The Bad Ending of an Otome

But, mother, my brother is not even my father’s biological child… 

The princess was unable to express her thoughts. 

Everyone thought she was stupid because of her stammer, fear of people, and aversion to literature. 

This impression grew stronger after the birth of her younger brother. 

The princess lived in near obscurity, shrouded in everyone’s indifference. 

They never bothered to hide anything in her presence because everyone assumed she was foolish. 

This, ironically, made her more sensitive to details that others overlooked.

And she simply knew. 

Her mother, her mother, was plotting something heinous.

For her, the royal palace was a large, majestic jail. 

She knew what her mother had secreted deep within the ceremonial room. 

The goddess’ celestial relic is reported to have been fractured since her birth. 

It had been horrifying to her since she was a child.

Why hadn’t anyone else noticed? 

Didn’t they notice the icy, angry aura that surrounded it? 

Tampering with it again would very certainly result in calamity. 

The crack served as a final warning. 

She was well aware of it. 

Everyone else recoiled in primitive dread at her presence, branding her an idiot and accusing her of lacking bravery. 

They say she couldn’t even see herself as queen. 

They told her not to meddle in her brother’s future…

‘Yes, mommy, yes.’

The princess, trembling, nodded at the portrait. 

A lovely lady with silver hair and green eyes, and another with graceful features, black hair, and eyes. 

Emilia and Elodie. 

Ophelia, Elodie, and Princess Aloysia all had the same birthday, which others were unaware of. 

Mother, don’t touch it. 

It’s perilous. 

The warning that rose to her throat was eventually swallowed.

“It was truly a delightful time.”

I couldn’t look at the woman chirping with a voice as clear as a robin’s. 

I unwillingly recounted some humdrum stories from Ophelia’s life against everyone’s insistence.

But that was the best I could do. 

I couldn’t bring myself to open up about her in front of Elodie, who was staring at me with glittering eyes.

Eventually, the talk veered off course. 

Beth’s eyes brightened when the conversation went to a recently popular literature. 

Even Princess Aloysia, normally uninterested in such issues, showed some curiosity when the subject of such stories was brought up. 

The topic then moved on to famous foods in social circles, and so on. 

Her ladies eventually carried away young Lady Betty after she became extremely ill. 

Young Lady Cyclamen, who had been trying to find fault with me, also departed the meeting, reportedly unwell and frustrated. 

Elodie took my side in the end.

Even Princess Aloysia, despite her stammering, said she had a fantastic time and wished to see them again soon. 

The dreadful debutante ball was never mentioned. 

And I knew who was to blame more than anyone else.

“Why are you helping me?”

“I want to be friends with Lady Emilia.”

“Many would like to be Lady Elodie’s friend.”

I felt uneasy with her. 

She had the same face as her but expressed opposite feelings. 

She insisted on walking back together, brushing off others who indicated they needed to talk to me, and eagerly took my arm. 

Elodie gave an odd grimace as she heard my comments.

“Do you think those people are my friends?”

“…”

“Do you believe that, Lady Emilia?”

Her beautiful eyes were locked on me.

“I’m well aware that people are lining up just to receive a letter from Lady Elodie.”

“Are such people my friends?”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

I couldn’t help but react angrily. 

Elodie smiled calmly, her face the same as hers but with an emotion she could never have.

“Can you treat me as your friend?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“…”

“Can’t you see me as her substitute?”

Her inquiry rendered me speechless.

“Do you think you’re worthy of that?”

Her slightly smiling face was so similar to Ophelia’s that I almost cursed.

“I know how important she was to everyone. I have no intention of interfering with her recollections. All I want is…”

“Not everyone liked Ophelia.”

‘Pardon me?’ Elodie uttered, a little perplexed.

“I disliked Ophelia.”

Her eyes widened in amazement as she heard my remarks.

“Didn’t everybody warn you? Ophelia Windrose was a goddess-like beauty with a caustic tongue. Because of her condition, she spent more than half of her days in bed, and she harassed the aristocratic daughters sent to befriend her, ripping their hair and flinging bugs and filth at them. When the stories spread, and no peers were left to follow her, I was the young girl who was paid to stay by her side.”

Elodie remained mute.

“I disliked Ophelia completely. Isn’t it true that I didn’t cry a single tear when she died? Didn’t they taunt you by claiming that Lady Emilia, who had reaped all the benefits by the deceased Young Lady’s side, sat stiff-faced at the funeral with no show of grief?”

Elodie remained deafeningly silent.

With a scornful smile, I glanced at her rapidly paling transparent face. 

Yes, she’d heard it all somewhere. 

But why would you say such things? 

Was it because she believed that she would be able to replace Ophelia fully by obtaining my’ approval? 

Ophelia had a large following. 

Many stupid guys claimed to have fallen in love with her after catching a faraway sight of her face.

“Why? Didn’t they advise you to be cautious around me? Perhaps I was loitering around the Young Lady’s bereaved family to obtain sympathy and a place to stay, and your entrance has thwarted my plans. Isn’t it strange? The noble ladies should have been more gracious, especially since you are unfamiliar with social circles. They would have provided you with even more ‘advice.'”

“Why would you say it like that…”

Her inquiry remained unanswered.

“So I don’t see you and Ophelia as the same person. You’re only an irritation in comparison to the real Ophelia.”

Her face had turned deathly pale as if she had been injured.

“I just wanted to…”

Her sorrowful eyes appeared as innocent as a child’s. 

Ophelia, whom I both adored and despised. 

That was my poisonous flower. 

This woman, Elodie, was frail and naive compared to her, doomed to be fascinated by men because of her likeness to a ruined man’s protagonist. 

Elodie quietly muttered.

“I wanted to comfort you.”

I understand the Bad Ending of this Otome Game. 

No Elodie could ever make anyone forget about Ophelia. 

It would have been preferable if she had resisted. 

If she had yelled, ‘Do not compare me to a dead woman!’

You’re all mad, and I’m not some dead woman. 

I’m still alive and shouting. 

If only she had discarded the Marchioness’s compassion and vanished far away to live her own life. 

That gentle and frail woman attempted to comprehend every male protagonist. 

Because they loved too much and were in anguish. 

She crumbled under the weight of that frail sympathy and affection.

But she was pretty, lovely, and pitiful, so everyone liked her. 

Everyone felt sorry for her. 

They commended her for resembling ‘Ophelia.’ 

Did she accept that all the affection she received was a sham? 

Was she yearning for it even though she knew it wasn’t real? 

That adoration. 

That front. 

The shell of the love I had given up on over ten years before. 

The kindness that was freely showered on Elodie simply because they looked alike.

“That’s presumptuous.”

“I wanted to be of help to you, Emilia.”

“I don’t need it.”

“I wanted to be your friend.”

I looked around. 

Her bleak white face has regained a spark of light. 

Her practically withered green eyes had a frantic fire to them.

“I thought you might be lonely, losing your closest friend…”

“That’s what she would have said.”

I replied in a calm tone.

“She always told me not to make a friend closer than herself.”

Elodie’s eyes widened in shock. 

I turned away, tired of her pale face, which appeared to be about to burst into tears. 

Seeing someone cry, for whatever cause, was painful for me.

“…Are you scared?”

I came to an abrupt halt.

“Are you afraid that keeping me close will blur your memories of Lady Ophelia?”

The woman, who wasn’t crying, inquired. 

I didn’t respond.