The Daughter of the Villainess
“Idel is the Duke’s daughter.”
No.
“Sister? What are you saying right now…”
“I’m sorry, Rowena. That day—the night before my wedding—it was me who spent the night with the Duke.”
That was a lie, too.
Listening to Melissa’s bold-faced lies, Idel blinked slowly.
The shocked faces of Duke Clementine and the Duchess stood out sharply.
Even the anxious expression of the novel’s female protagonist beside them was impossible to miss.
“L-lies! That day Count Lopez definitely… the Count was…”
“Yes, do you remember now? He left for the count’s estate first. The three of us kept drinking. I thought it was my last chance. My final opportunity to be honest with my ‘true’ love.”
“Surely not, sister… right?”
Even as her sister’s eyes trembled, Melissa firmly denied the hope shining in them.
“It’s true. I mixed in something stronger. Strong enough to knock out both you and the Duke. And once the two of you had completely lost consciousness…”
“…I can’t believe it. Above all, that child and I share no resemblance whatsoever.”
“Hah, I knew you wouldn’t accept it easily. If that’s how you feel, perhaps you should verify paternity yourself.”
“Then the reason you never once showed me the child all these years was also…”
“Yes. Exactly.”
In the panic-filled room, Melissa rested a hand on Idel’s shoulder and spoke in a low, seductive voice. Her red hair—identical to Idel’s—fluttered elegantly.
“If my husband hadn’t died, I would have kept this secret for your sake until the end. But he’s gone now, and the power of the count’s house lies with his brother. Sister, I had no choice but to think of Idel’s future.”
“……”
“So, Your Grace. I know it may be awkward since I am your wife’s sister, but please take her in. After all, Idel is your daughter, isn’t she?”
You should take care of your own blood.
At her sister’s deceitful whisper, the Duchess—who had been breathing hard—finally staggered.
“Ah… aah…”
“Rowena!”
“M-Mother!”
The Duke frantically called for a physician while the Duchess lay collapsed, her face drained of color.
The female protagonist clung to her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks, while the villainess watched the three of them and curved her crimson-painted lips into a smile. No one noticed.
Witnessing a scene straight out of a drama unfold before her eyes, Idel clicked her tongue inwardly.
It was so perfectly clichéd she could almost hear dramatic string music playing in her ears.
Dun-dun, dundundun! Dun-dun, dundun!
Idel had been poking at her ear with her pinky finger in time with the famous tune replaying in her head when she suddenly froze. She could feel the servants’ stinging gazes on her.
A faint, dry chuckle came from nearby. Apparently touching her ear like that had looked improper. Well, nothing she could do about it now.
‘Idel, greet him. This is Duke Vincent Clementine. The master of the ducal house where we stand, and your ‘real’ father.’
‘Hello. My name is Idel. Um… F-Father.’
From the moment she had arrived here as the villainess’s daughter, or more precisely from the instant Melissa lit the fuse on this whole mess, earning everyone’s hatred had been inevitable.
If you think about it, I’m just a kid doing exactly what ‘Mom’ told me to do.
Idel ignored the displeased stares directed at her and clicked her tongue again.
Of all the novels in the world, why did it have to be the makjang one my sister loved? And why did my memories have to return the exact second I stepped into the ducal mansion holding that woman’s hand?
This was a mara-mat makjang novel overflowing with betrayal, deception, and developments that defied all logic.
Idel was the character responsible for “betrayal” in it.
The one taken in and raised with the excuse that a child bore no sin and deserved responsibility, only to repay that kindness by murdering the Duke.
After being married off to a decrepit noble as if sold at market, she became blinded by jealousy and even turned her hand against the female protagonist—the ultimate traitor.
Of course, late in the novel it would be revealed that her evil deeds stemmed from the villainess Melissa’s brainwashing. But what did that matter?
By then Idel’s neck had already been severed.
By the blackened Duchess who returned for revenge.
‘Duchess… You were alive… No, how are you here…’
‘Why, Idel? Are you surprised that I was always on your side as “Lady Veil”? How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you trusted?’
‘I… I…’
‘Oh, and I should be the one asking “how.” Even though I resented my sister, I raised you like my own daughter. How could you…’
‘Spare me! Please, spare me!’
‘Spare you? It’s too late, child. You should have said that before you touched my daughter.’
Idel’s gaze returned to the fainted Duchess and to Melissa standing protectively beside her.
So the collapsed woman over there was the “future blackened queen” who drove the original Idel to her death, and this person was the “villainess” who used her own daughter as a tool for wickedness?
And now that role belongs to me? I’m the Idel Clementine who will be hated by everyone and end up walking the chrysanthemum path.
Recalling her fixed fate, Idel secretly kicked the table leg. Anger boiled up inside her.
What on earth did I do so wrong in my previous life?!
She had lived kindly, never harming even a single ant.
“Examine the Duchess at once! And the child… separate her from her biological mother and escort her to a separate room.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Miss, please follow me.”
Watching the Duke’s reluctant gaze and the servants’ polite but icy behavior, Idel bit her lower lip.
The more she mulled over her situation, the hotter the emotion surging in her chest grew.
Objectively speaking, shouldn’t the children be the most confused people here?
Honestly, what a ridiculous love-triangle melodrama.
In the splendid drawing room of the Clementine ducal house—which embodied the mansion’s very essence—Idel reached a swift conclusion.
This won’t do. I need to pull myself out of this damned original story as soon as possible.
If her little sister from her previous life had heard that resolve, she probably would have lectured that in a childcare story like this one must win over the protagonists with cuteness, ingenuity, and charm. But would that really work?
Besides, this wasn’t even a simple childcare novel—it was a “makjang” that had tossed all probability out the window.
No matter how I look at it, the best option is to get out.
With her throbbing head, Idel rummaged through the memories of her past life that had just resurfaced, hoping to find something useful.
In her previous life, Idel had never found enjoyment in makjang dramas.
The absurd progression of birth secrets, affairs, conspiracies, and melodramatic tropes left her dumbfounded.
She also found it strange that people cursed at them yet never missed an episode. A prime example was…
“This is insane!”
Exactly like her own little sister. On the television her sister was glued to, the climax of the drama was currently unfolding.
“Tell me why! Why can’t it be me? Is it because I’m thirty years younger than my sister?! Age… ha, how can something so trivial stand in the way of our love!”
“No, Hwi-hyul! It’s not that! The reason we can’t be together is because you… you’re the lost son of my dead older sister! I’m your aunt! Sob sob sob!”
“What… did you just say? I’m… my sister’s nephew?”
With a resounding boom sound effect, the camera cut back and forth between the shocked man and the sobbing woman.
Her sister, who had been watching with a grave expression alongside the main characters, finally let out a breath once the heavy music faded and the production credits appeared.
“The author has completely lost their mind! After a thirty-year age gap comes ‘aunt’? I bet next week a hidden child will suddenly show up. Ugh, my throat hurts. I got too worked up. I’m thirsty.”
“Then why put yourself through that stress on purpose?”
Idel had meant it sincerely.
In her opinion, it was far healthier to just close one’s eyes and rest than to waste emotion on such stories.
But whenever she said that, her self-proclaimed “makjang maniac” sister would widen her eyes and counter:
“Sister. Makjang is the ultimate stress-relief method. If you watch with your brain turned off, the protagonist delivers insane catharsis at the end. It’s a total dopamine party!”
“……”
“In that spirit, please read the review I wrote for Pitiful Life carefully, okay? I absolutely have to win this ‘Dedicated Reader Review Contest.’ It’s my chance to meet the author!”
She called it a review, but the document her sister had written was practically thesis-length.
So if someone had to reincarnate, especially inside the makjang novel titled Pitiful Life!, shouldn’t it have been her sister?
Not me, who actually read all those reviews.
She was recalling how her sister used to search every possible survival method for possession or reincarnation—just in case—when a dry, cold voice pulled her back to the present.
“Lady Idel, you may use this room for the time being.”
In any case, the one who had ended up suffering this ridiculous reincarnation was her, and the painfully spicy makjang drama had now become her reality.