From Two-Bit Baddie to Total Heartthrob: This Villainess Will Cross-Dress to Impress! Volume 1 E-Book

Masamune Okazaki

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Heart
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: From Two-Bit Baddie to Total Heartthrob: This Villainess Will Cross-Dress to Impress!
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 506

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The world just isn’t fair and Elizabeth Burton knows that better than anyone. Reincarnated into an otome game as a two-bit villainess, she’s been doomed by the genre’s tropes to a life of misery. What’s a girl to do… but cross-dress her way into the main character’s heart and a guaranteed happy ending of course! After years of blood, sweat, and tears fashioning herself into the perfect heartthrob, all she has to do is wait for the fated first meeting with the main character… or so she thought! As it turns out, her manly charms have come back to bite her in the butt. The other love interests have started cross-dressing too, and they don’t want the main character’s heart—they want Elizabeth’s!

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Prologue: The Nightmare of a (Delicate) Princess

Was I a Nobody in My Past Life?

Anyone Can Become a Heartthrob

Maybe I Should Become a Knight

Bad Little Boys Get Spanked

An American Touch

Tous Pour Un, Un Pour Tous!

Turns Out, I’m a Real Catch

Consider It Forgotten

Any Knight Worth Her Salt Can Scale a Wall

Humans Only Have Two Hands, You Know

Royal Academy, Here I Come!

Win-Win? More Like, Winner Takes All

Girls Go Crazy for Boy-on-Boy Action

A Romantic at Heart

Get Your Foot off the Accelerator

A Boy Made for Ribbons and Dresses

All of the Princes in the Land

Breaking Off the Engagement

Epilogue

Side Stories: Victims of the Elizabeth Burton Support Group

Extra Story: Mister First Royal Academy

Afterword

Color Illustrations

Characters

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Illustrations

Table of Contents

Prologue

I was seven years old when I, Elizabeth Burton, was first bombarded by memories from what I can only assume was my past life.

It was a spring day, and I’d just taken a bite of my breakfast omelet. To my horror, it was tainted by the taste of minced bell pepper—my worst enemy.

Those who enjoy or tolerate bell peppers may find this hard to understand, but for those of us who hate them, surprise bell peppers may as well be classified as an act of terrorism. When that bitter taste filled my mouth, a chill ran down my spine. I fell over backwards and took the chair down with me.

This is the part when the head chef might come in and proclaim, “A bell pepper?! Goodness, what was that doing in there?!” If that’s what you’re hoping for, however, you’re sorely mistaken. Let me be clear: that only happens in fiction. No matter how you try to dice it, hide it, or season it, I will always sniff out the wretched vegetable. Why? Because that’s how much I hate it.

As I fell over backwards, an image flashed in my head. I saw an otome game featuring a girl with my name.

Of course, the world I’d spent all seven years of my life in had no such thing as “otome games”—or gas or electricity, for that matter. The only clothes I’d ever known were overly fussy dresses that were hard to move in, and the most common method of transportation was by horse carriage. Naturally, TV and video games were nonexistent too.

And yet, although things like otome games, gas, and electricity had no place in my world, I had no trouble envisioning one in which they did. Its existence—and the games that it had created—was surprisingly easy to accept.

You’d think I’d be shocked to learn that I’d been reincarnated as a character from an otome game I’d played in my past life, but strangely, I came to grips with it pretty quickly. For some reason, I found myself thinking, Yeah, that figures.

So, it turns out I was living in the world of an otome game called Royal LOVERS. If you’re curious, it’s one of those aristocratic dating sims that might as well come with a tagline like “You can hear the whispers of their fabulous, noble love.”

At any rate—as soon as the cinematic opening started playing in my head, my chair hit the ground and sent a sharp, shooting pain through my back.

Was I a Nobody in My Past Life?

Let’s put this all together, shall we?

After my fall, my father had carried me to bed and called for the doctor to examine me. With the doctor’s visit behind me, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing.

I’d been diagnosed with anemia and a lack of sleep. I insisted that the bell pepper was to blame for my fall, but all my father had to say in reply was that I’d better stop staying up so late and being such a picky eater.

Honestly, though—I never even stayed up late!

The real reason I’d fallen was because I’d gone into capsaicin shock (hey, that has a nice ring to it) and had been flooded with memories of my past life. I didn’t feel like diving into that with him, though. I’d only been alive for seven years, but even I knew better than to think that concepts like “past lives” and “reincarnation” had any place in the worldview here.

And yet, here I was, with all these memories of the old me. What’s more, I was able to understand the concepts of a “past life” and “reincarnation” as if they were completely self-evident. That was precisely why I knew that there must’ve been people out there who believed in reincarnation, and why I’d come to think that it was very plausible that I myself might’ve experienced it.

But in the world I was currently in, the dead returned to the earth, and their souls alone lived on as shining stars... At least, that was the mainstream theory. You could even call it a religious belief.

I doubted anyone would have believed me about the whole reincarnation in another world idea even in my past life, but talking about it here was even more complicated. If you wanted to talk about such abstract concepts—like reincarnated souls and past-life memories—then you’d have to start by explaining what they were and why they mattered. After all, the people here had no exposure to them. They didn’t even exist in fairytales. What’s more, even if I were to do my best to explain it all, it seemed unlikely that I’d get the response I was looking for.

It didn’t help that my previous memories were so fuzzy and fragmented. Even though I’d managed to recall my perspective on life and death, I didn’t feel confident that I could explain it in any logical way. I could imagine explaining things like video games and electricity, and it seemed doable to describe what it was like to live in the world in which they existed. If anyone asked me how they actually worked, though? I was sure I’d draw a total blank.

It seemed like the world I’d lived in before this had faced turbulent times, but I couldn’t remember the specifics well enough to describe them to anyone. It was the same with my past identity—I was pretty sure I’d been a woman, and I knew I’d grown up surrounded by electricity and video games. I’d never gone hungry, exactly, but I had a feeling that I hadn’t been as well-off as I was in the present. At any rate, I couldn’t tell you what kind of life I’d led or how old I’d been when I’d died, much less what my name had been. I had absolutely no recollection of those details.

I could remember the otome game that so closely resembled my current life with perfect clarity, though. If I wanted to, I could even remember other titles. My favorite was Crouching Love, Hidden Blade—an otome game about Japanese ninja. I could conjure all of the characters’ names and every last detail of the story. If only I had some artistic talent, I could even perfectly reproduce the CG of Hattori Hanzo and Kirigakure Saizo’s last battle. As it so happens, though, I’ve never been much of an artist—not in my past life, and definitely not in the present.

Other than that, I remembered getting five stitches in my head after falling from the top of a ten-person tower while doing gymnastics as a kid. I also recalled someone carrying me after I’d had too much to drink and gotten alcohol poisoning at a college farewell party. That was about it, though. Otherwise, all I had was a vague sense that I’d probably had a leisurely, uneventful life.

After I’d pieced all that together, I came to a startling realization. Huh? I thought. Was I...a nobody in my past life?

Normally (though who’s to say what “normal” was in a situation like this?) you’d expect that a stream of past-life memories would make a seven-year-old’s brain explode. I mean, that’s a whole lifetime of memories! Surely that’d be completely overwhelming, right? What seven-year-old wouldn’t lose their mind over that?

But no—I was ridiculously calm and levelheaded about the whole thing. Even after I’d digested all this information about my past life, I still had room to think about all kinds of other things (including tomorrow night’s dinner).

While I didn’t have any memories of dying young from an illness or accident, I also didn’t have any memories of leading a fulfilling life and dying a peaceful death surrounded by all my descendants.

I didn’t have any grudges, and I didn’t possess any sense of despair towards the world. If I had to name something I’d hated, I guess it would’ve been income and municipal taxes. Somehow, my limited time here as a duke’s daughter seemed way more eventful than my entire past life. If a normal human life were a pork cutlet rice bowl, then my past life had been nothing but rice water (not that I’d tried anything like that in this life).

Is there really anyone out there who’s that much of a nobody—whose entire life is less rich than a seven-year-old’s? I wondered. If, by some one-in-a-million chance, there was someone like that out there...that’d be so depressing.

A chill ran down my spine as I reflected on it. Okay,I thought. Enough of that.

Surely, I must’ve been missing some pieces that would fill in a richer, fuller picture; I’d only just remembered my past life, after all. Besides, old memories were fragmented by nature, right? It was probably a given that mine would feel vague and impossible to fully recall.

Yes, that’s right. These memories are just small slivers of the full picture. That’s the only reason they feel as lacking as rice water—I’m sure of it!

Having settled on that conclusion, I decided I’d done enough thinking about my past-life self for the time being. However pitiful I might’ve been in my past life, I was more concerned about the hardships I was likely to suffer in my current one. There was no time to dwell on who I was in the past and feel sorry for her—not when I needed to be looking out for myself in the present.

◇◇◇

I’d been reincarnated into the world of Royal LOVERS as a villainous noblewoman, but that was overstating it a bit. Honestly, I was just an unimportant side character. Since I was engaged to one of the main love interests, I was basically there to get in the way. My role was to bully the main character, come between her and my to-be fiancé, and essentially create some exciting drama to fuel their romance.

My last hurrah was to ask my betrothed—also known as the main character’s love interest—to escort me to the school dance in front of everyone. To my utter humiliation, he’d turn me down. Apparently, he didn’t think my clingy and catty behavior was a good look.

I wouldn’t really show up much in the game after that. Each route ends in a wedding (or hints at one), though, so I can only imagine that my engagement gets called off if the main character goes down my fiancé’s route.

I didn’t know how things worked in modern Japan, but in this world, daughters of noble families were expected to marry before their teenage years were over. Expectations were especially high for a duke’s daughter, who sat around the top of the noble hierarchy. Failing to find a husband was one of the greatest shames a girl in such a position could endure. Naturally, people talked, and the disgraced daughter of a duke made for a hot topic. I doubted I could marry into any reputable family after that. Most likely, I’d spend the rest of my days with my maiden name, dying as a spinster in the house that my older brother had inherited.

It’d be great if the main character could just pick a different route, but unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Everyone knew my fiancé was a lovesick buffoon. He featured prominently on the game’s packaging. In fact, he was the main love interest. So, as you might expect, players could easily find themselves swimming in affection points for him without even realizing it.

Although his name’s Robert, the fandom calls him “the Pea-Brained Prince.” I think that says it all, really.

Before the common route branches, there’s a stargazing event that reveals which love interest you have the most affection points with. He’ll always show up, even if you’re not locked into his route. I remember yelling, “Ugh, not you!” and throwing my gaming console across the room several times in response to this. If the main character progresses through the story as normal, her first route will always be my fiancé’s route.

At seven years old, I had no emotional attachment towards my fiancé. Even the in-game, evil-side-character Elizabeth Burton never seemed all that interested in him. Mostly, she just seemed irritated that a low-born peasant girl was trying to steal her fiancé and that he had the nerve to dump her over it. I had the impression she was only getting in their way out of spite.

These might’ve just been memories of my past life resurfacing, but after seven years of being raised as a duke’s daughter, it hurt my pride. If the Pea-Brained Prince wanted to abandon his fiancée all because he’d fallen madly in love with some peasant from Podunk, Nowhere who’d shown him a little kindness, that was fine with me! I didn’t want him anyway. Even if we did end up getting married, that lovelorn fool would just do it all again the moment he got tired of me. Mark my words—I knew I’d never be happy marrying a man like him.

I would’ve loved to break off the engagement right then and there. Alas, my fiancé was none other than the second prince of the kingdom. My family might have been the highest-ranking noble family, but they could hardly turn down a marriage proposal from the prince because their daughter didn’t want to be with him. My family wielded a great deal of influence, and I’m sure the royal family was determined to forge a connection that could leverage that.

In any case, I’d only just been betrothed to the boy the other day, on my seventh birthday. I couldn’t break the engagement off without a compelling reason. What would society think?

That being said, all I had to do was wait until I turned seventeen. He’d declare me “damaged goods” and call the engagement off himself anyway. I was hurtling headfirst towards spinsterhood no matter what I did. All I could do was bury my head in my hands.

If memory served, the game began with all of the love interests treating the low-born main character with cold indifference. As she gained affection points and started down one of their routes, they’d show a softer, kinder side. But throughout the story’s ups and downs, they’d still push her away and treat her like trash. On more than one occasion, I’d found myself mentally yelling at the main character to “Just forget about that jerk!”

Personally, I feel like they deserved a lot more flak than a two-bit rival like myself, but apparently being a love interest gives you a free pass to be a scumbag. No matter how much they treat the main character like trash, they all have a happy ending lined up with her. Is that insane, or what?

But the world of otome games is often harsh and unfair. A rival character like myself is destined to be at a disadvantage, while the love interests are clearly going to be depicted in a positive light no matter what. It pisses me off.

I was actually pretty easy on the eyes, and I came from a highly esteemed family. It was completely unfair that I should be subjected to such different treatment all because of my gender. I should’ve been able to have my own fabulous, noble love.

And that’s when it hit me—all I had to do was become a love interest myself!

It was common knowledge that almost any love interest that the main character pursued would find happiness. This was especially true in the forgiving world of Royal LOVERS, where every ending was a happy one!

Fortunately, I had good looks and pedigree on my side. Even better, I had the inside scoop since I’d played the game. I figured it’d be a breeze to beat the other love interests to the punch and ruin their events. I could steal the main character from right under their noses.

Anyway, my point was that this idea had turned my world upside down.

“You can’t change other people, but you can change yourself.” Those were the wise words of some smart person from my past life.

I didn’t have to stop my fiancé from falling in love with the main character—I just had to make the main character fall in love with me, and she’d never go down his route. If I managed that, Robert’s lovelorn lunacy wouldn’t even be an issue. As long as the main character went down my route, my happy ending would be all but guaranteed.

Here I’d been, worrying about how to break off my engagement without bringing shame to my family’s name or—even worse—offending the royal family. But now that question didn’t even matter. Why? Because the main character would lead me to my happy ending through...the power of love, or something.

I clenched my fist.

I’d meet the main character when we were seventeen, after her saintly powers had awoken. She’d transfer into my school that year in the spring. Until then, I’d have to do everything in my power to fashion myself into a noble, fabulous, and handsome young man (well, woman) who could hold her own against the likes of Robert and the other love interests.

There was much to do, but my mood had improved dramatically.

I got up out of bed and grabbed a pair of scissors from my writing desk. Determined, I gathered my waist-length hair up into a bundle and lopped it all off randomly. It was a short mess, but I could get the beautician to tidy it up later. Good thing I’d taken the initiative—if I’d asked them to cut it short for me, there’s every chance they might have refused. But this length was just right. It called to mind the Meiji-era samurai I’d read about in my previous life, who’d chopped off their topknots in a scandalous display of modernization.

Strands of my golden hair fluttered in the air, gleaming as sunlight from the window passed through them. In the well-polished window pane, I caught a glimpse of my unusually hawkish smile that seemed completely out of place on a seven-year-old.

Reaffirming my resolve, I whispered, “Just you wait, lover boys. You have no idea what’s coming.”

I moved quickly to take my next steps. I tagged along uninvited to my brother’s swordsmanship training so I could practice too, and I asked the head chef to put extra calcium and protein into my meals. I wouldn’t get anywhere as an otome game love interest if I didn’t have the muscles to show for it. It’d make swordsmanship training a whole lot easier too. If I wanted to get stronger, I’d have to do some bodybuilding. Love interests also had to be tall. I knew diet played a big part in both of these areas.

I’d need to learn about women too—especially what made them swoon and what set their hearts aflutter. I filled the library with ladies’ romance novels and read them voraciously. I remembered a lot from the game, but as the player, I had no insight into the main character’s tastes. What kind of men got all the ladies in this world? What did women look for in a man? If I wanted the answers to these questions, I knew romance novels would be the perfect place to look.

I even wore men’s clothes that were tailored to my size. “The clothes make the man,” as they say. I started my foray into men’s fashion by borrowing my older brother’s clothes, but the fit wasn’t quite right. He was a little on the pudgy side, but in a nice way—kind of like a marshmallow.

I tried on some men’s clothing and looked at myself in the mirror.

Huh. Not bad.

I had delicate facial features, and was decidedly more “homely” than “heartthrob”...but that could be fixed.

I didn’t yet know much about the makeup of this world, but I could tell from looking at my mother and her friends that it was fairly advanced. I knew that learning how to harness the power of makeup would get me far. I could rely on my personality to get me the rest of the way.

Most of the love interests had long hair, so I’d cut my hair short to distinguish myself. If you’re wondering just how short I cut it, let me give you an idea: it was an undercut that was short enough to need barber’s clippers to trim up the sides. My parents cried when they saw it, by the way. They’d been laughing off my antics as childish whims, but their smiles had dropped with the undercut. I guess they’d finally realized I was serious.

The family I’d been born into, the Burtons, were regarded by the other nobles as the Honorable Duke and his family. Not only were we high-ranking aristocrats, but we had political prowess and a massive fortune. The soil of our duchy was rich and fertile, and we knew how to make the most of it. But the biggest asset that I’d inherited was reputation.

In the first days of the kingdom’s founding, the threat of war for the throne had loomed large. To prevent it, the crown prince’s younger brother had renounced his royal status and become a commoner. That was the start of my family tree.

Apparently, the crown prince’s younger brother was a well-respected man. I suspected we likely had his bloodline to thank for our reputation. Every Burton patriarch that followed him had—more or less—been blessed with the respect of the kingdom’s people. Or, to put it another way, maybe it was just that only well-respected men had been allowed to carry on the family legacy.

The Burtons were friends to the benevolent, and (oddly enough) also to the malevolent. Evil or good, anyone who dared to make an enemy of one Burton would find an enemy in all of us. That was the word around town, anyway. The Burtons’ generosity might’ve made us seem like easy targets, but the stories of our fierce loyalty scared off any would-be, small-fry swindlers.

It was worth taking everything I just said with a grain of salt, though. Personally, I took it with a healthy heap of the stuff. But I would see for myself why the Burtons were held in such high esteem before too long.

◇◇◇

While I was practicing my swordsmanship one day, my father showed up to dole out some brutally honest advice about my “eccentric whims” (which, to be fair, wouldn’t have looked like anything else to him).

I was impressed by his method—he didn’t scold me or try to force any ideas on me about how I should behave. Instead, he gently invited me to see the error of my ways. He laid out several reasons. For example, he told me that I was creating problems for my fiancé, inviting unwanted rumors, and potentially hurting myself and any future prospects...possibly even my family’s. Then, he asked me why I’d chosen this course of action.

By the end of it, I had a new appreciation for why he’d been deemed “the Honorable Duke.” In this world, a patriarch’s will was not to be questioned. What’s more, noble families often saw their daughters as mere political tools. You can imagine, then, that there weren’t many fathers out there like him, who’d try to reason with their daughters who’d started cross-dressing out of nowhere.

If I could’ve given him a compelling reason for my behavior, it would’ve made for a fantastic story to tell once I’d made it in the world. Unfortunately, my reasons weren’t so easy to explain. I could hardly tell him that I was doing all of this to pursue the main character of a dating game ten years down the road, after all. The main character hadn’t even awoken to her saintly powers yet.

Instead, I said, “I just felt that this is what I should be doing. I need to do this.”

My father frowned.

I’d tried to choose my words carefully to avoid outright lying, but it had ended up coming across as being stubborn. Oh, well.

“Father,” my brother called out as he walked up and stood next to me.

His swordsmanship instructor hung back awkwardly, as if trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

My brother’s near-translucent golden hair and sky-blue eyes were the spitting image of my father’s. They were the colors of honor—proof that they were the heads of the Burton household. My features bore a resemblance, but they were downright dull in comparison to my brother’s luster. That being said, his pale, plump, rice-cake face looked nothing like my father’s.

As he stood by my side, he lowered his head into a bow. “Allow me to add my voice to Lizzy’s. Please let her do as she wishes.”

My eyes shot wide open. Sure, my brother was a sweetheart. He cared deeply for me and showered me with love. All the memories that I had of Elizabeth Burton’s life up until her current seven years of age were proof enough of that. Still...no matter how much he doted on me, there was no reason for him to bow his head over my request. Typically, he’d join my father in chastising me. That, or he’d just watch on silently. But here he was, standing at my side and bowing his head on my behalf. I was stunned.

Why would he do that for me? I couldn’t think of a single reason, but I couldn’t help being touched by his gesture.

Then I realized—this was what it really meant to be honorable.

“Lizzie’s working really hard at her swordsmanship. She’s even more serious about it than I am! Besides, she’s not slacking off on her etiquette or dancing lessons. And she’s still reading plenty of books and devoting herself to her studies,” my brother explained.

Uh-huh, I get it now.

I was happy that he’d taken my side, and he was happy that he’d gotten to advocate for me. He was the kind of guy who said exactly what people wanted to hear at exactly the right moment, who could offer help without hesitation. It was a lifetime of just such moments that earned the Burtons such respect.

If my brother were ever in trouble, I was sure I’d come running to offer aid. Even if it asked something of me, I’d probably want to lend him a hand. Why? Because he’d done that for me, and I knew it made him happy to do so.

Once you knew the Burtons’ trick, it was actually childishly simple. But just knowing it didn’t mean you could imitate it. That’s exactly why the Burtons had come this far—because it wasn’t something you could fake, nor was it something you could resist.

“I’m sure Lizzie really believes that she needs this training. So, please, father...”

I bowed my head, just like my brother. “Please.”

Looking down at the two of us, the Honorable Duke frowned again...then finally broke into a smile.

Anyone Can Become a Heartthrob

Now that I had permission to dress as a boy and continue my swordsmanship training, I became even more obsessed with self-improvement. I begged my mother to take me to the theater so I could learn more about makeup, and—to my horror—she excitedly exclaimed, “So, you are interested in girly things!”

After we’d been to the theater several times together, I put my new makeup knowledge to use in my cross-dressing. That was when she realized what my interest in the theater had really been about. I felt a pang of guilt when I saw how disappointed she was.

I wasn’t exactly an expert from the get-go. Since I’d been learning from stage makeup, several of my attempts just ended up making me look cartoonish and absurd. I think it took me about a month before I started getting the hang of it.

With a little effort, I knew I could transform myself into a heartthrob.

My brother was absolutely no help, though. No matter what I looked like, he wouldn’t hesitate to brag that he had “the cutest little sister in the whole world.”

I don’t know if I had the calcium to thank, but I was steadily growing taller and taller. I’m pretty sure I grew twenty whole centimeters in the span of a year, and I stood a whole head above other kids my age. Aside from my everlasting hatred for bell peppers, I developed a taste for all kinds of food.

My swordsmanship gains were even more remarkable. I wasn’t exactly athletic in my past life (at least, that was the impression I had), but it seemed that I had a special talent for swordplay in my current one. Or rather...Elizabeth Burton did. Of course, if I’d lived out my whole life as a typical duke’s daughter, I probably never would’ve discovered that.

After training for about a year, I was able to beat my private swordsmanship tutor when we sparred. Naturally, I was also more skilled than my brother.

More than anything, I was obsessed with training. I still had the body of a child, so weightlifting wasn’t an option, but I could do plenty of other things: bodyweight training, swinging a sword around, sidestepping, running, defensive rolls...you get the picture. It was exciting to master skills I hadn’t been able to manage the day before, and I enjoyed being surprised by how deftly I could maneuver my body.

In my previous life, I’d heard a certain saying several times—“if you find something you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.” That was certainly true in my case. Even outside of practice, I devoted all of my free time to my training. Not only did I have the talent, but I was also putting in the effort. I was bound to get stronger.

◇◇◇

After immersing myself in my training day after day, I’d almost forgotten that I was a duke’s daughter.

Unfortunately, even a degenerate daughter of a duke like me had to participate in high society sometimes—by making an appearance, for example, at their betrothed’s eighth birthday party. Fortunately, since I hadn’t made my societal debut, my actual responsibilities as a guest were few. No dancing would be expected of me. All I had to do was smile by my fiancé’s side and exchange simple pleasantries.

Does it even make a difference whether I go or not?

I really wasn’t up for it, but it felt like the least I could do to show my appreciation for all the freedom I was typically given. Besides, I knew there would be consequences if I didn’t at least show my face from time to time.

So that was how I found myself seated in front of my dresser with several maids crowded around me applying my makeup.

“You know, I haven’t dressed up like a girl in ages,” I said without thinking.

“Don’t say it like that, Lady Elizabeth,” the head maid rebuked.

She stood in the back, watching over as the younger maids applied my makeup. I had a feeling she was probably just there to make sure I didn’t try to run away.

I peered in the mirror at my dolled-up face. I was used to wearing makeup that I’d applied myself to make me appear more boyish, so the new style was actually kind of refreshing. It flattered my delicate features. Honestly, I didn’t look half bad.

Still, I preferred my usual style. I spoke and behaved in a manner befitting of my typical male attire, since I was aiming to be a noble, fabulous love interest. It only made sense that I’d look better when who I was on the outside matched who I was on the inside.

“That hair simply won’t do.” I heard the click of her heels as my mother, who’d been watching on from a distance, approached my chair.

My mother was a dainty, pretty woman, but when she furrowed her brow and looked down at you, she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Come on, what’s wrong with it?” I asked. “It’ll be fine if I just wear it down.”

“Absolutely not,” the head maid replied.

“Okay, see, this is exactly why I feel like I’m ‘dressing up’ like a girl.”

My suggestions were immediately shot down. What’s the deal? I thought. I thought I was just letting the maids do my makeup, not giving up my right to speak.

I made eye contact with the head maid in the mirror’s reflection and shrugged my shoulders dejectedly.

“Who cares what I look like? The prince is the main attraction. No one’s even going to be paying attention to me.”

“You’re his fiancée. Everyone’s going to be paying attention to you!” This time, it was my mother who rebuked me.

After she and the head maid hemmed and hawed over it, they decided to comb down all of my hair and pin it up in the back with a hairpiece (stabbing me in the head several times in the process). After they’d wrapped the hairpiece into a bun and pinned it, they covered it with a lace bun net and called it a day. I looked like a ballerina, but I conceded that it was probably a better look than the au naturel style I’d suggested.

The idea of trudging along in a heavy dress had filled me with dread, but after putting one on again for the first time in a while, I realized that it actually wasn’t that bad. I figured that might’ve had something to do with all the stamina and muscle I’d been building. Seems like my training’s paying off.

I hadn’t really wanted to go to the party, but this unexpected opportunity to see the fruits of my labor lifted my spirits somewhat. I could protest all I wanted, but I knew it wouldn’t save me. I just had to suck it up and finish the job. Then I could get back to my training.

◇◇◇

The time of the party had finally arrived.

I transformed myself temporarily into a meet-and-greet machine, bowing at my fiancé’s side and exchanging pleasantries with guests as they arrived. I’d ruin it all if I said anything of substance, so I decided to leave most of the talking to my father and just smile sweetly. Even to Robert, the most I said was “How do you do?”

The silence felt unusually stifling. I worried that I might never be able to speak again.

Left with nothing to do, I found myself staring absentmindedly at Robert’s face. It felt surreal to think that we now existed in the same dimension. It was like he was a 2D character that had somehow found his way into the 3D world, which...was kind of the case, in a way.

The Robert standing next to me did resemble his in-game portrait. His bored, somewhat arrogant attitude and his swept-back, auburn hair were reminiscent of the older Robert that I was familiar with. It was no surprise that he was a love interest. Even with that vacant look in his eyes, he was too beautiful to be real.

Actually, rather than a 2D character, he looked like a child actor from some foreign movie. He’s definitely 3D, all right,I thought. It’s weird being in the same dimension as him. It feels like I’m watching a live-action Royal LOVERS, and someone’s cast this foreign child actor to play the part of little Robert.

Yes, it was like he was...2.5D. It was a weird conclusion to come to, but I couldn’t think of a better way to sum it up.

When the onslaught of arriving guests had subsided, I decided to make a break for it. I made an excuse that I was off to pick some flowers and left Robert’s side to disappear into the sea of dressed up nobles. After nabbing some refreshments, I slipped through the French doors and out onto the balcony.

I looked around carefully. Seeing that the coast was clear, I climbed over the railing and leaped into the garden below. I’d worn flats that night to narrow the gap between my height and Robert’s, so clearing the railing wasn’t an issue.

I decided I’d hide in the garden for a while. If anyone asked what I was doing, I’d simply say, “I just had to take a look at these lovely flowers!” It seemed like a good enough excuse for an eight-year-old.

I landed on the lawn and lifted my head, immediately making eye contact with a bespectacled boy who was looking straight at me. He was sitting down, surrounded by several boys. They all looked to be around my age, or maybe a year or two older at most. The other boys seemed preoccupied with cornering Glasses Boy and didn’t appear to have noticed me. My landing had been practically silent, so that was hardly a surprise.

The boys were all dressed well, so I could only assume they were the sons of noble families who’d been invited to the birthday party. Glasses Boy was the only one who didn’t look as presentable; his face and clothes were slightly dirty. I felt like I recognized him.

Huh... Who is he? I wondered.

“You must think you’re pretty great, huh? Always acting like a Goody Two-shoes!”

“Yeah! You think you’re better than us just ’cause you’re the prime minister’s son?”

That’s when it hit me. Oh, the prime minister’s son! No wonder I’d recognized him.

Glasses Boy was Isaac Guildford—a love interest from Royal LOVERS, just like Robert. No otome game was complete without a bespectacled dreamboat, and Isaac—the son of the prime minister—was there to fill the niche. He was a ridiculously straitlaced, stiff boy who hated women. He was the kind of character you couldn’t even dream of pursuing unless you’d maxed out your Academics stat. As they say, “A leopard can’t change its spots.” Isaac, who was already filling the glasses niche at eight years old, seemed to be the perfect example of that.

And right now, he was slumped on the ground, surrounded by three other boys. His clothes were dirtied, his cheek was swollen, and his mouth was sporting a cut in the corner. To top it all off, his glasses had been smashed.

Oof, straight for his trademark glasses. Now that’s crossing the line.

Isaac was under siege. They were hurling insults—and, apparently, a few punches—at him. There was no doubt about what was happening here: it was bullying, plain and simple.

But that wasn’t any of my business. Besides, the only person who’d noticed me was Isaac.

I could just quietly slink off and pretend I never saw anything. Or I could find a responsible adult and get them to check up on him. That’d probably be the best thing to do here.

If I looked at it from a different angle, though... Maybe it was an opportunity? I’d only ever sparred with my brother and our instructor. Setting aside my brother, there was every possibility that my instructor was just flattering me and letting me win. This could be the perfect chance to test my skills against an uninvested third party. I could even get brownie points for standing up to bullies.

And if it didn’t go well? I could just run away and yell for help. Either way, there was nothing to lose. I made up my mind.

The ground crunched under my feet as I stood up, alerting the boys who were surrounding Isaac. Flustered, they whipped around to find the source.

“Hey, Isaac,” I said, waving.

Isaac’s eyes shot wide open. His surprise was understandable—after all, we’d never met before.

The three other boys looked similarly stunned. I’d greeted them earlier, but they probably didn’t recognize me either.

“Uh, are you lost? The party’s over that way.”

“We’re just having a little chat with Four-Eyes here. Mind giving us some privacy?”

And that was all the confirmation I needed. I could tell from the way they were speaking to me that there was a zero percent chance that they recognized me. If they knew I was the duke’s daughter—much less the second prince’s fiancée—they never would’ve taken that tone with me.

Isaac, on the other hand, definitely seemed to recognize me. All of the color had drained from his face. Come to think of it, his parents had probably dragged him over to greet me... Not that I remembered any of that.

“Or,” I said, “what if you included me in your little chat?”

One of the boys approached me, sneering. He was a little bit shorter than I was, and he was neither particularly sturdy nor slight. From the looks of it, he was just an exceedingly normal little boy—one who’d clearly had his guard down.

Perfect, I thought.

Just as I’d spread my legs shoulder width apart, I heard Isaac’s voice.

“Don’t. Just get out of here,” he warned me. Then, he turned to the boys and said, “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Hear that, boys?”

“Sounds like he’s got a crush!”

The other boys let out a loud, vulgar guffaw.

Huh,I thought. My mother was always chiding me for being unrefined, but I sure hoped I wasn’t coming across like that.

“Stop acting all high ’n mighty!”

“Nngh?!”

One of the boys kicked Isaac right in the stomach. Isaac groaned and curled up into a little ball.

“Pfft! Pathetic!”

“That’s what you get for trying to act cool in front of girls!”

“What a loser!”

The boys hurled insult after insult, using Isaac as their personal step stool. I knew he’d told me not to get involved, but I couldn’t just let him get treated like that.

“Hey. Lay off,” I said, pushing through them to shield Isaac with my back.

“I-I don’t need your help!” Isaac cried.

“Actually, I think you do.”

There was no way I was about to let this chance go to waste.

From the way we were all positioned, any potential passersby would likely just assume I was trying to protect Isaac. Perfect.

“Well, aren’t you cool?”

“Lucky you, nerd! A girl’s here to protect you!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than one of the boys threw a punch straight at me. I caught the blow softly. Using the force of it to my advantage, I grabbed his arm and prepared for something like a shoulder throw. The difference was, I didn’t try to throw him towards the ground—instead, I readied myself to shoot him across the garden, like a catapult.

“Take that!”

The boy’s body flew up high into the air with great force before eventually coming down to land on a patch of grass between some trees.

“Huh?” Isaac and the other two boys blurted out in unison.

Without skipping a beat, I grabbed another boy’s legs as he was busy gaping at his unlucky friend.

“Okay. You’re next.”

I swung him around forcefully in a giant swing, wrestling-style, and threw him in the direction of the first boy. I could’ve sworn I heard him let out a girly scream...but I might’ve just imagined it. I wasn’t worried about him, though. I’d thrown him towards the stable, so he was bound to land on some nice, cushy grass. The world of Royal LOVERS was a forgiving one, after all.

The last boy grew steadily paler as he watched his friends fly, stunned. I got him before he could get away and cut off his retreat. Bending my legs, I wrapped my arms around his back.

“Last one, here we go!” I yelled, then threw him off in the same direction as the other two.

Nice,I thought to myself. That one probably flew the furthest.

For a few moments, I looked off into the distance where I’d thrown them. It seemed like they wouldn’t be coming back. If they did, I’d just have to send them flying again. It looked like that wouldn’t be necessary, though. They’d certainly been lighter to throw than my pudgy brother, but I was bound to break a few bones after throwing them around again and again. So, to be honest, I was relieved to call it a night.

By now, the three boys were probably lying on top of the soft grass, laughing heartily and belting out, “Well played!”

I was sure there were no hard feelings. After all, male friendship blossomed from trading a few blows and rolling around river beds together, right? If they could talk with their fists, then they were practically best friends already. That was just how it worked, apparently. Not that I’d know.

Anyway, I was relieved to have resolved it all peacefully. If I’d argued with them or beaten them up, frightening rumors would’ve spread about me. No doubt the young noblewomen would’ve started avoiding me, and that simply wouldn’t do. My goal was to have them clamoring for me, not running away.

But now that I’d shown what I was capable of, young noblemen would know that they were no match for me, and my reputation wouldn’t need to take a hit. Plus, one of the other love interests was now in my debt. The night had been a complete success.

Feeling refreshed, I turned around and faced Isaac, who was still sitting on the ground.

“You okay?” I asked, offering my hand.

For a moment, he was silent. Then, he said, suspiciously, “Are you going to fling me across the garden too?”

The look in his eyes had changed. It was no longer the awestruck, fearful gaze of someone looking up at their superior, but the searching gaze of someone who wasn’t yet sure what they were dealing with. Honestly, it was offensive.

“Hey, give me some credit. I was only trying to help you.”

More silence. Then, he objected, “I didn’t ask for your help. I was going to get revenge in my own way.”

After dropping what had to be one of the top five grouchiest lines, Isaac refused my hand.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not like today’s the first time they’ve tried to pull something like this,” he explained before pausing. “Besides, they probably just see it as payback for when my older brothers bullied them...even if they couldn’t say that outright.”

He got up on his own and brushed off some of the dirt from the back of his pants.

I remembered from the game that Isaac was the youngest of the prime minister’s three sons. In noble families, the eldest son was the heir, while the second son was his spare, providing support and standing ready to take on the title himself if necessary. Third sons and onward were mere tools used to build connections with other families through marriage, typically joining the bride’s family. Their position was very similar to that of noble daughters, who functioned as bargaining chips in the world of diplomacy.

Noble families poured everything into raising their eldest sons. There were countless examples of them being given free rein and growing massive egos. The game made it clear that Isaac didn’t get along well with his family. I was sure he’d probably been on the receiving end of his brothers’ bullying too.

Of course, love interests almost always came from unhappy families. The only difference was in how severe those family problems were.

“I know their names, and I’ve looked into their families. There’s no such thing as a noble family without a dark past,” Isaac said. “My plan was to bring theirs into the light and make it public.”

All I could do was laugh uncomfortably and shrug. This guy was way scarier than I was. “Sheesh. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of a smart guy like you. Guess I didn’t need to step in after all.”

I quickly abandoned any hopes that he’d feel indebted to me. Maybe he really hadn’t needed my help. It didn’t seem like he’d been at any real risk of a serious injury, much less death. And, after all, he’d been just fine in the game when no one had been there to save him from the bullies.

Whatever happened here tonight didn’t really matter. Eight years later, he’d enroll at the most prestigious and academically rigorous school for nobles and remain at the top of his class, still obsessed with being seen as a genius. What’s more, he’d grow into his beauty as the glasses-wearing character. By then, no one would be bullying him anymore.

“You’re pretty tough, aren’t you?” I noted.

I admired his tenacity. Even if it took years, I had no doubt he’d get back at those boys. I didn’t have that kind of patience. I was in the “hit first, think later” camp.

When I considered that this boy would one day be my rival for the main character’s affections, I briefly entertained the idea of honing my patience, but then I dismissed it. When it came to romance, you had to strike while the iron was hot. You could be the most patient person in the world, but that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Nothing would ever happen unless you made a move.

Considering I’d only have one short year to make the main character fall in love with me, a “hit first, think later” approach seemed perfectly suitable. And besides, it was in my nature.

As I was staring at Isaac and pondering all of this, he peered back at me suspiciously.

“Lizzie?” I heard my father yell, from a distance. “Elizabeth?”

Crap. They’re looking for me.

“Well, uh, take care. Until we meet again.” I spat out some random polite parting words and turned back towards the party.

I bent my knees slightly and hopped up to the balcony, grabbing the rail and hoisting myself over it. I made my landing and straightened myself up just as my father opened the French doors to peek over onto the balcony.

Maybe I Should Become a Knight

I was concerned.

It wasn’t my height that worried me, though—on the contrary, I was growing quite nicely. Over the past two years, I’d grown more than twenty centimeters taller. Sometimes my legs would hurt so much during the nights that it’d wake me up. I’d initially chalked that up to overexertion from swordsmanship training, but apparently it was just growing pains.

By the time I was ten, I was already well past the average height for a Japanese girl. In fact, I was almost as tall as my brother, who had a whole five years on me. Girls did tend to develop faster than boys in the early years, though, so I guess that was to be expected.

What I was really concerned about was my direction in life.

While I was doing squats in my room, a maid brought me tea. I made eye contact and gave her a smile.

“Thanks,” I said.

The young maid blushed.

My makeup skills had improved and I’d grown into a tall, slim build. Thanks to the etiquette lessons I’d been taking since I was seven, I’d had impeccable manners drilled into me too. I’d even bested my private swordsmanship tutor, so my father had recruited a knight cadets instructor to teach me instead. I hadn’t beaten him yet, of course, but he’d praised my skills anyway.

Most of the maids who worked for the duke’s family were from lower-ranking noble families, and they had taken the job as an opportunity to hone their skills as future brides. That meant they basically hadn’t had much—if any—interaction with men throughout their lives. That, along with all of my recent growth, made them easy targets. It took no effort at all to make them fall for me.

The head maid, however, was none too pleased that I’d started using every maid in the mansion as target practice. Not that I was doing anything that would warrant her anger—all I ever did was give a little wink here and there and carry things for them. But according to her, maid after maid had apparently been put out of commission by my charms.

Everything was going just as planned. I’d become a heartthrob for sure.

The maids were nothing in the big picture, though. At the end of the day, they were still just girls who’d barely ever spoken to a man. My real target was the main character, and she was not to be trifled with. After all, she could have all of the game’s love interests head over heels in love with her. She had the transformative power that main characters tend to have; even her dull wits only served to melt the boys’ cold hearts.

And here I was, readying myself to vie for her affections with the gorgeous guys that graced the game’s packaging. I had no choice but to win. Regardless of the competition, I had to make sure she went down my route.

Taking both the main character’s and my rivals’ charisma into account, I felt wholly unsatisfied with my current charms. Sure, I was reasonably handsome, reasonably tall, and reasonably well-mannered...but all in all, I was a pretty unremarkable boy (well, girl). My noble status and swordsmanship were acceptable, but they would hardly free me from the confines of my side character status. It hurt to admit it, but I wasn’t anything special.

Hence, like any talented youth, I had concerns about my direction. At the very least, I wanted something that would make me stand out. Where were the qualities I could weaponize as selling points?

Nothing was coming to me, so I continued my set of squats. Midway on my descent, I heard a very polite-sounding knock on my door.

Crap, I thought. Has word gotten out that I’ve been seducing the maids again?

“The duke is calling for you.”

Nope. This is gonna make a scolding from the head maid seem like a slap on the wrist.

◇◇◇

“Christopher, this is Elizabeth. She’s going to be your new big sister.”

I’d braced myself for an angry earful, but it seemed I’d been worried for nothing. The reason my father had summoned me was apparently because, in my father’s words, “Our family is growing.”

I’d just nodded along, because the first thing that I’d assumed was that we’d gotten a pet dog. So, imagine my surprise when my father introduced me, as if it were the only obvious conclusion, to a little boy.

“Wow, father. The child of an illicit love affair?” I asked, staring at him as he smiled.

“Elizabeth...” he warned, anger stirring in his voice.

Whoops. Did I say that out loud?

“I’d like you to meet Christopher. He’s a distant relative who’s come to live with us due to some family circumstances. He’s a year younger than you, so from now on, he’ll be your little brother.”

With his big hand, my father gently pushed the frightened-looking little boy towards me. He had wavy, strawberry blond hair that looked soft to the touch and big, golden eyes like honey—though they were currently downcast and brimming with tears. His eyelashes were so long, I could’ve sworn he was wearing extensions. He had skin so pale it almost looked translucent. His limbs were slender, and he was significantly shorter than I was. If you had us stand next to each other, I was pretty sure nine people out of ten would assume I was a boy and he was a girl.

The boy glanced up at me. Then, without a word, he cast his gaze back downwards.

Right. “Christopher.”

I looked him up and down, confirming my suspicions. All I could think was, Huh. Interesting.

As a matter of fact, I was already well acquainted with the boy...because Christopher was one of the love interests in Royal LOVERS. I remembered how he’d introduced himself to the protagonist as “Chris. Just Chris.”

Apparently, he’d had a rough family life, so I guess he didn’t want to be called by his family name. Even his character profile only included his first name.

I had a feeling that his real full name had come up several times throughout his route, but the details were fuzzy. Even if I had managed to remember his full name, I hadn’t even known Elizabeth’s until I’d been reincarnated as her. I never would’ve realized that they shared a family name, much less that they were siblings.

◇◇◇

I certainly hadn’t expected to discover that I was the adoptive sister of one of my rival love interests.

For a while, all I’d done was obsessively rack my brain on how to handle the situation. But once I’d seen what a doting older sibling my brother had become to Christopher, I’d given up thinking about it. Christopher was adorable—there was no denying that. He looked like a scared little puppy, and it was impossible to resist the urge to protect him. I could accept that gracefully.

In the game, Christopher was the mischievous younger guy. He was always playing pranks on the main character and stirring up trouble, but he was so cute, you couldn’t hold it against him. If you went down his route, you got the full story behind his antics: he’d been abandoned by his biological family and adopted by distant relatives who he’d never become close to. He’d grown up devastatingly lonely.

And, as it turned out, those distant relatives were my family.

It seemed as though my parents were deliberately keeping their distance from him, but I could understand why. He’d been abandoned at such a young age. He could hardly be expected to suddenly warm up to a new set of parents.

My older brother, on the other hand, treated him the same way he treated me—his biological younger sister. Or, if I was being a little less generous with my phrasing, I could even say he doted on Christopher even more than me.

Christopher liked to hole himself up in his room, so my older brother would drag him out and show him around the garden and the library. He’d even take him along to swordsmanship training. Whenever he’d buy snacks, he’d split them with Christopher. Christopher seemed unsure how to respond, but he didn’t appear to mind it. It seemed like it would only be a matter of time before Christopher would mumble something about wanting to spend more time with him.

I was baffled by how stark the contrast was between my new younger brother and the Christopher I knew from the game.

No one was quite sure how to relate to him—and vice versa—but at the rate things were going, it seemed inevitable that he’d become a real part of the family. My father was the Honorable Duke, after all, and my older brother was his heir. They’d never make Christopher feel less than for not being a biological Burton. Besides, it was unlikely that my parents had been reluctant to take Christopher in, and it wasn’t like they were raising their biological children poorly.

“Strike!”

“Oh...”

The bamboo sword hit my forehead with a thwack!