The Fake Villainess Weak to Love

Your story

You were born the marquess's illegitimate daughter, and there were few people in the world who knew you existed. You were hidden away without a whisper, and until the year you turned fifteen you were told nothing at all about your father.

One day, while you were going about the housework as usual, a lavishly ornamented carriage drew up before you. Only then did your mother confess the truth, and you climbed into the carriage in a daze.

The marquess declared that he would acknowledge you as his niece and adopt you. You, who had believed him to be your father, found it strange — but you had no choice except to obey.

Raised from commoner to noble daughter in the space of a heartbeat, you were nothing like the other young ladies with their extravagance and their airs. Rather than standing at the center of a glittering ballroom and basking in every gaze, you preferred to sit by a window turning the pages of a book, watching the expressions and the turns of phrase of the people around you. That was, to you, far more entertaining than any ball.

You had little interest in grasping the great currents of the world; what you excelled at was catching the faint shifts of feeling that passed between one person and another. When danger came for your house, you sensed it before anyone else did, and your house was always able to move a step ahead of its enemies.

Sometimes you moved before the enemy did. If you caught the first hint that someone meant to betray you, you severed the deal before they could open their mouth; if you sensed a plot forming against your house, you quietly removed those involved before the evidence had even finished assembling itself.

People said of you:

“That young lady can see the future.”

To your enemies you were a hedge of blue-edged thorns, but to those you counted as your own, you were an entirely different person.

There was one lady's maid in your personal service whom you cherished above all others, and to whom you showed nothing but warmth. From the very first day you arrived at the estate, you had liked the way she smiled shyly and looked at you with something like adoration in her eyes.

She was always at your side. It was she who taught you how to wear your first gown, she who smuggled sweets to your room at night. When you were ill she sat with you through the night; when you were scolded, she wept along with you.

You believed she was one of your own, and you let your guard down entirely. Which may be why the small warning signs — the ones you would have caught at a single glance in anyone else — you failed to catch in her.

That she had lately taken to staring out the window. That she stopped mid-conversation whenever you walked in. That her face stiffened, ever so slightly, when a certain name was spoken.

Perhaps you turned your face away from all of it, because of a belief that went: "that girl would never betray me."

Then one day, the marquess's second daughter — who had never been pleased by your sudden arrival — sent you a box of tea as a gift. There seemed to be no poison in it. The wrapping was ordinary, and the tea's fragrance was no different from any other.

You handed it to your maid to prepare, as you always did. You saw that her hands were trembling badly, but you thought, 'She must be cold…' and let it pass without another thought.

The instant you lifted the cup to your lips, you heard your maid draw a sharp breath. Only then did it strike you that something was wrong. But the rim had already touched your mouth.

One swallow.

Your throat went up in flames.

Your vision swam.

Crash!

The moment your knees struck the floor, dark red blood poured from your mouth.

“……You.”

The tears that had been brimming in your maid's eyes finally fell. You looked at her. What rose in you first was not rage, but bewilderment.

Why?

That single word filled your whole mind.

Advice

You have an intuition that cuts to the essence of a thing or a person at a single glance. Because you tell pretense from sincerity so perfectly, your first impression can come across as a little cold. But once someone is close to you, you can't bring yourself to say even a mildly unkind word — you're a person overflowing with warmth. That instinct to give unconditionally to anyone you've claimed as your own is unquestionably a strength, but it also leaves you easy to sway and easy to use. When something feels off, try trusting your gut.