I Raised the Villain's Daughter Too Well-Chapter 31: Didn’t Know! -

Unfortunately, Firnea couldn’t live a simple Academy life, merely attending classes.

She had to pay the price for being born the heiress of the Seriratus family.

"So, who’s next?"

"The Luzan family and the Paeden family have requested an audience with you."

"...Luzan? Can’t we just cut them off? They’re just a mining family with a single, insignificant mine, right?"

"No, we can’t. And calling a family that owns a gold mine capable of filling three carriages with gold every year merely a mining family doesn’t seem to be a very accurate description. This is the sixth time you’ve tried to nitpick; I’d appreciate it if you could let it go."

"Aaaargh..."

In front of the dressing room.

While Firnea was changing clothes, she was grumbling and complaining incessantly as I sorted through the stack of over fifty letters.

All of them had been delivered to Firnea’s dormitory yesterday.

If this much attention had already gathered in just one day, it was safe to assume that a peaceful Academy life was out of the question.

By the time she graduated, she would have to host and attend at least a thousand tea parties.

The crown of Seriratus was far heavier than it appeared.

"...Hmm."

I meticulously read through each letter.

Even if they contained similar content, the nuances could change depending on how it was written.

Greetings, well-wishes, introductions, objectives—I evaluated each aspect to distinguish ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) those worth meeting from those who were not.

We still didn’t know who the enemy was.

Even now, that person could be somewhere out there, targeting Firnea.

Perhaps they were even among these letters.

I couldn’t afford to make a careless decision about a single meeting.

"Um, Butler Virdem?"

"...Just Virdem is fine. How can I help you?"

While I was engrossed in sorting the letters, one of the two young ladies who had been standing outside the dressing room with me spoke up.

Prejeum Lariel.

Her family owned the Prejeum River, which stretched across the Empire.

Naturally, it was a powerful family. She could easily form a massive faction of her own. It was hard to understand why she had chosen to align herself with Firnea.

"You seem to be quite close with Lady Firnea?"

"That’s a rather strong way to put it. Having been together for many years, I’ve simply become a bit too familiar. It’s something I should correct."

"I-I wasn’t criticizing you, truly."

...Truly?

Did I hear that right? I looked at her more closely.

Her hair was a gleaming gold, as if molten gold had been poured over it, styled in what was called a roll bun.

Her makeup was excessively glittery, and though the sun wasn’t particularly hot, she was holding a black parasol.

Hmm.

"Are you, by any chance, a graduate of the Travitieu Garden?"

"Oh? How did you know, truly?"

"..."

Travitieu Garden.

A prestigious academy reserved exclusively for the noblest bloodlines.

It was akin to an elite institution that combined kindergarten, elementary school, and middle school in one.

Despite being an esteemed institution, Firnea had never attended it, for good reason.

The problem was that the Garden, having maintained its position for centuries, placed excessive importance on tradition.

There was a saying: If you dropped a noble from the Garden into the Empire a hundred years ago, no one would notice anything out of place.

The graduates of the Garden took this mockery as a compliment, proudly believing they were upholding tradition.

Everything about them—their fashion, speech, even their laughter—was straight out of a century ago.

And the problem was that no one could say anything to them.

As I mentioned, only those of the noblest bloodlines could enter the Garden. No matter what they did, it was hard to criticize them openly.

Personally, I referred to it as the otherworldly version of Cheonghak-dong.

"You carry yourself with such refined elegance that it was hard not to notice."

"Oh~ Hohohoho! You certainly know a thing or two, truly!"

Told you.

Lariel, her mood visibly lifted, moved a little closer and asked,

"So, since you are so favored... have you served Lady Firnea for a long time?"

"Yes. It’s been almost nine years now."

"Oh, I knew it...! I have a favor to ask of you, truly!"

"What is it?"

"Well, could you tell me... what Lady Firnea likes?"

"?"

I gave her a puzzled look, not quite understanding her intentions.

Her eyes sparkled as she began to recount her story.

"It happened last night. I saw Lady Firnea coming to the girls’ dormitory, and in my foolishness, I challenged her to a duel."

...How did this lady survive?

"It wasn’t a duel with magic or swords but with wit and logic, a battle of knowledge. Not to brag, but I was the top student in the Garden, so I was confident. But... I couldn’t beat her in a single category. Not even one."

"I see. And so...?"

"It was the first time in my life I’d met someone so brilliant. I reflected on my past ignorance, realizing how small my world had been, and vowed to devote my life to serving Lady Firnea as her most loyal servant, truly..."

The conclusion was utterly deranged. She was insane.

With eyes full of romantic longing, Lariel stared off into the distance before suddenly turning to look at me.

"I’ll be honest, truly. I want to win Lady Firnea’s favor. What kind of gift would she like?"

"Hmm..."

There wasn’t anything particularly threatening about it.

Whatever gift she chose, I would inspect it thoroughly anyway.

People from the Garden were notorious for being easily deceived, often falling prey to simple cons.

On the contrary, Lariel earning Firnea’s trust would be beneficial for both sides.

I thought for a moment, trying to recall what Firnea had liked the most.

"Ah."

"What is it, truly?"

"She’s particularly fond of pendants. She already has one she likes, so if you gifted her some other jewelry, she’d probably appreciate it."

"R-really? Jewelry, jewelry... Where’s the place that uses the purest gemstones..."

While Lariel was lost in thought, Firnea stepped out of the dressing room.

Rather than her usual dress, she was wearing more practical, comfortable attire.

Firnea examined herself with a satisfied expression, stretching out her arms and turning around.

"At least I can take off the dress. It was uncomfortable."

"Aah...! Lady Firnea is beautiful no matter what she wears, truly...!" freeweɓnovel.cѳm

"Thank you. Lead the way, Virdem."

"Understood."

I glanced back. Although the intensity varied, most of the young ladies following Firnea genuinely seemed to admire her.

At this rate, Firnea’s faction was less like a political faction and more like a fan club.

Not that it mattered as long as they remained loyal.

"So, what should I watch out for this time?"

"Yes, both families strangely support the princess."

"Weirdos. Why support a dead puppet?"

"I’m not sure. Just be cautious about any mentions of the crown prince..."

We were passing by the Academy’s training ground, exchanging necessary information—

"—Aaaaaargh!!!"

A scream of pure agony echoed from a nearby building.

"My lady."

"I know."

Firnea quickly assessed the situation.

She closed her eyes and remained still for exactly ten seconds.

"...It’s over."

Nothing had changed. At least, that’s how it appeared.

But from this moment forward—everything within a 20-meter radius fell under Firnea’s control.

Anyone who entered that space, regardless of who they were, could be crushed to death instantly.

It was the bare minimum measure to ensure safety.

Taking a moment to breathe, I asked her for instructions.

"Should we leave?"

"No, let’s go check it out. It doesn’t seem like anything serious."

"Understood."

Indeed, after the initial scream, it was drowned out by the sound of murmuring voices.

"...! ...!"

"...! !!"

It sounded like people were shouting and fighting.

It was likely a conflict between cadets.

And conflicts between cadets in the Academy weren’t simple one-off fights.

Since everyone was aware they represented their families, they usually tried to resolve things amicably unless things got truly out of hand.

If a conflict did break out, it wasn’t just a fight between two individuals—it often became a power struggle involving the nobles associated with them.

If that were the case, it was best to gather information in advance.

Just in case, I placed my hand on the hilt of my sword and stepped ahead of Firnea.

It might not matter much since Firnea had already taken control of the space, but... better to do something than nothing.

We stepped into the building, which seemed to be used for sparring—

"How did a witch get into the Academy!!"

...A familiar sound echoed through the hall.

****

"A witch?"

"...A witch, they said?"

"A witch? What are they talking about, truly?"

Naturally, aside from me, Firnea and the girls from her faction tilted their heads in confusion, not understanding the context.

Pushing through the crowd of murmuring people (which naturally parted to let Firnea pass), we reached the sparring area—

"Ugh... Ughhh..."

A male cadet clutching his twisted wrist in pain.

"Think you can get away?!"

"How dare you set foot here, you filthy witch!"

"..."

And, of course... Arin was there.

Arin stood there with a blank expression, holding a wooden sword.

The injured cadet lay on the ground, and the surrounding cadets jeered and shouted at Arin, spewing insults.

...Well, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

"Virdem, that girl—"

"Oh, yes. That’s Arin. She was the one who took the Special Talent Exam with me. I received some help from her last time."

"Arin, huh."

"Yes. Arin. She’s a commoner, so she has no surname."

"...You seem close?"

"Pardon?"

"Mm, it’s nothing."

"It’s not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up with some words."

Indeed, during the Special Talent Exam, Arin had helped me.

This time, it was my turn to return the favor.

I took a step forward.

"Hold on."

"...Ugh."

I stopped in my tracks.

It was Firnea’s command. Regardless of the reason, whether she had one or not, I would obey without question.

But—this time was different.

I clutched my shoulder and sank to the ground.

"Ack, V-Virdem!"

Firnea dropped her fan in a panic and rushed toward me, clearly at a loss for what to do.

"S-Sorry! I... I didn’t mean to. Why did I... Why did I do that?"

"...I’m fine. It’s nothing."

The Scar of Obedience etched into my shoulder had reacted to the command.

It was the first time it had ever happened.

Firnea had never once given me a command in a way that truly required my obedience.

Not until today.

"...Bandages, bring me bandages!"

"Y-Yes!"

Before Lariel, who had received Firnea’s order, could rush off, I managed to grab her arm.

"It’s really nothing. I’m not even bleeding."

"I... I really didn’t mean it..."

"My lady."

I gently held Firnea’s shoulder.

"Everyone is watching."

Thankfully, everyone was more focused on Arin being branded as a witch, so none of the other girls in Firnea’s faction seemed to have noticed what just happened.

The young ladies were looking at us with slightly puzzled expressions, unable to comprehend the situation.

"You must calm down. I’m perfectly fine."

"...R-Right..."

Firnea trembled slightly but gradually managed to compose herself.

...Good.

But leaving Firnea alone in this state could lead to unintended consequences.

For now, I had no choice but to stay by her side and watch the situation with Arin unfold.

"If no one’s going to step up, then I will!"

"..."

Things were escalating quickly.

One of the cadets, likely from the faction of the injured boy, drew a weapon.

Arin was still standing there with a dazed look on her face, but if they actually attacked, she would definitely retaliate.

This wasn’t good.

Arin, a commoner without any backing, would take the full brunt of the blame.

And at that moment—

"Finally... You’re here... Ahem, ahem!!"

Someone cleared their throat loudly—

"Hold it riiiiiiiight there!!!!"

Walking forward with an air of excessive confidence—

With a grin that seemed out of place and frankly unsettling—

A cadet strode in, exuding a bizarre sense of self-assurance.

It was a familiar face.

"This person... I mean, no, that’s not it. This person is not a witch! I can vouch for her!"

...For some reason, her hair was now dyed a vivid green.

The Hero, Armeria.