The Little Villainess Awakens
A warm bowl of bread porridge. Lemon-yellow blonde hair so bright and vivid it brought fresh lemons to mind. Sweet red eyes reminiscent of red velvet cake. And most tellingly, the family crest engraved on the pendant around her neck...
"...The villainess."
How much time had passed since I'd started living in this game whose title I couldn't even remember? She looked much younger and more innocent than the version I recalled, but there was no mistaking her.
The girl who, in the near future, would shine more brilliantly than any jewel beneath the duke's family crest. The young heir to a great noble bloodline, whom no one dared look up at recklessly—the villainess who reigned aloof at the pinnacle of all nobility, coldly tormenting the protagonist with icy eyes. That same girl, in her childhood form, was right in front of me.
It felt strangely unreal. A girl who should have lived her entire life as a thorny rose in a great noble house—why had she nearly died in a slum alley at such a young age...?
...As far as I knew, there was no such setup in the game.
"...Mm... uh..."
Just then, a faint groan escaped the girl's lips. Her red eyes gleamed like jewels even in the darkness.
"...!"
She jolted awake as if roused from a nightmare, sitting bolt upright. Her dazed gaze lingered on the unfamiliar room for a while. Keeping calm in a situation like this wasn't easy. Confusion about where she was and how she'd ended up here showed plainly on her face. Soon, fear welled up, tears pooling in her eyes.
To keep from startling her, I made a bit of noise as I spoke.
"You're finally awake."
I'd meant to be gentle, but she flinched anyway, her shoulders trembling. Fortunately, her face—now with a healthier flush—turned toward me. She'd regained some strength while sleeping, no doubt.
I approached the girl carefully. "How do you feel? Anywhere sore?"
"........"
No immediate reply.
"Don't worry. It's just me here—no one else."
"........"
"Or maybe... it's precisely because it's just me that you're not reassured."
"........"
"It's okay. If you're scared of me for any reason, just press the bell next to you. This is a hotel—the front desk staff will come running anytime for you."
I spoke leisurely to soothe her, then drew back the curtains by the window. Bright light flooded the room I'd kept dark for her sake. The heavy snowfall had finally stopped last night. A cloudless sky, people strolling idly through the city, and in the distance, the faint whistle of a train. The view outside was so peaceful it bordered on boring.
Beneath the mild winter sunlight and the snow-blanketed cityscape, her tension seemed to ease. She stared blankly into space like a mute bee in honey.
I gave her a brief rundown of what had happened.
"Do you remember meeting me in that alley on the city outskirts?"
...A nod.
"That was three days ago. You'd lost consciousness there, so I brought you to my hotel room in a hurry."
"........"
"If I'd left you, it would've been bad. You were in rough shape."
"........"
"Now, though... I guess we can say you've passed the worst."
As I spoke, I checked her condition. Her temperature and pulse were stable. For anything more detailed, I'd need tests, but that was all I could learn here in this hotel room.
"Magical treatment has its limits. It can heal wounds or boost stamina at best—it's just first aid, really."
"........"
"You'll need to rest easy for a while and recover slowly."
"........"
The girl fiddled with the bedsheet hem, furtively glancing at me. Was something bothering her? Just as I wondered that, a rumble came from her stomach.
Grrrrowl...
"........"
Too weak to move, she hung her head limply.
"Smell that savory aroma?"
"........"
"Figured you'd wake up soon, so I prepared some food ahead of time."
I headed to the kitchen as I said it. It was a cheap business hotel, so a few steps sufficed. I ladled out the bread porridge simmering warmly in the pot—a simple dish boiled with soft fruits and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it was the gentlest thing I could think of that wouldn't upset her stomach or jaw.
Even I, hopeless at cooking, had no trouble drawing the starving girl's gaze.
I handed her the bowl of porridge.
"...........?"
She stared at it wordlessly, so I told her, "Go ahead and eat."
"........"
"But... well, instead..." I pulled the bowl back slightly. Then, emphasizing my words, "If food hits an empty stomach too suddenly, it can hurt. I've been giving you IV fluids, so it'll be okay-ish, but still—little by little. No forcing it. If you can't promise that, I can't give you this food."
Nod, nod, nod. Three nods. She must be starving. Her eyes were already locked on the bowl.
I placed the bowl and spoon in her hands. That was enough.
Her trembling fingers grasped the spoon. Her whole body must ache from muscle pain, but hunger overrode it.
I moved to help, but she startled, mistaking it for me trying to take the bowl away, and hid it. A reflexive reaction. Porridge sloshed over her hands and the sheets.
"........"
Her face drained of color.
"Ah... a... uwa... sor... sorry..."
Was she more upset about soiling the sheets than the hot porridge on her hands? Peeking at me warily, she apologized in a voice on the verge of tears.
"...S-sorry for spilling... I'll eat s-slowly... s-so..."
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"..........."
"What I said earlier was just to eat slowly. I wasn't gonna take yours away, so relax."
"........"
...A beat late, she nodded.
After I gently wiped the porridge from her hands and clothes, she hesitantly scooped up a spoonful. Watching from the side would only burden her, so for the sake of the girl nibbling like a squirrel on her first bite, I sat in a nearby chair and waited.
Drip... drop...
More spilled porridge? No—this time, clear tears. From her bowed head came occasional sniffles.
Swallowing her sobs silently, she trembled on her lips, then took another spoonful, and another, choking back her cries with the food.
Soon, the spoon scraped the bowl's bottom.
Done already? As I stood, she hastily wiped her tears and caught her breath. Her eyes were red and puffy, but like she was asking if she'd done well, she swallowed very, very slowly.
"...J-just now... w-was that... t-too fast...?"
"No. You did great."
"........"
"........"
Clutching the empty bowl, she peeked at me.
"I'd love to give you seconds, but let's rest a bit first, then have some finely chopped bacon. Sound good?"
Too much at once could make her sick.
Nod, nod, nod. Understanding, she nodded with a hint of regret.
"I don't want to rush you right after waking and eating, but better to say this upfront."
"........?"
"I have a rough idea where you're from."
Her face paled instantly. Hic... hic... So startled, she gulped like food was stuck in her throat.
"A-are you... g-gonna send me b-back to the d-duke's family...?"
"Is that what you want?"
She shook her head desperately, eyes wide with fear.
"I won't pry into what happened. Noble family drama—I can guess. But what I want to know is about you."
"........"
"Do you have a place to go back to?"
"........"
"Anyone to look after you?"
"........"
"If there's an acquaintance you can turn to for help, I could take you there."
"........"
Lips pressed tight, she said nothing. Of course. If she had anyone, she wouldn't have collapsed like this. It was a thoughtless question.
I chose my words carefully. While this tiny girl—the young villainess—slept, I'd had time to think. I'd already reached a conclusion.
"If you really have nowhere to go—and only if you want..."
I didn't need to say more. I knew that. There were easy ways out. Like laundering her identity and dropping her at a quiet orphanage.
But I couldn't.
Mere curiosity about the villainess? The last link to my past life? Or pity born of sympathy? Even I couldn't tell.
What was certain was this gut feeling gripping my mind: if I didn't grasp that small, cold hand right now, I'd regret it someday.
I extended my hand to the little girl before me.
"For the time being, until we find you a place—you can come with me."