Chapter 5 of “A Perfect Ending Plan for the Villain in a Fairy Tale”:
Chapter 5
A chill ran down my spine.
Then… does the prince look exactly like the illustration?
The main female lead, Larisa, the wicked sister, and Marcia all somewhat resembled their drawn versions, but none looked exactly the same.
Especially the wicked sister—only her blonde hair and pale skin were depicted, everything else was simplified.
So, I couldn’t rely on the illustration to identify her as Marcia.
“The prince was tall and had black hair, right?”
If only the family tree had portraits too.
Or at least some notes about appearances.
But the genealogy only included names, birth and death dates, marital status, spouses, and children. That was it.
Still, this was a great outcome.
At least now I knew which family the prince belonged to and what his name was.
Satisfied, I closed the directory.
I’d escape with Larisa and deliver her to House Laurent.
If the prince really had black hair, I’d recognize him right away.
If I could stick around the Laurent household, great. If not, I’d leave Larisa in their care and survive on the jewelry I had.
“Simple enough.”
Of course, the details wouldn’t be so simple.
But no matter how it turned out, anything was better for Larisa than being locked in a basement and beaten daily.
It’ll take at least a week for her leg to heal. Let’s escape exactly one week from now.
I returned all the books to their proper places and left the library.
“…Why is it that none of my plans ever go smoothly?”
It was like that in my previous life, and now it was happening again inside this fairy tale.
The incident happened on the fourth day after I possessed the character.
It took me a while to realize it, but as I remained in this body, my soul and Marcia’s were slowly blending together.
At first, it was different.
Marcia’s will and memories only surfaced when stimulated by external events.
If I wanted to know something about the past, I had to ask her inwardly.
But as days passed, that need faded.
I started recalling her memories instantly—what had happened, how she would have reacted.
By the third day, Marcia’s memories were almost completely mine.
And since the first day, she hadn’t tried to move the body again.
It feels like I’ve slowly absorbed her…
Just as my soul had merged into Marcia’s body, her memories were now embedded in my soul.
I had no idea where her soul went.
No matter how much I call out, she doesn’t answer. Maybe she passed on after giving me her memories.
While inheriting Marcia’s memories, I learned something firsthand on the fourth day—what kind of ability her fairy mother had passed down to her.
Until then, I had just assumed Marcia had good hearing.
After all, I could hear the maids whispering to each other in the hallway.
Strangely, I never heard their footsteps—only their voices were clear.
But what I heard on the fourth day wasn’t just complaints.
It was an eerie, piercing sound.
Please… please stop… it hurts, it hurts… I’m sorry…
A young girl’s voice, desperately begging for mercy.
“…!”
I was sitting in the second-floor lounge when I bolted up and threw the door open.
No one was in the hallway.
The adjacent room—a drawing room—was also empty.
Muttering in confusion, I said, “Was that… a hallucination?”
Even as I doubted my sanity, the voice continued to echo in my ears.
It was a voice so painful it made my heart ache.
If it were Marcia, she would’ve run far away from it.
She would’ve escaped to her room at the top of the house or gone to a party to drown herself in alcohol.
But I wasn’t Marcia.
Unlike her, I didn’t run—I walked toward the voice.
And where else could it have come from?
Of course, the basement.
Realistically, there’s no way a sound from two floors underground could reach the second floor.
Especially since the basement where Larisa was kept was soundproofed with double doors.
No way…
I stopped in front of the basement entrance.
The door was locked from the inside. I had hurried here so fast I’d forgotten the key in my room.
Should I go back and get it?
As I hesitated, the iron door creaked open.
It was my brother—Bilaine.
When our eyes met, his widened for a moment, then twisted into a mocking grin.
“Well, well, what a surprise. The princess herself comes down here?”
“What are you doing here?”
His sarcastic tone made my skin crawl.
More importantly, he came out of there…
I quickly scanned him from head to toe.
Sure enough, there were a few specks of blood on the end of his sleeve.
“What else is there to do down here?”
He sneered, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“I gave you those earrings a few days ago. They were emeralds, you know.”
They were expensive. Enough to cover a month’s worth of his drinking habit.
Well, his drinking habit. A normal person could’ve bought a small house with that money.
And yet, here he was again, back in the basement?
Don’t tell me…
“Yeah, I used them. But a few rounds and they were gone.”
“You gambled them away? Do you even know how much they were worth?”
Bilaine stepped closer.
He was a head taller than me, looming threateningly.
“So what? You came to fill your purse again. And why are you here, huh? Didn’t you already pay for those fancy earrings in tears?”
He poked my shoulder with his finger.
“You think sending someone else to do the beating makes you innocent? All that money you spend—your food, your clothes—they all come from down here.”
I knew that. I knew that.
That’s why I’m trying to stop it now!
Of course, I couldn’t say that.
So instead, I shoved him with all my strength.
He didn’t budge.
Instead, he raised the hand he had been poking me with and gently tapped my cheek.
“I haven’t cut open the golden goose yet. I’ll let it live out its full life. So smile, will you?”
My face contorted even more.
It sounded like he planned to keep Larisa locked up and beaten for the rest of her life.
I swatted his hand away and glared at him.
Bilaine stared at me for a moment before curling his lips into a smirk.
“Cut the hypocrisy.”
He pulled a key from his pocket and securely locked the basement door.
Clack. The sound of the bolt sliding into place echoed in the hallway.
He jiggled the doorknob to make sure it was locked, then looked me over one last time before walking off.
The pitiful cries had stopped.
The basement was now silent.
From the top of the stairs, I heard Bilaine’s voice.
“Crazy bitch.”
That’s when I realized.
The power Marcia had inherited from her fairy mother was the ability to hear people’s true thoughts.
More precisely—only their negative ones.
Joyful or happy thoughts didn’t come through.
But complaints and insults? She heard them all.
Especially if they were about her—they rang even louder.
No wonder Marcia turned out the way she did.
All she ever heard were complaints.
No matter how still she stayed, negativity echoed from all directions.
She became nastier, and the staff whispered more criticisms.
Of course, they thought they were safe as long as she didn’t hear them.
But she did.
So she grew more twisted.
Even from far away, she could hear cries of pain loud and clear.
That’s why her room was at the very top of the mansion.
She couldn’t bear Larisa’s screams from the basement.
Her room had to be as far away from it as possible.
On days she couldn’t stand it, she ran away.
At parties, she could forget everything.
She wasn’t as beautiful as Larisa, but still very pretty.
People at parties only said nice things to her.
At sixteen, once she was old enough to drink, she drowned herself in alcohol.
It became routine—drinking heavily at parties and stumbling home at dawn.
Recalling Marcia’s memories, I bit my lip.
I thought I understood from the memories, but I only knew it in my head. Not in my heart.
So this is what it meant to hear someone’s innermost thoughts.
Now, I am Marcia. And Marcia is me.
Her burdens are now mine too.
There’s no need to overthink this. I don’t need to run—I need to fix it.
If I hear cries of pain, then I should remove their cause.
Larisa’s thoughts were tormenting me.
So I could either leave this house… or save her from that basement.
The most certain path would be to do both.
I’ll escape with Larisa and leave her in the care of her future husband.
“Perfect.”
Three days left until the day I planned to escape.
I leaned against the heavy basement door. The iron was bitterly cold.
I pressed my cheek against it and whispered quietly,
“Just hold on a little longer. Just three more days.”
But the day I began packing… wasn’t three days later.
It was exactly—
