The Character Designed to Be Hated
Bathory was a character hated for the very reason she was loved. In the game and out of it, Bathory was always despised. She was made to be hated. By the protagonist, by the protagonist's allies, by her own family, and even by the shadowy manipulators pulling her strings. Bathory earned the hatred of everyone and died without salvation from a single soul.
I didn't pity her particularly. Bathory's miserable end was entirely self-inflicted. The black side was an unavoidable enmity, sure, but her rifts with her family and the protagonist? All her own fault.
The game's protagonist, Anahita Clodel, was a woman of exceptional kindness. Even Gretel Aure, who harbored deep distrust and loathing for humanity, thought well of her—and by the end, was utterly reformed by her. Anahita's character was that exemplary.
And yet, it was Bathory who rejected even that final gesture of goodwill from Anahita. The protagonist, who befriended everyone and sought to save them all, couldn't redeem Bathory in the end.
Gretel had ordered me to walk that path. The villainess's road, with no hope of redemption.
"…"
No thanks.
I planned to follow the original story to some extent, but I had zero intention of sticking to it all the way. If I did, only a bad ending awaited. In no ending did the original Bathory find happiness. Following that script would be no different from suicide.
Luckily—or not—Gretel hadn't noticed I wasn't the real Bathory. But if her promise to watch me closely wasn't empty talk, she'd spot the changes soon enough.
"What to do…"
How could I break free from Gretel? From Moonlight? My sister, steeped deep in the lore, might have answers, but for me, with only half-knowledge, it was too much.
"Ugh…"
I couldn't solve this alone. Time to seek help—from someone capable.
Three faces sprang to mind immediately.
First: Frederica Mirhane. The de facto head of this estate, and by reputation, the most accomplished. Superb skills, great influence—if I could get her aid, she'd be the most useful by far.
The problem? Asking her was practically impossible. To request help now, I'd have to reveal Gretel's existence and Bathory's true identity. Just admitting collusion with a secret society that fought nonstop throughout the story would get me disowned. And knowing Frederica's personality, she'd suspect why her baby sister got tangled up in that mess and dig for reasons. Smart as she was, she'd uncover the truth fast—including the secret of Bathory's birth. Then it wouldn't be disownment; it'd be my life on the line.
Second: Urtic Mirhane. Eclair's prized disciple and, right now, the most friendly toward me. Given her kind nature, getting help from her wouldn't be hard.
But same issue as with Frederica. Soft-hearted Urtic might forgive the Moonlight collusion, but what about Bathory's true identity? And considering her personality and dependence on her big sister, she'd run straight to Frederica for backup the moment she heard. Cue the instant decapitation ending.
Hard pass.
That left only one option.
"Schuett, watch Hia for a bit."
"Where are you off to, miss?"
"Yes, just something in the library."
Help me out, Eclairmong.
——
"…So, in short, help me."
"…Huh?"
I headed straight for Eclair after that. Truth be told, she was my only real choice. She was the only one who knew I wasn't the real Bathory.
"So… you and those bastards are using my research results for some twisted scheme—what exactly did you do?"
Even Eclair, who accepted fairly easily that I was a man from outside this world, seemed shocked by this tale.
"You damned bitch…"
"N-not me—Bathory did it! I'm innocent!"
I hurriedly clarified as Eclair grimaced and snatched up a flask. Her grip suggested my skull would meet that flask if I didn't explain fast.
"Hoo… haa… Fine, it's my fault for not cleaning up after myself."
She finally calmed, setting the flask down.
"…Give me a moment to think. Every time you open your mouth, my head throbs."
"Yes."
Eclair closed her eyes, pressing her forehead, while drumming her fingers on the desk like piano keys with her other hand.
"…Alright, let's sort this first."
She opened her eyes, fixing them on me.
"So, in the end… no, Bathory Mirhane isn't the viscount's daughter?"
"Right. A doctor bribed by Moonlight secretly swapped out the real baby and placed a fake in the viscountess's arms. That's the current Bathory Mirhane."
"Heh, bold move."
Fake lady—the phrase symbolizing Bathory, her ultimate sore spot. The real Bathory never would have told a soul, but no need to act now.
"And their goal… eliminate Frederica and install Bathory as heir? Propping up a puppet they can control?"
"More a step in the plan than the ultimate goal… but yes."
Several original endings had Frederica dying, in fact. One I recalled: killed by Bathory after she turned witch and rampaged.
"Gathering orphans for experiments, huh."
"The ones you discarded, Eclair—Gretel passed them to Moonlight."
"Don't call that thing a witch. Makes my skin crawl."
Moonlight ran experiments on kids from their orphanages and schools. Experiments to artificially create witches. Common traits in those man-made witches: black tears, pale skin, and unique powers dubbed magic.
"Those abominations will enroll in the school you and I are headed to soon."
Five artificial witches in the original, six including Gretel. Later Anahita and Bathory joined, making eight. Talk of needing ten to fill Malkuth or whatever suggested Sephirot tree inspiration, but no ending ever reached ten.
"Why didn't you start with that?"
"Dumping the whole story upfront would've made you think I was a con artist."
"Fair, you'd have seemed insane."
I hadn't spilled everything on our first meeting because, knowing only the skeleton of the plot, I lacked confidence to flesh it out while convincing her. If she didn't buy it and grilled me on details I didn't know, I'd be screwed.
"Assuming you're telling the truth, how dangerous are these artificial whatever?"
"Varies, but excluding Gretel, not much to you, Eclair."
The first to appear, Beatrice Portinari—Bi-che for short—wasn't a big threat. There was a route where she rampaged and killed the protagonist, but only one. Even then, no real danger to Eclair. The others could be reasoned with, somewhat. The true ending required befriending all witches, so they weren't total lost causes.
"I mean, are they a danger to you?"
"To me? All of them."
Safe for Eclair or Anahita, maybe. For me? A minefield where one misstep meant death. Anahita struggled early as a witch; me, a civilian until late-game? Doomed.
"That's why I'm avoiding them as much as possible. I like living, you know."
Avoid the freakishly strong, as the ancients said. Anahita, wide network as protagonist, was unavoidable—but the rest? Stay away to boost survival odds. Already tangled with the worst one, but not my fault.
"…Tch. Just got some peace after sending that lazy disciple down the mountain, and now this…"
Eclair sighed deeply, shaking her head.
"Fine, I'll figure something out."
"You'll help?"
"Yeah. Would rather ignore you, but then that slacker disciple's face would haunt me."
See? Under that tough exterior, this witch had a soft spot.
"Thank you, Eclair."
I bowed deeply in gratitude and turned—
"Miss! Lady Bathory!!!"
A frantic voice pounded on the closed library door.
"Schuett? What on earth…"
I opened the door. There stood Schuett—hair disheveled, one shoe missing, clearly run here in a panic. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
"…What happened?"
This felt wrong. Deeply wrong. And… had I forgotten something important? What was it?
"…Where's Hia?"
Oh.
"Where's Hia?"
"Gasp… sob… heuk…"
Schuett, panting like she'd collapse, finally caught her breath.
"Hia… Hia, she…!!"
"…"
My blood ran cold.