The Heroine Feels More like a Villainess to Me! - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Warm, early morning light caressed my face, my eyelids fluttering against its gentle prodding. The scent of lingering perfume tickled my nose with hints of vanilla and something brightly floral. How odd. I was never really one to wear perfume, nor were any of my friends. I blinked awake, my eyes going wide as I took in the environment around me.

I lay in the middle of a large canopy bed, sheer white fabric doing little to block the light streaming in from the floor to ceiling windows along the southern wall. My hands ran over silken sheets in awe. Wait. Why are my hands so small?

I scramble to the edge of the bed, nearly tumbling off the side in my frantic panic. My head whips back and forth, eyes scanning the room in search of a mirror. A tall, gilded one stood at the far end of the enormous room I found myself in. My feet patter against the marble floor as I rush over, the edge of my nightgown swishing around my skinny, awkward legs.

I skid to a stop in front of the mirror, breath catching in my throat. I'd felt small, but it was something all together different to have such a strange thing confirmed. My hands pat at my stomach and chest, lacking in the curves I'd grown used to. Up my hands went to my face, still a bit round and squishy from the lingering baby fat. Large, violet eyes stare back at me from behind bed-tossed blue-black curls. This face is familiar, but it's not my own.

This face belongs to Elizaveta Chernov, the rival character from my favorite otome game.

I stumble back away from the mirror, hands still pressed against my cheeks. How did this happen? How could this happen? This was a scenario out of some anime or manhwa. Admittedly, I adored those otome isekai stories, but I never expected to be a part of one!

I stumbled back onto a tall cushion, yelping a little as I fell back. On that cushion I sat, staring at the foreign reflection in the mirror as I tried to absorb everything. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out how I got here. My eyes squeezed shut as I wracked my brain.

An argument in the middle of a crosswalk on an empty street. Heated words and strong opinions. The screaming horn of a suddenly approaching bus.

I blinked, my cheeks and fingertips suddenly wet from tears. Of course it happened in such a cliched way. It would make me laugh if I wasn't crying so much.

"Young Miss?"

A gentle voice startled me, my head whipping in the direction of a door I hadn't noticed before. A older woman in a dark dress stood there, a concerned look on her face. A maid? Or a nanny?

"Oh, Young Miss, what happened?" she asked gently, pulling a handkerchief out of the pocket of her apron as she approached. "I heard you yelp and now I come in and find you crying. Are you alright?"

"I-I'm okay," I stammer out, rubbing at my eyes with my tiny hands. "Just a nightmare."

"Oh, you poor thing," the woman murmured, dabbing at my cheeks with her handkerchief. "It must have been terribly frightening."

I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain that the nightmare had only really just begun. Just like all villainous rivals in otome games, Elizaveta never got a happy ending. Her jealousy of the heroine made her petty and violent. In one of the endings, her home territory ends up invaded by a foreign nation and it's implied that she dies in the subsequent fighting. The other endings are only marginally better, with her being imprisoned or banished with no way of fending for herself.

I shuddered, my whole body trembling from the overwhelming sense of dread that filled my stomach. The maid shushed me gently, gathering me up into warm arms as she pet my tangled hair.

"It's alright, Young Miss," she assured me. "Everything will be alright."

Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but feel comforted by the maid's kind words and comforting embrace. My tears dried, leaving behind only puffy eyes and a bit of a sniffle.

"There we are," the maid cooed. "Now, would you like me to call for breakfast? It's a bit early but I'm sure the chef won't mind."

My eyes drifted downwards, shyness filling the space the fleeing dread left behind. "I don't want to be a bother..."

"Oh, Young Miss," the maid chuckled as if tickled by my shyness. "It's no bother at all. We are here to serve at the pleasure of the Chernov family. Whatever you need, if it is within our power, you shall have."

I nodded. "Then...can I have pancakes?"

The maid laughed, bright and cheery. "Of course, Young Miss. With all the butter and syrup you could want."

She plucked me up from the cushion I was still sat on, lifting me onto her hip with a practiced ease. It surprised me how easily she carried a child of my size. I might be smaller than I was used to, but I still couldn't be much more younger than ten, which felt like far too old of an age to be picked up but perhaps I was wrong.

The maid settled me back on the edge of the bed. She smiled down at me with hands on her hips. "Now you stay right there. I'll go get you breakfast and send in someone to get you ready for the day."

"Okay," I murmur with a nod. "Thank you."

The maid paused at the door, the lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled as her smile widened. "You're very welcome, Young Miss."

She dipped a curtsey before slipping through the door, leaving me alone once more.

Someone knocked at my door not long after the maid (nanny?) left.

"Come in," I called, trying to sound more confident and noble than I actually was.

A younger maid stepped into the room, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a braided bun. She paused to curtsey, her dark eyes dipping low. "Missus Frisk asked that I ready the lady for the day."

A flash of something raced across my mind. Of course! How could I forget my nanny? Well, no. I had to remind myself that she wasn't my nanny, but Elizaveta's. It seemed Elizaveta's memories were not out of reach, though. That would be helpful.

I nodded to the maid -- Jenny, I believe her name was -- as I slipped once more from bed. "Yes, please."

Jenny gestured for me to sit on the cushion in front of the large mirror once more. A cart covered in brushes and combs and bottles of various tonics was wheeled over. It seemed Elizaveta was not considered old enough to have a vanity just yet. I wondered when noblewomen started having makeup done. Perhaps when they debuted? I remembered the game making a big deal out of the heroine's debut.

The maid pulled the brush through my hair, doing her best to be gentle with the tangles that had worked their way into it through my nightly tossing and turning. I did my best not to wince or make any noise that indicated pain, though a hiss did make it through at one point.

"My apologies, My Lady," Jenny said.

"It's alright," I quickly assured her. "I know it can't be easy dealing with my hair when it's like this."

I could feel Jenny hesitate for a moment, the brush hovering just above my hair for a moment before she resumed her task. "My Lady is very kind."

I couldn't be sure what she meant by that. Did she mean I was being oddly kind? It was hard for me to know how Elizaveta usually acted at this age. Despite having access to her memories, it was more along the line of knowing where I was and the people around me. The rest was fuzzy and out of reach. The nanny seemed to care for Elizaveta, going out of her way to comfort her for something as silly as a nightmare. But the nanny's relationship with Elizaveta might be different than the relationship she had with the other staff.

Elizaveta in the game was cold and vindictive. She had a few followers in the form of daughters of lower-ranked families who wanted to use her position to secure their place in high society, but none of them could really be considered friends. Still, it was hard to imagine her to be that way at her current age. Perhaps she was simply distant and aloof?

Once the brushing was done, Jenny approached my nearby wardrobe, opening it up for my inspection. "What would My Lady like to wear today?"

My eyes scanned over the flowy fabrics and rich colors. Just one of those dresses probably cost more than I usually paid for clothes in a year. I ended up pointing at a vague spot in the wardrobe, agreeing with whatever dress Jenny pulled out. It was a deceptively plain looking dress of a deep blue the same shade as the night sky. Most of Elizaveta's clothes seemed to be in dark colors, befitting her villainous status.

A knock at the door came just as Jenny finished buttoning up the back of my dress and topping it all off with a large, white ribbon around my neck. I turned to see the nanny returning with a tray of food. I could smell the warm, sweet scent of the pancakes even under the metal cloche.

"Is the Young Miss ready to eat?" Missus Frisk asked.

Jenny took my hand and had me twirl for Missus Frisk. "I think she is. What do you think, Missus Frisk?"

The nanny's bright eyes glimmered with unbridled affection. "Perfect as usual. Thank you, Jenny."

"Thank you, Jenny," I echoed, earning a gentle smile from both the maid and the nanny.

Missus Frisk brought me over to a small table near the wall of windows, placing the tray down before lifting the cloche and revealing the stack of warm, fluffy pancakes. It was all I could do to keep my mouth from watering. A pad of butter sat to the side of the main plate along with a small pitcher full of golden-brown syrup. A crystal bowl was filled with a selection of scrumptious looking berries in shades of red and blue and purple.

"Is the Young Miss satisfied with her meal?" Missus Frisk asked, a cheeky twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, thank you!" I chirped, doing my best to keep myself from drooling. Pancakes were a treat in my past life, and none of them ever looked this delicious. I slathered each pancake with butter until there wasn't any left before proceeding to drown them with syrup. Each bite was sumptuously sweet and decadently fluffy.

As I ate, I watched the sun rise over the trees that lined the vast, meticulously maintained property of the noble Chernov family. The blooming flowers in the garden told me it was spring, or perhaps early summer. Elizaveta's birthday was in winter, which meant I had a while before someone would tell me how old I currently was. It would likely seem odd for a kid to ask how old then were, as most were keen on telling anyone they met how old they were. At least, that was my experience with younger kids.

I glanced over at Jenny as she tidied up my discarded pajamas. When she'd first came in I thought she looked young, but now that the sun had risen more, I could see just how young she really was. She couldn't be much older than sixteen. And with her poise and grace, she must have been doing this for several years.

I paused in my eating, my fork tapping against the porcelain of the plate. I'd been her age when I'd...left my previous life to be reborn as Elizaveta, and I mostly just worried about my grades and avoiding certain people I didn't particularly want to spend the brain power remembering.

I popped a slice of strawberry in my mouth, desperate to focus on something else. The sweet, acidic taste pulled me back to the moment, and how heavy my stomach was already feeling.

"I'm full, Nanny," I announce, pushing back from the table. "I'm going to go for a walk, okay?"

"Of course, Young Miss," Missus Frisk assured, gathering my plates and utensils up into something easier to carry. "Shall we send for a knight? Or will you just take Jenny with you?"

I shook my head, hands firmly on my hips. "I'm old enough I can go for a walk on my own. Jenny has more important things to do than watch me wander the halls and grounds."

Jenny looked up at Missus Frisk, clearly uncertain whether or not this was really allowed. But Missus Frisk just smiled indulgently.

"Alright, Young Miss," she acquiesced. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask any of staff."

"Yes, Nanny!" I called, already heading towards my bedroom door.

The halls were dimly lit, as the hour was still early. Staff bustled about, getting ready for the day. The maids and manservants greeted me as I passed, typically with a shallow bow or curtsey as they went about their tasks. I felt compelled to greet them in turn, which made many of them smile. I supposed it wasn't often that the family actually acknowledged the servants of the house unless they'd done something wrong. Or maybe that was just my perception of things. Elizaveta's memories weren't very helpful on that front, likely because she didn't pay much attention to such things.

Elizaveta lived up on the third floor, where the noble family had their bed chambers. The floor below housed various studies and tea rooms and libraries. The bottom floor housed the kitchen and ballroom and formal dining room. Servants quarters were connected to the main house by a basement tunnel that led directly to the laundry and boiler rooms, which were separate from the wine cellar that could only be accessed through a stairwell in the hall between the kitchen and dining room. Elizaveta wasn't allowed in the basement, but she'd gone in a few times when she was much younger, usually following behind her brother.

I paused at the bottom of the stairwell, eyes set on the large front doors before me. Elizaveta's brother, Anton, was one of the few characters that never wavered in their faith in Elizaveta. Even in the routes where Elizaveta did some truly nasty things to deter the player character from getting together with the love interests, he always stood by her side. Despite this, I couldn't remember if Elizaveta was ever particularly nice to her brother.

I stepped out into the garden, determined to treat Anton kindly, as he deserved. But more than that, it was clear to me that Elizaveta needed more allies. While I had no intention of being cruel, I couldn't be certain what might be twisted against me in the future. Stories always talked about how certain things couldn't be changed and some events were just fated to be and all that jazz.

Elizaveta's memories served me well as I navigated my way through the garden, towards where I knew the person I had to talk to would be at this early time in the morning. I slipped through rows of tall, pristinely maintained hedges and past beds of roses and lilies. I could see the distant mountain peaks on the horizon, still covered in snow that reflected the sunlight back into my eyes.

In a small gazebo on the edge of a pod covered in water lilies in shades of deep purple and midnight black, I found who I was looking for. Sat at a small table with a cup of tea in hand and accompanied by a servant with graying hair, sat Count Aleksandr Chernov. Elizaveta's father.

The servant spotted me first, bowing and murmuring a polite, but surprised greeting. Count Chernov turned just in time to see me dip a curtsey.

"Elizaveta? What are you doing out and about so early?" Count Chernov questioned.

"Father, I have a request I'd like to make," I responded, rather than telling him the nightmare excuse I'd given the servants.

"Oh?" Count Chernov set his teacup aside, turning fully in his chair to face me. "And what might that be, my dear?"

I inhaled deeply, hands clenched at my sides as I opened my mouth to ask something that was truly out of character for both Elizaveta and my actual self.

"Papa, I want a friend."