The Perks of Being a Villainess

'Right. There was a time when the Seymour family proposed a marriage alliance with House Montes.'

Come to think of it, the two were almost engaged. It was well known that Lady Deborah had long been obsessed with Pilaf.

He was merely recalling an old rumor he had already known, and yet it left an unpleasant feeling in his chest.

Just as Isidore was caught up in his own tangle of unexplainable emotions, loud chatter echoed from the opposite corridor.

Three young noble ladies, dressed in flamboyant attire, were approaching him.

"Oh my, Lord Isidore!"

One of them, her hair styled in a tall updo, acted surprised as if their meeting was a delightful coincidence. Another bashfully fluttered her fan and smiled coyly.

Naturally, they began to close the distance and gradually surrounded Isidore.

"What is it?" he asked, wearing his usual courteous smile.

"We were wondering if the social club you run is accepting new members this year?"

"I'm afraid it'll be difficult to expand Epsilon's membership this year."

Isidore declined politely, taking a step back as Lady Shiron tried to press herself against his arm. The overpowering scent of her perfume made his stomach churn.

'Too obvious with the flirting, aren't they?'

'How disgraceful.'

Despite the sharp glares from the other noble ladies, Lady Shiron paid no mind and continued the conversation with excessive enthusiasm.

"It's such a shame. I've already turned down three other clubs because I wanted to join the one you run, my lord."

Isidore was too disinterested to even respond. He merely lifted his index finger slightly in dismissal.

"…Oh my!"

Suddenly, the net holding up Lady Shiron's hair snapped, and her neatly arranged hairstyle collapsed in all directions. And of all times, it had to happen right in front of Lord Isidore—the very person she was trying to impress. Her face flushed deep red in embarrassment.

Miguel let out a small sigh at Isidore's subtle glance and bent down to pick up the fallen hair accessory.

"Lady Shiron, your hairpiece fell."

"I'm aware."

Snatching it from Miguel's hand with a frosty expression, she quickly turned and fled the scene.

"She seems like your friend. Aren't you going to follow her?" Isidore asked casually.

Reluctantly, the two remaining noble ladies took their leave. They weren't particularly close to Lady Shiron, but somehow felt pressured to go after her.

"My lord, abusing magic like this... shame on you," Miguel grumbled the moment they were out of sight.

Sending a handkerchief flying, making hairpins fall, or breaking necklaces—these were some of Isidore's go-to tricks whenever he couldn't be bothered to deal with overly eager noblewomen.

Since Isidore was considered one of the finest swordsmen in the Empire, no one would have imagined he'd resort to magic for such petty tricks.

"With overflowing talent, what's a little misuse here and there?"

"Of course. Who could possibly stop you?"

"Come to think of it, I have more than enough going for me. Why cling solely to the 'handsome face' approach? Don't you agree?"

"Isn't it a bit too early to revise your strategy after just one failed attempt, my lord?"

"Failed attempt? I haven't even started using the handsome-face strategy yet."

"..."

"The more tactics, the better, don't you think?"

Isidore rubbed his slender jaw as he muttered in a serious tone.

The usual ease and composure on his face had completely vanished.

***

"Social clubs..."

As I walked through the academy courtyard, I let out a quiet sigh while scanning the posters that introduced and promoted various social clubs.

'So here's another obstacle.'

The reason I was deep in thought was because these social clubs weren't like college clubs you could join based on personal interest.

The very existence of Pangea Academy wasn't founded on academics, but rather on social networking. Within that founding principle, the social clubs were formed and grew.

As the time for social debut approached and students began achieving things in their respective fields, invitations from social clubs would start to come in.

'They're practically mandatory.'

Due to their long-standing tradition, not joining a social club would mark you as a weirdo, and you'd be at a huge disadvantage when participating in society after graduation.

'Without an affiliation to present, it's only natural you'd be left out...'

Around last year, even Duke Seymour had advised Deborah to join a club in advance.

Which club one belonged to significantly affected future social activities, so joining a prestigious club was every noble's wish.

The reputation of a club was determined by its members. Nobles would pull every string they had to enter clubs run by royalty or high-ranking aristocrats.

As a note, in the original story, Deborah joined a club called . Arakron was a traditional club that had existed since the academy's founding—and would later become the club Miya also joined.

'It was the root of all the chaos to come.'

Within each club, there were two subgroups: male-only Fraternities and female-only Sororities. In the Sorority of , Deborah relentlessly bullied and ostracized the female protagonist—only to have it backfire on her later.

'I need to steer clear of that one.'

I made up my mind quickly. I didn't want to get entangled with the female lead, so joining was out of the question.

'But... is there even another club I could realistically join?'

held family lineage and noble blood in high regard, making it relatively easy for Deborah to get in. On the other hand, clubs with similar prestige—, , and —valued competence, character, and reputation as key factors in choosing their members.

'Deborah's ability, character, and reputation are all garbage. No way she'd be accepted into any of those three.'

Of course, beyond the four elite clubs that represented the academy, there were other, more approachable clubs. But as a direct descendant of House Seymour, it would look bad if I joined a club run by someone from a lesser noble house.

If I ended up in a low-tier club, Duke Seymour would chew me out for bringing shame to the family.

And if scolding was all I got, I'd consider myself lucky. The bigger issue was that belonging to a mediocre club meant being subtly disregarded in social circles.

'I don't mind if people fear me. But I refuse to be looked down on.'

The weaker my presence in the capital's society, the more it would bolster Belec's plan to ship me off to some remote western border.

'Ugh. My head hurts.'

All these bizarre settings from the novel were giving me a headache. I pressed my temples hard, trying to ease the throb.

Not only was it uncertain whether any club other than would even consider me—but my personal circumstances were just as absurd.

'I can't even use mana, yet I'm majoring in magic? Are you kidding me?'

A hollow, bitter laugh escaped me at how ridiculous this situation truly was.

Deborah, perhaps because she hailed from House Seymour, harbored an abnormal level of awe and fantasy when it came to magic. So much so that she stubbornly insisted on majoring in the Faculty of Magic.

By standard regulations, those who cannot manipulate mana are not permitted to take magic-related courses. But I had a powerful sponsor—my father, the Master of the Magic Tower. To top it off, Marquess Bert, Duke Seymour's twin brother, was the headmaster of the academy. Thanks to them, Deborah managed to parachute her way into the magic faculty.

'This isn't just a parachute anymore—this is a cutting-edge hang glider…' (*)

With such an outrageous privilege, dissatisfaction was brewing within the academy, and some students couldn't even hide their contempt for Deborah.

"I'm fundamentally different from lowlifes like you. We're not even in the same league."

Whenever Deborah felt disrespected, she would explode in fury, flinging expensive mana stones like pebbles. It didn't stop there. She even resorted to slapping low-ranking noble-born mages when she saw fit.

Deborah's infamy reached every corner of the academy, but the students in the Faculty of Magic were likely the ones who suffered the most.

'I really don't want to go.'

My steps toward the magic research lab grew heavier. As I trudged slowly across the campus, I spotted a man surrounded by people in front of the fountain where the clock tower stood.

'What was his name again… Ish… something?'

With his striking looks and tall stature, he stood out clearly even from afar.

'A squid boat spotlight?'

The man was so unfairly handsome that everyone standing around him—regardless of gender—looked like squids in comparison. And I wasn't the only one who thought so; the noble ladies passing by couldn't take their eyes off his face.

"That must be Sir Isidor."

Ah, right. Isidor.

"He's even more handsome than the rumors said."

"It's like there's a halo shining behind him."

Compliments about his looks echoed from all directions. And honestly, I couldn't agree more.

'His styling today is perfect. A full ten out of ten.'

Of course, with that face, anything would look good on him—but today's uniform was truly divine.

Last time I saw him, he was wearing a white shirt that gave off a pure and innocent vibe. But today, he was dressed in a black frock coat that highlighted his broad shoulders and slim waist, making him look irresistibly sexy.

His slicked-back pomade hairstyle emphasized his clean forehead and sharp features, and combined with the uniform, it only heightened his already potent sensual appeal.

'Truly impressive. Full marks for that.'

Although most of the novel's settings were awful, at least the visual scenery like this was an absolute blessing for the eyes. While silently giving a thumbs-up in my mind, I accidentally bit my tongue the moment I made direct eye contact with Isidor.

'Did he just catch me ogling him like an idiot?'

Even as I scolded myself for being too weak against good looks, the noble ladies nearby started excitedly hitting each other's arms.

"Oh my gosh. Did he just look at me?"

"He smiled at me, I swear!"

So… he wasn't looking at me. I almost misunderstood.

"Lady Deborah!"

But just as I felt relieved, Isidor called my name loud and clear. Everyone around him turned their heads toward me with surprised expressions.

And honestly, I was just as dumbfounded.

'Why does he keep talking to me?'

(*) "parachute drop" refers to someone who gets placed in a position thanks to powerful connections. The speaker is humorously exaggerating, implying that the person didn't just land easily with help, they had the latest and most advanced "equipment" to glide in smoothly, all thanks to their connections.