The Bad Ending of an Otome

‘Anyway, I’m going to stay here for a short time and die anyway; is this to allow me to experience smelling them ahead of time?’

I used to toss the broken stems of the lily stems she received as a present into the fireplace every time she uttered it while snapping the stalks. I chuckled after leaving the Marquis’s residence when I learned that a melodrama inspired by her was popular. There were many noble ladies with long silver hair and emerald eyes in the third-rate performances that commoners saw on the streets. And there was frequently another lady alongside her, dressed as if she could be mistaken for a maid if not careful. Every time, the name changed; sometimes it was Amy, Em, or Adeline. The part almost always involves being envious of her, mocking her, or betraying her.

The noblewoman would generally be upset and sobbing as a result of the treachery, and she would then meet a magnificent and noble prince or knight, find peace, fall in love, and watch the villain’s downfall. I used to see such inexpensive performances on the streets on occasion and drop a quarter or two into the collection box before leaving. Amy, Em, Adeline, and other ladies in the plays would endure harsh punishment and finally depart from the noble lady’s side.

The aristocratic lady would rise through the ranks and live happily ever after. While the drama may have unfolded in this fashion, reality was very different. The beautiful Ophelia, whom everyone worshiped like a fairytale, had vanished, and here I was, set to enter the high society that clamoured to even touch her shadow, in a strange home that wasn’t the Marquis’s house, holding the hand of a guy I had never imagined.

“You have no idea how delighted I was to learn that I would be serving a guest in this mansion, as there is no young lady here.”

Kitty sighed and chuckled shyly.

“The lady of the house has arrived, but she is not a compassionate woman… She only maintains the maids who have been serving her for a long time at her side. And, to be honest, I’m terrified of being so near to the lady.”

“How long have you been coming here?”

“About 5 years, Miss.”

5 years… I had an odd feeling. Cassio Brahamdorff, no matter how powerful he was, could not have predicted such a catastrophe. Except for me, none of Ophelia’s fans could have predicted what would happen after she died. In some respects, I was the same. I couldn’t tell her that, despite telling me to be happy, I was leaving the Marquis’s mansion.

Her admirers would give her presents on a regular basis that she refused to accept, and they would make a big deal about how they had to find a solution, even if it meant giving sacrifices to the old goddesses whose existence was already fading inside the kingdom. It was no accident that the game’s ‘player’ never had a happy ending. Nobody saw the ‘player’ for what he was.

The ghost of the long-dead Ophelia clung to the charming and compassionate young baron, impeding his every action. People were obsessed and fanatical about Ophelia. That obsession reached a climax when she died. I left the Marquis’s house because I didn’t want to witness that, but in the original game, the Marquis’s house was in shambles when Ophelia died.

Raretis must have played a key part, so the worst-case situation was probably avoided, but they couldn’t stop the media from swooping in and spreading all kinds of rumours about the deceased.

I’m curious whether Kitty also bought a magazine and read about me. She may not have realized I was the same individual. Even while the name Emilia is not as prevalent as Katherine, Jim, or Sally, it is also not uncommon.

“Well, then, please take care.”

That was all I had to say.

* * *

I laid down after sending Kitty out early. I believed I’d slept well enough not to dream, but when I awoke, it was the uncomfortable period between midnight and daylight. Everything was silent. Whether it was because my sleeping position had changed or because I had taken a long nap earlier, when I opened my eyes, I didn’t want to go back to sleep, so I stood up slowly.

As my bare feet reached the floor, I felt a shiver. It wasn’t especially cold outside, but being alone in a huge room wearing light clothes made me feel chilled. I cautiously put on a nightgown that was hanging on the chair after looking around. I wanted to take a deep intake of the cool air. The corridor was likewise silent. There should be one or two people staying overnight, so if I called or looked for them, they’d come, but I didn’t feel like calling or looking for them, so I tiptoed into the hallway barefoot.

A calm patio attached to the balcony was located at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t very large. There is one table and two seats. A great place for a small group of folks to get together and talk. I opened the door to the patio with caution. My flimsy clothing billowed as cold air swept in. It was at that very time.

“What exactly are you doing there?”

“…!”

I genuinely jumped, like if I saw a ghost. If I had been holding something, I would have undoubtedly dropped and damaged it. Cassio Brahamdorff stood in the dimly lighted opposite corridor, dressed similarly to what I had seen at supper.

“…I should be the one asking.”

My tone unwittingly became sulky. Cassio sighed and shrugged.

“I invited a guest, not a cat burglar, into the mansion.”

“Ah, a cunning cat burglar who is human-sized, wears a nightgown, and can turn doorknobs at human waist height. Wouldn’t it be faultless even as part of the House of Brahamdorff’s magnificent collection?”

“Isn’t it a bit pretentious to call something ‘a part of the collection’ if it’s acquired?”

“Don’t you distinguished people care whether the rare, beautiful, and strange things are alive or not?”

“Emilia always speaks as if she is not one of those people.”

“I know very well that even if I had made my debut holding your hand and been inflated as the most notable lady of that year, it wouldn’t have been the real ‘Emilia’s’ share.” 

It wouldn’t have been her’s, because remember, this is only part of their deal.

The gray eyes of the guy widened. I pushed open the door further more, entered, and sat on an ancient black iron chair. On the second story, there was a patio. As a result, I was able to ignore the townhouse’s gloomy surroundings. The dark green fence, which looked like dense shrubs, well-kept plants, and a broad route made out for carriages to pass, with annexes that looked like cake boxes.

The man gave a small grin. I recognized that his grin was little more than a courteous facade. The man muttered as he pushed my wind-tousled hair behind my ear.

“Why do you think that’s not your share?”

Close inspection revealed gray eyes as opaque as the moon obscured by thick clouds. Curiosity. And maybe scorn. That sort of thing. Even in the game, the man seldom revealed his genuine sentiments to anyone. This was his approach regarding anybody. I remembered what the countess said during supper.

‘There are many females who are unlucky enough to be enchanted by my good-for-nothing nephew and end up injured on the inside and out, but it appears Miss Emilia is a wise lady.’

Yes. This dude was a quagmire for ants and flies. A guy who instills fantasies in women. There were so many young girls in the social circles who were smitten with him that the countess warned him not to play with people’s emotions. He most likely did not make any formal promises. It’s probable that they got their expectations up and will be disappointed by a single unclear phrase.

‘He’s very gentle with me, so nice and courteous. I don’t believe that he’s playing with me? Even if it is, I have the ability to transform him.’ Such delusions exist.

Everyone wants to be the hero of their own story. They wish for a once-in-a-lifetime relationship that feels like destiny. I recall Kitty’s bright eyes. Yearning for high society is not a sin. It is not a sin to fantasize. The novel’s ideal male protagonist solely cares about you. It’s a lovely dream. But…

“It’s because it’s not my real strength.”

What happens if you are wounded as a result of falling for it? What if you’re dumped?

When I was dumped, I had no one to console me. There are no friends, no family, no money, no fame, and no education. Emilia in the game brazenly remained at the Marquis’s mansion after being ejected for completely genuine reasons. She didn’t know where to go.

The Marquis maintained her, although as a freeloader, because it was said she was formerly Ophelia’s companion.

In the game, if a ‘player’ had a nice family history or a great reputation, he or she may have found a suitable marriage partner, but Emilia was neither here nor there. If she didn’t want to go as an elderly man’s concubine, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and cling wherever she could.

I used to think that if I had been as honest and indulgent in my wants as Emilia in the game, I wouldn’t be as torn as I am today. Publicly exhibiting admiration for someone I adore, publicly loathing someone in whose company I can’t disguise my inferiority, and discreetly harming someone if I want to. In the end, I’d be rejected by everyone, scorned by the person I care about, and forced to watch as the person I care about becomes someone else’s lover. For a little while, I softly pushed the chest of a man who approached me and then moved away. The man backed up dutifully with only a modest push.

“It’s not difficult to go from being the best lady in high society to being the worst lady in high society if you put your mind to it. There are several options. For example, articles claiming that I exploited you even by selling my dead friend’s name… and in the midst of this, the ‘perfect gentleman’ Cassio Brahamdorff was respecting the lady and was reluctant to speak about this anywhere, but my personal maid or a costume room staff member, enraged by this unreasonable fact, secretly did an interview.”

After all, the halo I wear on the outside is all fabricated.

But I sneered at the concept of a young girl making an appearance with the support of the Brahamdorff family and telling everyone, “Anyway, it wasn’t the best.” 

This is like her telling that the support of the Brahamdorff family wasn’t enough/best.

The man’s eyes were calm and unagitated. No, it seems that he thought it hilarious.

Yes. This man is more akin to a hungry crocodile who delights in seeing human flaws than a love interest. ‘I know your tears are phony, so don’t pretend and weep feebly in front of me,’ was his attitude.

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“It seems like you’d put up with that much just to watch me fall apart.”

“It breaks my heart that I am still misunderstood in this way.”

“Mr. Cassio Brahamdorff.”

The man moved in closer. In the dim light, his pale golden hair twinkled like stars. On the other hand, if I were surrounded in darkness and dressed in drab colors, just my pale face would be visible, as if floating. It didn’t matter in the end.

“When you say sweet words with a face that looks bored to death, it all sounds like nonsense to me.”

“…”

For a brief period, the man’s eyes widened. His look faded and then reappeared, as if he had been smacked in the back of the skull or a machine that had lost power.

“If you thought I didn’t know that someone like you, who wants nothing staining your hands, enjoys watching the weak flounder helplessly before suddenly driving them into despair and throwing them to the ground, then you’re mistaken.”

“…”

“Your interest in me, the cause for your actions, everything. It’s all there. I’ve never forgotten that it’s because of Ophelia, who is no longer alive.”

Those who were stupid and arrogant, regardless of their station, frequently met a harsh end. A princess was to marry a neighboring nation, but a maid who impersonated her and insulted her, pretending to be the princess and marrying in her stead, eventually had her identity revealed and met an untimely end. The princess, who had to pretend to be a maid every day, ultimately regained her previous rank and married the prince of a nearby kingdom. Emilia’s failure in the game was ultimately due to her desire for something she could never have. I was under no notion that things had changed since I became her buddy.

The ‘player’ had finally shown up. A lady has the same gorgeous look as Ophelia and a heart as pure as silk as Ophelia’s. I thought I had a good notion of what this man wanted. Even if Ophelia had left a letter, this man is not the kind to live as a servant for an extended period of time following Ophelia’s death. Maybe if it was Edmund Gloucester.

I had a nagging notion in my head at the time. What, after all, is Edmund Gloucester doing now?

Raretis stayed in the Marquis’s house and began to get along with Elodie, the player lady, and Cassio was there in front of me. Did she merely send the letter to Cassio? Or to all three, who were the first capture targets? However, only Cassio Brahamdorff has approached me. I bit back my skepticism and opened my mouth.

“Let me state it clearly right here.”

My cheeks were tickled by my unkempt black hair. The man remained silent.

“Now that Ophelia has died, I am all that remains. As a result, I strive not to be deluded until absolutely necessary.”