Chapter 4: Death Flag 1 Appears

About half a year after restarting my life as the new Albertina, Father decided to remarry.

He was not particularly enthusiastic about it, but since I was his only daughter and the one he adored, and since after the kidnapping incident I had become a traumatized, shut-in little girl, he chose to take in an adopted heir to inherit the Lattiche ducal house.
Apparently he was the youngest son of a branch viscount or baron, and because the boy possessed strong magical power, Father decided to take in his mother as well.

The reason for taking in the mother too was because, in addition to being a shut-in, I had become afraid of men ever since the kidnapping incident.

I was fine with children close to my age and with women, so they were also taken in to serve as companions for the reclusive daughter.

Father, who basically sees no one but Albertina, does not understand the human heart.
I was slightly taken aback.

The stepmother who was brought in seemed completely overwhelmed by the grand mansion and its finest furnishings.
As for my stepbrother, he stared blankly with vacant eyes.

According to my capable manservant Julius, she had been one of the mistresses of a poor baron.
The baron, short on funds and unable to properly educate his illegitimate youngest son despite the boy’s powerful magic, handed over both mother and son for a pittance.
Even I could tell it was simply a convenient way to discard them.

In the original story, Albel bullied the stepmother relentlessly, driving her to suicide, and tormented her stepbrother.

As a result, in the Kishutaria route, at the time of condemnation, he takes revenge to a level where she is not even allowed the mercy of death.

Incidentally, in the original, she also bullied Julius while ordering him around at will.

There was a time when I burned with rebellious spirit, determined not to follow the original plot.
Sorry, Julius.
I still use you now.
Wahh, you are just too competent not to use!

Not for power harassment or harassment of any kind, but mainly to improve our meals.
I hate rock-hard bread that makes my jaw ache.
White bread made with natural yeast from apples and raisins, and yogurt I coaxed from Father with tears, is my favorite.
I am tired of thin soup with no proper broth, and dried meat or steak overloaded with spices that stab the tongue.
Mayonnaise, ketchup, oyster sauce—I will absolutely have them made through sheer wealth and determination.
Even if I burn through the royal compensation money, I will make them.
Because I am a villainess!
Julius eagerly suggests commercializing everything, but I refuse to release flavors I am not satisfied with.
When I push back, the head chef and Julius conspire together, experimenting endlessly, while I happily enjoy the results with my stepbrother Kishutaria and my new mama, Lady Latine.

Next, I want to make miso and soy sauce.
I am currently searching for beans that could substitute for soybeans.

My relationship with my stepfamily is not bad.

That said, the social skills of a shut-in noble lady are abysmal.

Even if we eat the same meal, the table of a great noble is absurdly large, so the distance between us is ridiculous.

The only people I can properly speak with are Father, my personal maid Anna, and my manservant Julius.
Even if she has long experience, I do not like Dora, who makes snide remarks that may or may not be refined noble wit.

Worse, Dora knows that ever since the kidnapping incident I suffer from fear of the dark and claustrophobia, yet sometimes she deliberately closes the curtains tight, throws cloth over my face while I sleep, or extinguishes the magic stone lamp.
Isn’t that awful?
And she does it after I fall asleep.
Because if I wake up in complete darkness, I panic.
If it is morning, I am fine.
As long as the sun has risen.

Dora used to be Mother’s personal maid, my biological mother’s, so she wields considerable influence.
Anna and Julius do their best, but though both are capable, they are young.
In terms of authority over keys and commanding other servants, Dora clearly holds the advantage.
Or perhaps she has grown arrogant since my real mother passed away?
I refuse to grow into that kind of adult.
What does that woman even want?

If I told Father, someone would physically lose their head immediately, so I hesitate to say anything.
I cannot treat lives so lightly.
Julius and Anna, or rather the Albel faction, seem to encourage tattling, which makes it even harder.

Even so, she once served Mother.

If she had served the lady of the house, she should be assisting New Mama and the others.
Yet the atmosphere between them seems cold.
Dora, what are you trying to do?
Not only earning my resentment but also drawing scorn from Lady Latine and Kishutaria, that is masochism at its finest.

Thanks to that, all the hatred is directed straight at Dora.
My new family and I are not particularly tense.
Though I am the one secretly nervous.

“…Lady Albertina, do you dislike me and Mother?”

Kishutaria truly is a beautiful boy worthy of being an otome game capture target.
Ash-brown slightly wavy hair and jewel-like aqua-blue eyes.

Albertina is an extraordinary beauty, but if Kishutaria cross-dressed, he would be quite the beautiful girl—cough, I mean, quite the beautiful boy.

In the R18 version, there is even a route where Albel takes his virginity.

But the reborn Albertina is a very chicken-hearted shut-in, so I usually hide behind Anna or Julius.
Recently I am dragged out with, “Please get used to him, he is your younger brother,” so at least I greet him.

At mealtimes?
There is distance between us.
I can endure that much.

But more importantly, why did he speak to me!?
Internally in full panic, I cling to Julius.

Julius smiles faintly.
He is my personal attendant.
This intellectual glasses-wearing boy is also extremely handsome.
Curse this otome game world!
It is blinding!
If I let my guard down, I will start shouting, “My eyes! My eyes!”
Sometimes even looking in the mirror triggers it.
The facial deviation level in this world is absurd.

“…I am a little scared, but I do not dislike you.”

“Scared? Of me?”

“…Strangers are scary.
People who come from outside are all scary.”

In truth, Albertina has many external enemies.

She is a sheltered young lady, and due to past conflicts, even the royal family treats her like a volatile bomb.

Father also watches everyone around me with a fierce glare.

If Albertina were to utter a single complaint about this mother and son, Father might expel them immediately.
Or rather, that super daughter-obsessed duke absolutely would.

“I am not scary.
The Duke brought me here for Lady Albertina’s sake.”

…Father!!!

What did you say to him, Father!?
This small beautiful boy is smiling innocently while saying something terrifying!

Sure, to Father everyone but me may be dust, but did he perhaps tell them to die for Albel without hesitation…?

With that Father, it is possible.
This is bad.
A careless word or attitude from me could cost this shota and his shota mom their lives.

Even if it is just for show, it might be better to get along with them.
Thus, the socially awkward shut-in noble lady decided to win over her stepbrother and stepmother.

My strategy was sweets.
A simple thought that children and women like sweet things.
It worked surprisingly well.

Having abandoned tea parties and social gatherings entirely, Albertina devoted everything beyond minimal etiquette and studies to improving food.

Naturally I pursued condiments and recipes, but also sweets that did not exist in this world.

When the royal compensation funds ran low, I begged Father with big, pleading eyes.
With full force.
Grail von Lattiche, who loved his daughter so much he would put her in his eye if possible and carry her around, gave full support.

Thus, I made an outrageous number of sweets.
Cookies and scones already existed, but cakes were dry, crumbly, mysterious bricks.
So in the process of developing chiffon cake, I created sponge cake.
Flour, sugar, eggs, butter or oil—easy.
I also made pound cake with dried fruits and nuts.
Then tea and coffee flavors.
And from cacao I found while searching for spices, I finally made chocolate.
I obtained agar and made jellies as well.

After making sweets in every possible way, once something edible emerged, I sent them to the two and invited them for tea under the pretext of wanting feedback.

Within a year, I could speak with them normally.

Now Julius eagerly insists on commercializing not only ketchup and mayonnaise but also sweets.
No thank you!
I resisted with what little backbone I had, yet somehow Julius persuaded me effortlessly.
Why???
Wait, I am a ducal daughter, right?
But all I have to do is say “Please♡” to Father, and Julius and Father’s butler Sebas handle everything else.

Recently, my stepmother confessed that she felt she had gained weight because the food and sweets were too delicious.

Truthfully, even Albertina’s body, meant to be that of a peerless beauty, has gained some softness.

I feel I am becoming plumper.
This is an emergency.
I know the cause, but after finally escaping from the miserable coarse meals of this world, I refuse to return to disappointing food.

So what now?
Exercise!
Development of diet products!
Fortunately, bread, condiments, and sweets have become a major Lattiche industry, sweeping the market and generating enormous wealth.
Funds are secured.
My super manservant handled it.
Father praised me as a genius, but I merely gave orders.
Sorry.

First, from form comes function.
I developed sportswear.
Stretchy, absorbent, comfortable materials.
Silk is luxurious, but movement causes wear and tear, so it must be durable and reasonably priced.

And I realized something.
There is no women’s sportswear in this world.
In noble society, dress hierarchy exists, but it is all extremely romantic, teenage-princess style.
Princess line or A-line dresses, nothing beyond that.
No slender line, empire, or mermaid dresses.
Even though Lady Latine is a tall, elegant beauty, the dominant colors are bright pinks and yellows fit for teenagers.
Even the heroine’s still image showed her in a pink princess-line dress.

Albertina would suit it, given her beauty.

But the inside is a shut-in.
Pastel romance is too much.
Sportswear is the same.

I do not want to start a fashion revolution.
I just refuse to be forced into those ultra-romantic dresses.
And I cannot bear seeing Lady Latine wear them either.
That is forbidden territory for women in their thirties and forties.

Current Albel loves earth tones and monochrome.

Latine Mama suits blue tones.
Noble, high-class pale colors.
Why must a mature, sensual lady wear something like an extended Shichi-Go-San outfit!?

Using wealth and leftover otaku skills, I designed various outfits.
I colored them with colored pencils and passionately told Julius, “This is what suits Lady Latine!”

I have no intention of bullying Mama, who bravely attends social gatherings in place of my late biological mother while I hide at home.

Alongside creating women’s riding attire for dieting, I made Lady Latine a mermaid dress.
Since such a silhouette was unheard of, I prepared a large lace shawl and layered pearl long necklace in case she felt self-conscious about the waist-to-thigh line.
I also created aquamarine and pearl earrings and barrettes.
But if she suddenly appeared in sensational fashion in a world dominated by princess dresses, she would only be criticized.

So I thought.
We need someone beyond reproach, even by the royal family.
In other words, our Demon King—cough!
Father.
You are it!

Father, still absurdly soft toward his daughter, was easily persuaded by begging.

Lady Latine, pushed by her daughter and escorted by that crazy psycho daughter-loving Father who was little more than a name on paper before, went out.
Since Father agreed at my request, he would not do anything outrageous.
Probably.

“Young Lady, what shall we name this dress brand?”

“Huh?”

“Lady Albel.
It is too late.
Julius has already secured seamstresses and weaving workshops.
We are only waiting for a name.”

Kishutaria whispered quickly in my ear.
Unlike this shut-in sister who only does what she likes, he is receiving proper ducal heir education and looks at me with pity.

Julius smiles politely, holding my sketchbook.

“…Under the Rose.”

Beneath the rose—its meaning is “secret.”

I do not wish to assert my presence in this world.
And for women’s fashion, a flower name is not strange.

Julius’ smile deepened as he bowed and left.
That super manservant works fast.
There might be a shop in the royal capital next week.

Terrifying.
I am glad he is not my enemy.
He is not my enemy, right?
I cling to Kishutaria’s back, and he tilts his head, saying, “Sister?”

It is scary.
My convenient and wonderful attendant feels like he is slowly strangling me.
Not with one swift squeeze, but by wrapping silk threads layer upon layer.
Scary!

“S-Sister!
I will protect you!”

“…Thank you, Kishutaria…”

That earnest declaration alone brings tears to this old lady’s eyes.
He blushes bright red, insisting, “I mean it!”
Adorable.

Sorry, Kishutaria.
In the otome game you were a capture target, so relying on you is a little frightening.
We get along as siblings now, but love changes people.

No thank you!
After using Father, the ultimate weapon, to shatter the engagement flag with the prince, why is my brother also a capture target!?
The R18 villainess route endings are horrific!

“Kishutaria, would you save me even if I were a bad girl?”

“Yes!
I will protect you!”

You said it.
Do not suddenly betray me and stab me from behind, okay…?

While I tremble in fear, Anna smiles knowingly as if saying, “Oh my.”
Ignorance is bliss.

“I… I love you, Sister… Albertina.”

“…Thank you.
If you can say that again in ten years, I will consider it.”

By then, the heroine—what was her name?
Rina?
Rena?—will appear, and depending on the route, condemnation awaits.

Kishutaria pouts and insists, “I mean it!”
But this shut-in is passive about romance.
Even if we are not blood-related, we are siblings.
And I have an absurdly daughter-obsessed Father.
Marriage would be not a thorny path, but a battlefield.

Ever since the kidnapping incident and the rumor of my death, Father cannot stand me being even slightly out of sight.

Oh, Kishutaria.
Despite being dragged around by a sister faithful to her desires, you grow up so earnestly and adorably.
If you acquire heroine attributes on top of your earnestness, I might publish a thin book pairing you with Julius.

As I pat his soft, slightly fluffy hair, his face turns bright red.