"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐬."
"𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?"
After hitting your head, you regain memories from your previous life. Incidentally, you get reincarnated into the body of the villainess of an otome game that you loathed with every fiber...
Fun fact: MC has habit of paying attention to every unnecessary detail.
This probably seems sudden, but it's been seven years since you hit your head. Technically, you're already fifteen, but your official birthday was still in July.
At fifteen, a nobleman or woman will debut into society, and if they possess magic, get honored with the privilege -by which you mean forced- to attend magic school.
How you've been dreading that.
To be completely honest, you're barely worried about the doom flags, seeing as you have made self-proclaimed friends out of the capture targets.
For example, the most annoying one, Gerald, who had no interest in Katrina in the game, but stops by your house about every three days even though you've been telling him to -and I quote- "take a hike and get a life" for seven years.
Several years ago, the scar that kept him engaged to you faded, and you told him "My scar's gone, now. So let's break it off, finally." and he said "Incorrect. It's still there and we're definitely not breaking off our engagement."
"...You're whipped, aren't you?"
Besides him, Keith is the same as ever, and everyone has grown into their appearances from the game, though, most likely because of you, their personalities seem to be slightly different.
Though you think it's not the best change in every case, seeing as Alan might actually be more competitive with you then he is with his brother, Gerald.
"This so annoying..." You mumbled to yourself, hiding in formal wear underneath your desk. "I despise this world." You hissed, hoping you could manage to skip the ball.
"My Lady!" Anne opened the door. "So that's where you got off too.." She said aloud to herself. "Everyone has gathered. Your birthday party is about to begin. Let's go to the parlor."
You sighed through your nose, knowing you wouldn't be getting out of this. You stood, pulling on your black gloves, knowing full well you'd have to touch people.
