I’m Reincarnated In Otome Game?

The moment I was informed of my engagement's cancellation, my mind went blank. I'd always thought I had devoted myself to His Highness. 

While I may not have been perfect, I worked hard to learn what was required to become the queen. I endured strict etiquette lessons, hoping to become a fitting partner for him.

It felt as if everything I had done for him was being denied. In that moment, I could feel myself shattering.

My knees was about to collapse

Rage wells up

The humiliation of being the center of this embarassing situation

The only reason I didn't succumb to these emotions was because of him—a red-haired man whose memory resurfaced as I rode in the carriage bound for exile. 

When my engagement was publicly broken, he had caused a spectacle by spitting out his drink in shock.

His unexpected intrusion in that painful moment allowed me to regain myself. I believe that now.

Because of him, I managed to observe the situation calmly and maturely, without causing an unnecessary scene.

The meticulously planned scheme meant to ruin me.

The trap laid with a clear understanding of my every move.

I'd suspected it for a while, but now I realized this scheme had been in the making for some time. I don't know why Lady Catherine, known as the "saintess," would conspire in such a way. 

Perhaps the royal family saw our Blauvelt family as too powerful and wanted to weaken us.

I don't understand. Our marriage alliance should have benefited the royal family, with its connection to my rising family.

The only thing I understood once I regained my calm was that resistance would only worsen my situation. 

Just as it always had… Ever since Lady Catherine first entrapped me.

The first time I met her was on a staircase landing. She abruptly approached me, reaching to touch my cherished brooch my mother had given me. 

Instinctively, I warned her with a firm "Stand back." At that moment, she lost her balance and fell down the stairs.

Fortunately, she wasn't seriously hurt, and as a healer, she managed to avoid any severe injury. But somehow, the story twisted, and I was accused of pushing her. No matter how I explained myself, it was deemed that I showed no remorse.

After that, every incident seemed to involve accusations that I bullied Lady Catherine, damaged her belongings, or worse. Each time, conveniently prepared "witnesses" would corroborate her story, leaving me unable to defend myself.

And at the end of each ordeal, she would graciously say, "I was at fault too," as tears streamed down her face. It was always the same. Gradually, I even began to hear people refer to me in whispers as the "villainess."

… Villainous Young Lady.

How ironic that word felt. If there were a story in which Lady Catherine were the protagonist, then I would undoubtedly be the villain.

Had I resisted back then, I would have only been accused of showing no remorse, sparking yet another act in the "Catherine drama." 

Such resistance would only play into their hands, and, if so, I would become the weapon used to bring down my own family.

So… to avoid dragging my father and mother into this, I bore all the blame alone and accepted exile.

As an aristocrat, I was prepared to be used as a political pawn. But the only ones allowed to pull that trigger were my father and mother—not His Majesty, His Highness, nor Lady Catherine.

Rather than be used as a pawn by His Highness and the others, rather than be the weapon that brings down my family, I would willingly choose death.

…No, that's not the truth. I'm simply exhausted.

After all my efforts for His Highness and the kingdom, they couldn't see my worth.

I feel I have failed my father and mother's expectations.

Being labeled as a villainess has worn me down.

In the end, I am the villainess, am I not?

Under the guise of duty to His Highness, I imposed my dedication upon others.

And though I claimed to act for my parents, I ultimately ran away.

In that light, I am a true villainess. Whoever first gave me that title seemed to see through to my essence. If I could, I'd like to talk with them, even if just for a moment.

As I was tossed in the carriage, bearing this self-mocking weight, my loyal maid Rita, who had tended to me since childhood, tried to comfort me.

In truth, I wanted to apologize to Rita, to express my gratitude. I had dragged her into this, yet she'd insisted on coming with me. But it's unheard of for a noble to bow her head to her servant.

If I make it safely to foreign lands, I'll express my thanks, offer her a generous severance, and grant her freedom. I'll leave behind the title of villainess and become just an ordinary girl.

　And if possible, I want to thank that red-haired boy as well, for helping me retain my pride until the very end.

While I was lost in these thoughts, the knights I believed to be our guards suddenly attacked us. They pulled us out of the carriage, saying we were no longer within the kingdom's jurisdiction.

Having only been taught basic defense magic—since they told me I wouldn't need offensive magic to be queen—I was easily pinned down. 

I didn't mind if I died, but I wanted to protect my pride, the pride he had helped me hold onto… Just as I was reaching for a nearby stone, another unexpected intruder appeared.

It was a tall young man with long red hair tied back.

He was the same man who'd interrupted my the banquet before, but it took me a moment to recognize him.

This was not the person I had known.

At the academy, his tall stature and red hair made him stand out, but he'd always seemed polite and reserved. I was surprised when he'd spit out his drink that day, yet it helped me regain my composure.

But now… the man standing before me was nothing like the person I knew from the academy.

His traveler's attire instead of the school uniform.

The massive sword that matched his robust build.

The rough demeanor.

His blunt way of speaking.

Everything about him was worlds apart from the cultured noble youth I once knew. He looked more like a criminal with a bounty on his head.

And yet, as he appeared, why did my heart race?

Why did his fiery red eyes, brimming with confidence, stir something in me that had been buried under resignation and self-pity?

I didn't know. But in that brief moment, the stone in my right hand, which I'd clutched in my struggle, felt like a symbol of pride. For the first time, I realized that a part of me still wanted to fight.

So, even when the powerful witch Eleonora attempted to possess me, I managed not to lose myself. Of course, it also because that he knocked Eleonora unconscious.

When I next came to, I was lying on a bed. A bed that was, frankly, uncomfortable. The ceiling was old and stained, and my nightdress was mass-produced.

The unfamiliar surroundings harshly reminded me of my reality. Yet, I found the will to stand once again, and it was thanks to him.

A young man who, though polite to his servants, carried himself with unwavering pride. He was unlike me in every way, and I couldn't help but be intrigued by him.

Perhaps he could accept me, an exiled, even as the unstable vessel of an ancient witch.

But when I finally had the chance to talk to him, I lied.

It's true I wanted to help Eleonora. She, too, was trapped and branded a witch, sealed away. I could feel this truth from her soul within me.

So I wanted to help her. Perhaps it would even lighten my heart, which had long been weighed down by being labeled a "villainess." But what about him…?

I had selfishly placed my hopes on him, only to turn around and doubt him. My own ugly thoughts disgusted me. Still, the thought of him abandoning me felt unbearable. So I lied.

—I told him the world had abandoned me.

In reality, it was I who abandoned my world. While pretending it was for my family, I had actually run away from them.

Did Father feel disappointed in me?

Did Mother resent me?

Was my brother angry?

I don't know. But since I can't return, I'll have to live on my own—or rather, with her.

Fortunately, Lord Randolph and his father are kind people. I must do my best not to trouble them, as that would be my repayment to him, the one who saved me.

And, if fate allows, I hope to one day apologize to him for the lie I told—-