I Reincarnated as My Favorite Villainess Saint (Magic Marza), So I’ll Use Game Knowledge to Smash Every Doom Flag! - Chapter 2

The moment I stepped inside, the air froze.

The murmurs receded like a retreating wave. The light, orchestral melody that had been playing just moments ago now sounded unnervingly distant.

Under the countless lights cascading from the chandeliers, every gaze in the hall skewered me like a target.

Curiosity, scorn, fear and just the faintest hint of pity. My skin prickled under the weight of those mixed stares.

(Ugh, I knew I was hated, but this is worse than I imagined.)

While my spine chilled, the surface-level me remained perfectly composed. Back straight, fan elegantly unfurled, I glided through the hall with the poise of a flawless noblewoman. The disconnect between my inner turmoil and Lydia’s outward actions made me feel like I was remotely piloting a high-performance avatar.

I’d seen this concentrated barrage of stares countless times in the game’s event scenes. But experiencing it firsthand? The pressure was on another level. My heart ached. I wanted to turn on my heel right now and flee back to that dimly lit waiting room.

But that wasn’t an option. The stage for my ruin had already risen.

I fixed my gaze straight ahead, toward the far end of the hall. There they stood.

At the center of the most dazzling group was a single young man golden hair like gathered sunlight, eyes like trapped fragments of the sky. A face so perfect, it could only have been crafted by the gods themselves.

My fiancé, Crown Prince Alphonse.

Beside him stood the day’s true heroine, the other saintess. With her soft chestnut hair and an endearing smile that begged protection, she was the game’s original protagonist.

Surrounding the prince were the other capture targets, all glaring at me with identical hostility.

This was the worst possible lineup. It was like the judges and jury of my impending trial had already assembled.

Prince Alphonse noticed me. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, not even bothering to hide the icy contempt in his gaze as if he were looking at something filthy.

(That empty-headed prince with a national-treasure face!)

Anger surged through me for a split second, but no, I couldn’t react. If I showed hostility here, it would only give them more reason to condemn me.

I reforged Lydia’s mask. With a graceful, emotionless bow, I greeted him. The prince scoffed and turned his face away, a masterclass in cold indifference. Not exactly how one should treat their fiancée.

Good. This was fine. Their dismissal of me was my chance to act.

I had one goal: snap the first flag of ruin in half.

I scanned the room for my target. He wouldn’t be among the prince’s entourage his current state of mind wouldn’t allow him to stand at the center of that circle.

There.

In a corner of the hall, as if fleeing the glittering clamor, a lone young man leaned against the wall.

Claude von Ansbach, the duke’s heir. His near-silver platinum blond hair was lazily swept back, and he stared vacantly at the liquid in his glass. His beautiful face was shadowed by deep despair and agitation.

He was one of the prince’s closest aides and the first person Lydia had condemned. The reason? To break the incurable curse afflicting his younger sister, he had dabbled in forbidden magic storage.

In the game, Lydia had denounced him without a second thought, citing law and justice. That had been the first spark that ignited the prince’s wrath.

Hiding my lips behind my fan, I stepped toward him quietly.

The murmurs resumed as people noticed my movement.

“Look, Lady Lydia is—”
“Heading toward Lord Ansbach?”
“What does she intend…?”

The whispers threatened to dull my resolve. Stop it. My knees were already wobbling from nerves.

Claude noticed my approach and looked up. His gray eyes widened in shock understandable, since Lydia had never so much as spoken to him properly before.

“Saintess Lydia…”

His voice was stiff with wariness. I could see the tension in his fingers as they gripped his glass.

“Lord Ansbach. Might I have a moment?”

I kept my tone cool, just loud enough to be heard but not enough to carry. The voice of a ruthless villainess.

“…What business could you possibly have with me?”

“Just a small matter.”

I took a step closer. Claude’s shoulders flinched as if he were a frog caught in a snake’s gaze.

(Don’t look so terrified…)

Suppressing my inner cowardice, I delivered the decisive line in a voice only he could hear.

“It’s about your sister.”

His eyes flew open to their limits. The color drained from his face shock, disbelief, terror. I could practically see the storm raging inside him.

The curse on his sister was supposed to be Ansbach’s best-kept secret. How did I know? That question had to be consuming him right now.

“…What are—”

“I may be able to help.”

Cutting him off, I pressed on. This was a gamble. If he rejected me here, everything would end before it even began. My plan to avoid ruin would collapse at the first step.

Claude opened his mouth, then closed it wordlessly. Distrust toward Lydia warred with the faint hope of saving his sister.

He needed one last push.

I took a step back and languidly reopened my fan as if nothing had happened, as if I were nothing but grace itself.

“Once tonight’s soirée concludes, I shall pay a visit to your estate.”

“What!?”

“What do you take me for? I am the saintess. Extending a hand to those who suffer is my duty.”

I delivered the line without hesitation words the game’s Lydia would never say. My face burned. Even as I spoke, I knew how outrageous this sounded.

I didn’t wait for a reply. Turning my back on the stunned Claude, I strode back into the hall’s clamor.

His dumbfounded stare and the nobles’ suspicious glances stabbed into my back.

(I did it! The first step is taken.! But the way I strong-armed that promise was peak villainess move!?)

Hiding my inner screaming behind a flawless poker face, I scanned the room for my next target.

My ruinous fate hadn’t changed yet.

The battle had only just begun.