Genius Mage Chloe! (3)
Roën's shoe heels clicked at regular intervals across the marble floor. In the thick shadows, two escort knights followed silently like ghosts, not even breathing.
She banished the ridiculous image of the silver-haired girl she'd glimpsed from the carriage. 'Right now, I need to focus only on seizing control of the saintess.'
While her father negotiated with the aged archbishop in a secret chamber, Roën donned the perfect mask of pure curiosity toward a peer and headed to the guest courtyard.
Beneath her swaying golden locks, the ten-year-old's mind sifted through grim memories of her previous life. 'In my last life, which family did the church hand Elia off to?'
The eastern Lancaster? No. The frozen north teeming with monsters? No. The crafty old priests had chosen a relatively pliable house.
'It was the Bestert Count's family.'
The central law-noble house, which had managed jurisprudence and administration for generations, was Elia's destination. 'A house of bookish priests with no private soldiers, no lands, no capital.'
For the church seeking to control the saintess's authority, it was the safest cage imaginable.
Roën's lips twisted coldly in the shadowed corridor. 'The big picture hasn't changed. The saintess heads to Bestert again.'
In that case, all she had to do was seize that house instead. The vaunted integrity the Besterts prided themselves on? It was nothing but a sandcastle, ready to crumble before Lancaster's vast wealth.
One variable. 'I didn't see this in my previous life?'
Who was this once-in-a-generation genius child unearthed alongside the saintess?
"Could you wait here a moment?"
Roën paused lightly at the arched entrance, the boundary between light and shadow. "I want to focus more on bonding with the girls."
"As you command, my lady."
The knights bowed at once and retreated. Roën lightly gathered her dress skirts.
The fatigue and murderous intent pooled in her eyes vanished without a trace, replaced by a flawless, innocent child's smile.
Passing through the rose-entwined door, an alien scene unfolded beyond the well-manicured green maze.
Two orphans sat across from each other at a dazzling outdoor table. Roën's icy gaze slammed straight into the back of the brown-haired girl's head—Elia's.
'Hypocrite. How could I ever forget you?'
She pictured the saintess from her past life, who had driven countless people to gruesome fates without a drop of blood on her own hands.
Roën's fingers clenched her skirts until her knuckles whitened. 'Patience. Not yet.'
Suppressing the surging venomous hatred, she slid her gaze obliquely toward Elia's side.
"...?"
Roën's graceful steps faltered ever so slightly.
A silver-haired girl sat beside Elia, stuffing desserts into her cheeks until they bulged.
It was that girl from the carriage window earlier. Whipped cream smeared messily around her mouth, pie crumbs littered her lap. The black puppy at her feet was eagerly snapping them up.
'Wait, that kid's the one?'
There was no trace of the archbishop's "catastrophic genius" aura he'd described before her father.
'Just a gluttonous neighborhood brat?'
But Roën soon swallowed a short gasp.
Beneath silver hair that shattered blindingly in the sunlight gleamed unnaturally deep purple eyes.
It was overwhelming beauty, like a finely crafted doll that stole one's gaze in an instant.
'...She's pretty, alright.'
Roën narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the bizarre imbalance.
"Uuu... so goooood..."
For such a sacred, beautiful face to do nothing but cram bread into her mouth like a starving beast?
Roën's cold rationality snapped limply before the utterly pathetic, absurd sight.
'Just a total glutton?'
"Uuu... so goooood..."
It's really delicious. Strawberry tarts we never even saw at the orphanage! Nutty walnut pie!
I speared the last piece on my plate with my fork and lifted it.
-Scrape.
Then, a pretty shoe sound came from the rose vines. Looking up, it was that golden-haired girl from the carriage window earlier.
She wore an incredibly fancy lace dress, like an expensive doll from a dollhouse.
'Whoa. Her eyes are bright red.'
Wait. That sparkling blonde hair and red eyes?
I racked my brain. Suddenly, a voice from my past life echoed in my head—my sister nagging endlessly in my ear.
'The Regressed Villainess Abandons Her Quiet Life. The protagonist's named Roën. She gets wronged, dies, regresses, and awakens as a total venomous villainess.'
Ah! That's her—the protagonist of this novel, Roën!
Gasp, big trouble. She's the protagonist, but apparently a pretty vicious one. And digging into past-life memories makes her scarier.
Modern webnovels can't stand frustration—they're all about that refreshing cider meta! She might be that kind of protagonist. Plus, she's definitely nobility. Mess up, and my head could go flying.
As someone who's done office life, I need thorough risk management!
"Uuu..."
Head hurts. Eh, whatever. Skip the complicated stuff. I'm not the protagonist anyway—just a background extra in the corner. Plus, I've got genius mage talent!
As long as I don't tangle with that scary cider-path protagonist, I'll be safe. And she's so tiny and cute—what could she even do to hurt me?
Fancy etiquette and grudges melted away like cotton candy before the tart's sweetness.
"Ehehe."
I tilted my head innocently, fork still in my mouth.
With light heel clicks, Roën approached the table.
At the unfamiliar presence, brown-haired Elia looked up first. Her pure ten-year-old cheeks flushed with curiosity at the dazzling attire she'd never seen at the orphanage.
"Uh, who... are you? Did you just arrive at the cathedral...?"
To the innocently bright question, Roën narrowed her eyes and silently gazed down at that harmless face.
Such a frail, naive expression. In her past life, how many had been driven to horrific limb-loss by that shallow sympathy?
'To avoid repeating the future, I need to clamp down on Elia hard.'
Peer friendship? Conversation? Luxuries. Crush her with thorough fear and hierarchy.
Only under perfect control would Elia move as Roën desired. Fail to break her spirit in this first meeting, and the world would again be swayed by that frustrating hypocrisy.
Roën softly lifted her red lips, smiling with crinkled eyes. Her posture—small hand clutching her skirt hem, slight bow—was impeccably elegant.
"Pardon the interruption during your pleasant tea time. I'm Roën, eldest daughter of the Lancaster Duke's house."
The voice was gentle, but her deep red eyes held not a shred of warmth.
Elia gaped blankly, not even grasping the weight of "duke's house."
"Duke's... house? Oh, hi, Roën! I'm Elia. Sit here with us and—"
Roën's gaze slowly descended. Her eyes chilled as they swept over the messy cream stains and the orphans' shabby clothes.
"I came in person since you're esteemed guests of the cathedral. But commoners sitting with heads held high is quite grating."
Roën's low voice coldly sliced Elia's words. "Do you find nobility amusing?"
"No...bi...lity?!"
In an instant, predatory pressure coiled beneath her childish voice seized Elia's throat.
"Gasp...!"
Instinctual terror blanched Elia's face. She tumbled from her chair onto the marble floor like a ragdoll.
Panting roughly, she flattened herself prone, her white hand yanking desperately at neighbor Chloe's skirt hem downward.
"S-sorry, my lady! We're lowly orphanage brats who know nothing of etiquette...! Please forgive us!"
Elia's thin shoulders trembled like aspen leaves. Her bright greeting from moments ago was gone.
Roën swallowed a satisfied sneer, looking down at Elia's bowed head at her feet. 'Good. Start with the status gap. I've seized the initiative firmly. And that child...'
Roën's icy gaze slid slowly toward Chloe.
But Chloe just tilted her head blankly, cream-smeared fork in mouth.
"Huh?"
Chloe couldn't comprehend Elia flattened and shivering on the floor.
Elia's hand gripped Chloe's worn skirt, icy cold. 'Why's she doing that?'
Chloe's clear, empty purple eyes blinked slowly. She licked cream from her lips, tracing where the gaze led.
The red eyes fixed precisely on the cream-laden strawberry tart chunk in Chloe's hand.
'Aha!'
Chloe slapped her knee inwardly. 'She's hungry!'
Obviously. Who'd stare so fiercely at someone else's snack if not starving for it?
'When someone's tummy's rumbling, the full one shares generously!'
Chloe decided to show adult virtue.
-Sliiiide!
She shoved back her chair and hopped up, trotting right up to Roën's nose.
"Your eyes are suuuper pretty! Like wild strawberries!"
"Wh-what...?"
Chloe thrust the fork-speared tart chunk toward Roën's tightly shut lips.
"This is reeeally yummy! You hungry? Here, say ahhh~!"
"You...?!"
Roën's icy red lips parted foolishly. Her ducal intimidation scattered helplessly before one proffered tart.
Normally, paling and prostrating at her house's name—like Elia—was proper. But this girl grinned like offering a snack to a neighborhood friend.
"Ahhh~! Open up! It's sooo good!"
Her innocently curving purple eyes and sun-shattered silver hair sparkled dazzlingly. Smearing fresh cream all over that suffocatingly cute face, she pressed in like a puppy about to wag its tail.
This grotesque imbalance short-circuited Roën's thoughts.
She ought to rage. A mere commoner daring to shove half-eaten bread scraps at a duke's lady? Slap away that rude wrist and force her to kneel—that was right.
But facing those spotlessly clear, idiotic eyes, fury wouldn't even rise—it was too ridiculous.
She could throw a tantrum here, hurl the fork away. But her body and mind refused.
'What's the point of yelling at an idiot?'
Whatever she did, only Roën would look foolish. Her nape burned hot.
"Haa..."
Roën sighed, pulling a silk handkerchief from her bosom and tossing it lightly toward Chloe's face.
"You're filthy."
"Eek?"
"Wipe that cream off your mouth."
The barely squeezed-out shout was blunt.
"Whoa!"
Chloe chomped the tart, then caught the flying handkerchief preciously in both hands. She buried her nose in it like a puppy, sniffing deeply.
"Smells amaaazing! Thanks!"
The silver-haired girl beamed like the sun. Then she tied the expensive gold-embroidered silk around her neck like a bib.
And popped the remaining tart into her mouth, munching away.
"..."
Roën pressed her throbbing forehead. 'She's a perfect hopeless idiot!'
That was when heavy footsteps echoed from beyond the garden arch.
The archbishop's red robes and the Lancaster Duke's shadow stretched long across the marble.
Roën's red eyes shifted hue. The haughty lady facade peeled away instantly, replaced by an age-appropriate adorable girl.
"Oh, Daddy, you're here?"
She spun lightly like a butterfly, calling sweetly to her father.
Just before turning, her red gaze coldly swept over her shoulder at prostrated Elia and bib-wearing Chloe.
'If the church sends you to Bestert's greenhouse as planned... it's on track.'
Elia was the same as her past life. Utterly controllable.
But.
The moment Roën's gaze hit the silver doll munching with bulging cheeks...
'Why am I fretting so much over this kid?'
The regressor fell into a small dilemma.