I was reincarnated into the world of the otome game 'Rosalian Chronicle' as Mia Rosalian, the villainess. In the game, she's executed after being condemned—an utterly garbage role. But I know this world's rules, the love interests' weaknesses, everything. If I use my head, I can avoid the bad end.
At first, I planned to live quietly. But wait, as a commoner I couldn't do anything. So I used my past-life knowledge and schemes to take the top spot at the Royal Academy, crush the nobles, and climb
The Villainess's Rise to Power. - The Royal Capital's Evening Party — The Saint and the Prince, and the Butler's Face the Master Does Not Know —
The walls of the royal capital, Alventia, towered against the twilight sky. The alabaster ramparts, standing a good fifteen meters tall, were bathed in the setting sun and dyed a faint rose color—their imposing presence enough to make any onlooker stop in their tracks. The largest city in the Central Kingdom, with a population of four hundred fifty thousand. The political and cultural heart of the continent. And the fateful stage where the condemnation event from that otome game, "Rosalian Chronicle," would unfold.
Remilia Rosalian gazed up at those massive walls from the carriage window. Her lustrous black hair, reaching down to her waist, caught the light streaming through the window and gleamed with a bluish sheen. Her right eye was a deep, blood-like red; her left, a purple that seemed to melt the darkness of night. Those mismatched eyes fixed on the spires of the royal palace visible in the distance.
"……So we've arrived. This is where it all begins."
Her voice was so faint it was nearly drowned out by the carriage wheels. Yet within that small voice lay the resolve she had carried for twenty years—and just a sliver of tension.
Cyan Crawford, seated across from her, quietly lowered his deep emerald eyes. His refined features were framed by dark violet hair swept to one side. He wore a black butler's uniform to perfection, and a small old scar above his left eyebrow faintly caught the sunset light. Adjusting the stack of documents on his lap with white-gloved fingers, he responded in a calm voice.
"My lady. We have arrived in the royal capital, Alventia. We should reach the Rosalian family villa in about half an hour."
Remilia kept her gaze out the window and gave a small nod. Inside the walls, countless rooftops stretched in endless rows, and the great dome of the cathedral was visible in the distance. The spires of the Royal Academy rose beyond that as well.
(In this city, I was destined to be condemned. In the game, at least.)
She gently touched the silver butterfly necklace at her throat. Her grandmother's keepsake. The cold sensation of the silver slightly calmed her racing heart.
This world was based on the otome game "Rosalian Chronicle," which she had been obsessed with in her previous life. But now, thirteen years after her reincarnation at age seven, this world had already begun to diverge significantly from the game's script. Remilia had been destined to be condemned and executed at eighteen as a villainess who rose from commoner origins. But she had used her knowledge from her previous life and her strategic mind to elevate a small barony into the largest margraviate in the northeast, rising to the point where her name echoed across the continent as the "Witch of Rosalian."
The time for the condemnation event had long passed. But she couldn't let her guard down. According to reports from the Shadow Garden—the intelligence network she had built herself—Mia Celestia, the saint candidate and heroine of the original work, was already growing close to Prince Ren at the Royal Academy.
(If things go according to the original, the engagement will be broken off at the New Year's banquet in a year. And then, execution. ……I will never accept such an ending.)
Remilia placed her hand on the window frame and burned the passing scenery of the royal capital into her memory. The cobblestone main avenue, the coming and going of carriages, the shops with their gaudy signs. Commoners walked busily while noble carriages overtook them. Every part of this city would become a battlefield where her fate was at stake.
"Cyan. At tomorrow's soirée, do not leave my side under any circumstances."
Remilia gave the order quietly, still looking out the window.
"Understood. I will not leave your side for even a moment, my lady."
Cyan responded with the perfect butler's smile. There was not a single cloud in his voice—only reverence. But his inner thoughts were another matter.
(Those foolish men who will approach my lady at that soirée. Those noble brats who will look at her with appraising eyes. I want to tear each and every one of their faces apart with these hands.)
Deep within Cyan's heart, dark emotions swirled. His absolute loyalty to Remilia. It was the very reason for his existence, and at the same time, the source of his fierce jealousy and murderous intent toward all others who approached her. He buried it deep, deep beneath his perfect smile.
The carriage traveled down the main avenue that cut through the center of the royal capital, heading toward the Rosalian family villa in a corner of the noble district.
—The following evening.
The grand hall of the royal palace was illuminated by countless magical lamps, filled with a brightness like daytime. The high ceiling was adorned with gold leaf, and portraits of successive kings lined the walls. In the center of the hall, noble ladies in dresses of every color gathered, surrounded by noble sons with sword belts at their waists.
The welcome soirée on the eve of the Royal Academy's entrance ceremony. A glorious occasion where young people permitted to enter the continent's foremost educational institution were invited to the royal palace. Every year, the academy held examinations to determine the top student, and whoever took first place gained a voice in noble society. Therefore, this soirée was not merely a social occasion—it was the first battlefield of the fierce competition that began even before enrollment.
The moment the doors of the grand hall opened and Remilia appeared, the atmosphere shifted.
Clad in a crimson dress, her black hair pinned up high, her figure stood out brilliantly even amidst this glittering soirée. Her right eye was a deep, blood-like red; her left, a purple that melted the darkness of night. Those heterochromatic eyes swept across the hall. With each step she took, the nobles around her fell silent and turned their gazes toward her.
"……That's the Witch of Rosalian."
"A commoner upstart, and a margrave no less. I wonder what tricks she used."
Whispers meant to be overheard came from all directions. Remilia let them pass like the sound of wind. If anything, reactions of that level were within her expectations. She straightened her back and proceeded to the center of the hall, wearing a cold smile.
Behind her, Cyan walked quietly. One step back, he observed the gazes gathering around Remilia with an expressionless face.
(Do not look at my lady. Do not let your filthy eyes fall upon her.)
His inner thoughts were already filled with murderous intent. But outwardly, he maintained the perfect butler's face.
As Remilia reached the center of the hall, a single girl appeared before her, as if parting the crowd.
Fluffy, pinkish curled hair. Clear, water-blue eyes. A lovely beauty who would make one in a hundred turn around. A sweet girl who formed a dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. She wore the ceremonial dress of a saint candidate, based in white and pale pink, and her figure seemed to shine as if blessed by the goddess of light, Celestia.
Mia Celestia. A saint candidate of commoner origin dispatched from the Holy Kingdom of Celestia, and the heroine of the original "Rosalian Chronicle." Prince Ren's canonical route partner. And the greatest romantic rival who would drive Remilia toward condemnation.
"My, so you are Lady Remilia? I have heard so much about you."
Mia clasped her hands in front of her chest and approached Remilia with an innocent smile. Her voice was lovely, like tinkling bells, and the noble sons around her couldn't help but smile.
"I am Mia Celestia, come from the Holy Kingdom of Celestia. We shall be attending the Royal Academy together from now on. I do hope we get along."
She bowed deeply. Her manner was that of someone trained as a saint candidate—flawless in every respect.
Remilia looked directly at that smile.
(This woman. On the surface, a perfect saint. But her eyes aren't smiling.)
Deep within Mia's water-blue eyes, a sharp light flashed for an instant. It was fierce hostility and jealousy toward Remilia's beauty and brilliance. It lasted only a moment, but Remilia's eyes did not miss it.
(I've seen that face countless times in the game from my previous life. Mia Celestia. On the surface a saint, in truth a scheming opportunist. A woman who has decided Prince Ren is her ticket to rising in life, and will use any means necessary.)
Remilia slowly curved her lips. A cold smile. Her right eye caught the light of the magical lamps and faintly glowed red.
"My, how courteous of you. I am Remilia Rosalian. Mistress of the Rosalian Margraviate. Why, Lady Mia, rumors of you as a saint candidate have reached even the northeastern frontier."
Remilia responded with elegance to match Mia's words. A quiet tension ran between them.
Mia did not let her smile falter for even a moment. But inside, she was clicking her tongue.
(Huh? What's with this girl. She's a commoner upstart, and she's talking to me, a saint candidate, like we're equals. A terrifyingly clever woman. If someone like her comes to the academy, my plans will be ruined.)
Mia perfectly concealed her inner irritation and, lowering her voice, spoke to the noble sons around her.
"……Say, did you know? Lady Remilia was originally a commoner, I hear. And yet she carries herself so magnificently—how wonderful. ……Ah, but it seems everyone is calling her the Witch of the Commoner Upstart, though I don't believe it. After all, such rumors must be completely baseless, mustn't they?"
With a tone as if she were defending Remilia, she nevertheless planted the words "Witch of the Commoner Upstart" firmly in the ears of the surrounding noble sons. It was a cunning method.
The noble sons began whispering amongst themselves.
"A commoner upstart, at this soirée? There's a limit to not knowing one's place."
"But I hear she's someone of real ability—enough to be called the Witch of Rosalian. Maybe we shouldn't cross her?"
Remilia quietly let the whispers pass. If anything, this situation was exactly what she had calculated.
(I won't bother denying the rumors. The more you deny them, the stronger they become. Instead, by behaving with dignity, I'll draw the attention of the lower nobles. Those children grew up oppressed by the higher nobility. Seeing a commoner upstart like me weather the harassment of the high nobles should resonate with them.)
Remilia's prediction proved correct almost immediately. In a corner of the hall, several sons and daughters of lower nobles were staring intently at Remilia. In their eyes dwelled curiosity and a faint hope.
That was when it happened.
The doors of the grand hall swung open wide once again.
A herald's voice rang out.
"His Highness Prince Ren Alventia, the First Prince, arrives!"
The air in the hall instantly grew taut. Every gaze turned toward the doors.
What appeared was a young man with golden hair that seemed to gather the light of the sun. Clear, sky-blue eyes. A perfect beauty who made everyone turn to look. A deep dimple formed on his right cheek when he smiled. A small silver earring on his left ear—his mother the queen's keepsake. His height was one hundred eighty-five centimeters. His royal ceremonial dress, based in white and gold, made him appear all the more divine.
Ren Alventia. First Prince of the Central Kingdom of Alventia. The canonical capture target of the original "Rosalian Chronicle," and the original hero.
But Remilia knew. The Prince Ren of this world had become something utterly unlike the refreshing, devoted prince of the original.
The moment Ren entered the grand hall, he looked straight at Remilia—and only Remilia.
The instant his blue eyes caught sight of her, an abnormal heat kindled within them.
The nobles around him gasped. Who was Prince Ren looking at? Everyone realized that the object of his gaze was the commoner-born margrave's daughter.
Ren slowly began walking toward Remilia. The crowd naturally parted to make way
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