Chapter : 01
Sitting in a garden without a single patch of shade on a summer day when the afternoon sun burned relentlessly was nothing short of torture.
“Hoo…”
Had it been an hour or two already, sitting there like that?
“Have you been waiting long?”
Just as I was seriously debating whether to throw myself into the fountain to escape the heat, the man I had been waiting for finally arrived.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry for coming so suddenly, Young Duke.”
Suppressing my rising irritation, I wiped the sweat streaming down my face with a handkerchief.
It had already been soaked through about an hour ago and could no longer serve its purpose, but I had no other choice.
“My, you’re sweating quite a lot.”
The man—Lawrence Gerhardt, the Young Duke—said.
He looked slightly surprised at my drenched appearance.
No.
He was probably just pretending to be surprised.
“It’s quite hot today.”
“Yes, it really is hot. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”
He put on an air of having made an innocent mistake.
In August, the hottest month of the year, in the middle of summer—he hadn’t expected it to be hot?
Did he think it would snow or something?
His shamelessness almost made me angry, but since I was the one at fault, I forced a smile.
Though, truth be told, it wasn’t even my fault—but what could I do?
“Shall we go inside?”
He spoke with a faint, friendly smile, pretending to be considerate.
“So it seems a seat has finally opened up in the reception room?”
Even though I had resolved not to upset him, a sarcastic remark slipped out without thinking.
I immediately regretted it, but since it had already happened, I hoped he might feel at least a little sorry toward me.
However, the Young Duke nodded shamelessly, without the slightest hint of guilt.
“Let’s go.”
Without an ounce of consideration, he strode ahead.
His back, walking off alone, looked unbearably irritating.
“Hoo…”
I could roughly tell how much that man disliked me.
Thinking about what was to come, my vision darkened and my chest felt tight, a sigh escaping me on its own.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“Ah…”
Lawrence got straight to the point before I had even fully sat down on the sofa in the reception room.
A small sigh escaped me at his complete lack of courtesy.
It was infuriating that I couldn’t even get angry and had to behave so submissively despite such treatment—but what choice did I have?
“There’s something I need to return.”
“…What is it?”
The Young Duke narrowed his eyes as he looked at me.
It was a warning—telling me not to try anything foolish.
For a brief moment, my gaze collided with his red eyes in midair.
My own eyes must have been trembling pitifully.
He wasn’t shouting or raging—he was merely looking at me—yet he was terrifying.
Damn it.
I almost thought the sweltering heat outside had been better.
“……”
What would he think of me once I took this out?
Under his expectant gaze, as if urging me to hurry up and speak, I had no choice but to reach into my bag.
A chill crept up from my fingertips as they touched metal colder than my body temperature.
My heart pounded rapidly, but I took it out anyway.
“I’m sorry. I should have given it back sooner.”
The hand holding the small locket began to tremble helplessly.
“Why do you have this…?”
Just from the necklace slipping slightly from my grasp, Lawrence seemed to realize what it was. His face visibly twisted.
Right. Why did I have this…?
If I could, I wanted to spew excuses endlessly, but instead, I simply bowed my head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why do you have this?”
He snatched the necklace from my hand.
His voice, cold as ice, revealed his deep hatred toward me. There was no trace of pretense left.
From his tone alone, I could tell how angry he was.
“……”
It had been unbearably hot just moments ago, yet suddenly I felt chills.
Perhaps the reception room was kept cool with magical devices.
…No. I was shivering because of Lawrence’s frightening glare.
“I asked why you have this.”
“I picked it up when you dropped it, Young Duke.”
“Ha!”
His mouth twisted crookedly.
“You hold on to something you picked up for an entire year? Even though you clearly knew who the owner was?”
He roughly ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to restrain his anger.
‘Exactly. I was crazy.’
That was what I wanted to say—but I swallowed the words, knowing they would only fuel his rage.
Provoking Lawrence, who had already been granted a knightly title, would do me no good.
“….”
Perhaps silence was the only way to survive.
Drawing on my past experience, I tucked my chin in deeply and bowed my head.
Then I carefully clasped my hands together and quietly waited for his next words.
“Are you insane?”
“……”
“You’ve really gone too far this time!”
“I’m sorry.”
My body trembled at his voice, laced with deep-seated hatred.
“Ha! Sorry? I can’t tell what kind of scheme you’re plotting this time.”
“……”
“Patricia Herarilla. I’m warning you—don’t ever show your face before me again.”
As if he didn’t want to be in the same space as me any longer, he rose abruptly and issued a low warning.
The social world was small—how could I possibly avoid his notice?
Though I thought it was absurd, I obediently nodded.
Bang!
“Haa…”
Only after the reception room door closed did I finally release the breath I had been holding.
Patricia Herarilla.
That was my name.
It was also the name of the villainess in a novel I had possessed a month ago.
In the novel Miraculous Love, Patricia was a villainess who relentlessly interfered with and tormented the male and female leads—only to be killed in the end.
Tsk. Of all roles to possess, it had to be this miserable one…
If I were going to possess someone at all, I should have become a noble lady loved by everyone, or the ultimate villain who could do whatever she pleased without caring about anyone’s opinion.
“Haa…”
Patricia was neither loved nor free to act on her own will.
Living as Patricia for the past month had driven home one painful realization: she was a rather pitiful villainess.
In typical romance fantasy novels, a villainess usually comes from a powerful family, adored by all, and is a spoiled tyrant who knows only herself.
But Patricia was different.
She was a child of the Herarilla Ducal House, a family wealthy and renowned enough to live comfortably—but she was considered a thorn in their side and could not enjoy any of it.
The Herarilla family was a prestigious lineage that had produced scholars for generations.
Yet Patricia was slow to learn—unlike a true Herarilla.
In a family where it was normal to learn to read before the age of five, Patricia only managed to do so at nine.
Was that why?
Why Patricia was loved by no one in her family.
Her three older brothers all looked down on her.
From what I had experienced, it seemed they feared that even speaking to her might make them stupid as well.
And her father—now someone I had to call “Father”—never missed a chance to scold me.
“Patricia. How dare you say you’re going to a tea party?”
“…”
“What would you even talk about when you get there?!”
One day, after being invited to a tea party, I said I planned to attend—and he exploded in anger.
“Stop disgracing the family name and lock yourself in your room!”
He was afraid I might mingle with others and speak.
Afraid my ignorance—no, Patricia’s ignorance—would be exposed.
In his rage, he tried to confine me inside the house.
Because of that, Patricia could only show her face in high society when accompanied by her father.
It seemed he could only be at ease if he monitored her every move.
Enduring this family ostracism alone was already overwhelming—but Patricia was even disrespected by the servants.
A daughter unloved by the head of the household and scorned by her siblings—who would fear or respect her? To them, she was merely laughable.
Still, even villainess Patricia wasn’t the type to just take it.
She embodied the villain’s creed of bullying the weak while fearing the strong better than anyone, and thus tyrannized her maids and attendants.
If something displeased her, she would shout as a matter of course—and if necessary, she didn’t hesitate to punish them.
She trained her servants to suit her tastes that way, but in return, earned the title of “villainess.”
And because of it, she fell even further out of the Duke of Herarilla’s favor.
A child who was already lacking in intellect, now shouting without decorum and throwing tantrums over the smallest displeasure—he seemed to loathe the fact that such a child was his own.
From my perspective, the Duke of Herarilla—my so-called father—didn’t seem all that refined himself.
In any case, unlike the typical villainess of romance fantasy novels, Patricia was a pitiful figure not even acknowledged by her own family.
Hmm…
Yes, she was pitiful—but the most pitiful person of all was me.
With no joy to be found in life, destined to die in a few short years—the one who had possessed Patricia was the most miserable of all.
Patricia was seventeen now, meaning there wasn’t much time left before her death.
The main story began after the male lead’s coming-of-age ceremony, once he became a duke.
Since he was one year older than me, if the novel followed its original course, I was destined to die in about two years.
