She Becomes A Passive Villainess-NOT!

A child?!

At the Estate: East wing.

The sun streamed into the windows and casted an ethereal glow into the otherwise gloomy room of the lady of the manor.

It was hot and bright. In other words, it was annoying.

Slowly peeling her fluttering eyes open, with butterfly-like black eyelashes and cold ash-like orbs with a chilling glint as the sun illuminated her figure beyond the drawn crimson canopy.

A girl, dressed in servant clothes, noticed the slight stirring of the lady and hurriedly scuttled to her bedside with a worried face.

"My lady! Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Lady? What is this woman talking about?

The girl groaned softly as she pushed herself up to inspect her surroundings.

Did I survive the fall? Or the stab?

"My lady! Do you need anything?" The maid continued to fuss over her. "Ah! Water! Do you want water?"

Yes. Water. First things first, I'm thirsty.

She slowly nodded her head with great effort. She was feeling sluggish. Like she hadn't been up and about for a few days.

The maid that waited on her saw her gesture of assent and flew over to the flagon and fetched her lady water before hurriedly flying back to her side to offer the girl something to quench her parched throat.

After downing it unto her throat and clearing it a few times, she croaked, "Where... am I?"

"You're in the manor, my lady! You fell off your horse and suffered a high fever right after! Please hold on! Your mother and father's been worried sick about you! I shall go and call them." She rattled before vanishing behind the big white doors with silver trimmings and silver knob.

The owner must have a penchant for silver.

She thought before adjusting herself so she was reclining on the bed. She studied her surroundings that oddly felt familiar to her.

What is this? Why does this look so much like my old room? Did that bastard pervert redecorate the room?

She continued to roam her gaze and was suddenly brought back by a loud bang as her doors flew open. A woman, who might be in her late twenties, and a man, who seemed to be in his early thirties, rushed in and they immediately flocked to her bedside.

The woman was a black-haired with a slight tinge of ash beauty. While the man had warm deep chocolate locks and cold grey orbs. But you couldn't see the coldness that was supposed to be there, there was only worry, anxiety, relief and gladness.

"Oh my dear sweet child, are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere? Please tell mother."

"Baby, how are you? Do you need anything?"

They asked her in rapid succession. The girl just sat there, flabbergasted. They were supposed to be dead. They died trying to protect her. They forfeited their lives in exchange for hers, to prove her innocence.

"Why... Why are you here?" She muttered in a low and soft voice that they almost couldn't hear it. She was perplexed. What was happening? Why were her parents in front of her, alive and well?

Am I dreaming? Did I really die?

"Am... Am I in heaven?" She continued to ask when they didn't answer her, confused her with sudden question.

"Baby, you're here. With us. Alive and well." Her mother answered her first after briefly glancing at her husband.

"That's right. You just fell off your horse, nothing serious. The doctor said you only had a minor sprain." Her father reassured her, gently caressing her hair. The same way she remembered all those years ago.

"Yes, but you suddenly had a high fever and we were worried. You were asleep for three days. We were very, very worried about you." Her mother reached out her hand to feel for her temperature before sighing in relief to feel her condition had gone back to normal.

"Horse? Fever? Three days?" She repeated to herself. That couldn't be. She was at the capital, last she remembered. She also didn't fall off a horse but from the bell's tower after she was struck down.

After remembering her being impaled from her shoulders, she immediately turned to her left shoulder and pulled down the hem of her night gown to find no wound. Not even a slight scratch.

What's more, her shoulder seemed too small in her eyes. Even her hands and fingers, they were too small and slightly chubby. She pulled on a few strands of her locks and brought it forward for her to see properly and it was shorter than she remembered. Finally, she whisked the blanket that covered her revealing a pair of short and slightly stout legs.

What the hell? Am I... Am I... A child?!

And with her sudden discovery, she, once again, was visited with that high fever— tossing the manor into chaos again.