The Evil Ladies Form An Alliance

CHAPTER 7: In The Body Of TheVillianess

It was a bright, sunlit morning, the kind where the world outside seemed to awaken with an inviting warmth. A maid, clad in a neat uniform, moved gracefully across the room, pushing a gleaming serving trolley laden with treats. The trolley was adorned with freshly baked bread, its golden crust tempting with the promise of warmth; creamy butter softened just enough to melt on contact, a steaming pot of tea, its delicate fragrance filling the air, and a bowl of velvety soup, steam rising in wisps that swirled like smoke.

The maid approached the door with quiet steps, her hands steady as she gently turned the handle, her soft presence blending seamlessly with the morning light. She entered the room and, with a swift motion, parted the white silk curtains, their fabric shimmering like soft clouds in the sunlight.

The room, bathed in the golden glow of the morning, seemed to sigh with contentment as the maid drew open the casement window. The fresh air poured in like a gentle caress, the soft breeze teasing the edges of the curtains and carrying the scent of the outside world—lush greenery, blooming flowers, and the clean scent of earth after the night. The sun’s rays, filtered through the sparkling glass of the grand arch window, cast a warm, almost ethereal glow over everything, inviting a sense of peace and calm into the room.

The lady she served stirred in her slumber, unaware of the tender care surrounding her as the room came alive with the sounds of a new day.

"My lady, it's time to wake up."

A soft breath escaped her lips as the woman slowly stirred from her slumber, her crystal turquoise eyes flickering open. At first, they remained heavy, as if reluctant to leave the world of dreams, but soon they widened, blinking against the morning light. She sat up in bed, her long platinum-blonde hair spilling around her shoulders in a tangled cascade, wild and untamed from the night’s rest.

Before her, a tall mirror reflected her disheveled form, and she paused for a moment, simply gazing at her own image. The sight that met her eyes was both strange and familiar—a face like something born of moonlight, with skin as fair and smooth as polished pearls. Her cheeks were naturally kissed with a delicate pink hue, and her lips, full and soft, curled into a subtle, almost ethereal shade of rose. She was a vision of otherworldly beauty, her features delicate and flawless like a fairy just awakening from a flower's bloom.

Despite the beauty of her new form, a lingering sense of disconnection gnawed at her. No matter how many times she looked into the mirror, the woman staring back at her felt both like a stranger and a reflection of something she had once known. Her gaze lingered, tracing the contours of the face. She now wore a face that was so unlike the one she had once known.

In her previous life, she had been an average woman, nothing special. Her hair, a dark, unremarkable brown, had hung in plain, shoulder-length strands around her face. She had worn large glasses to correct her poor eyesight, hiding behind them, feeling invisible in a world full of more glamorous figures.

Now, gazing at the flawless reflection in front of her, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the irony. She had been reincarnated into the body of a character she had once despised, someone she had never wanted to become. The character, in a story she had never thought would touch her own life, had been everything she had tried to avoid; beautiful, perfect, and untouchable. And now, that was who she was.

It was as if the universe had played a cruel game on her, placing her in a role she had loathed, in a body she had once wished to escape. Yet here she was, in this unfamiliar skin, feeling the brush of her past self's memories tug at the edges of her mind, reminding her of the life she had left behind.

"My lady, I’ve brought your breakfast," Emma said cheerfully, her voice as warm as the morning sun. She placed the tray on the bedside table, her eyes sparkling with a sense of duty and devotion. "May I brush your hair first?"

The lady smiled, her lips curving softly in response. "Thank you, Emma," she replied, her voice gentle and grateful.

With grace, she slid out of bed, her bare feet brushing the cool floor as she moved toward the chair in front of her grand vanity mirror. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on her delicate features. As she sat, Emma moved behind her, taking the lady’s lush, platinum-blonde hair in her hands. The maid’s touch was skilled and tender, each stroke of the brush smoothing the tangled strands, bringing out the hair’s natural shine, making it seem like a waterfall of silk.

As Emma worked, her voice filled the room with excitement. "My lady, have you heard the latest news? The Marquess's troops are returning to the estate tomorrow."

At the mention of his name, the lady’s heart fluttered, a wave of anticipation washing over her. She instinctively gripped her hands together, her fingers trembling slightly, and bit her lip to suppress the smile threatening to form. Joy surged through her, the news sending a rush of emotions through her chest—excitement, happiness, and something deeper.

Emma, sensing the change, continued her voice light with gossip. "The Marquess declined the emperor's offer of a hero’s welcome. Can you imagine? He said he hates too much attention. He’d rather come home quietly and sleep in his bed. No fanfare, no crowds—just a peaceful return."

A soft laugh escaped the lady’s lips at the thought of the Marquess’s reluctance to any kind of spectacle. She couldn’t help but find it endearing. Emma paused, surprised by the sound of her lady’s laughter, but soon, a smile tugged at her lips as she saw the genuine joy on her mistress’s face.

"My lady," Emma said with renewed enthusiasm, her tone brimming with confidence, "the dresses you ordered will be arriving soon. I’ll ensure that you have the most stunning vision when you finally meet the Marquess. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you."

The lady’s reflection in the mirror caught her attention, and for a moment, she simply gazed at herself. Her features, soft and glowing, seemed to shine in the morning light. She smiled—just a little, but enough to show the quiet confidence she carried within her.

"Thank you, Emma," she said, her voice warm with gratitude and an unspoken promise. "I’m looking forward to your work, as always."

Emma’s eyes sparkled with determination. "Leave it to me, my lady," she said, her smile assured and full of pride.

"Emma, I want to eat on the balcony," the lady said softly, her voice light with a quiet request. She glanced toward the wide glass doors, her eyes reflecting the morning light. "The sun is so delightful, and the breeze—it feels so fresh. It would be lovely to enjoy my breakfast there."

"Of course, my lady," Emma replied with a bright smile, her voice laced with eagerness to fulfill her mistress’s wish.

With practiced care, Emma moved the tray of breakfast outside onto the balcony, the soft clink of the china echoing faintly in the stillness. The lady followed, her movements graceful, like a flower blooming in the warmth of the sun. She sat at the small table, the white linen tablecloth lightly fluttering in the breeze, and reached for the freshly baked bread. Its golden crust cracked as she tore a piece, filling it generously with soft butter, which melted immediately under the warmth of the bread, releasing a sweet, rich aroma that seemed to mingle with the crisp morning air.

Emma stood beside her, pouring fragrant tea into a delicate cup, the steam rising in gentle swirls, carrying with it the comforting scent of her morning tea. The surrounding air was thick with intoxicating smells, the buttery warmth of the bread, the floral fragrance of the tea, and the fresh, earthy scent of the outdoors.

For a moment, it all felt surreal—a peaceful morning that seemed too perfect to be true. The lady paused, her gaze drifting across the serene scene, before turning her eyes to Emma. She saw the maid’s face, bright and full of delight, a stark contrast to the timid, fearful girl she had once been. The young woman had once hidden behind the quiet facade of the game’s storyline, bruised and broken beneath the weight of her position. Now, as the lady observed Emma, it felt like a world away from the dark memories of her past.

In this new life, she occupied the body of Valerie Hawthorne, the villainous fiancée, the character she had once despised. The woman who had tormented the love interests in the story, the one who had caused heartbreak and strife. Valerie Hawthorne, a name that now seemed like a cruel irony.

Her new body, delicate and beautiful, was bound to a reputation for cruelty and manipulation, yet at this moment, as she sat in the warmth of the sun, everything felt different. The guilt, the pain, and the memories of her past life, all collided in a strange mix of disbelief and longing. She had never asked for this life, but it had been thrust upon her all the same.

As she reached for her tea, her fingers brushed the delicate porcelain, and for the briefest moment, she wondered what it would be like to live without the shadow of her former identity, without the weight of a villain’s name hanging over her. But the thought quickly faded as she met Emma’s eyes again, eyes that held no fear anymore, only loyalty and warmth. The dichotomy between her past and present life felt sharper than ever, but in this peaceful moment, she could almost forget the woman she once was.