The Villainess Does Not Want to Die

Chapter 11: It’s fine, probably.

It had been a while since I sat in such a seat.

The clumsy keyboard instrument I saw at the tavern couldn’t even compare to this proper instrument.

They say poverty breeds a poor spirit. The vagabonds wouldn’t even let me touch such a useless piano back then. Is it because these noble folks are different?

Perhaps they’re exceptionally gifted at being generous.

Each note rang clearly, and my mood, which had been tinged with a slight melancholy until just now, was perfected by the music.

I pressed each of the 52 white keys and 36 black keys one by one before lightly playing a few simple chords.

My fingers didn’t spread well, perhaps because I was still a little kid.

I played a jazz tune, just something my fingers remembered, though the title of the piece hovered frustratingly just out of reach.

It felt awkward, probably because this was my first time playing with these hands.

Was it “Waltz for Debbie”?

It should’ve been a warm song played for a beloved niece, but the sound that came out was nothing but screeching notes.

There was none of that characteristic softness or lyrical feeling.

The touch was chaotic, the weight of the keystrokes was uneven, and I could barely keep up with the melody.

Above all, there was no emotion—no tenderness, no warmth.

I knew it all in my head, but my fingertips couldn’t imbue the music with feeling.

After playing for a while, I slowly lifted my fingers off the piano keys.

Giving up on any sentimental emotions, I started to play a tune favored by vagabonds, the kind that would liven up a tavern.

Simple, lively, frivolous, and fast-paced songs.

Yet they still carried a hint of sadness beneath their cheer.

The title was something about “Two Guitars,” but here I was playing it on a piano.

Even though I was called a “lady” here, my mind was still trapped in the slums.

If those elegant people who had been playing the instrument so gracefully just moments ago saw me, they might point fingers and call me vulgar.

But I can’t help it—this kind of music suits my taste more than something grand and rigid.

As I pressed the keys, I noticed a droplet of water on the keyboard and stopped playing.

I wiped my slightly damp eyes.

Realizing that I had shed tears for the first time in a long while, I let out a small, incredulous laugh.

Feeling a strange joy I hadn’t experienced in a while, I clung to the piano and kept playing for a long time.

A mere 11-year-old girl laughing and crying while playing the piano probably wasn’t the most dignified sight.

I ended up staining my clean clothes with tears.

After playing the piano for quite some time, I returned to my room and found dozens of books now filling the previously empty shelves.

I wonder what happened to that boy I slapped.

They said he’d been kicked out of the mansion for tripping while carrying books. These nobles really do treat their servants worse than dogs.

And now, I’ve become one of these nobles.

I don’t want to hit people.

Feeling a little unsettled, I went to the wall, pulled the handle, and called for someone.

I stood by the door, listening to the bell ring beyond the hallway, and waited for someone to arrive.

Before long, there was a knock, and I opened the door.

As expected, Alina stood there.

“Alina.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“What should I do when my mouth feels dry, my stomach burns, and I feel dizzy?”

“…I don’t know.”

Yeah, me neither.

“Just bring me a cup of lukewarm coffee. Oh, if you want something for yourself, you can bring it too.”

Alina nodded and went to fetch the coffee.

When she returned, she handed me a cup of coffee diluted with cold water, and I gestured for her to come into the room.

The girl hesitated, looking around awkwardly, then stepped inside with a shy expression.

She hadn’t brought anything for herself. I guess she didn’t feel like having a drink.

“Sit wherever you want. No, just sit. For some reason, there are a lot of chairs here.”

Alina dragged a chair from a corner, sat down, and perched on it.

Outside, people in heavy armor were running around in the sunlight.

Without looking at Alina, who was probably still slightly flustered, I gazed out the window and continued speaking.

“The view here is really beautiful.”

“I think so too! Every morning when I wake up, it feels like the air is even fresher!”

Of course, it would feel that way.

The city had trash strewn along the streets, chimney sweeps scattering soot everywhere in the mornings, and dust kicked up by passing carriages.

A million different replies came to mind, but I didn’t say any of them.

The room was filled with an awkward silence for a long time.

“Alina, what am I in this place?”

The answer didn’t come immediately.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t replied to her earlier comment about the fresh air.

Just kidding. It wasn’t funny.

Metaphorically speaking, it sounded like she was racking her brain to come up with an answer.

Was asking such a question itself a form of torment?

I felt a little sorry.

But surely a little girl wouldn’t take such a question too seriously.

An impurity. A half-wit who shouldn’t exist.

A prostitute’s daughter.

A duke’s illegitimate child.

Someone from the slums, despised even by ordinary people living humble lives.

These were just the first things that came to mind.

Judging by the reactions I’d seen in the few days I’d been here, the list was accurate.

Alina’s answer was simple.

“The adorable young lady we’ve newly welcomed, who came from outside.”

I turned and walked over to Alina, who looked slightly nervous.

She seemed flustered as I suddenly approached.

I studied the young girl, who wasn’t quite old enough to be called an adult yet.

Curly brown hair, freckles, gray eyes, and a small mole beneath her right eye.

Her clothes were loose, probably because they were too big for her chest, revealing glimpses of her collarbone and a modest figure.

Her slender frame had just enough curves to suggest she was maturing.

Yes, she was cute enough.

Since she was sitting, I didn’t need to stand on tiptoes to reach her head.

I gently touched her curly hair and placed my hand near the freckles around her nose.

“You’re cute too.”

I stepped away from Alina and walked toward the bookshelf.

The books the Duchess had sent to my room numbered 63 in total.

I picked one titled On the Etiquette of Children by Eras and skimmed the table of contents.

Etiquette, discipline, status, rules.

Just looking at the words made me sleepy, so I closed the book.

Alina, her face slightly flushed, sat still in her chair, simply breathing.

I had no idea what thoughts were running through her mind.

“Alina, don’t you get bored just sitting there doing nothing?”

“M-Me? Oh, no, not at all! I should get back to work now. Rest well, my lady!”

The girl hastily stood up and left the room in a hurry.

Sure, I’ll rest.

I climbed onto the bed with the book in hand and started reading by the light streaming through the window.

Before I knew it, the sun had set completely.

It was time to head to the dining room again.

I didn’t want to go, but the old man I’d met when I first arrived at the mansion came to fetch me himself.

As we walked down the corridor, he posed a question to me.

“Have you adjusted to life in the mansion?”

“Probably, I think so.”

I disliked the portraits hanging on the walls.

They seemed to glare at me as if I had no right to be here.

It might have looked a little ridiculous, but I averted my eyes from the paintings as I walked.

“Would you like to have a personal maid? Currently, no one is specifically assigned to attend to you.”

The first person that came to mind, of course, was Alina.

When I requested her as my personal maid, the old man readily agreed.

“The master asked me to inquire—how was the lesson you received from the Duchess today?”

For a moment, I was at a loss for words. I took a breath and lightly rubbed my still-aching cheek.

“…I’m not sure.”

“I see.”

The old man didn’t press further.

He seemed to notice that I had no desire to continue the conversation.

Before I knew it, we had crossed the long corridor and arrived at the entrance to the dining hall.

The old man slightly bowed and opened the door for me.

This time, no gazes bore into me.

The conversation from moments ago had simply been cut short.

I naturally took the seat I had occupied before.

The Duchess looked at me, her expression stiffening slightly.

I bowed my head lightly in greeting.

“I heard that Marisela joined your lesson today,” the Duke said, opening the conversation after finishing the soup he had just been served.

“She did,” the Duchess replied.

“And how was she?”

“Should I flatter you by saying she’s as brilliant as you?”

At this, the Duke shrugged and replied smugly.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s true that I am intelligent, though.”

The Duchess bit her lip and shot him a brief glare before resuming her meal.

The children were glaring at me.

Well, considering how the atmosphere had become such a mess since my arrival, it wasn’t surprising.

They couldn’t possibly think of me as a sibling.

Just a filthy—yeah, don’t think about it.

Just eat, ignore everything else, and focus on the food.

Even if some of it ends up taken away before I can eat, there’s still so much variety that I won’t go hungry.

At least this isn’t a life of filling my stomach with dry, rock-hard bread topped with mold.

At least I now have an abundance of books I’ve always wanted to read.

It’s fine.

Hitting the boy who dropped the books was hard—it upset me a little—but it was what I was supposed to do, wasn’t it?

It’s fine.

I’ll live happily.

Who cares what happened to me in the game?

That wasn’t me.

Probably.

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