one piece. She nervously squeezed my hand and asked cautiously.

I shook my head, and Becky, seemingly at a loss for words, lowered her head dejectedly.

I watched her actions absentmindedly before closing my eyes.

“I saw the Grand Duke.”

Her confession came out in a barely audible whisper.

“I thought that ladies like you often associate with people like him, so I didn’t say anything… but, my lady.”

If one has done wrong, they should be punished.

I agreed with her statement.

“That’s only natural.”

“Miss Florencia too.”

I stopped and stared at her. Yes, what she was saying was indeed correct.

The idea that stories of good triumphing over evil are the most beautiful is something I can’t deny.

“…Yes.”

How much time is left? I sighed with that thought in mind. The wizard’s words echoed in my head like a haunting refrain.

You can take her place.

‘I don’t even know anymore.’

People who want to escape reality are said to sleep a lot; maybe it’s true.

As the carriage smoothly rolled down the paved road, passing by those jeering at the Eilish family’s crest, I half-consciously made my way to the central boutique in the capital.

“We’ve arrived, my lady.”

Becky spoke cautiously as she helped me up. When the carriage door opened, I stepped out, feeling a slight sense of disillusionment as countless eyes turned to look at me. The cursive sign on the lavishly decorated storefront blurred before my weary eyes.

Madame Esmeralda.

The sign, written in a script as ornate as a festival gown, was so extravagant that it almost hurt to look at.

To someone like me, who had crossed over at the age of nineteen, this was quite a new sight.

I don’t think I’ve ever bought clothes from a department store, even outside of novels. With that thought in mind, I took a step forward.

* * *

As is typical of such boutiques, this place was a hub for the latest gossip in high society—a perfect venue for flaunting wealth and status disparities.

The rumor that Esmeralda did not create clothing for just anyone only heightened the exaggerated drama in this battlefield of words.

The murmurs around me gradually grew louder.

“My goodness, it’s Lady Eilish! We’ve been expecting you! Your butler requested a catalog, which was quite unexpected. Thanks to that, this season’s social gatherings will be even more crowded.”

The sound of fans fluttering was obnoxiously loud. Despite that, I found it amusing that they couldn’t hide their curiosity.

The most significant aspect of Esmeralda’s reputation was her ironclad rule: she did not sell clothes to those of low status.

And now, with the young lady of a soon-to-be-ruined family requesting a catalog, it was clearly intended as a mockery.

Many were curious about me since I rarely appeared in social circles. I had skipped my debutante ball and most of the annual events, including the Emperor’s birthday banquet.

So, I was confident that Madame Esmeralda would not openly refuse to sell me a dress.

As a woman from a family that had been ruined by my sister’s actions, she wouldn’t pass up this opportunity for such public scorn.

Since I had no intention of worrying about honor or others’ perceptions, I responded casually to her words.

“Of course, I would imagine so.”

With a disinterested expression, I sat down and observed the people gathered around the nearby tea tables. Voices critiquing etiquette and decorum swarmed like ants, buzzing all around.

Fortunately, having been more modern-minded, I hadn’t fully adapted to the societal norms that valued noblewomen based on such superficial metrics. Those comments didn’t hit as hard as they might have otherwise.

Maybe it’s also because so many romance fantasies I’ve read featured boutiques as backdrops. I dismissed my thoughts and turned my gaze to the lime tea placed out for guests.

‘She still thinks she’s part of the former Marquisate.’

‘She must be too sick to understand the ways of the world.’

‘In the end, she’s nothing special. Perhaps even more shameless than Florencia.’

These were the kind of remarks that might have wounded Beatrice’s pride considerably, perhaps even more so.

Being compared to both my sister and Beatrice simultaneously wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. Eventually, I erased the boredom from my crimson eyes and openly displayed my irritation.

Esmeralda smiled contentedly. This was exactly the sort of gossip she desired.

And the fact that I was the one being hunted made it all the more satisfying for her.

“I’ve tailored dresses for countless young ladies, but I have no memory of making one for you. I imagine it’s the same at other places as well. I’m eager to recommend a dress that would suit you. I’m already looking forward to it.”

Noble conversations. I could feel my disgust rising as I smiled back at her. The words she spoke, laced with a veiled insult, implied that I, who hadn’t even worn proper clothes before, should simply accept whatever was given to me. It was tiresome.

I chuckled at the absurdity and picked up the catalog that was placed on every table.

“I’ve already chosen the dress I want. I only asked for the catalog to see if there was anything in it that could make me change my mind. Thanks to you, I’m able to step into this boutique without any second thoughts.”

I had never intended for you to tailor my dress according to your whims. I pushed my hair back as I conveyed this message.

Trends in the Empire moved slower than I had expected. Much slower than how children in Korea swapped their phones and clothes.

The same applied to music and culture.

All because there was no media.

Before anyone could say anything, I pointed to the debutante dress of Florencia, still featured at the front of the catalog, and ordered.

“Make it exactly like this.”

The room fell silent. The looks of disbelief, accompanied by the sound of people holding their breath, were even more amusing than I had anticipated, particularly Esmeralda’s reaction.

“…But, my lady.”

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not asking for an exact replica. The color should be slightly lighter, and the hem of the skirt should be trimmed with Saint’s lace. Although a dress made of fresh flowers is only for single use, it’s not something I wouldn’t invest in.”

I tilted my head and gave her a cat-like smile that asked, ‘What are you going to do about it?’

“Name your price. I’m willing to pay around 7,000 gold, the amount your brother failed to repay.”

I set the catalog down and immediately inquired where I should have my measurements taken.

The reactions of the women seated nearby no longer held any interest for me. As for Esmeralda, her response was almost comical. She stood frozen, as if she had seen something she shouldn’t have, before finally beginning to move in a stumbling manner. This moment would later become quite the spectacle to be discussed.

Florencia had kindly extended a hand to the heir of the fallen Count Hartlaim, who was burdened with massive gambling debts. It was truly unfortunate.

I knew how the Hartlaim family had fallen into ruin, and the madam, who viewed this as a disgrace, could do little more than clench her fists and flush with anger.

“You have… quite different tastes from your sister.”

Since Beatrice and the Crown Prince frequently ordered their dresses here, and Florencia Eilish had often spent her immense fortune at this boutique, it was something she could say. I didn’t bother to respond.

She forced a smile. She had to.

A villainess, a villainess indeed.

The man’s words, asking if I could play the role, echoed in my ears. I thought I might finally understand the meaning behind his words.

I took out the emblem Carlix had given me and examined it closely.

A hexagonal star adorned the brooch, the origins of which I could only guess.

I put it back in my pocket and quietly observed the noblewomen who were busy evaluating my sister.

The same people who had once slandered Beatrice were now turning around and celebrating the downfall of the villainess. It was laughable how they lacked conviction, needing a new target for their mockery.

I pushed the teacup aside and turned my gaze to the most elaborate dress displayed behind a glass case in the store.

‘I have no intention of taking her place.’

I muttered in mockery of the wizard.

‘But twisting fate is still twisting fate.’

There was a reason why I chose to adorn the hem of my dress with pink Saint flowers, the very flowers that symbolized Beatrice Rosen.

I remembered the prayer she once made for my happiness and a happy ending.

‘On the day Florencia dies, I’ll pray that you fall into despair. May the evil in this land vanish.’

I closed my eyes. How pitiful, just like a tragic heroine.

I spent my time daydreaming a little about the party that would take place later that afternoon.

* * *

The schedule at the boutique wrapped up after discussing the expected sketches of the final product, deliberating on the placement of the fresh flowers, and taking my measurements.

Given that this world hadn’t developed a culture of ready-made clothing, the design would typically take quite some time to complete. However, to my surprise, Esmeralda mentioned she had a similar order on hand and would seek permission to use it as a template.

I was satisfied. Even the news of a small royal banquet, delivered just as the stack of invitations on my desk reached its limit, was welcome.

What was unexpected was that the host of the banquet was Beatrice Rosen.

I could see the merit in the idea of putting in an assassination request—Sir Hyzen had mentioned that the assassins sent by the Crown Prince and those hired by Beatrice were entirely separate matters—but the intention behind sending me an invitation so openly was still unclear.

‘…Ah.’

Of course, the invitation did include some small phrases like “Please give me another chance.”

Clicking my tongue, I folded the invitation into a paper airplane and sent it flying into the corner of the room.

“It probably doesn’t matter.”

It’s better this way. I had no intention of living passively anymore.

Florencia’s execution day was steadily approaching. Though Sir Hyzen was on his way, the anxiety Florencia must feel was undoubtedly overwhelming, more so than I could imagine. I supposed I should feel some guilt about that.

True to her title of villainess, Florencia had many enemies.

Few came to visit her, but still, my sister constantly heard harsh words from someone.

‘Once, she pulled my hair; now, she gets to meet my little sister.’

I vividly remembered the first time I visited Sinalore, the way my sister bitterly reproached me with a sad expression on her face.

I missed the days when she hid her tortured, mangled hands and feet and scolded me with an arrogant look.

“I wonder… if the medicine has arrived.”

It was almost certain that the Crown Prince’s men would intercept it, but I held onto a sliver of hope. Florencia’s words to me echoed in my mind.

It’s okay. Not yet.

‘You worry too much. If I were going to cry over something like this, do you think I would have tried to kidnap Beatrice?’

Back then, my sister hadn’t been able to completely hide the burn scars on her neck. Nor had she managed to keep the blood off her lips when she made that final, bitter joke.

The royal family spared no one in their quest to eradicate the remnants of rebellion, beheading as many as necessary each day.

I knew how they died—disfigured by torture, clinging to the hedonism they had indulged in until the end, or with faces resigned to despair.

Many people either lost consciousness or wept in terror just before death.

That Florencia could remain so composed in front of her younger sister was proof enough of how difficult it was.

I could no longer afford to waste time.

Pretending to be sick was part of that, too.

While wealth could achieve almost anything, there were times when honor or status was unavoidably necessary. I didn’t need to reveal the truth and cause an uproar, but I did need to create at least some doubt—enough for people to say, ‘That lady? She didn’t seem so frail when I saw her.’

Given that I had withdrawn from most social activities since my debutante ball—which I didn’t even attend—it was only natural that I lacked credibility in these matters.

I needed to prove that I was healthy enough for my words to be taken seriously.

Manipulating public perception takes time. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that, as a mere supporting character on the brink of ruin, I could accomplish that.

The original story made a clear distinction between protagonists and extras.

Regardless of the feelings Carlix or Taylor had for me, it was telling that I was never mentioned as a rival to Beatrice.

If you’re not a major character, the outcome remains the same no matter what you do. If only everything I did went as smoothly as in other stories where supporting characters take over.

These thoughts churned in my mind before slowly fading away.

But I was at least perceptive enough to understand the meaning behind the wizard’s words.

‘You could take her place.’

Yes, the meaning was clear. The man wanted me to take on Florencia’s role.

The powers he could grant were just tools, easily imitated even without being explicitly bestowed.

The reason? It was likely just another trial for the protagonist.

I intended to imitate Florencia Eilish.

The atmosphere might be different, but it was something I could easily act out. Once the role was set, immersing myself in it wasn’t difficult.

The road back home was quiet. I quietly climbed the stairs in the mansion, where no one questioned my absence the previous night.

Banishment was a severe tragedy in this culture.

I wearily watched the maids gossiping about Florencia’s past as I passed by.

They hastily fell silent, grabbing their buckets and rags before scurrying off, having just finished cleaning my room.

‘…I should’ve asked to change rooms.’

I rubbed my temples, thinking about the corpses that had littered my room just a few days ago.

‘Is this how it’s going to be from now on…?’

The people I had met in the royal palace and the members of Glacies didn’t seem like individuals with normal thought processes.

I found myself comparing the scenes I had witnessed in this world with those from the novel, eventually shaking my head.

‘Don’t think about it.’

Whatever the case, anything was better than going back.

I clenched and unclenched my hands, trying to erase the memory of the broken bottle I had held.

My memories were stained with noise, preventing me from recalling the events clearly.

But one thing was certain….

I closed my eyes. It took a moment to calm my unsettled stomach, disturbed by the horrific images.

When I opened my eyes again, still not fully reassured about the threats of murder, I walked to the desk and picked up the knife I had found at the scene.

I wondered if it was poisoned, but eventually, I sat down and turned my head to look out the window.

I saw a bird flying in circles, rising into the sky.

Someday. I murmured. When the story ends….

The air was thick and heavy, uncharacteristic of the day’s weather. I dismissed the thoughts of the bird that had just flown by, chuckling softly as I closed the door.