Chapter 2

The love child of a rich conglomerate family. A wistful premise, especially if said child is a girl. In novels and TV dramas, these girls would be the protagonists of their very own Cinderella stories. But real life is nothing like fiction. After my mother passed away, I suddenly found myself with two half brothers. We were far from a picture-perfect family, though. The two of them harassed me nearly to death, never giving me a moment’s peace. Ignoring, deriding, or cursing at me was an everyday occurrence. They screwed with my food and living space and ruined my school years. Asshole #2—the younger of my two older half brothers—was close in age to me, so I had the “pleasure” of attending the same school as him for a year…a year in which he promptly incited the other students to ostracize me. Even after he graduated, things didn’t improve—in fact, they got worse. My father’s first wife died from a chronic illness long before I was born, but you wouldn’t know that from the way my lunatic half brothers treated me. It was as if I’d killed her myself, and this was their revenge. It got so bad that even I sometimes had my doubts, wondering if I truly deserved this. Thoughts like Maybe I placed a curse on their mother while I was only a sperm cell in my father’s body. Why else would they treat me like scum? I actually preferred the days when I’d lived in a cramped studio apartment with my mother, even though we’d barely had a cent to our name. In that house, after all, I was worse than a nobody, and it showed. I lost weight rapidly, and I gained new wounds and scars almost like some kind of sick compensation for my weight loss. My father, the man responsible for bringing me into the household, didn’t seem to care at all. Why didn’t you just send me to an orphanage instead? I so badly wished to vent my anger and frustration, but no one would listen. For better or for worse, I’d been raised by a poor single mother, and I tended to resign myself to things and give up pretty quickly. It wasn’t any different once I moved. I soon came to accept that there was no point in craving affection and attention from people who treated me as if I were less than an animal. With no money and nowhere else to stay, I had little choice but to keep living in those horrible conditions. Still, all throughout high school I applied myself single-mindedly to my studies, and after graduating, I was able to get into one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities. Those years of working my butt off weren’t out of some desire for acknowledgment from my half brothers or my father—no, that was my escape plan from that hell of a house, and I succeeded. I still remember the day I received my acceptance letter, running to my father with a bright smile on my face for the first time ever. “Father, Father! Look! I’m in! I got accepted!” “Yes? And? You didn’t come here just to tell me that, did you?” My father hadn’t offered so much as a single word of congratulation, even after seeing the elation on my face. But that was okay. I hadn’t been looking for congratulation, either. “Please let me move out! I want to live on my own, close to campus, so I can focus on school. I don’t think that’s asking for too much…” My father’s indifferent stare had scrunched up, as if my request had taken him aback. Still, I’m sure this is as beneficial of a proposition to him as it is to me, I’d thought. After all, his nuisance of a daughter is offering to rid the house of her presence—of her own volition, no less! “Very well. I’ll have things arranged.” And like that, I’d achieved the escape I’d been dreaming of. Though I hadn’t faced any opposition, the move was not without hiccups. My father made the absurd decision to leave the preparations to Asshole #1—his eldest son—which meant I ended up living in a half-basement room covered in mold. But even that couldn’t get me down. Life after leaving was marked by happiness. My dark school years were a thing of the past, and I was making tons of new friends at college. It was through those friends that I learned of a mobile game that had become extremely popular among them. “Daughter of the Duke’s Super Love Project? That’s what it’s called? Sounds like some cheesy thing tweens would be into.” The cringey title and glittering illustrations were enough to tell me what the game’s shtick was, and I wasn’t really interested. It was all my friends were talking about, though, so I decided I’d at least give it a try. Having some free time since I wasn’t on shift at my part-time job that day, I downloaded the game onto my phone and opened the app. The first screen that loaded presented me with two difficulty modes to choose from: Normal and Hard. “Normal,” I said, clicking the lower difficulty without hesitation. I’ll check it out for a few minutes and then go to bed. The game booted up and into a prologue, with a cutscene introducing the characters. [The daughter of the duke—who disappeared in a mysterious accident when she was a child—returns to her family to take back her rightful place!] A bubbly OST played as the innocent-looking female protagonist flashed on-screen, and with that, the story began. The art was beautiful and high-quality, but other than that, I couldn’t initially see what was so special about the game. The goal was to win over the male leads by raising their affection, but the gameplay also involved defeating the villain and accruing wealth and reputation. To get one of the story’s endings, you had to fill 100 percent of a character’s affection meter, which would earn you a confession of love. “Huh, this is more fun than I expected,” I found myself admitting soon enough. The game, despite its cringeworthy name, had a well-structured story, addicting plot, and user-friendly mechanics. The illustrations also did a lot of heavy lifting toward the player’s immersion. Whoever drew them had spared no effort. As for the storyline itself, it bore a close resemblance to my own life, and before I knew it, my interest was sufficiently piqued. Among the male protagonists were the heroine’s two older brothers. Because the game took place mainly in their family home, the ducal manor, there were a lot of interactions with them—not so pleasant ones, at that. Displeased and wary of their sister resurfacing out of the blue, the brothers took to picking on her. Huh, oddly close to my own situation. Though of course, the heroine received far better treatment than I ever did… As I made slow progress in winning the characters over, I got more and more lost in the game. I had to hand it to them—it had me hooked, even though I’d only intended to try it for a few minutes. And regardless of the fact that I’d never played a dating sim like this before, I unlocked my first ending with little trouble. It was definitely fun, yes, but as it turned out, the normal difficulty was too easy even for a complete noob like me. You see, all the conquerable male characters started with their affection at 30 percent. It should’ve been called Easy Mode instead of Normal, I joked to myself. And so, just like that, I got the endings for every male lead within three hours of starting the game. But fully clearing Normal Mode was only the beginning. The next thing I knew, a notification popped up with an image of a lock along with the words Hidden Ending. “‘The game’s hidden ending is now available for purchase’…” I read the text off the screen. “Well, how much does it—?” My eyes bulged at the number. “A—a hundred thousand won?! Are they insane?! Why is it so freaking expensive?” If I wanted to see this hidden ending, I’d need to fork over an exorbitant amount of money. Or… The ending may also be obtained for free by clearing Hard Mode, the caveat read. Considering, I eyed the clock. “Dammit… It’s already past midnight. And I have class in the morning…” I didn’t let myself deliberate for too long, though. “Gah, whatever! Let’s see this through!” The joy I’d gotten from the good endings in Normal Mode must have flipped some kind of switch inside me. I never would have acted like this otherwise. Fingers tingling with excitement, I clicked to start Hard Mode and was met with majestic music and a different cutscene from the one before. “Ooh. So now you play as her?” In an interesting twist, the protagonist of the story had changed. And of all people, it was the villain from Normal Mode—the fake daughter of the duke who usurped the heroine’s place. The setup of the plot was different, too. The timeline had been pulled further back compared with where the original MC started. It was as if I was playing an entirely new story. “This must be why the game is so popular,” I mused. As a meticulously drawn illustration of the new POV character popped up on the screen, I felt the heaviness in my eyelids disappear. This seemed like such a fresh and intriguing take on the dating sim genre. Not to mention the whole playing-as-the-villain thing. This was the girl who’d treated the angelic heroine of Normal Mode horribly—and now I had to somehow get her to win over the completely unreceptive love interests. Filled with a mysterious exhilaration, I exuberantly leaped into Hard Mode, confident in my ability to tackle it after clearing the lower difficulty with ease. I bet it’s not even too different from the original gameplay. I mean, how hard can it get? Some tricky dialogue choices here and there? How painfully, utterly wrong I was. “What?! I died again?! Why?” Hard Mode was more like Impossible Mode. Increasing any of the characters’ affection was a constant uphill battle, being a villain and whatnot. To make matters worse, what little affection I did manage to accrue immediately plummeted at my slightest mistake, triggering the game-over screen. And this was not your typical fade-to-black “game over,” no. It was a literal “dead end,” and it always showed exactly how the protagonist died. “Why is it so violent?” I groaned at the realistic and gory illustrations. This time, it was my character lying lifeless on the ground, having been beheaded by the crown prince. “This game is messed up…” No matter how carefully I made my choices, it invariably ended in death, leaving me thoroughly stumped. What were the creators of this game thinking? Still, dying so many times only made me even more compelled to beat the game. “Come on, let me survive just once!” My initial goal—unlocking the hidden ending—was already long forgotten. Now fully invested, I was determined to keep this poor girl alive if it was the last thing I did. She has to get a happy ending with someone, anyone! What crime did she commit besides being the “villain”? The writer made her that way. Force a person into a bad role, and of course they’re going to be evil! Besides, I felt a connection to the villain, who got rebuffed by everyone she sought affection from, in contrast to the original heroine, who had no trouble winning others over. And so I’d die, and die again, and again… “Damn brothers. I’m going to make sure I get the endings for these jerks.” I gritted my teeth at another game over. The older brothers had killed the villain for the umpteenth time. My phone was overheating in my palm, my fingers trembling from exhaustion, and I was logically aware that I’d gotten too caught up in the game’s story, but…I couldn’t stop myself from clicking the reset button again. After restarting from the beginning, I selected the right dialogue choices, slowly built up the affection meters, and amassed in-game money and reputation to access different episodes. And yet… “Ugh! Why? Why?!” I’d died again. This is beyond irritating. Should I make an in-app purchase and buy affection…? If encouraging microtransactions was the end goal, the developers had succeeded with flying colors. I hated the thought of wasting money, since I was saving whatever I could so I wouldn’t have to ask my family for financial help. Suddenly, though, the urge to spend real-life cash on a video game was almost overwhelming. No, no, no. I’m not that far gone, I convinced myself, ending up not actually going through with the idea. Still, I stayed up the whole night trying to beat the damn thing. Started over and died once more. And then started all over again, and again, and again… The sun rose, but I still hadn’t reached a single ending in Hard Mode. “This sucks… One more time…” It was as I reached for the restart button that my body finally gave in to exhaustion, falling asleep with my phone in my hands. And when I opened my eyes… “Penelope Eckhart,” said the man with an empty gauge and the gleaming letters Affection: 0% over his head. “The family name will be rescinded from you for the foreseeable future.” There I was, inside the game I’d been playing on the difficulty mode I’d failed to beat. And I was the villain. “Miss, it’s time to get up,” someone whispered above me. I was only lightly sleeping, and the quiet voice was enough to pull me out of it. I’d spent most of the night restless, hoping that I’d wake from this nightmare, though somehow I eventually managed to drift off. “Miss,” said the cautious voice again. Is she talking to me? No one else had come into my room after the two blue-eyed men had left, which meant logically, I was the only person she could be addressing. “…” Still half-awake, I didn’t reply right away. It was only when I heard something rustling right behind me that I roused completely. I tensed, preparing to sit up, when— Prick! A sharp stab of pain shot up my forearm that had been laying above the covers. My eyes flew open. “Ahh!” I screamed, kicking the sheets off me and bolting up in bed. Desperate to find the source of the pain, I scrambled to roll up the sleeves of my flowy pajamas. Wh-what the…? I gaped at the sight that met me. The skin on my arm was black and blue, riddled with needle marks. If it were fabric rather than skin, I don’t doubt it would have been full of ragged holes. As I stared, appalled, I noticed that one of the needle marks had a droplet of blood welling up, as if it was fresh. “Oh, you’re awake,” came a calm voice from beside the bed. Turning toward the owner of the voice, I found a brown-haired girl with a face full of freckles. I recognized her—she looked exactly like a maid from the game. Perhaps to save on development costs, all the maids’ character art had the same clothes and similar faces. This girl, accordingly, was very plain looking. She seemed to have hidden away the needle she’d poked me with, as her hands were now empty. But I could see the dark mockery and delight in her eyes, which were carefully observing me. What the hell is wrong with this girl?! I was literally just sleeping. I didn’t do anything to her! Overcome with a flash of rage, I opened my mouth to speak. “…!” Yet no words came out, as though my tongue were suddenly made of lead. Why don’t I get any dialogue choices? Dammit! Absent any other options, I simply glared at her, hoping that would get the message across. But the maid carried on, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “The bath is ready for you. Do please go wash up, Miss.” As she moved to gather the bedsheets, her lips twitched upward in an evil smirk. She seems used to this routine… I sat there, biting my lip, until the maid pushed me out of bed and into the bathroom. Uh, didn’t she say the bath was ready? Where’s the tub? The room was completely empty, save for a small washbasin filled with water. Upon investigating, I realized it was ice-cold water, at that. Dipping my fingertips in was enough to make my hair stand on end. It’s not like I was expecting her to help me bathe or anything, but this is ridiculous. The game did mention the villain character being treated like crap here and there, but it had never gone into much detail. And now, this excruciating reality was forcing me to be conscious all over again of the fact that I was inside a game world. As I rolled up my sleeves and saw the bloody puncture holes once more, tears stung my eyes. This isn’t right. There was nothing in the game about needles— Ah, wait! A memory flashed through my mind. The villain, wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. Compared with all the other art of her that had been flawless, in this illustration, the villain’s arm had been sprinkled with small black dots. That’s insane! I thought they were freckles, or an important element of the story I just hadn’t gotten to yet… How could anyone have guessed they were marks of abuse? Flabbergasted, I was also taken aback yet again at how fleshed out and detailed the story was. “Miss, your breakfast is served.” A muffled voice traveled through the bathroom door. “Are you still not done?” the maid said, as if pushing me to hurry. That little snake. I could feel annoyance washing over me, but I had no choice but to dip my hands into the icy water. I’d lived through years of harassment from my scummy half brothers—this was nothing. I’m the villain now anyway. If it were up to me, I’d go out there and prick that girl full of holes just like she’s done to me. An eye for an eye and all that. Alas, I didn’t have the agency to do or say what I wanted at the moment. I’ll have to wait a bit and feel things out. Face tingling from the cold water, I grabbed a towel and wiped myself off before stepping back outside. The maid hadn’t been lying. A meal was awaiting me, set up on a table next to the room’s large window. It would seem that because of my probation on the orders of the duke’s first son, I’d even be taking meals in my quarters. “Sit down, Miss.” The maid led me to a chair, and I immediately frowned. This is my “food”? No way this is fit for human consumption… On one plate was a green, moldy piece of bread, and next to it was a gray-colored bowl of soup with unidentifiable chunks floating about. “Eat up. You must be hungry,” the maid said with a sickly sweet grin. All I could do was grit my teeth and glower at her in response. That is, until a white rectangle popped up in front of me. 1. (Flip the table) What the hell is this? Are you out of your mind?! I demand to see the cook! 2. (Force-feed the maid) You want me to eat literal dog food? Fine, after you! 3. (Eat it) I recognized these choices from my own playthrough. I’d gotten the game-over screen two times at this intersection. When I chose the first option, employees of the estate had all run to the duke to gripe about the villain’s wickedness. Once word reached the duke’s first son—the same person who’d ordered her to be confined to her room—his rage boiled over, and as a result, he forbade her from being served anything, even water. She ended up dying of dehydration. In my next attempt, I went with option two. The second son, passing by the door and seeing the commotion, rushed inside to separate the villain from the maid. In the scuffle, the villain was pushed and fell. A fork tumbled after her and impaled itself in her throat. It was the most idiotic death ever. So that leaves only one choice. This episode in the game was probably meant to establish the strife between the villain and the longtime servants of the duke. Not wanting to see the player character struggling so helplessly from the very start, I’d moved on to a different episode after those two failures. There were dozens more I could try clearing, after all. But that wasn’t the case now. There was no back button that would let me return to the episode selection screen and save me. Dammit… Glaring at the maid, I forced myself to select the third option. Almost immediately, my body lurched into action, as if in the hands of a puppeteer. My hand jerked toward the spoon, the spoon toward the bowl, and before I knew it, I was scooping up a mouthful of the rotten liquid. The stench of the horrifying mixture was repugnant enough, the thought of eating it was even worse, and my hand trembled violently as the spoon slowly neared my mouth. Gray droplets dripped onto the table, but I couldn’t stop my hand’s approach. My mouth was forced open, and the spoonful of rancid soup went in, my lips closing around it. “Ewgh!” The soup was lukewarm as it met my tongue, a disgusting smell rising from inside my mouth. This wasn’t food. It tasted as if someone had gathered old food scraps and boiled them. My body was acting of its own accord, though, and my throat contracted, forcibly swallowing the liquid. “Ack…!” The maid gasped, probably not expecting that I would actually eat the trash she had laid before me. Yuck, I feel like throwing up! Gagging around the soup, I tried to keep myself from retching. Consolingly, I thought, I’m sure it’s over now, at least. One bite had to have been enough to satisfy the system prompt. And while it was gross, I wouldn’t die from only a spoonful of rotten food. This was probably the end of the episode. “Phew…” I sighed in relief. But I had spoken too soon. My hand did not stop. Wait, wait! Next was a bite of the bread, and that was only the beginning. I continued to cram moldy bread and gray sludge into my mouth against my will. Bread, soup, bread, soup… It didn’t stop. The maid grew paler and paler as she watched me scarf the spoiled food down like a pig. My body kept going, and going, and going, until— “What’s going on here?” A sudden male voice echoing through the room announced the presence of the duke’s second son, who had apparently been passing by. It was only with his entrance that the insanity finally ended, the hold over my body dissipating. “Y-Young Master Reynold!” the maid stuttered out, seemingly terrified now that we had a witness. Not that I was paying much attention, though, too busy covering my mouth. “Blech!” I choked. The retching wouldn’t stop, the contents of my stomach threatening to come back up at any moment. Why does this shit happen to me? I despaired, bad memories stirring in my mind. Back when I’d lived in that hell of a house, I’d had to endure many a meal of rotten food because of my two asshole brothers. And now I was being forced to go through more of the same, this time in a virtual world? I can never escape… “U-urk…” Clear drool dripped between my fingers, my eyes filled with tears born of resentment and pure disgust. I tottered and groaned as if I’d been poisoned, causing the pink-haired man standing in the doorway to approach, his eyes wide and jaw slack. “Hey, what’s wrong with y—?” He froze when his eyes settled on the table. “These are…” He had noticed the spoiled soup and moldy bread. The food was clearly inedible, and seeing it at the breakfast table of the daughter of the duke had left him dumbfounded. It simply didn’t compute for him. Not even commoners would eat this garbage. But over half of it was gone, while his adoptive sister sat pale as a sheet, lips clenched and mouth covered. The pink-haired man scowled deeply as he turned to the maid. “You. What did you just feed her?!” “Y-Young Master, I—I…” The maid trembled, her face ashen at the man’s unadulterated rage. To be fair, I’m sure she never thought the food would actually get touched. How could an unimportant side character have known that the fake daughter would “willingly” eat rotten food, especially considering her history of tantrums and villainy? The maid could do nothing but stand there at a loss for words as the pink-haired man yelled at her. “How dare you disrespect an Eckhart like this?!” he seethed. “The audacity, serving this at your own mistress’s dining table!” “Y-Young Master, no! I—I wasn’t—” “Get out. Now!” “B-b-but…!” “Don’t think I won’t tell my father and brother about this.” He swiveled, shouting in the direction of the doorway. “Is anyone out there?! Butler!” Soon enough, the butler and several servants came running. “Yes, Young Master?! What is the matter?” “We have a tramp in need of kenneling. Take her away,” he instructed coolly. “Young Master! I-I’m sorry! Please!” Despite her pleas, the maid who had been harassing me all morning was dragged away, just like that. But I was barely even a witness to this flurry of chaos. Trying to get my lurching stomach under control took every bit of concentration I had left. My hand still clamped stubbornly over my mouth, I lay limply against the back of my chair, only rousing when the pink-haired man reached out and shook my slim shoulder carefully. “Oy, you all right?” “…” “Why’d you just sit there and wolf that crap down? You should’ve flipped the table and gone berserk like you usually do, idiot.” Is he consoling me or making fun of me? Either way, it looked as though Mr. Pink Hair’s personality was faithful to his original rendition in the game—just as mean-spirited. If I hadn’t been an “idiot” and eaten it, I’d have suffered death by fork. Which would’ve been courtesy of you, I’ll have you know. Annoyingly, I could only utter my sharp response in my head, since speaking without that damn dialogue box was a no-go. Whew… At least this part’s over with, I hope? Though I didn’t expect him to be the one responsible for defusing the situation. Not that I could muster up any feelings of gratitude. My arm was covered with puncture wounds—I highly doubted this one maid was the sole person here behind the villain’s poor treatment. No, actually. Not just doubt. I’m sure she’s only the tip of the iceberg. The entire household was probably out to get me, a hive mind with the man currently in front of me as their queen bee, giving silent encouragement. I mean, that’s the basic villain backstory, after all. I’d only recently woken up, but I felt exhaustion blanketing me again already. “…Hey. You don’t look so hot. Should I call a doctor?” The man’s voice broke the silence. Why is he even bothering to ask? It’s not like he means what he’s saying. Perhaps me not answering weirded him out… He bent over me, studying my face as if he was actually worried or something. It was at that moment the white window made its reappearance. 1. Don’t bother. 2. What do you care? Get out of my room! 3. Cut the nice-guy act, douchebag. These again…? The terrible reality of my situation was well and truly sinking in. So I basically always have to watch my step and choose carefully if I don’t want to die, huh? None of the dialogue choices written by the game developers were sane, per se, but I went with the least offensive one. “Don’t bother…” I wanted to make it sound as sincere as possible, to most closely reflect my feelings at this moment, but it came out weakly, my throat too tired from trying to push the vomit down. “You—” The pink-haired man frowned at my reply, but only for a moment. I blinked, and by the time I opened my eyes, his face was icy cold. Maybe I’m so out of it that I imagined the trace of concern… “Fine. Stuff your face with slop and die, for all I care,” he huffed, straightening up. “No doctor on the Eckhart estate would make time for the likes of you anyway.” Thud, thud. The violent sound of his footsteps stomping away reverberated harshly in the silence. Glowing white letters followed after him, disappearing into the distance. [Affection: -3%] His affection was definitely at negative ten percent when I saw him yesterday… It went up? This was a huge increase, considering that even a bump of a couple percentage points had been difficult to accomplish in Hard Mode. If I’d known the rewards were so huge back when I was playing, I’d have made sure I started by clearing this episode… Still, I couldn’t find it in me to care about the affection increase. Negative is still negative, after all. After emptying my stomach, I stumbled my way over to the sink and rinsed my mouth out. When I looked up, the reflection that met me in the mirror was that of a pallid yet beautiful girl. “Penelope.” Not a single unscripted groan had escaped my lips earlier, but now that I was alone, I could talk all I wanted. I opened my mouth and watched as the girl in the mirror did the same. Her turquoise eyes glinted back at me like emeralds. She was a striking beauty, her azalea-like dark-pink hair swishing enchantingly every time she moved. A face that was, without a doubt, not my own. “Penelope Eckhart. Eckhart… Dammit.” House Eckhart was the sole dukedom in Eorka, the empire of the game world. The episode I’d experienced the day before, which had led the first son to confine me to my room, had been the de facto beginning of Hard Mode. Even that prologue-esque preliminary episode was no joke—I’d died over and over before clearing it in real life. Trying to stay true to the villain’s character, I’d selected only the insolent dialogue choices. I remembered being so indignant over dying at the very start, which fueled me to continue attempting it rather than give up. Thank goodness I kept at it. Imagine if I’d just fallen asleep right away… That would’ve been even worse for me now. The thought made me sigh. “Haah… She really is gorgeous…” The illustrations of her had been stunning for sure, but in person, Penelope’s beauty bordered on the impossible. If I’d been sucked into this game world before earning my independence, I’m sure I would’ve been excitedly admiring the body I ended up in. I might’ve even gladly accepted this ridiculous turn of events. Yeah… I bet I’d be thanking my lucky stars for granting me a chance at a new life… But I had finally succeeded in striking out on my own after enduring years in that hellhole. I’d fought against all the odds of a hostile environment and gotten accepted into a prestigious university. Though it was cramped and dingy, I had a living space all of my own. My future was one where I’d escaped the clutches of my asshole brothers, and what awaited me was an upward trajectory to success. But this? A life where the smallest mistake would ruthlessly lead to immediate death? It was by no means an improvement to my own life. It’d be a different story if I’d awakened as the MC of Normal Mode, maybe. She could do pretty much anything and still get a happy ending. “……So why?” Why now, right after I’d finally gotten out of that awful house? “Why is this happening to me?!” I wailed, slamming my fist down on the sink in a burst of emotion. The pretty features in the mirror contorted wretchedly, leaving a vicious expression on a face that should have looked sad. I guess that’s par for the course when you’re the game’s big bad. “Haah…” I shuddered out a breath, running a hand through my long hair, some of which had fallen in my face. Composing myself, I tried to remember everything I could about the body I was in. Penelope Eckhart. The villain of Daughter of the Duke’s Super Love Project and the protagonist of its Hard Mode. She grew up as a peasant with no last name. [Penelope was raised by a poor single mother who worked as a wandering peddler. One day, she catches the eye of the duke, who’d been desperately searching for his long-lost youngest child. Her chronically ill mother having just passed away, Penelope is serendipitously adopted into House Eckhart.] There was only one reason she was chosen to replace the sole daughter of Eckhart: The two bore a striking resemblance. The duke’s deceased wife had also had pink hair, and all members of the Eckhart family had blue eyes. The thought recalled to mind the second-eldest son of the duke, who’d been in my room earlier and dealt with the maid. His hair was a lovely shade of cotton-candy pink. The magenta hair I saw in the mirror now was closer to red than pink, though. And the eyes were blue green, slightly different from the Eckharts’ true blue. “He should’ve searched harder for his real daughter instead of dragging some innocent kid into this mess.” As Penelope grew up, she began to resemble the duke’s lost child less and less. The duke quickly lost interest and neglected her. No longer favored by her adoptive father, Penelope’s new lot in life was to be abused by her two brothers and the servants. “It’s disturbingly similar…” Poverty, losing a mother, neglected by her father—the story of Penelope’s life both prior to and after adoption was eerily like my own, leaving me with a sense of déjà vu I hadn’t felt while playing the game. My heart sank. The fake daughter of the duke. Every servant in the house called her a fake. Penelope, though undeniably gorgeous, was nothing more than a cheap knockoff to the people here. Maybe if her personality had been more sympathetic, things would’ve played out differently… Who knows. What I do know is that she was taken in off the streets, and her behavior seemed ungrateful and caustic. As the game’s prologue put it, She was nasty toward everyone and continued in her wicked ways regardless of time or occasion. “No wonder the dialogue choices were all so hostile.” I nodded to myself, thinking back on the pieces of frankly insane dialogue I’d seen so far. Everything about the girl came together to form the portrait of a perfect villain, even her name. Unlike the innocent and pure heroine of Normal Mode, Penelope seemed like a vixen in comparison. Still, I found myself sympathizing with the girl. I’d only gotten a taste of her life between last night and this morning, but I’d already become viscerally acquainted with the kind of treatment Penelope received in the duke’s house. However atrocious or “fake” she may be, this is going too far. I mean, an officially recognized member of the duke’s family being tormented with needles? I doubt the maids would do something so crazy even to each other. Penelope had been adopted when she was only twelve. If this abuse started back then…what chance did she stand? Children are practically powerless in the first place, let alone a child who can’t get adults to listen no matter how loud she shouts. “They turned her into a villain.” Not that it justified her behavior up until this point. But all the characters in the game had been especially harsh on her, and they had shown no hesitation when killing her. “Poor girl,” I said, brushing my hand against Penelope’s frail cheek. The dark-pink hair falling harshly around her delicate face painted a sad picture. After a moment, though, I pushed aside any feelings of sympathy. “I’m in no position to be pitying anyone.” Indulging such thoughts was a privilege I didn’t have. She is me. I am Penelope now. In other words, just as Penelope died countless times in the game, any of the male characters can kill me at the drop of a hat. The thought made my heart seize in fear, a chill washing over me. After leaving the bathroom, I quickly found myself a pen and piece of paper. The fact of the matter was that I was stuck as Penelope, and I had no choice but to find a way to survive. An uphill battle was in store for me. In Hard Mode, affection that had been built up through considerable effort could plummet in a heartbeat. And when it dropped below zero, the result was death for Penelope and a bad ending for the player. Mr. Pink Hair, the second son of the duke, had started with his affection in the negatives, which meant that if I didn’t raise it to 0 percent or higher, I’d be dead no matter what, end of discussion. First of all, I should lay out everything I already know. To my relief, though Penelope was considered an imposter, her quarters were still properly outfitted. A luxurious desk and bookcase lay on one side of the spacious room. I beelined over, took a seat at the desk, and hastily dipped the pen in an inkpot sitting atop it. “Let’s start with the characters.” There were five main male leads in the game: the duke’s two sons, the crown prince, a sorcerer, and a knight. Their affection meters all started at 0 percent or below in Hard Mode, whereas in Normal Mode they started at 30 percent. Gliding my pen across the blank sheet, I began to fill out what I could remember about them, sorting out my thoughts. First up, Derrick Eckhart. As the eldest son of Duke Eckhart, he was the heir and “young lord” of the estate. A typical nobleman, he was busy learning to manage the house, and thus he paid little attention to Penelope. However, beneath the surface, he held a deep resentment and disdain for the girl who had taken his lost sister’s place. Derrick rarely killed Penelope himself in the game, but he didn’t hesitate to punish her harshly whenever she did something wrong. This resulted in penalties and restricted choices for the player, just like the way he’d confined me to my room the day before. Next, there was the second son, Reynold Eckhart. There wasn’t much worth saying about him. The “act first, think later” type, he was both foulmouthed and foul tempered. He was quick to pick a fight whenever he so much as glimpsed Penelope. Not only did he take the lead in harassing her in the household, but he also always contributed to her dying of absurd causes. “Pretty similar to those two assholes from back home, aren’t they?” I mused, tutting as I looked over the information I’d summarized so far. These two were the easiest to win over in Normal Mode. Which wasn’t a surprise, of course, considering the heroine was their biological sister. Their routes culminated in familial love, not romantic love, with endings involving them living together as a happy family. Because Penelope wasn’t related by blood to either of them, their Hard Mode endings were highly likely to differ. Hmm… Shaking my head firmly, I drew a huge X over each of their names, despite having gone to the trouble of writing all their information down. “Nah, there’s not an ounce of hope with these jerks.” I mean, Reynold had even started with negative affection. Not zero, but negative. What even is that? A sign, that’s what. A hint from the game devs that I shouldn’t even attempt to pursue his happy ending since it was a lost cause to begin with. Not to mention, the thought of calling them “Big Bro” or treating them like actual brothers makes my skin crawl. Better to give up on them entirely. “Moving on… The crown prince.” By name, Callisto Regulus. I had no real information on him save for what I’d learned in Normal Mode. There, the tyrant who cared little for the sanctity of life due to an unfortunate childhood met the angelic female protagonist, who changed him. By the end, he administered “justice” on behalf of the heroine and killed the villain, Penelope. It seems like just deserts when framed like that, but from Penelope’s perspective, the crown prince is practically her personal grim reaper. In fact, he had killed her the most when I’d played through Hard Mode. I’d reset the game so many times while going down the crown prince route that trying to recall any specifics only drew up a blank. “Sooo…let’s stay the hell away from him,” I decided, flashing back to the many graphic illustrations of Penelope’s head being lopped off by Callisto’s sword. I shuddered, my stomach dropping. Scritch, scritch. Crossing out the crown prince’s name multiple times for extra emphasis, I hurried on to the next male character. Winter Verdandi, a marquis and sorcerer. As with most sorcerers in games like this, he was an eccentric man, hiding his identity as a marquis while he operated a guild. He traded in mysterious objects, which granted him access to the black market and various manners of information. It was access to this information that led him to initially discover that the Normal Mode heroine was actually the duke’s lost daughter, kickstarting the plot. After that, he would continue to use his uncanny well of intel to combat the evil schemes of the villain Penelope, warning her off the heroine or intervening himself. He was also quite helpful when it came to building up the heroine’s reputation. In Normal Mode, Winter was a sweet man who used romantic spells and did everything he could behind the scenes to help the protagonist. As for Hard Mode, though…I couldn’t really remember what he’d been like. I was too busy getting slain left and right by the crown prince and the duke’s sons to get very far in Winter’s route. He has more potential than the other three, so I’ll leave him as an option for now. “And lastly, Eckles,” I said, moving on. Eckles, a knight of House Eckhart, had originally been a slave. Duke Eckhart was going to visit a friend one night when Eckles—a slave talented with the blade—caught his eye. The duke paid a high price and made Eckles one of the ducal estate’s knights-in-training. Eckles would later become the youngest swordmaster to ever exist, a self-made “young and handsome” type who even went on to earn himself a noble title. Currently, Eckles was the most promising of the five. He was the only love interest to show Penelope any sympathy until the very end of Normal Mode. Maybe it was just out of some sense of honor toward the mistress he’d once served, but he’d been the least aggressive in dissuading Penelope from her ploys against the heroine. When it came to Hard Mode, though, I’d never even encountered him… “Haah… Seeing it laid out like this, I don’t think I have anything useful,” I lamented with a deep sigh, peering down at my filled-out sheet of paper. Because I kept getting stuck when playing, what information I did have about Hard Mode was extremely limited. And even if I had a lot more, there was no telling how much of the original system actually applied to the lived reality of this place. Only two things were certain—I would die if a male protagonist’s affection fell below zero, and I was on a strict time limit. I’d have to clear the game and get someone’s good ending before Penelope’s coming-of-age ceremony, since that’s when the heroine would make her first appearance, marking the beginning of Normal Mode. Penelope’s story took place in the time leading up to that. Poor Penelope. The sudden discovery of the real daughter would cost the fake daughter everything, all on the day she became an adult. If I failed to unlock an ending by then, the events of Normal Mode would unfold, and the male leads would fall in love with the heroine. Their fondness of her would mean I’d likely be killed by one of them, even if I did nothing wrong. Not that there’s any guarantee they won’t do that earlier, of course. “…I can’t die,” I muttered, gritting my teeth at my depressing reality. No way—I couldn’t let that happen. I’d finally managed to slip free of my own horrible family, only to meet my end in some shitty game? As if! “I refuse to die.” My morning classes were waiting for me. I would go back to my real home, alive and kicking. I’ll make sure of it. I stared into space and told myself over and over that I would survive no matter what it took, only pausing when I was interrupted by someone at my door. Knock, knock. I couldn’t even hide my notes before the door flew open. “Miss,” said the venerable white-haired butler. He didn’t come into the room, choosing instead to state his business in the doorway. “His Grace the duke has requested your presence.” I doubted he could read what I’d written from all the way over there, but that didn’t stop me from being offended by his rude behavior. Back in the real world, there had been a valet of sorts at my father’s house. He didn’t like me much, sure, but he hadn’t ever opened my bedroom door without permission. To add insult to injury, this game was set in a stalwart class-based hierarchal society, not a democracy. This butler barging in was inexcusable. As I wondered if I should lash out at him, the now-familiar white rectangle slid into view again. 1. (Hurl an object at the butler) How dare you open my door without permission?! You wanna die, old man?! 2. Tell him to come up here himself if he has something to say to me! 3. (Glare at him for five seconds before standing up) Very well. Ah, right. I’d forgotten again, like an idiot. I could do nothing of my own free will in this game, not even get angry at someone when I felt like it… Not wanting to behave as aggressively as the first two choices would make me, I annoyingly was forced to choose the third dialogue option. Affection meters can wait—I have to do something about these damn prompts first… “…Very well.” I guess it’s good timing that the duke is looking for me, then. After pushing my notes deep inside one of the desk drawers, I crossed the room and made to follow the butler. Everything I knew about the estate had been from brief scenes in the game, so I studied my surroundings carefully as I walked. The manor was enormous, something one would expect to see in a movie set in modern Europe, perhaps. Penelope’s room was on its second floor. The day was just beginning, and the place was already humming with activity. As we headed toward and down the central stairway, we passed quite a few servants rushing along the corridors. They threw scornful looks at me as they passed, but I ignored them. I was used to this sort of treatment from my experiences in the real world. The whispers and stares barely even fazed me. The butler, having led me to the first floor, soon came to a stop in front of an ornate door. This must be the duke’s office, I surmised. Knock, knock. “Your Grace, I have brought Miss Penelope.” “Send her in.” The door creaked suspensefully as the butler pushed it open. Tensing a little, I stepped inside. This is just a scene from the game… I tried to reassure myself. There really wasn’t any reason for me to be nervous, but my fingers trembled all the same. Anticipating the way the duke treated Penelope seemed to unwittingly remind me of my own father. Duke Eckhart didn’t look up, even after I entered the room. Cautiously, I approached his desk. Once there, I bowed politely, holding my shaking hands behind my back. Bowing to the duke wasn’t a detail that had been in the game, but seeing as I couldn’t speak without a dialogue prompt, I figured it was the right thing to do under these circumstances. “There you are,” the duke said, finally glancing up. He had black hair and blue eyes like Derrick and looked exactly like his character art from the game—cold in the extreme. Unsurprisingly, a white screen appeared in my vision. 1. May I ask why you summoned me? 2. I’m busy. Can you get straight to the point? 3. (Glare without saying anything) Faced with three equally crappy choices, I kept calm and chose the first one. “May I ask why you summoned me?” “I heard there was something of a disturbance this morning,” he answered icily. With his response, the contents of the dialogue box shifted. 1. It’s none of Your Grace’s concern. 2. You would like it if there had been a disturbance, wouldn’t you? 3. It wasn’t my fault. It was all because of that stupid maid! The hell? None of these options are reasonable, considering how composed my first choice was. Seriously, this game is crazy… Not that it should come as a shock. I’d experienced this already while playing on my phone. At the time, I’d been giddy at the prospect of turning the villain into an aloof femme fatale and immediately selected the second answer. Now that I was actually Penelope and had to say one of these unhinged dialogue choices myself, I simply couldn’t bring myself to speak. I mean, I get that she’s supposed to be this psycho villain, but still… Who would like a daughter who behaved this rudely, let alone an adopted one? This sucks. Clack. Noticing my hesitation, the duke put down his pen and looked up from his documents. His blue eyes bore into me. Please don’t be the choice that leads to death… Trembling internally, I went with the first answer. I gritted my teeth, trying my best to keep my tone neutral. “It’s none of…Your Grace’s concern.” My mouth moved of its own accord, however, and fighting against it only made me sound strained. “Penelope.” The duke’s voice was devoid of any warmth. It seemed as though my desperate efforts had no impact on the outcome whatsoever. “It has already been six years since you started living here, correct?” asked the duke. I stared, trying to remember the details of the plot. The protagonists of both Normal and Hard Mode were eighteen during the events of the game. Penelope was adopted into the duke’s house when she was twelve, so six years after that made her roughly eighteen now. Wait… This was bringing back something about the worldbuilding that I’d forgotten. Coming-of-age ceremonies here take place on one’s eighteenth birthday. If it’s been about six years, doesn’t that mean Penelope’s is around the corner? Then how much time do I have left? I thought hard, concerned by the revelation. Thankfully, the duke continued talking, not bothering to wait for an answer. “Perhaps you are unaware, but it is no easy feat to be accepted into this household. Only those who have proved their worth and have been thoroughly vetted are allowed to pass through the Eckhart gates.” “…” “After I adopted you, I spared no expense and provided you with everything that was due to a daughter of mine. I wholly indulged your extravagances, regardless of how absurd they were.” “…” “However, I cannot say I’ve seen what worth you bring to our noble name these past six years.” He wasn’t wrong. If Penelope had at least continued to resemble his real daughter, he might have maintained a tiny bit of interest in her. But her hair and eyes were now too different from the Eckhart pink and blue, robbing her of the last bit of “worth” she could have served. I wanted to nod in agreement, but the game had me in a viselike grip from the moment he started talking, and I couldn’t move a finger. Just as I was despairing, the dialogue box popped up again. 1. So what? Do you plan to kick me out after all this time? 2. I’ve done nothing wrong! 3. (Fall to your knees) Finally! My heart leaped at the familiar selection screen. I felt excitement course through me for the first time since I’d found myself in this world. Though it was unlikely, I feared the choices might change if I didn’t make a decision soon enough. Hurriedly, I selected the third option. Thunk! My knees slammed onto the floor as though someone had kicked them out from behind and pushed down forcefully on my shoulders. Ow! Did it have to be so rough?! I’d been ready for this, but it hurt more than I expected, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. “What…what are you doing?” The duke seemed even more surprised than I was by the sound of my knees striking the floor, his eyes wide. I had never tried this option back when I played the game. It just felt too out of character. Why would I show such a big display of respect when I’m supposed to be the embodiment of all that is wicked? Perhaps the developers had been too pressed to create yet another branching route, or maybe they’d wanted to save on expenses—either way, the options for this part matched the selection screens from Normal Mode exactly. 1. Does seeing me on my knees make you feel better? 2. (Glare without saying anything) 3. It’s all my fault, Father! I scrambled to select the third option yet again. “It’s all my fault, Father!” I was 100 percent certain this was the right choice, and maybe because of this, my voice rang out loud and clear. “…What?” asked the duke, clearly taken aback. The familiar white window flashed in my vision once more. <SYSTEM> Hidden quest complete! [The Forgotten Word—“Father”] As a reward, you now have access to the [Dialogue Prompts ON/OFF] function. <SYSTEM> Turn dialogue prompts [OFF]? [YES / NO] I pressed [YES] without hesitation. <SYSTEM> Dialogue prompts have been set to [OFF]. Shout (Dialogue Prompts ON) to see multiple-choice answers again. And with that, the damned screen vanished. Yes! I clenched my fists and gave a silent cheer. Turning dialogue prompts off was a hidden feature in the game. The way you activated it was rather silly: You had to call the duke “Father.” Doing so did away with the strict written choices, leaving only the numbers 1, 2, and 3. It also gave you the option to type your own answers using your phone’s keyboard, such as “Yes,” “No,” the names of the male leads, or simple dialogue lines. In Normal Mode, the feature had been made intentionally easy to unlock. I thought the goal must have been to add a little flavor to the repetitive choice-making, encourage faster gameplay, and make things more immersive for the player. I never actually used the feature after unlocking it, though. Normal Mode was so easy and quick that I hadn’t found the need to. Thus, in Hard Mode, I ended up skipping through this particular scene without a second thought. I’d only been choosing the most brash answers at that point, and had no idea that the episode and feature-unlocking would so closely mirror Normal Mode. Those brash answers, evidently the wrong choices considering this similarity, meant that I was unable to even unlock the dialogue tree that led to the option of turning the prompts on or off back when I’d been playing Hard Mode. I’d been having so much fun with the villain’s in-character dialogue, though, that the thought that I might need the feature hadn’t even crossed my mind. Man, how clueless I was… Little did I know that the fun I was having would later come back to bite me in the ass… Bemoaning my foolishness, I finally, finally spoke of my own free will, pronouncing each syllable carefully. “Fa—ther.” I nearly cried—it felt inexplicably good to be able to say what I wanted again. Real tears might have even welled up, I was so moved. The duke’s eyes grew even wider, probably from disbelief at hearing Penelope address him as “Father.” He likely couldn’t recall a time she had ever done so. I continued to speak, my words flowing freely. “I apologize for causing trouble during my punishment. In failing to comport myself properly in front of a subordinate, I disturbed everyone.” “…” “I will reflect on my actions for the remainder of my probation. You can rest assured that I will not cause a commotion like this within our household again. Will you please forgive me this once, Father?” I begged, going down on all fours. In reality, the events of this morning were in no way my fault. The maid abused me, and I, the victim, had every right to ask for help. But the way Penelope had acted thus far in her life forced my hand, leaving me no choice but to prostrate myself and speak reverentially to survive. I wouldn’t be in immediate danger of death if I offended the duke, no, but doing nothing and moving on without attempting to fix things just because I got what I wanted and unlocked the hidden feature would probably cause problems for me in the long run. It was a logical assumption, considering this happened off the back of Penelope getting confined to her room for doing something wrong. Derrick had been the one to order that punishment, and being obstinate now would only lead to his affection dropping later. “I’ve long behaved arrogantly and childishly, I know.” “…” “But if you overlook my mistakes just this once, I will strive to prove my worth to you before my coming-of-age ceremony.” I stayed on the ground after I finished speaking. I had never groveled like this, even to my real father. This stupid game was making me do things I never would have stooped to doing otherwise. I’m on my hands and knees pleading to you, dammit. Hurry up and accept my apology already. I’d been in fight-flight-freeze-or-fawn mode ever since waking up that morning, and I needed a break. “You…” The way the duke gazed upon me… It was like he was seeing me for the first time. I could tell he was struggling to speak. After faltering for a bit, he finally managed to say, “I understand. You may get up.” “Yes.” I stood without delay. My legs had been going numb. “We of House Eckhart say little, Penelope,” the duke spoke in a low voice, staring me down, “and the little we say must matter.” That could mean a lot of things. I bowed deeply. “Thank you. I will make sure you don’t regret giving me this chance, Father.” “You are dismissed.” I hurried toward the door as soon as he bid me leave, scared that moving too slowly might trigger some other branching storyline. Creak… I felt the duke’s eyes boring into my back as I turned the doorknob and exited the room. It was strange—he was acting completely different from how he had been when I entered, not even deigning to look up at me. Having left the office, though, I decided to push that out of my mind. Duke Eckhart wasn’t one of the characters I needed to raise the affection of, and I wouldn’t have any business with him after I reached an ending with one of the male protagonists at my coming-of-age ceremony. I closed the door carefully behind me and moved to leave…only to be promptly stopped in my tracks by an icy voice piercing the quiet. “I’m certain I told you to make yourself scarce.” “Eek!” I gasped and whirled around. Across the gloomy corridor loomed the hulking shadow of a man. The letters [Affection: 0%] glinted in the darkness. The figure had blue eyes and black hair that seemed to meld with the shadows. It was the duke’s eldest son, Derrick. “Emily.” “…” “She served as a faithful maid in this house for nearly ten years.” Derrick’s footsteps rang out across the floor as he emerged from the darkness. Crossing the wide corridor in only a few steps, he came to stand right in front of me, turning his intimidating blue gaze down toward my face. He had the look of a man who’d discovered a pest in his home. I winced before the hatred and scorn emanating from him, even though I hadn’t really done anything wrong. “No matter how high we set the pay, no one would agree to take on the role of your personal maid. Emily was the only girl willing to deal with your caprice.” “…” “Well, until today, that is. Your conceited theatrics have driven your last maid away.” My timidness suddenly morphed into outrage. When had I said I wanted her banished from the house?! If he wanted to talk about theatrics, he should’ve looked to his brother—Reynold had caused much more of a fuss than I had. And that rotten food almost drove me away from this mortal plane! I wanted to shout at him, but the glowing letters over his head gave me pause. Hold it in. If his affection drops any further, I’m dead. Taking a deep breath, I suppressed my frustration. Affection: zero percent. Zero percent…, I repeated to myself. I was already drained from begging at the duke’s feet earlier. And in the aftermath of hyper-focusing on disabling the multiple-choice dialogue, I couldn’t seem to remember much about this scene from the game. Staying calm, I decided to use the game’s system to fish for information. Dialogue prompts ON! I shouted in my head, the white screen popping up accordingly. 1. Ha! Why are you so upset? Did she service you in bed or something? 2. She only reaped what she sowed! 3. (Glare without saying anything) Having skimmed through my options quickly, I immediately thought: Dialogue prompts OFF! OOOFFFFFFF! <SYSTEM> Turn dialogue prompts [OFF]? [YES / NO] I pressed [YES] at lightning speed. If I went with the crazy options provided by the game devs, I’d be dead in an instant. My brain was humming, trying to think of a solution, and Derrick’s expression grew stonier and stonier at the delay. “Ha! And now you think my words aren’t worth listening to, it seems?” It sounded almost like a threat. I had no time to dally. I settled on saying, “I’m sorry for causing a scene.” How many more times would I have to apologize for something I hadn’t done? It’s not as if I don’t have my pride. Having to grovel and fawn like this over and over left me feeling miserable and dirty. I hated it. Still…it would be a small price to pay if it kept me alive. Besides, these were virtual characters inside a game, not real people anyway. —“Father! Big Bro! She scratched me!” —“Figures. If it looks like vermin and acts like vermin, then it probably is vermin.” I’d pleaded for forgiveness countless times when I lived with my asshole half brothers. That hadn’t been so different from my current situation. Not begging for mercy hadn’t put me at risk of death back then, of course, but I’d been just a child at the time, and everything had been equally scary. Bowing and scraping before others had been an everyday occurrence. Compared with the life I’d already lived, Penelope’s current lot was nothing to complain about. After all, unlike myself, she actually had caused some trouble. Perhaps because I’d already been through much worse, being inside a game in which begging for forgiveness was a legit tactic felt easier, on the contrary. Really, though, this is revoltingly similar to my own experiences, I mentally grumbled, recalling the realization I’d had when I first found myself in this world. At the same time, I finally spoke, keeping an even and deferential tone. “As you’ve said, I have forgotten my place.” “…What?” “We don’t need to send that maid away. It was my own behavior that fell short. In fact, I just asked Father for forgiveness as well.” Derrick’s expression grew strange at my words, his blue eyes slightly round. A similar reaction to his father’s. I continued smoothly, finding it easy to repeat my earlier performance. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your sight and avoid causing you concern from now on, so please forgive me once more,” I implored, following the words with a deep bow. Did I sound too insincere? I wondered, suddenly worried that I hadn’t been convincing enough. As ruthless as this story may be, he wouldn’t suddenly cut me down when I’m begging for mercy, would he? I was pretty certain Derrick wasn’t a nutjob like the crown prince, though, and it was with a lighter heart that I waited for his response. I wanted to get this over with and return to my room. Even standing was starting to take its toll on me. Come to think of it, I was starving. That damn maid’s food had made me throw up in the morning, and I’d had nothing to eat since then, my upset stomach leaving me weak. Despite my earnest desire to end this and rest, it took Derrick a full five minutes to speak. “…One more time, then,” he finally conceded. “…” “I will overlook it just this once.” Right when I was thinking that this was easier than I’d anticipated, he tacked on, “But bear in mind, this is the last time I’ll excuse your insolence.” His response was much more spiteful than the duke’s. As expected, however, I’d avoided death. Though relieved, I couldn’t bring myself to thank him for it. Yeah, sure, of course, whatever you say, Mr. Hotshot, I thought sarcastically, just as I would often do with Asshole #1 back in the real world. After giving one final deep bow, I turned around, intending to head straight back to my room. “Ah—” A sudden rush of dizziness came over me, my vision starting to blur. The relief seemed to have drained the last of my strength right out of my legs, and I swayed on unsteady feet. I’m going to fall! Just as the floor rushed up to greet me, someone grabbed my shoulders roughly. “Hey.” I could feel a hand move to hold me by the upper arm, propping my body upright. Upon turning my head, I was met with bright, burning blue eyes. Derrick had caught me before I could fall. “You ate spoiled food,” he said gruffly, jolting me out of my daze. While I stared in shock, he continued on, asking, “Shouldn’t we call for a doctor?” My waves of inner turmoil immediately settled. So he knew. He knew it wasn’t my fault and yet had tried to blame me for what the maid had done. If I hadn’t begged him for mercy right away, if the scenario had played out as in the game, he would have ruthlessly killed me. It felt as if someone had doused me with ice water. “No need, Young Lord.” I jerked away from the hand that was grasping me, the movement intuitive, like some sort of survival instinct. Only to immediately regret it. Suddenly afraid that I’d pissed him off, I did my best to smile. “Not when I’ve only just promised to not cause you any more trouble.” So piss off and leave me alone. “If you’ll excuse me.” With another polite bow, I hurried away. I must’ve looked silly, rushing down that corridor as if a serial killer were hot on my heels. But my worry wasn’t unfounded. I had no reason to trust Derrick wouldn’t stick a knife in my back for shoving his hand away. In my rush to escape up the central staircase, I failed to notice the look on his face. “…‘Young Lord,’” Derrick repeated unconsciously, staring after Penelope’s retreating form. This was the same girl who couldn’t even bring herself to address the duke as “Father,” the same girl who would always insist on calling him and Reynold “Big Bro.” Somehow he couldn’t forget how she’d blanched when he’d caught her. With a strange light in his blue eyes, he watched her flee, almost as if she were escaping from him. Soon, however, he turned away, as if no longer interested. [Affection: 5%] White letters that Penelope had missed glinted above his head of black hair. I raced up the stairs and back to my room. After shutting the door behind me, I jumped onto the bed. “Phew…” My body melted into the soft embrace of the sheets. It was still morning, approaching midday, but with how drained I was, it felt as if I’d spent a full day running around. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm my pounding heart, which had been beating like crazy since my encounter with Derrick. All of a sudden, I burst out laughing. “Ha! Somehow I’m still alive.” I guessed my repeated efforts to make at least some progress in the game hadn’t been a complete waste. I’d actually had the presence of mind to address Derrick as “Young Lord,” despite how flustered I was. As the tension left my body, snippets of information began to come back to me. When I’d first started the game, Derrick’s affection had fluctuated intensely, unlike the other love interests. I’d manage to select the right dialogue and gain some percentage points with lots of trial and error, but one little mistake was often enough to undo all my hard work. For the longest time, I just couldn’t figure out what triggered these sudden deductions. Does he have some sort of personality disorder? I had wondered. Why the roller-coaster ride of emotions? Multiple deaths later, I eventually found the reason. Derrick detested Penelope so much that he even hated hearing her call him “Brother” or the like. Whenever I chose a dialogue option with the word brother in it, his affection would plummet, leaving me puzzled. “He’s so finicky. Even more so than Asshole #1.” I frowned, clucking my tongue. In any case, the only reason I wasn’t dead right now is because I’d remembered this about him at the last moment. Right, note to self: Never call him “Brother” ever again. I repeated this multiple times so I wouldn’t forget. Of course, best-case scenario would be avoiding him altogether where I could, but I had to be ready for details and paths in the story that I didn’t know about. My eyes began to close as I lay in bed, thinking. I really should eat something… Food would provide much-needed energy. It was nearly lunchtime already, but because of the chaos of this morning, I didn’t have much of an appetite. Ugh, whatever. Feeling too tired to do anything, I simply let my eyes flutter shut. Sleep first, food later. Maybe I just wanted to escape the horrible reality I’d found myself in. I was fast asleep seconds after I closed my eyes. “Well? Why was this in your room?” said a cold voice, surprisingly close to my ear. Before I could process, a different voice shouted from beside me. “Answer him, you rat! You stole it, didn’t you?!” “Reynold,” the duke said in warning to his son about his language. Reynold clamped his mouth shut but stamped his foot angrily. What is this…? Snapping out of my daze, I looked around before lowering my head. I seemed to be shorter, my hands smaller. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—I was in Penelope’s dream. “Explain, Penelope. Why do you have my daughter’s necklace? I seem to recall telling you that her bedroom was off-limits.” “Father! Why do you even have to ask? She obviously stole it!” Despite the duke’s warning, Reynold kept butting in with his accusations. Penelope glared back at him. “I didn’t steal it! I’ve never stolen anything!” “Don’t make me laugh! Why else would Father’s birthday present for Ivonne be inside your dresser?!” Reynold shouted, shoving the necklace in her face. I’d never seen it before. In line with her personality, Penelope shook her head and shouted back just as vehemently, “I don’t know, either! I’ve never gone in her room!” “I saw her,” a voice cut in, a man stepping forth from the crowd of people that had gathered. The duke, who’d been groaning at Reynold and Penelope’s screaming match, turned to look at the speaker. “Pennel.” It was the butler. “These past few weeks, I often witnessed Miss Penelope going up to the third floor. I checked Miss Ivonne’s room just in case and found the door unlocked.” Everyone turned to Penelope again, dozens of eyes pointed like daggers at the little girl. Even the arrogant Penelope could not ignore the accusation in all those gazes. “…I-it wasn’t me,” she insisted, backing away. She was telling the truth. She’d been going to the third floor a lot, yes. It was the least frequented place in the manor and also led to the attic. But she’d only done so because she didn’t want to be alone with the maid who harassed her, not to steal anything—especially not something that had once belonged to the duke’s real daughter. “It really wasn’t me, Father! I swear! I’ve never, ever been in that room!” Penelope yelled at the duke desperately, reaching out in a display of trust and affection for the man who’d brought her in and given her a new home. But the duke ignored her cries. “Pennel, see that all the third-floor rooms are properly locked. As for Ivonne’s bedroom—nail it shut.” “Yes, Your Grace.” “And summon the jeweler tomorrow.” “F-Father…” Penelope faltered. The incident, which had happened not long after Penelope was adopted, was wrapped up without any regard for what the girl had to say. Penelope, frozen and pale, simply stared at the duke with pleading eyes. He left without another word to her. “That’s why you should’ve gotten the hell out of our house while we were still asking nicely, stupid,” Reynold whispered nastily once his father was gone. Then he promptly shoved Penelope to the floor before following after the duke. “Vile scum,” Derrick spat frostily at the girl slumped on the ground. The scene shifted. From then on, Penelope would purchase an outrageous number of jewels and valuables from merchants who visited the manor. The servants would nearly pass out at the amount of money that exchanged hands, with Derrick and Reynold fuming that she had no right to spend so lavishly. And Penelope never called the duke “Father” again. …Knock, knock. Quiet rapping against my door pulled me out of my deep slumber. I blinked my eyes open, half-awake. Knock, knock, knock. The sound continued when I didn’t respond. The knocking was sharp, almost irritating. I hefted myself up into a sitting position slowly. “Who’s—?” Ker-click. The door swung open before I could even finish asking who was there. “It is me, Miss.” Light poured into the room from the hallway. The sun seemed to have set, since my room was dark otherwise. Blinded by the sudden brightness, I squinted at the person illuminated against the door. “The butler…?” I muttered. “I come regarding an urgent matter.” It wasn’t normal for the butler to seek Penelope out like this, so my stomach plummeted. The dream I’d just woken from probably heightened my anxiety. “Wh-what happened?” My voice trembled miserably. Had the brothers framed me again? Was I being accused of something? At my question, the butler finally explained why he had so rudely burst into my room. “We must select a new personal maid for you before dinner—” My mind went blank. “Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. The butler stopped speaking. He seemed offended that I’d interrupted him, judging from the frown lines creasing his forehead. That’s it? Funnily enough, the first feeling that washed over me was relief, though it was quickly replaced with furious disbelief. He strolled into his sleeping mistress’s room without permission over a maid assignment?! The more I thought about it, the more affronted I felt. “…You.” I called the butler in a low voice. “Yes, Miss?” “What is your name?” “I beg your pardon?” he said stupidly, clearly not having expected the question. I generously repeated myself. “Your name. Tell me.” “It…is Pennel, Miss.” “And what is my name?” “Miss, what is with this sudden line of questioning?” he asked, looking displeased that I had changed the subject. The lines in his brow deepened. “Answer my question. What is my name?” “…Penelope Eckhart.” The words came out begrudgingly, as if they had been dragged kicking and screaming out of his throat. “Correct. Penelope Eckhart. The noblewoman,” I said, nodding and emphasizing my name. I continued amiably. “I, for one, have never heard of any rules of etiquette that would allow a commoner, let alone a servant, to burst into a noble’s room without permission. Do you know something I don’t?” Penelope, you foolish girl. If this kind of treatment made her angry, screaming fits were not the answer. She should have brandished her social status as a weapon to put the servants in their place. As she was an officially recognized member of the duke’s family, pulling rank was the perfect way to combat the butler. I mean, she has one up on me there—back in the real world, I was just the bastard child of some wealthy family. She’s the daughter of the freaking duke. “You know, if a grown man keeps frequenting the room of a young lady of the aristocracy… Why, that sounds to me like the type of messy gossip that’s popular among the common folk,” I said insinuatingly. “…” “Isn’t that right?” An innocent smile accompanied my question. “M-Miss!” The butler blanched in fear. Such a rumor would have disastrous consequences for him. Wow, social status sure is an amazingly effective deterrent. Seeing the butler’s haughty expression waver satisfied something deep within me. Letting the smile drop off my face, I murmured, “Are you going to keep making me strain my neck?” This was a roundabout expression often used by the most self-confident nobles in the game, who seldom experienced being spoken to without the speaker first kneeling before them. This would include, for example, Duke Eckhart, the “blade of the empire,” who bent his head to no one save for members of the Imperial family. “I—I apologize, Miss!” The butler was quick to understand my meaning. He collapsed to the floor, his stiff legs seeming to turn to jelly. “I—I grew careless in my haste and breached propriety. Please forgive me…!” Seeing the man on his knees did make me feel a little better. I’d been having a terrible day from the moment I woke up. I wondered briefly if I was being too harsh, considering the butler was much older than I was, but I didn’t tell him to get up. No doubt this man had done nothing but talk down to Penelope and ignore her these past six years. “…I don’t think I’d appreciate seeing your face again any time soon,” I said, staring coldly at him. “I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” At last, I arrived at what I really wanted to say. “From now on, if you need something from me, don’t come in person. Send someone else.” “But, Miss, the assigning of maids is my respons—” “Yes or no,” I cut him off. “Only one of those is the correct answer.” “…Yes. Understood, Miss,” the butler agreed with great effort. I could see on his face how difficult it was for him to do the simple job of deferring to me. “Serving your meal, then—” “Will be unnecessary. Get out,” I spat. Lying down on my bed again, I turned my back to the man. I could soon hear his cautious footsteps retreating. Creak. The door closed much more softly than it had been opened, plunging the room back into darkness. Wait… What if he goes straight to the duke and tells him everything I said? I briefly worried. “Well, what’s done is done.” Let him do as he would. I couldn’t stop him. Besides, I would do the same over and over again if it would help ease some of Penelope’s built-up resentment. Not to mention I’d spoken quietly the whole time. Not one object was thrown, nor fit pitched. Inside the game, you were meant to build a good reputation by improving your relationships with the side characters as the story progressed. This would later aid you in reaching various endings with each of the love interests. I had no intention of tackling the game in an orthodox manner, though. With no need to unlock multiple endings, any time I spent on irrelevant people was time wasted. I’m already up to my ears in keeping the affection meters from dropping. Reputation points don’t concern me. It was a luxury you could only afford when playing on your phone. Shoving aside my useless musings, I closed my eyes again. I hadn’t been able to sleep properly since first waking up as Penelope, and the butler had interrupted my nap. I needed more rest… Penelope seemed to be quite the early bird for a high-strung woman. My eyes opened early in the morning despite any lack of a wake-up call from a maid. Sitting up in bed, I started doing a set of light stretches. That is, until someone knocked on my door, as if they’d been biding time until I showed sign of rejoining the waking world. Knock, knock. Straightening up, I stared, waiting. Let’s see if yesterday’s warning was effective. A few seconds passed. It didn’t seem to be the butler, that was for certain—the door didn’t fly open like last time. “Who’s there?” I finally said. “Miss, it’s me, Raina.” Ah, the head maid. My new tactic had apparently worked splendidly, and I hummed to myself, satisfied with the results. “Come in.” The door clicked open, and a middle-aged woman stepped inside. “Did you sleep well, Miss?” “What is it?” I ignored her question, getting straight to the point. “I’ve come to speak to you concerning the matter of selecting a new personal maid. Do you happen to have a specific person in mind for the role?” Of course I don’t. I said nothing in response, but she didn’t seem put off or surprised by this; neither did she suggest that I choose someone from the existing staff. “If not, perhaps a new girl can be hired on—” “The one who was serving me before—what was her name?” “Pardon? You mean Emily, Miss?” “Ah, right. Emily,” I said, pretending to have forgotten. “Has she been kicked out of the manor?” “She hasn’t, no, but—” “Then what’s she doing now?” The maid looked suspicious at my line of inquiry. “In addition to being docked three months’ pay for her…negligence, she’s been assigned to the laundry.” “Hmm, I see.” “Why do you ask, Miss?” There was a faint flicker of unease in the maid’s expression, despite her composure so far. I guess she’s wise to what’s been going down. Or could it be that she’s behind the maids’ poor treatment of me? Fighting down a smirk, I answered her nonchalantly. “Let her continue as my personal maid.” “…Excuse me?” “It’s inconvenient, having no one around to serve me. And any new girl will be inept until she gets used to the work. The bar may be low, but I’d prefer my original maid.” Penelope would never have provided such a detailed explanation. But since I needed the head maid’s cooperation for my own agenda, I decided to play nice. “Understood? Then send her up here, please.” I shot a smile at the older woman, whose jaw was hanging open. She was obviously shocked by the change in me, and after some thought, she replied cautiously, “B-but, Miss, Young Master Reynold himself punished her on account of her offense against you—” “So? Are you refusing to do as I say?” I didn’t let her finish making excuses. “…” The maid clammed up immediately. I knew it. Though it was only the dawn of my second full day in the manor, I’d already come to the realization that no one ever did as Penelope asked the first time around. Has it always been like this? The hierarchical societies I’d seen in movies and books had never allowed for servants to question those of higher status. Besides, the servants who had cared for the heroine in Normal Mode were endlessly accommodating, hanging on her every word. Which means whatever this is, it’s not normal. My good mood was sullied by irritation in less than a minute. “Do as I say while I’m still asking nicely.” I even said please. Do I have to act like the real Penelope? “I already told you finding a new maid is more pain than it’s worth. Send my old one up like I instructed. Unless you want to attend to me yourself?” “…If that is what you wish, I shall clear the matter with His Grace first, Miss.” She refuses to listen to me till the very end. I laughed, incredulous at her arrogance. “Don’t bother. I’ll go ask him myself now.” I stood abruptly. “While I’m at it, I’ll give him all the details of what happened yesterday and tell him I’ve forgiven Emily.” “…” “Where is my father?” I asked, moving to leave. “M-Miss!” The head maid’s eyes had gone wide. The previous day’s incident had fizzled out somewhat quietly with only one maid demoted, but if I told the duke the full truth, things could rapidly spiral out of hand. A maid had abused the duke’s daughter, and his second son had witnessed it to boot. “H-His Grace left for the Imperial Palace early this morning,” she stammered. “Really? All right. Well, I’ll tell him when he retur—” “I shall go retrieve Emily right away!” the head maid interrupted frantically, probably afraid that I was dead set on seeking out my father. “I tend to worry too much the more I age. I nearly did not recognize your generosity, Miss. Please forgive me.” It didn’t please me so much as make me feel bitter to see the head maid now bowing her head. I wasn’t planning on making use of the reputation system by currying favor with the servants in the first place, but this felt as though I was eating away at what very little reputation I did have. “Shall I bring her now, Miss?” the maid asked, eyeing me fearfully. “Don’t make me repeat myself to you ever again, Raina,” I said in answer, my tone somewhat mournful. My day was already ruined beyond repair. “Get out.” The head maid must have done as I asked, because Emily came up to my room with a rolling cart in no time. “M-Miss… Y-your breakfast is ready…” Her hands were trembling as she set out the plates under my watchful gaze. I guess she’s been through the ringer ever since being dragged away yesterday. The insanity of actually eating rotten food hadn’t been for naught, apparently. The food she served me this time—a fresh salad and a juicy steak—was worlds more palatable in comparison. Looks edible, to say the least. The stress from the day before hadn’t dissipated yet, though. I didn’t really have much of an appetite. Deliberately staring at Emily, who was standing stiffly to the side, I slowly ate. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t dare meet my eyes. Maybe she feels guilty. No doubt she was confused as to why I’d chosen to keep her on as my personal maid. I hadn’t even finished half of my food before I put my fork down. “Emily.” “Y-yes, Miss!” she responded immediately, her voice much too loud. I must’ve jolted her out of her thoughts. Having her attention, I held out a hand. “Bring me the needle.” “Pardon? What do you—” “The needle you stuck me with every morning,” I said casually, as if I were talking about the weather. “Ack!” she gasped. Perhaps taken aback by my affable tone, it took a moment for my words to compute. Then, in a flurry, she went pale and fell to her knees. “M-Miss! I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” Thump, thump. Her forehead banged against the floor as she begged, bowing over and over. Come on, seriously? If she was going to fold like a napkin, why did she even do something so ballsy in the first place? On one hand, I was amused to see how spineless Emily truly was; on the other, my mood worsened at the confirmation of my suspicions: Someone else was the mastermind behind the abuse. Any desire to wheedle what I wanted out of her vanished, and when I spoke next, all traces of friendliness were gone from my voice. “Didn’t the head maid tell you? I don’t like having to repeat myself.” “M-Miss…” “Give me the needle.” Emily was shaking like a leaf. In fact, she looked as if she might faint at any moment. Yielding to the pressure, though, she began to rummage in her hair, which was pulled up in a bun. From it emerged a long needle. Damn, clever hiding place. No wonder Penelope had fallen victim to their plotting. There would have been no easy way to find evidence the maid had been pricking her. “H-here you are…,” Emily said, her hand quivering as she held out the needle. I looked down at the object that had been used to torment Penelope for years. Objectively, it was a tiny thing, smaller than a single fist. But I knew from experience what terrible pain that prickly point could inflict. It must have hurt so much… I couldn’t help imagining Penelope waking in pain every morning, discovering her arm covered in wounds both fresh and old, with no one ever paying any mind to her suffering. “Raise your head,” I commanded through gritted teeth. Emily hesitantly looked up. Her eyes were full of despair, probably envisioning what atrocities she’d be subjected to at the hands of the duke’s vicious daughter. Sadly, however, what I was about to do wasn’t exactly revenge for Penelope. “Watch closely, Emily.” I held out my hand that wasn’t clasping the needle, showing her its smooth, uninjured surface. Then I promptly plunged the needle straight in. “Ahh! Miss!” Emily screamed as if she were the one who’d been stabbed. More than half of the needle had sunk through my skin, and I immediately pulled it back out. Ngh. A bead of blood was beginning to well up from the small wound. I’d steeled myself for the pain, but it still hurt like hell. Tears glistened in my eyes, but I refused to show any sign of discomfort on my face as I jabbed the needle back in. “Argh!” I shouted. The pain was too great to hold my cry in this time. “M-Miss!” Emily was nearly hysterical, hyperventilating at this point. It was almost laughable, the way she cried, not knowing what to do with herself in the face of my unexpected behavior. She had been pricking me every day. What is she freaking out for? “Miss, why are you doing this?!” she sobbed. “…No need to cry, Emily. You’re the one who did this to me, after all,” I said softly as tears dripped down her cheeks. Her face went blank at my words. “What? I…did?” “There are only two wounds in my hand now, but later, there could easily be three, four, or even five.” “…” Emily had stopped breathing altogether, tremors settling as well, still as a statue. “From now on, I will accept anything you prepare for me without question. The water you bring me to wash up with in the morning, clothes, food—everything.” “M-Miss…” “But as you do…perhaps more puncture wounds will appear on my hand. And at a certain point, someone is bound to notice, don’t you think?” “…” “‘What impudent individual would dare to abuse a lady of House Eckhart?’ that someone will wonder. Someone like my brother Reynold, for example.” I smiled widely, saccharinely sweet, as I continued. “Do you understand? It all depends on how you act going forward.” My personal maid said nothing in response to my threat. She was sickly pale, as if she’d just been strangled. “Get up,” I said, withdrawing my hand. “Your mistress has finished her meal. Time for you to get to work.” I turned leisurely to the large window next to the table in a clear message of dismissal. Though she’d been frozen in place kneeling on the floor just seconds before, Emily jumped to her feet at my words and mechanically gathered the dishes. Looks like she got the message. That’s definitely a weight off my shoulders. I should be able to make use of her from now on. My situation wouldn’t have improved by hiring someone new as my maid. Since I refused to continue being bullied, I’d decided instead to turn Emily into a pawn I could control. Luckily, being the one responsible for physically abusing Penelope made her vulnerable and ripe for the picking. Not to mention she was pretty spineless, the type who knew when it was in her best interests to switch sides—those were features I could appreciate. I studied Emily as I turned the situation over in my mind. She’d continued to busy herself around the table and soon finished her work. Bang! That was when someone kicked the door open so hard it sounded like a thunder crack. Whirling toward the entryway with a jolt, I caught sight of cotton-candy-pink hair. Reynold Eckhart, the vulgar second son of the duke, was glaring at me. “You.” He stormed into the room, and in seconds, [Affection: -3%] was shoved in my face. “What the hell are you thinking?” Reynold demanded without preamble, ferocity radiating off him. Noticing Emily standing beside me at the table, his mood fouled even further. “You…!” “Y-Y-Young Master!” Emily stiffened, the color draining from her face. Darting my eyes over the tabletop, I saw that all the cutlery had been gathered in a tray, with the exception of a lone fork left in front of me. Oh no! Filled with an ominous sense of foreboding, I quickly moved the fork to the tray as well and gave the area around me one last scan just in case anything remained that could be used as a weapon. Phew, all clear. I turned to Emily and spoke. “You may leave.” Emily picked up the tray lightning fast, as if she’d been desperately awaiting permission. “Where do you think you’re going?!” Reynold shouted, indignance clear in the taut lines of his body. “Go on,” I urged, giving Emily a look that said she should get out before the young master threw a fit. The girl seemed to understand, scurrying toward the door and making herself scarce. I was reminded of the way I’d fled from Derrick the day before, fearing for my life. His protests ignored, Reynold settled his angry gaze on me. “Out with it. What are you scheming?” I paused for a moment to consider. Game Penelope never spoke to Reynold in the respectful way that was expected of younger siblings in polite society. And since Reynold was only two years older than her, the two of them bickered like cats and dogs. Just like me and Asshole #2—clashing all the time. Even the age gap is the same. Unlike Penelope, I hadn’t fought back viciously, of course. I’d simply allowed myself to be bullied. In any case, I briefly wondered if I should be formal and polite with Reynold just as I’d been with Derrick, since he was older than me, but soon thought better of it. It would be silly for me to suddenly start deferring to him when I’d been talking back only the day before. “So now you’re flat-out ignoring me, is that it?” Reynold spat caustically at my lack of immediate response. Gosh, can he have a modicum of patience? I decided to answer him flippantly, as the real Penelope would have. “What are you going on about?” “What am I— Why did you take that girl back as your personal maid?!” he fumed. The letters [Affection: -3%] glinted threateningly from above the fluttering strands of his pink hair, warning me how imminent death was. What do I say to avoid his affection dropping? I wondered if I should turn on the dialogue-prompt options, but it was already too late. It wouldn’t have been helpful anyway. The choices are always unhinged. Gulping, I glanced over at a pissed-off Reynold. Penelope probably would’ve said something that would hasten her death, like “Shove off” or “Get the hell out of my room.” “It’s nothing,” I settled on saying. “Don’t worry yourself about it.” I wasn’t Penelope, though, so I softened my tone. Reynold would be disagreeable regardless of what I said, so I had a feeling that things would go over better if I chose a more digestible approach. “What…did you say?” Apparently, the effect was the opposite of what I’d hoped for. If looks could kill, the glare that appeared on Reynold’s face would be charged with first-degree murder. “It’s ‘nothing’? How is serving her mistress rotten food ‘nothing’?!” “No, I meant—” “That lowly trash doesn’t know her place! She made a mockery of House Eckhart!” “…” “We have no need for insolent maids in this manor. Not when there are countless others who would die for a chance to work here!” Reynold seethed. His unexpected tirade had me at a loss. In fact, he seemed angrier than me, the actual victim. “…Ha!” I couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that spilled out of me. Lowly trash! You don’t know your place. That was the line Reynold always said when he saw Penelope in the game. “You’re laughing? What about this is funny to you?” he asked, a scowl marring his face. “How much did you let that maid look down on you to think she could get away with treating you that way?” He was right. Everyone in the duke’s household looked down on Penelope, not a single servant ever willing to do as I told them to. My heart, which had been tempestuous with the fear of death that might come at any moment, suddenly calmed. “I talked with Father about this yesterday, actually.” I looked at him with eyes afresh, icier than before. “You did? Well, I’m sure Father agreed. I told him to kick that impertinent girl to the curb,” Reynold said, puffing his chest as if he was proud of what he’d done. Does he want praise from the fake sister he hates so much? Sorry to disappoint, but I have zero intention of offering any. “Actually, Father and Derrick don’t want Emily to be kicked out.” “Huh?” Reynold said, his blue eyes widening incredulously. “Father…and Brother?” Reynold looked completely caught off guard by this revelation. To be fair, neither the duke nor Derrick had said those exact words. Derrick had only brought up Emily’s long tenure in the house as grounds to chastise me, nothing more. A reminder that I was worth less than a maid about to be let go. But I didn’t care that I was technically twisting the truth. I was pretty sure I could cover my tracks. If the lie catches up to me later, I can just brush it off as being open to interpretation. “That’s why you’ve decided to continue using her as your personal maid instead of throwing her out?” I nodded calmly. “That’s right.” His smooth forehead furrowed with a deep frown, and all at once, he exploded. “Are you an idiot?! You should have told them no!” he shouted, the volume so loud it caused my ears to ring. “What difference would that have made?” “‘What difference’?! How about you not dying from eating that garbage she serves you! Or—” “Can you guarantee that a new maid wouldn’t do the same thing?” “…” He fell silent at my words, deflating like a popped balloon. I gazed warily at the [Affection: -3%] hovering above his head and considered. I shouldn’t make it sound like I blame any of them for things getting this bad. That’ll just rub Reynold’s pride in the Eckhart name the wrong way. If only the affection meter were a rage indicator instead. Then it would be easier to decide what to say based on what didn’t aggravate him. His affection is still negative. If it drops any more, I’ll meet one hundred percent certain death. I sighed inwardly. This was why I hadn’t been the least bit excited when Reynold’s percentage had crept up. “I didn’t go see Father yesterday to talk about punishing the maid,” I said slowly. “I got down on my knees and begged for forgiveness for causing trouble when I was meant to be serving my punishment.” “What?” The surprise in Reynold’s voice was clear as day. Penelope had never once apologized for anything. The very idea seemed to appall him. “You begged…? Wait, did Father…did Father demand that you apologize?” He had done no such thing, of course, but I skimmed over that detail. “I told him I’d behave for the remaining period of my probation.” “…” “So please just leave this be.” I wanted to tell him that, frankly, none of this was his damn business. But if I could get this hot-tempered man to simmer down, half the potential deaths waiting for me in the game could probably be prevented. And to that end, I had to choose my words carefully. Please don’t pick any more fights with me. You live your life and I’ll live mine, okay? Of course, I couldn’t be so direct with him, so instead I made my tone as sincere as possible. “That’s all I ask, Brother.” Reynold stared as I bowed my head, as if I were some sort of otherworldly anomaly. He seemed too flustered to speak for some time, before finally stuttering out, “Y-you… I don’t…” I watched as his face twisted into a scowl again, bracing myself for another of his cantankerous, senseless criticisms. “You’re delusional!” or “The rotten food messed up your brain!” or something like that. Which, yeah, fair. I’m being much too reasonable, considering Penelope’s usual brand of crazy. But I never could have expected what he actually said. “Do you have no self-respect?!” he boomed in a thunderous rage. “You’re gonna just let this slide after what she did to you?!” His words seemed to flip a switch inside me, even as he continued to yell. “Are you out of your mind? At least shout like you always do! Scream! Throw and break things! That’s more like you!” Reynold’s anger almost seemed to be out of concern for me. Sadly for him, I didn’t feel grateful in the slightest. “But you expected all this, didn’t you? Ever since you put that necklace in my room?” I shot back, unable to contain my ire. “This is exactly how you wanted me to be treated. Everything you’ve done is so I could end up like this, isn’t it?” “…What?” Reynold’s mouth was hanging open. I shouldn’t have argued, considering his affection was still in the negatives, but I was just too angry to think. He has some nerve lecturing me about self-respect—the very one responsible for Penelope’s current situation. The butler, the head maid, Emily…they were just opening acts. The true ringleader was right in front of me. Finally snapping out of his stupor, Reynold choked out a response. “Penelope… That’s…” “I didn’t bring that up to rehash it. It’s in the past. And goodness knows I’m far from an angel.” “…” “But I’m tired of all that now,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’ll have my coming-of-age ceremony soon. You know I can’t cling to the Eckhart house forever.” Reynold paled. “You… What are you saying? You think you can leave?” “Well, that’s up to Father and Brother,” I said with a shrug. Of course, the words were far from the truth, only an attempt to appease Reynold. As was the case with most stories set in these times, I could easily be forced into some kind of arranged marriage by the duke or Derrick. I had no intention of letting that happen, not to mention the nature of the game’s story wouldn’t allow it anyway, so I could rest easy in that respect. I would choose a love interest, reach his ending, and get the hell out of this place forever. And you’re not even in the running, Reynold, so don’t you worry. Once again, I tried to politely convince him to butt out. “No need to waste your concern on me.” I can take care of myself. Laugh in my face or tell me I got what I deserve—just go back to minding your own business like usual. “It’s time for me to wash up. You should go,” I said, glancing at the door. When I looked back, Reynold’s face had fallen, causing my stomach to drop. I’d never seen that particular expression on his face in the game. Suddenly, I was seized with fear. Does this mean his affection is going to drop? No! I hadn’t raged at him as Penelope typically did. I’d even done my best to be reasonable. Why was this happening?! Just as I was catastrophizing, the empty gauge above his pink hair began to glow. [Affection: 3%] Huh? I felt numb. Why did it go up? It had risen by a whopping 6 percent, at that. While I blinked in confusion between Reynold and his affection meter in turn, he seemed to recover himself. “I’m an idiot for spending even a second worrying about someone like you,” he bit out. There was an almost wounded look in his furious blue gaze before he spun away. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Watching as he left like he came in—in a whirlwind—I decided that whatever I’d seen was nothing but a trick of the light. Bang! The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room in complete silence. I considered the situation, planting an elbow on the table and resting my chin in my hand. I felt…odd. It was satisfying to see Reynold’s affection rise like that in real time. I’d written him off as a lost cause. “Turning off the dialogue-prompt setting really was a good move, then?” I’d managed to keep both brothers’ affection meters from dropping despite how much they hated Penelope, after all. “I’m keeping it off,” I said, making my decision before getting up. Saying I needed to wash up hadn’t just been an excuse. As I tugged the bellpull for the servants, something occurred to me. I guess I can’t call Reynold “Mr. Negative” anymore.