The Perks of Being a Villainess

The contents of the letter were completely different from what the Duke had expected.

He had naturally assumed that Deborah had read the poem written on the letter paper. But the lines written in the letter were far too short to contain the poem she had recited.

'Then why did she suddenly read that poem?'

Surprised and puzzled, he skimmed through the letter… then let out a soft chuckle.

'So that's what she intended.'

My dear, I'm currently reading a poem by Lantz Schubert. He's my favorite poet these days. (…omitted…)

Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine the subtle fragrance of white flowers.

Deborah had tracked down the exact poem Marien had been reading when she wrote the letter, and recited it right in front of him. All so that he could fully share in the feelings and thoughts Marien experienced as she wrote.

'If I'd read this letter without knowing the poem, I wouldn't have felt this way.'

Such a deeply thoughtful gesture.

Suddenly, a sense of guilt washed over him. Until now, whenever Deborah came to deliver a letter, all he did was snap at her, accusing her of being after diamonds. He had blatantly signaled for her to just hand the letter over.

Meanwhile, Deborah stayed up late into the night, waiting without sleep, then came to him at the exact time he most needed rest. Her words about wanting to be a bridge between him and his wife hadn't been empty after all.

Just like now.

'It couldn't have been easy to find the poem Marien read, just from the clues in the letter.'

She must've read through numerous poems to figure it out—especially since Lantz Schubert was known for being an extremely prolific poet.

'I'm the one who's been a petty father.'

Having finally realized his daughter's delicate thoughtfulness, the Duke stared down at the letter for a long time, overcome by emotions too complex to name.

***

"Why does Deborah keep going in and out of Father's office? I even heard her house arrest was lifted."

At Belek's question, his attendant bowed his head with an apologetic look.

"All the staff at the Duke's estate are tight-lipped, so we haven't been able to find out the exact reason. If we pry too much, it might look suspicious."

"Have you looked into Deborah's side?"

"Other than the information that she's been buying up a bunch of romance novels and poetry collections that are popular among young ladies lately, there's nothing unusual."

Because Deborah had wrapped the item she found in the garden with a long shawl and carried it around secretly, no one could have imagined there was anything important hidden there.

Everyone simply assumed that hot-headed Deborah had caused a scene because she couldn't control her temper.

'She's so bothersome.'

With an irritated expression, Belek crossed his legs.

A younger sister who disgraced the family name with her baseless actions, utterly lacking in ability, yet strutting around just because she belonged to the Seymour bloodline.

To someone like Belek, who judged people purely by their capabilities, Deborah felt like a jagged stone that needed to be removed as soon as possible.

'Far from improving, she just keeps getting worse.'

Throwing tantrums demanding outrageously expensive jewels and trying to drain the family's wealth with her antics.

'Fine, let's say I'm being generous. That kind of behavior is exactly what I'd expect from someone like her.'

Deborah had even gone so far as to damage the garden their mother had cherished.

The moment Belek heard the news, he was convinced that their father would hand down a punishment far more severe than mere house arrest. But instead of being punished, absurd rumors began to spread—that Deborah was now enjoying tea time with their father.

And when Belek saw Deborah himself, walking out of their father's office with that shameless expression on her face, it felt like his blood was boiling.

Why was someone who'd caused such a scandal still wandering the estate like nothing had happened?

More than that, he couldn't shake the feeling that, whatever the reason, their father seemed especially lenient only toward Deborah. While he judged both Rozard and himself with cold rationality, he was strangely tolerant toward Deborah, the one with the least talent and skill.

'I just don't understand Father. If I were the head of the family, someone that foolish and incompetent wouldn't even be allowed to set foot in Seymour.'

With his eyes clouded in resentment, Belek fell into deep thought—until a sly smile crept across his face.

'Well then, you don't have much time left in this house anyway.'

In the Astaeia Empire, all noble daughters were required to marry once they came of age—no exceptions. Once Deborah completed her debutante ceremony this fall, she would be eligible, and Belek planned to expedite the engagement and send her far away.

Though he normally couldn't stand Rozard, who always got in his way, the two of them—being twins—sometimes had disturbingly similar ways of thinking.

Rozard also wanted to kick Deborah out of Seymour as soon as possible. In fact, he'd already picked out a suitable husband for her.

Was his name Louis Gazelle?

'This time, I should fully cooperate with Rozard for once.'

Once Deborah got married and took another family name, the Seymour name would no longer be dragged through the mud by petty gossip. And he wouldn't have to see her face anymore either.

Killing two birds with one stone—Belek smirked, the corners of his thin lips curling upward.

***

'What's his problem now? Why's he picking a fight again?'

After finishing my morning classes, I was hurrying toward the annex to get back to my romance novel when Belek suddenly blocked my path.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want…"

I looked uneasily at the narrow curve of Belek's eyes. The way goosebumps ran up my arms told me Deborah must've really hated that sly smirk of his.

"How ridiculous. We're not even on the same level—what business would I have with you? I'm on my way to see Father about my research report. I'm not idle like you."

Wow. What a charming way to speak.

Considering how similar my relatives' tones were in my past life, I wasn't all that surprised.

"If you don't have anything to say, Brother, don't pick a fight and just go on your way. I'll be going mine."

I spoke in the calmest tone I could manage, trying hard to swallow my irritation.

Every time Belek ignored and mocked Deborah, she'd lose her composure and lash out at her subordinates—digging her own grave in the process.

'What a waste of energy. I don't want to get involved. Just ignore him.'

As I tried to walk past him quickly, Belek lightly grabbed my arm.

"You're my little sister. The least I can do is offer you a bit of advice."

"No thanks."

"If you didn't want advice, then you should've behaved properly. I'd love to pretend I don't have a younger sister, but thanks to you, everything around here is a constant mess."

He tightened his grip on my arm, his sharp eyes narrowing menacingly.

"I heard you caused quite a stir recently over some jewel, didn't you? You're greedy and reckless—who on earth would want to marry someone like you? As your older brother, I'm so worried I've been losing sleep."

"I don't need your concern. Now let go."

"I go out of my way to care, and that's how you respond? You have no magical talent, your intelligence is lacking, and the only things going for you are your youth and your face. If I'm trying to set you up with a decent guy, shouldn't you at least show some gratitude?"

"What are you talking about?"

Wait—don't tell me he's trying to arrange a marriage meeting?

"Louis Gazelle. You'll be meeting him soon, so be prepared."

Louis Gazelle?

'That name sounds oddly familiar.'

Suddenly, a scene from the novel flashed through my mind.

That sleazy guy who kept hitting on the female lead!

He was a minor character, but his behavior was pervy, and his name reminded me of the animal Thomson's gazelle, so it stuck with me.

'This is insane.'

I jerked my arm free from his grip and glared at him with eyes full of rage. He met my glare with a mocking expression and gave a casual shrug.

"You clearly need to retake your etiquette lessons. I'll personally help you gain just enough dignity not to embarrass yourself."

The more he spoke, the more absurd it became—but I knew that if I lost my composure and lashed out, it would only make Belek sneer even harder.

A noble lady who can't even control her emotions? That's what they'd say.

With my fist clenched tightly, I recalled the way my sister used to talk back in my past life—how she deflected the endless nagging from our relatives with calm, biting words.

"You're the one who needs to watch your mouth. If you want to get married, maybe start by learning proper language skills."

When I snapped back with a line just as sharp, Belek's smug grin faded, and his eyes turned icy.

"How dare you—a mere daughter of a Duke—act like you're on the same level as me, the heir? Don't kid yourself. Given your current standing, you should be thankful a decent family is even willing to consider marrying you off."

"I never asked you to find someone. This is overstepping."

"Deborah. If you had even once shown you could manage your own life properly, I wouldn't have had to step in at all. Isn't that right?"

"Well, I'm going to manage it now. So stay out of it. If you're really so worried about my future, just give me money."

"Ha! You, suddenly figuring out how to take care of yourself? Don't tell me… are you still deluded into thinking Pilaf Montes will take you back?"

'What a piece of work.'

He even dragged in the name of the guy his little sister used to have a crush on.

Belek's mockery and harsh words kept going.

"Get real. Why would someone like Pilaf Montes even consider marrying you? Haven't you heard? I think he's been completely smitten with someone else lately."

The woman he's talking about—the one Pilaf's supposedly obsessed with—must be Mia Binoche.

"I'm not interested in news about her."

"Hmph! Acting tough, are we? Or… are you just in denial?"

He clicked his tongue in mock pity.

"Let's be real. With how disgracefully you behave, no prestigious family on Seymour's level would bother marrying you. The heirs of Montes, Orgo, Visconti—they'd all..."

"I'm not getting married."

My words instantly shut down his annoying rambling. His face, usually smooth like polished marble, cracked ever so slightly.

"W-What did you just say?"

Watching his thin lips twitch with disbelief, I replied,

"I'm going to stay single. Forever."