The Perks of Being a Villainess

Chapter 3

“I’m extremely honored to make your acquaintance, my lady. I am Helen, Baron Zihoto’s second eldest daughter.”

Helen was one of the most successful up-and-coming clothing designers, and Deborah had specially requested her services during one of her shopping trips downtown. She had stomped into Helen’s shop as soon as she saw the dresses displayed in the front window and demanded the designer make some dresses for her.

Well, looks like I’ll be reaping the benefits of her dreadful behavior again.

“I’m so happy to have the chance to show you some of my dresses.” Helen’s face fell when I said nothing in response.

Truthfully, I was doing my best to say as little as possible. If I spoke, I’d likely end up revealing just how clueless I really was. It was shocking that I could get away with just ignoring people so much, but at the same time, it was proving to be quite convenient for me.

“My lady, this style of dress is very popular these days. We’ve decorated the sleeves with white rabbit fur. Would you like to take a closer look?” Helen asked, managing to muster her best professional smile as she described the dresses she’d designed herself.

One of them bore a sapphire as thick as my finger on the chest, and another was decorated with pearls stitched into the lace collar. My heart raced at the sight of all the beautiful, extravagant dresses, and I could hardly keep it together. I was from a middle-class family and even my school uniform had been a hand-me-down from my older sister. For me, such luxurious spending was like something from another world.

Is this what it was like to be born with a golden spoon in your mouth? I’d easily accepted the reality of my situation and never really felt all that envious of kids born into rich families. It was confusing to find myself surrounded by such wealth, but at the same time, I was finding it pleasant.

I think they’d all look good on me. A pretty face and a nice figure are guaranteed to wear anything well. I began to feel excited at the idea of trying on all these gorgeous dresses while occupying this beautiful body.

Heart racing, I studied the dresses carefully. Then I suddenly frowned, biting my lip. The rabbit fur on one of the dresses tickled at something in my nose, making me want to sneeze.

Helen’s face went paper white, misinterpreting my expression. “M-my lady. Th-these dresses are only a small fraction of the many we’re in the process of making.”

Wait, what? There are already so many though! I thought, biting my lip as I tried to resist the urge to sneeze, just staring at her.

Helen looked moments from fainting. “I will bring dresses that are even more luxurious and sophisticated. P-please give me just three more days…” Helen peered at me cautiously, falling to her knees. “Forgive me. I’ll immediately fix the dresses so they’re more to your liking!”

“Make them as fancy as you possibly can, with lots of gems,” I said kindly, rubbing at my aching nose. The more gems, the better. I could take them off later and sell them if I needed the coin.

* * *

What does it matter that I’m a villainess? Good looks are all that matters. Like a true narcissist, I spent many hours sitting in front of the mirror, mesmerized by my own beauty. I loved my new beautiful face. I only needed to widen my eyes ever so slightly to give others the impression that I was a viciously strong-willed woman. If I were to go out on the street looking like this, no one would dare even try and stop me to ask for directions.

I was lost in examining my own cold beauty when an attendant distracted me from my self-appreciation, informing me that a tutor was waiting for me. In the mornings, Deborah studied astronomy, history, poetic literature, and a variety of other things with all sorts of prestigious professors from around the empire.

Most highly-ranked nobles’ daughters received tutoring in this way from a young age, and sometimes the name of the professor or noblewoman that had been invited to the home for this purpose served as a testimony to the family’s influence and power.

I envy her a little. My parents had scolded me and said that even online lectures were too expensive. Her arrangement was equivalent to receiving extremely expensive one-on-one lessons from a college professor—the kind that cost hundreds of thousands of won per hour.

Of course, Deborah had no interest in academics at all and always skipped her classes. Like a true villainess, she rarely attended and once had a tutor hung by his ankles out a window after being told off for not doing her homework. The rope had snapped, and the highly esteemed history professor had nearly broken his neck. That incident was so infamous that it was detailed in the novel.

I guess I should expect nothing but the worst from Deborah, and then some. I sighed to myself whenever I peeked at the fragments of Deborah’s memory floating about in my mind. Every time I saw something new I was reminded that insane people truly could be found anywhere.

It occurred to me that it was very convenient indeed to have found myself in her shoes since I myself had always been such a pushover.

In any case, these corridors seem endless. I left my room to go to my lesson and found myself walking down a long passageway. My major had been architecture and the way this mansion was built continued to amaze me. How much money and manpower was required to construct a building as impressive and beautiful as this one?

Eying the sculptures lining the hallway as I walked, I suddenly encountered a silver-haired young man who looked exactly like Duke Seymour. Veleque Seymour. He was the family’s second son. As soon as I saw his cold silver-blue eyes, I felt an instinctive revulsion rising up inside of me. Rather than coming from me, the reaction was ingrained in Deborah’s very body.

She utterly despised her brother Veleque since he in turn did nothing to hide his disdain for her. Veleque abhorred people, like Deborah, who were incompetent and didn’t bother trying to improve themselves. Perhaps this was because he had been trying to overtake his twin brother, Rozard, for his entire life.

Interestingly enough, the eldest born to the Seymour household had always been a set of twins. The House of Seymour’s coat of arms, the two-headed snake, was symbolic of this characteristic. The talented twins of the Seymour household were thrust into fierce competition for the position of heir from the moment they were born, and perhaps because of this, most of the twins born to the family developed messed-up personalities at a young age.

As was tradition, Rozard and Veleque grew into a fine pair of jackasses who later went on to kidnap the female protagonist Mia Binoche and confine her in the mansion. Having read the novel, I knew just how terrible and sadistic the brothers were, so it was hard for me to find anything good in them, the one exception being their good looks.

“Deborah,” Veleque called in his low voice, running a hand through his long silver hair.

I’d honestly expected him to ignore me. All he’d done was run his hand through his hair, but I still felt like I’d just stepped into a photo shoot.

That’s absurd. As might be expected of the many potential suitors the female protagonist had pursuing her, he was extremely good-looking. The monocle he wore somehow accentuated his cold features in a lovely way.

You pervert, you don’t deserve to be so good-looking. You’ve got nothing good going for you other than your face.

“Who is your tutor today?” he asked.

“Patrick,” I replied simply, in the same manner that Deborah typically would, feeling slightly tense.

“Talk of your stupidity has reached even the Magic Tower. I care for Patrick quite a lot as he is a knowledgeable scholar. Behave yourself today.” Having said his piece, he brushed past me, wearing a scary expression.

Whenever Veleque spoke to her rudely like this, Deborah would get upset and take her anger out on her innocent servants. I wasn’t Deborah, though, and his tone didn’t really bother me all that much. My family from my previous life had treated me like a housekeeper at every opportunity, so compared to them, Veleque was pretty well-behaved.

In fact, he was in charge of all sorts of tedious duties around the mansion. While Rozard and Veleque worked their asses off vying to become heir, I was pretending to reflect on my actions in my room, while actually having the time of my life.

It’s all thanks to you I’m having such a great time. I gave Veleque a thumbs-up as he walked away, then stepped into one of the drawing rooms where a young male professor was waiting for me.

Deborah had always skipped out on her weekly history class, so this was only her second time meeting Patrick. He was from a fairly low-ranking noble family and bowed nervously, clearly surprised that I had actually shown up.

“Oh! You’re here,” he said.

I crossed my arms like Deborah would and just nodded in response.

“I’ll start today’s lecture, then.” Taking out a hardback book titled The Thousand-Year History of Asteia, he began to recite the esteemed history of the house I’d found myself transported into in a shaky voice that resembled a goat’s.

This professor has good sense, huh? It was no wonder Veleque liked him so much. He seemed to have prepared his lecture using historical facts Deborah would enjoy hearing about, given how fiercely proud she was of her Seymour blood.

So she’s surrounded by people willing to go out of their way to flatter her… This isn’t bad at all. It was much better than hearing “advice” all day from chronic meddlers. It really is very nice being powerful.

A summary of Patrick’s honey-coated lecture would go something like this: The eleventh emperor bestowed his favor on the head of the Seymour family, who had contributed to strengthening the throne’s hold on power. The House of Seymour was tasked with maintaining the Magic Tower, a custom that continues even to this day.

The House of Seymour had always produced talented heirs who went on to lead the family, and for the past five hundred years, the house had possessed control of the Magic Tower. This was akin to a millionaire’s grandson becoming a minister.

So my father is not only a duke but the master of a magic tower? How excessive. I could suddenly understand a little more why Deborah was so arrogant.

The professor, noting my reaction to his lecture, went on to explain the heroic feats of the family’s founder. Mirzu Seymour, the first of the Seymour line, had been an archmage who’d reached a truly astounding mastery of his craft—a class eight. He’d aided the first emperor and the goddess both, contributing greatly to the founding of Asteia. The founding contributors each began their own house—namely, the Houses of Seymour, Montes, Orgo, and Bisconti.

They were also known as Seymour, the House of Magic; Montes, the House of Spirits; Orgo, the House of the Sword; and Bisconti, the House of Gold, respectively. These four houses were the most powerful in the Asteia Empire, with the only exception being the emperor himself.

In this world, Deborah could commit all the atrocities she liked and would not be punished by the merit of her bloodline alone. I hadn’t just been born with a golden spoon in my mouth—the spoon was made of f*cking diamond.

No way. My memories were incomplete at best, so the history lesson helped me a lot in understanding my position in this world. With all this talk of temples and mages and everything, it’s like a fantasy novel. Pretty interesting.

The professor began to deliver his lecture with more enthusiasm, perhaps noticing he had caught my attention. In fact, he was so into it that his class ended up lasting longer than it should have.