Reincarnated As Both The Villainess And Heroine...?

A Certain Princess's Pains

I am a liar. I, Chloe, was the greatest liar there ever was. I was a coward, a liar, and a fool. I was all these things, yet I was still the princess of a country. Even so, it was thanks to that status that I had the pleasure of meeting Elizabeth Bathory in this life.

At first, I had hated her. When brother told me of her deeds, I very much hated her methods of doing things. Still, a hypocrite I was. I myself lied to her upon meeting her, telling those sweet words while pretending I did not know of her misdeeds. What madness. To lie in order to avoid being hated by a monster. Even I was astounded by my lunacy sometimes.

Bathory was the very definition of the nobility's moral failings. She held no empathy towards others, acting aloof in every situation. Even during the party where we first met, She saw the attack coming a mile away. Yet, according to brother, she never bothered to inform anyone. As for why, I never knew. Perhaps not even brother did.

Even after all these years, I still held a petty grudge against her. When thinking about how that tragic event could have been avoided so easily, I could not help but to hate her.

Yet during my first meeting with her after that event, I was...perplexed. I failed to ascertain her true nature even after speaking to her, as if I was talking to an illusion.

The manner in which she conducted herself did not came off as...noble. She had the etiquette down to a pat, but Bathory spoke and move about as if she cared very little for those customs. Merely a means to an end, or a necessary duty.

Perhaps that was all to it. A duty. She understood her duty, and thus conducted herself so. I knew individuals like that, throwing their entire lives at their notion of duty. Still, if she was someone like that, why did she look so...dissatisfied?

Whatever it was, her true nature soon shone through. To be honest, I wasn't sure what to feel. On one hand, it affirmed my belief that she was a monster. On the other, it was more like a wounded monster.

Different from Sir Isaac who fought with discipline and knightly grace, or even the girl from the Sakura Empire, whose technique seemed to be held up by sheer willpower and preservation.

Elizabeth Bathory fought like a cornered beast. Using every vicious trick in the book, Elizabeth Bathory beat back my assailants with unforgiving yet desperate force.

After all, which noble fought at point blank while wielding the scorching heat of fire magic? Using fists, no less? Perhaps the only thing beautiful about her style was the sheer efficiency her movement proclaimed.

That, too, was something I could not accept about her.

Why did she not value her own wellbeing? Did she want to die that badly? I thought she held no regard for the safety of others, but it would seem her perspective applied to all equally, even herself.

Even though she clearly understood she could potentially die if she kept on going, Elizabeth Bathory charged into the future with all her might.

To cast a spell meant becoming a cripple? She scoffed at the notion, and instead prepared dozens of spells at once. What carelessness. What rage. What madness. I simply could not get along with someone with such blatant disregard for her own life.

Even so, now that I gazed upon hear sleeping figure, I was only confronted by my own failures. She was born into similar circumstances as I was, yet turned out so differently.

Elizabeth Bathory...why is it that you approach life with such spite? There should not be a reasonable explanation that such ridiculousness could keep a person living!

Yet I could not deny all that she had done.

"Has the concept of seasoning been invented yet? I don't want to wake up into this awful dream again if it hasn't."