Re:Zero: Emilia If a Villainess

A Villainess Born of Fear

The capital bustles with life—merchants shout, customers haggle, and children weave through the crowded streets with carefree laughter. But all of that fades the moment Emilia steps into the heart of the marketplace. Her presence shifts the atmosphere. Conversations die mid-sentence, and the crowd subtly parts, as if even brushing against her might bring them ill fortune.

Beneath the hood of her cloak, Emilia feels their eyes on her—watchful, wary, and full of quiet disgust. She doesn't need to hear their words to know what they're thinking. She's heard it all before. Her fingers tighten around the edge of her cloak, pulling it lower, but it's useless. The silver strands of her hair and the glow of her violet eyes peek through the shadows, impossible to fully hide. No matter how much she tries to conceal herself, they always see it—the reflection of someone she's not.

Her heart tightens in her chest, the familiar sting of rejection wrapping around her like a cold embrace. The stares, the whispers, the way they recoil at the sight of her—it never stops hurting, no matter how much she tells herself it doesn't matter. But after all these years, she's learned to bury the pain. To mask it. She walks with purpose, ignoring the fearful glances, but inside, it simmers.

Her mind drifts back to a time when she still believed kindness could change the way people saw her. She remembers running through the woods near the village, her steps light with hope, her heart innocent. Maybe today will be different, she had thought. Maybe today, they'll smile at me. Maybe they'll see me for who I really am. But the moment she arrived, the whispers began, followed by the cold looks and the quickened steps of those who feared her. The children who once played together grew silent when she came near, their gazes wide with fear. That day, something inside her began to change.

Emilia's fingers brush the insignia hanging at her side—the one thing that proves she's more than what they think she is. More than the cursed child they fear. The insignia, her proof of royal candidacy, is her only chance to change the way the world sees her. It's more than just a symbol; it's hope, fragile and small, but hope nonetheless. Suddenly, she feels a sharp tug.

Her hand drops to where the insignia should be, but there's nothing there. Her heart skips a beat as she whips around, scanning the crowd. A flash of movement catches her eye—a small figure, quick and nimble, darting through the streets with something gleaming in their hand. Her insignia.

Without thinking, she bolts after the figure, her cloak flaring behind her. The thief is fast, slipping through the crowded streets with practiced ease, but Emilia is faster. Her movements are graceful, fluid—each step deliberate as she weaves through the marketplace, the crowd parting before her. But even as she runs, she feels their eyes. The way they scatter, the way they look at her with wide-eyed fear. It's not respect that clears her path—it's the same old terror. Always the same.

The thief darts into a narrow alley, but Emilia is right behind. Her feet barely make a sound against the cobblestones, her body moving with effortless precision. Her heart pounds with determination. She won't let them get away. Not this time.

As she rounds a corner, something unexpected stops her in her tracks. A struggle. Off to the side of the alley, a young man is being attacked by a group of thugs. His black hair is the first thing she notices, standing out against the dim light. His body is curled defensively, bruised and battered, as he tries to fend off the brutal assault.

The thief continues running, not sparing a glance at the man's plight. But Emilia's steps falter as she watches him—this stranger being beaten, helpless and alone. Something stirs within her, a sharp reminder of the isolation she's felt all her life. They're hurting him... because he's different. His black hair—it's like her silver hair and violet eyes. It marks him as someone judged, someone the world looks at with suspicion. Just like her.