Resigned Villainess Just Wants a Peaceful Life

Chapter 1: Tea Time

I used to live a dull, monochromatic life, one devoid of color or excitement— a never-ending routine that left me numb. It only worsened when I entered college, forced into a program I never wanted, each day feeling like a sentence I couldn't escape from.

Despite the emptiness that surrounded me, the only beacon of light in my bleak world was escaping into fantasy novels and comics. They were my haven, as if transporting me to places where magic was real and anything was possible. It felt like living a life contrary to my own— a world bursting with color and adventure, where I could be anyone and do anything. It was a breath of fresh air, a quiet rebellion against the monotony that defined my reality.

And if I were given the chance, I'd wish to be reborn inside one of my favorite novels, just like the characters in the reincarnation stories I've read. To live in a world of magic and intrigue, far removed from my mundane reality— where I could rewrite my destiny and become someone extraordinary.

That was my wish. To leave it all behind and start anew in a world of fantasy. But they always say, be careful what you wish for. And truly... I should have listened. Dreams are never as perfect as they seem, and sometimes, they can turn into the very nightmare you never saw coming.

"L-Lady Hestia?"

I was jolted back to reality as Rebecca's voice broke through my thoughts, her hand pausing mid-air as she stopped combing my hair. I blinked, disoriented, momentarily forgetting where I was.

One year. It's been a year since I was pulled into this world— transmigrated into a story I could barely stand, of all places. One of my least favorite novels, where I was fated to be the villainess, trapped in a role that never should have been mine.

Hestia Langrave— a clingy, vile, hopelessly romantic young lady who was everything I was not. She was desperate for affection, blinded by her own fantasies, and driven by emotions that often led to her downfall. In every way, she was the opposite of me, a huge contrast to my own rational, guarded nature.

"The Duke has requested tea with you, my lady. What should you wear?" Rebecca asked, her tone laced with the usual formality.

"Anything but lavish will do," I replied, my voice flat. There was no point in dressing up for him.

Duke Varustian— the man I married last week, yet he hadn't once set foot in my chamber. Not that I wanted him to.

I had fought tooth and nail over the years to stop this useless marriage, but my father— a greedy, power-hungry man— would hear none of it. His ambitions had chained me to this loveless union, and no amount of pleading or defiance could set me free.

I had even considered ending it all— just killing myself to escape this wretched life. But what would be the point? I had already died once in my own world, and there was no guarantee that death here would grant me any sort of release. I was trapped, both in this story and in this body, with no way out.

I walked slowly, my eyes drifting over the manicured bushes and blooming flowers that lined the path to the gazebo. Each step felt heavy, weighed down by thoughts I couldn't escape. Duke Varustian had requested tea, of all things, and I couldn't help but wonder why. What was he up to now? It wasn't like him to show any interest in me, let alone invite me for something as quaint as tea.

"Did you change your hairstyle today, Cil?"

"Oh my, did you notice? I was just trying something different. Do you like it?"

"How could I not? You look beautiful in every hairstyle."

I watched them, laughing and chatting as if they were the only ones in the world. Their friendship and heartfelt compliments felt like a punch to the gut. It was all so nauseatingly perfect, a painful reminder of how out of place I felt. I mentally rolled my eyes, unable to hide my disdain for their cringeworthy display of affection.

This was exactly why I despised this story. Duke Varustian, the so-called male lead, showed no effort to hide his cheating habits from his wife, Hestia. It was infuriating how he paraded his infidelities so openly, as if Hestia were nothing more than an insignificant speck in his world. Given the circumstances, it's no wonder she turned to darkness. Even if this was an arranged marriage, Varustian's blatant disregard for her feelings and his utter disrespect were unforgivable. He treated her like she was just a piece of furniture, a mere afterthought in his self-centered life.

"Oh my! Lady Hestia, how long have you been standing there?" Cilia exclaimed, her face flushing with surprise.

"Just long enough to witness the grand finale of your enchanting flirtations," I replied with a genuine smile, savoring the irritation it provoked to Varustian.

What's he angry about? I wasn't wrong though.

"M-My! Lady Hestia, you jest. What flirtation are you referring to? Varustian and I are merely friends, and he is married to you," Cilia stammered, trying to sound innocent.

"Oh, of course, just friends. And I'm sure that 'just friends' thing is what makes him wear that look of pure adoration every time he talks about you. How very... platonic."

"Lady Langrave," Varustian interjected, his tone cold and threatening, a clear warning for me to silence myself. I couldn't help but mentally scoff. This bastard— men like him were exactly why I despised this entire twisted mess.

I sighed. "What is it that you want? Why invite me for tea after you've been ignoring my very existence since the wedding?" I cut straight to the point.

"It was Cilia who extended the invitation. You could at least show some gratitude," Varustian retorted, his frustration evident.

"I'm sorry, Lady Hestia! I only wanted the three of us to have a pleasant chat," Cilia stammered, her voice wavering.

"Oh, so it was lady Cilia's idea?" I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "How charming. I suppose I should thank her for the 'honor' of being invited to a tea that you're so eager to discuss. Next time, maybe just send a polite note instead of making it feel like a royal summon."

Varustian's anger reached its peak. He shot up from his seat, his face flushed with rage, and slammed his hand against the table, making the tea cups rattle. But he didn't stop there. In a fit of spite, he grabbed a teacup and poured the warm tea over my head. Thankfully, it wasn't hot enough to burn, but the shock of it still left me frozen.

"V-Varus!" Cilia gasped, her voice tinged with alarm.

"Talking to a fool like you is a waste of time," Varustian snapped, his voice cold. "Let's go, Cilia. I can't stand this charade any longer."

As they turned to leave, Cilia shot a conflicted glance between Varustian and me, her expression a mix of guilt and helplessness. I watched them walk away, feeling a bitter satisfaction mingled with the hollow sting of their disdain. Their departure left an oppressive silence that lingered, a heavy reminder of their contempt.

Haah... I really do have my mother to thank for this sarcastic mouth of mine. I should have kept my cool, but that bastard knows exactly how to get under my skin. I can't stand people like him— never could, even within the novel. The only thing that kept me reading was the magic system; it was the one aspect of the story that truly captivated me.

I wiped my face as I trudged back to my room, the remnants of the tea still damp on my skin. I loathed being here. In the novel, this very place was a hellhole for Hestia. She had spent her days clinging desperately for any shred of attention from a husband who couldn't care less about her.

Hestia Langrave, daughter of the Count Langrave, was from a family renowned for its talented mages. However, the Langrave County was currently impoverished, which was likely why Hestia— I— had been sold off in marriage to Duke Varustian. He couldn't marry Cilia, despite her being the female lead, because she wasn't noble. She was merely a commoner adopted by a lowly baron, her only notable attribute being her pretty face.

Varustian needed a wife of noble blood to secure his power as the current Duke. And so, I became the pawn in his political game, trapped in a marriage that neither I nor he wanted, in a story that seemed to relish in my suffering.

As far as I remember, the story took a particularly bitter turn. In the end, Cilia and Varustian ended up marrying each other after they had eliminated Hestia for all her supposed schemes. Varustian even spread a rumor that Cilia was royalty from a far-off kingdom just to legitimize their union. It's almost laughable how twisted the plot was— one final, cruel joke in a story that seemed designed to alleviate my misery.

"L-Lady Hestia! What on earth happened!?" Rebecca exclaimed, her eyes wide with concern.

"Sorry, Becca," I said with a wry smile. "Could you help me clean up? Apparently, his attempt at conversation turned into a rather unpleasant new facial treatment for me."

Should I just kill them all to end this wretched novel?

No, calm yourself. For now, my goal is to earn enough money to escape this damned place and sever all ties with my so-called family.