The first time Miyabi played that game, her only thought about the villainess had been: What a brainless, jealous, insipid girl.
So powerful, yet it served her nothing at all. She might as well have traded some of that mana for a few IQ points. Miyabi couldn’t understand her fixation—always shouting at the heroine with insults like “You’re beneath me,” “Weak,” “Worthless,” “Know your place!” And even at the end, when she inevitably failed, there was no remorse. She only grew more hysterical, her madness escalating with cries of “Why can’t it be me?” “Why can’t I have what you have?” “Why is your fate so good?”
At the time, Miyabi had simply dismissed her as a lunatic.
Now, though… now she felt she understood where the girl had come from.
Let’s slow down and explain properly.
The game Miyabi had been playing was an otome game—quite a generic one at that. It had nothing particularly memorable about it, nothing that would linger in one’s mind. Frankly, it barely cleared the bar of “decent.” She had downloaded it purely by accident after clicking on an advertisement while using another app.
It was the sort of game one played to kill time—on the train, in the bathroom, or when pretending to pay attention during a conversation. Plain. Serviceable. Forgettable.
The only twist—if it could even be called that—was its value system. In this world, power came before nobility. The stronger you were, the more respect you commanded.
The sole exception was the heroine.
Andrea.
She wasn’t exceptionally weak—just average. Yet, she somehow became surrounded by the most powerful individuals in the game, forming bonds with them one after another. That contrast was striking, if nothing else.
But that was getting ahead of things.
Let’s start from the beginning.
The world revolved around mana. Andrea was the daughter of Baron Mitch, born late in her parents’ marriage to a frail mother. That fragility was often cited as the reason for Andrea’s own delicate health. Despite this, she was beautiful and unbearably cute—adored by her parents, cherished by servants, and beloved by her peers.
The setting was predictable: an elite academy where the highest nobility and the most talented youths gathered to hone their abilities. There, Andrea encountered the capture targets one by one. They offered her encouragement, moral support, and affection, drawn to her gentle personality and unbothered by her lack of raw power.
The game featured locked routes that could only be accessed under specific conditions. There was even a harem ending.
As for villains—those varied depending on which route the player pursued. Still, some appeared repeatedly.
Meirin was one of them.
Her background was far less detailed than that of the heroine or the capture targets—partly because Miyabi hadn’t finished the game yet, and partly because the game itself didn’t care to elaborate. What Miyabi did know was this:
Meirin was the adopted daughter of Duke Strassget. She wielded both wind and fire mana and did so with exceptional talent. With her status and power, she was widely considered the strongest candidate to become the crown prince’s fiancée.
In fact, she was the best among them all.
In Crown Prince Lutterghen Rothingdam’s route, Meirin looked down on Andrea, bullying her for associating with high nobility despite her inferior abilities.
In Alder Mattking’s route—the prime minister’s son—she regarded Andrea as entirely unworthy of nobility and pressured her relentlessly.
The same hostility appeared in Ilais Strassget’s route—Meirin’s adoptive stepbrother.
She surfaced in several other routes as well and was eventually revealed to be the central force behind much of Andrea’s suffering.
Her endings varied. Sometimes she was imprisoned. Sometimes exiled.
Sometimes… executed.
Back then, Miyabi hadn’t thought much of it. After all, Meirin had been actively trying to harm—or even kill—the heroine.
Now, however, as Miyabi gently touched those small hands, memories flooded her mind.
And everything became painfully clear.
This wasn’t a game anymore.
Of course there had been a reason behind the villainess’s madness.
And there was.
Meirin’s life had been bleak—if not outright dark.
She had grown up under the shadow of an extremely demanding mother. From a young age, she had been told repeatedly that she had to be the best—or she would be thrown away. Her biological father had already abandoned her, a fact her mother never failed to remind her of. The fear that her mother might abandon her too was ever-present.
If that happened, what would become of her?
So Meirin worked. Relentlessly.
Her mother later remarried Duke Strassget, who adopted Meirin and gave her his name. Instead of relief, the pressure only intensified. She now carried the Strassget name—failure was no longer an option.
Then another child was adopted.
If Meirin was talented, that child was a genius.
Her stepbrother was quickly named heir, while she was quietly pushed aside. And yet, her adoptive father demanded even more from her, pressing her toward the position of crown princess. Praise was scarce. Expectations were endless. Over time, Meirin became cold, distant, and difficult to approach.
Then she met Andrea.
Weak. Low-ranking. Yet showered with affection, kindness, and respect—more than Meirin had ever received in her life.
That alone would have been unbearable.
But there was more.
Andrea’s family name was Mitch.
Baron Mitch—the man who had abandoned Meirin yet cherished this other child—was none other than Andrea’s father.
Her mother had never hidden the truth.
At that point, something inside Meirin snapped.
By attacking her half-sister again and again, Meirin wasn’t truly fighting Andrea.
She was fighting the image of an unloving father.
How satisfying would it be to hurt his precious child? What expression would cross his face if she succeeded?
Yes—Miyabi could understand where the villainess had come from.
The girl who was stronger, higher in status, more talented—yet always lost to her half-sister.
Maddening.
Understanding didn’t mean condoning, of course.
Baron Mitch was the one who abandoned her—so why torment his daughter instead of confronting him? Her mother was the one who poisoned her mind with threats of abandonment—why not silence her? Duke Strassget was the one suffocating her with expectations—why cling to his name at all?
With Meirin’s abilities, walking away would not have been impossible.
Andrea had done nothing to deserve her hatred. The anger was misplaced and deeply unfair.
But Meirin had been a teenager.
And like many teenagers, when she couldn’t strike at the true source of her misery, she found a substitute.
Andrea had become her punching bag.
Miyabi couldn’t agree with Meirin’s actions—but now she understood what the game had never bothered to explain. At the very least, she knew there had been far more to this villainess than a jealous, brainless girl.
That her own death had led her into this game’s world was still… unbelievable.
Even now, she struggled to accept it.
Did Miyabi transmigrate into the villainess, you ask?
Wouldn’t that have been wonderful?
Unfortunately, the answer was a resounding no.
It was far worse.
She had transmigrated into the wretched mother—Yzaide.
And lying before her were two peacefully sleeping babies.
