The Bad Ending of an Otome

Ophelia was always the Marchioness’s distant daughter. 

Despite being her child, Ophelia felt strange, as if she wasn’t hers. 

This caused the Marchioness to feel wrath, grief, and remorse. 

She was eager to do anything for her. 

For this reason, she also insisted on bringing Raretis to the residence.

She invited the young nobility to the mansion, knowing full well that she would hear nothing positive about it because of Ophelia. 

She didn’t mind being classified as a scandalous woman who preferred the company of males. 

She wanted to give everything to Ophelia, regardless of how long she lived.

Despite Ophelia’s protests that she didn’t need peers her age, she brought Emilia home. 

At times, the Marchioness was envious of Emilia. 

This simple child, brought in from the outside, had effortlessly pierced a layer of Ophelia’s barriers that even her original parents couldn’t penetrate.

Of course, she didn’t want Emilia to be loathed and ignored by everyone. 

It was only a mirror of her shortcomings.

Then there was the grudge against Ophelia.

What could I have done more? 

How much have I sacrificed for your sake? 

I’m your mom. 

What am I missing?…’

A flood of emotion welled up within her. 

Ophelia’s eyes, colder and harsher than a strong winter storm, weren’t wholly endearing, making the Marchioness feel awful.

‘Just hate me, then.’

How could she have? 

Ophelia was her only kid, and she wouldn’t have her for much longer.

‘Does ignoring everything and forcing yourself to turn around and bear it all make a difference? I’m only Ophelia Windrose by name.”

These comments reverberated in the Marchioness’ head, showing the deep complexity of their relationship. 

The struggle of a mother attempting to connect with her estranged daughter, as well as the agony of feeling inadequate and misunderstood, provided an emotional portrait of their strained relationship.

But she’s still my daughter. I should treat her well…

‘That’s just self-satisfaction.’

Ophelia’s arid and stony smile flashed before her eyes.

‘You should have been kinder to her than me.’

Was this her intention?

“Marchioness, if you’re feeling unwell…”

“Now.”

Trembling, the Marchioness reached out and clutched Countess Betty’s shoulder with unusual severity. 

Countess Betty was startled by her grip and gazed at her wide-eyed. 

The Marchioness’s eyes were intensely crimson.

“…Tell me of whatever you know. At the moment. What occurred at the tea party.”

Her normally sweet voice had become as icy as an icicle. 

In answer, Countess Betty stiffened.

The Lusha Riverbank was lovely. 

Beth’s main purpose was the adjacent old bookstore, but I went along. 

The weather was pleasant, even mildly warm. Kitty, as usual, opened her parasol. 

Elodie’s oblivious maid did the same. 

I inquired of Beth, the only one without a maid who appeared to be engaged with other matters.

“Young Lady Betty, aren’t you worried about not bringing any maids with you?”

“Oh, I have one maid from home, but I gave her some money to enjoy her day off.”

It was risky, but it wasn’t too scary since we were together.

…Sneaking away to buy books, huh? 

Very meticulous.

I made an inside remark about Beth’s determination to read novels. 

How tight was her family’s household that she had to cut off any prospect of news reaching them via the maid?

“You’re thoughtful to give your maid the day off. Young Lady Betty is quite thoughtful.”

Beth dodged Elodie’s complimentary comment with a somewhat odd smile as if she was embarrassed. 

She abruptly pointed to a street seller selling something resembling thin dough folded up with cream.

“Ah! That! They were available in my hometown. I’ll go get some!”

“Wait, don’t just flee… She’s left.”

Beth was brimming with energy, almost like she could wield a sword with it. 

Her assurance made me question if not bringing a maid indicated her confidence.

“She’s quite a charming person.”

“…”

Elodie’s chuckle kept me silent.

“Yes, she’s very lively.”

“Did you agree to let me join you because of Lady Beth?”

“If you knew, why ask?”

“Yes, I thought as much and approached you.”

The contrast between Beth’s spontaneity and Elodie’s deliberate approach revealed the various layers of our little group’s dynamics.

“…”

Yes, I suspected that was the case. 

She presumably assumed I hadn’t read her letter. 

The use of Beth, on the other hand, was unexpected. 

It’s a good thing Beth was more interested in novels than complex situations because someone more insightful may have taken offense.

It was uncharacteristic of Lady Elodie to employ someone else to meet someone who was avoiding her.

“I’ve been staking out that cafe daily for a week, not knowing when you would come.”

“No wonder there were so many burly men out of place in that quaint shop.”

“I wanted to talk to Lady Emilia alone.”

“Wasn’t that conversation finished last time?”

“Do you dislike me?”

That was assurance.

“Yes.”

“My words were impulsive at the time. I’d like to apologize.”

“An apology won’t make me like you, Lady Elodie.”

“What if I want to become friends?”

“…”

What exactly does she mean? 

My brow wrinkled. 

Elodie’s face was more moonlit than sunlight, like a shadow cast by the parasol. 

Her emerald eyes, typically as bright as leaves in the light, appeared more mineral-like today, like long-frozen snow in winter’s shadow.

“You genuinely ‘dislike’ me, don’t you?”

Her wording was unusual.

“What do you mean by that…”

“I got them!”

Beth stepped in, holding a paper bag full of snacks and a smile on her face. 

The scent was appealing. 

I instinctively took a bite of her treat.

“These are superior to the ones from my estate. They simply put insipid crushed nuts in them there.”

“Right…”

I half-listened to Beth’s animated speech and returned my gaze to Elodie, who remained calm. “This is good,” she responded quietly as if she hadn’t just made a huge comment. 

It’s not anything to dismiss. 

Ophelia and Elodie have a similar trait, according to Casio Brahamdorff.

And Elodie stated she wanted to befriend me because I loathed her. 

If Ophelia was universally adored for a reason, Elodie’s universal admiration likely has a similar underlying factor.

Is my true detest for Elodie going to be a deciding factor?

It’s difficult. 

Ophelia was never one of my favorite characters.

I took a breather while chewing on the treat.

Wait a second. 

Is this to say that I was the only one who loathed two persons whom everyone else adored? 

Emilia was initially envious of Ophelia in the game, correct? 

That’s not the case. 

Not a pure dislike but a mix of inferiority, jealousy, and admiration. 

It was similar to, but slightly different from, the intense emotions I had as a child.

But what about the game’s Casio Brahamdorff, who treated Elodie like she was nothing regardless of the route? 

Or was it truly disregarded? 

Though it appeared to be malice, it wasn’t entirely disdainful.

A weird sensation gripped me. 

Was I the only one who could sincerely despise Ophelia and Elodie because I knew the game’s plot? 

In other words, how could the ‘characters in the game’ not despise them?

“I’m full, and my legs are hurting. Let’s find a place to rest for a while.”

Beth was lost in contemplation and recited a passage that sounded like it came from a textbook. 

I chuckled as I observed the old bookstore’s sign in an alley off the main road. 

The bookstore, which was tucked away, was huge, with two floors and a basement. 

The structure appeared old and decrepit, which added to its sense of history. 

Elodie gave a beautiful smile.

“Over there is a bookstore. Do you want us to take a look?”

“If Lady Elodie suggests it, I wouldn’t mind.”

Beth meandered towards the bookstore, her elegant and leisurely demeanor rapidly giving way to an enthusiastic jog. 

She had the eyes of a hunting hawk. 

Was that book, ‘Amy and Polita,’ really so good? 

She also appeared to read other novels, indicating a wide interest.

The bookstore’s entrance was smaller than I had anticipated. 

Tall males would have to duck to get in. 

Inside, however, it was shockingly large, with a dusty odor. 

There were only a few people inside. 

We were approached by an elderly man who appeared to be the clerk. 

Beth rolled her eyes around in an attempt to appear smart.

“Um, well… could you recommend something that’s… popular these days?”

“Right this way, please.”

The man, who appeared correct in his assessment, led Young Lady Betty without hesitation. 

I turned away from the joyful Beth and waved farewell. 

I intended to look through books on theology or magic. 

Because it was an old bookstore, it was more likely to have anything fascinating. 

I walked around the aisles, looking at the different categories of books. 

The maids, who were illiterate, waited by the door.

‘Easy-to-Read Founding Myths,’ ‘Simplified Biomechanics of Magic,’ and other volumes piqued my interest until my palm stopped on a bookcase.

<Forgotten Old Things’ Secrets.>

What a charming name. 

I discovered this passage while flipping through it.