Chapter 4: Senet windsor (3)

Since transmigrating, the past few days had been truly harsh.

My family had somehow come to believe—in a rather difficult-to-understand way—that I, having made a grave mistake at the Saluut Ducal House, had cut my hair out of despair.

Even so, I still couldn’t understand this family.

I didn’t know if they had always been like this, but everyone was strangely kind.

In the mornings, a maid would come to close the curtains, blocking out the sunlight, then openly encourage me, saying, “The sun hasn’t risen yet, so please sleep soundly,” as if I could sleep as much as I wanted.

Poetry collections and novels I had never read were steadily increasing on the bookshelf, and warm milk, stirred twice with honey, was placed by my bedside.

Meat was always served at meals, along with four kinds of fruit.

Apples were always peeled and beautifully sliced onto a plate, and besides those, colorful, sweet fruits were also arranged in bite-sized pieces.

My seat was still on my father’s lap, who sat at the head of the table.

The funny thing was that no one found fault with it; instead, the mealtime proceeded naturally, as if it were a familiar sight.

On the contrary, if I tried to get off my father’s lap and sit elsewhere, they would not only look at me strangely, but my mother would openly give me a look, preventing me from leaving the head seat.

Furthermore, since becoming Sennet, I had never eaten food by myself at the dining table.

In the first place, there were no dining utensils provided for me.

My father usually cut the meat and fed it to me, while my mother was in charge of the fruit.

My younger brother, to top it off, would hand the meat he was cutting to my father, urging him to feed it to me.

Others might see them as doting family members with extraordinary love for their daughter and sister, but from the perspective of the transmigrator who was the subject of it, it was nothing short of horrific.

What was even more dreadful was having to be careful with the honorifics when addressing my parents.

If I didn’t call my mother “Mama,” she would clear her throat as if demanding correction, giving me a hint, and if I didn’t call my father “Papa,” he would openly sulk, making me feel awkward.

At this age, “Papa” and “Mama”… daily life as Sennet Windsor was hellish.

If I had to use similar honorifics for my younger brother, I might have truly gone insane.

“What kind of family is this?!”

The voice of a young girl echoed in my room, the closest thing to a normal space in this abnormal and illogical mansion.

It was a voice I was slowly getting used to, but it was hard to shake off the feeling of unfamiliarity.

Still, it was much more bearable than being subjected to such ‘treatment’ by my family.

‘I’m bored, should I read a book?’

It was best to stay quietly in my room, as I didn’t know what might happen if I ran into another family member.

Most of the novels the maid had stocked were romance novels, but when I actually read them, some were quite interesting.

There was a novel about a couple who entered a contract marriage by mutual agreement and became a loving pair, a novel where a husband who swore he would never love his wife became unable to live without her, and a novel where a male lead who had been cold to his fiancée regretted it and tried to win back his estranged fiancée… Looking back, I had read quite a lot.

However, not all the novels were simply entertaining.

There was even a novel that could be called the worst story of my entire previous life.

To summarize, a character who seemed to be the male lead claimed he would never sleep with the female lead, then calmly ate breakfast the next morning, forcibly assaulted her, claiming it was a marital matter, neglected her while only talking about other women, then cheated on her and spread bad rumors for years.

Not only that, but the child born from the assault was given to another woman to raise, and then sent to a monastery because of poor health.

And yet, it was said that he had genuinely loved the female lead, who died during an attack in that process.

“What kind of novel is this?!”

I irritably threw the book aside, fumed, and then calmed down, grabbing the mirror from my bedside.

A silver-haired girl lay sprawled on a large bed that could easily accommodate three adults, holding a palm-sized mirror with both hands, lifting it towards the ceiling.

This was me now.

The clumsily cut hair had been neatly trimmed by the maid’s hands, and now, a clean bob that fell just below my jawline naturally revealed my neckline, sharpening the contours of my face.

Thanks to the bangs that had covered my eyes being trimmed, Sennet’s true impression, now fully revealed, had changed to a much brighter and more refined look than before.

Because of her long eyelashes and slender eyes, the clear lines of her previously hidden pupils drew attention.

It wasn’t just that it was shorter.

Rather, attention was drawn to her face more than when she had long hair, and the harmony of her nose bridge, jawline, and mouth shape became more distinct.

And perhaps due to the shorter hair, there was a subtly androgynous feel to her.

Rather than being unsuitably girlish for a pre-teen, she was closer to being precocious for her age.

Such a subtle maturity permeated beyond her gaze and expression, making it difficult to guess her age before speaking to her.

To be honest… it wasn’t bad.

To be truly honest—it was quite good.

‘…She’s handsome. No, she’s pretty. No… well, both.’

This appearance, which was both pretty and somehow suited the descriptor “handsome.” It gave me a strange sense of confidence.

To be an extra character with such looks, destined for ruin… What was that girl Yoon Sol thinking?

‘It doesn’t matter, since I’ve practically avoided ruin anyway.’

After thinking it over multiple times, I concluded that since I had left the worst impression on the villainess Isellia, there was virtually no chance of me becoming her follower now.

But then, a sudden doubt arose.

The Isellia I knew from the original story was haughty, perfect, and would mercilessly retaliate against anyone who left even the slightest blemish on her—even if they were a noble.

The problem was that her standards were inconsistent.

Whether it was an official slight, a subtle glance, or an unpleasant remark, the moment she felt offended, it immediately resulted in retaliation.

Her personality was such that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she repaid an insult three, four, or five times over.

That was the Isellia Saluut I knew.

However, even after several days had passed since Isellia drove me out, no retaliation had occurred.

In the first place, the Isellia I saw in that garden was completely different from the Isellia I knew.

The original Isellia had many followers, but there was no bond between them.

After all, Isellia only regarded those who followed her as disposable pawns.

However, the Isellia I saw that day was happily talking with children.

She was smiling genuinely, without pretense, and seemed to regard the children gathered in the garden as friends… it was a familiar feeling.

‘Does that mean that incident hasn’t happened yet?’

Although she was the villainess, Isellia wasn’t evil from the start.

While she had been overbearing since childhood, her younger sister had decided that she was originally a pure girl.

She began to change because of an incident she experienced in her childhood.

Blood-stained carriage wheels, torn horsehide, and a broken carriage wheel spinning rapidly in the air.

On the way back from a vacation with her beloved parents.

An attack by a band of robbers.

Though guards were nearby, the coachman panicked and drove the carriage away, then—a cliff.

What Isellia remembered was her mother wrapping her body around her just before the fall, and her father covering them both, embracing them together.

Even amidst an unbelievable shock, the young girl opened her eyes.

Covered in blood, within the embrace of two people.

She was the only one who survived.

Perhaps something shattered within Isellia at that moment.

She was not a villain who intentionally ruined others.

Nor was she such a cold person from the beginning.

She was simply a girl who had suddenly parted with the people she loved.

Because that parting was so cruel, she became a villainess who obsessed over her only remaining blood relative, her older brother, and her fiancé, the Crown Prince, threatening the female protagonist.

‘Did I bring that up for nothing?’

I let out a small sigh.

Of course, that doesn’t justify the cruel acts she committed afterward.

She was a twisted villainess, left broken, and I was a character who tormented the female protagonist, Rubia, by her side, eventually paying the price with her….

But just like me, the current Isellia hadn’t done anything yet.

I couldn’t definitively call her a villain yet.

That fact, now, subtly bothered me.

‘Once I start caring, I can’t stop caring.’

It was the moment my resolve to keep my distance from the main characters wavered.

‘Alright, just once… just one more time, I’ll meet Isellia.’

If the current Isellia is a villain, unlike in the original story, I’ll proceed with the course of action I’ve already set.

If she’s not a villain…

‘…No, I’m just checking. No useless thoughts.’