Villainess Reform Project

Don't Punch The Protagonist

Arriving at the Academy had been a calming trip, Ophelia showing her excitement to get there the entire ride, even when I mentioned Floyd.

"Ophie, are you excited to see Prince Floyd?" I asked, still smiling after Ophelia had given her excited rant about living in the dorms to me.

Ophelia scoffed a bit at the mention of her fiancè, sliding down in her seat. "Who cares about him? It's not like he likes me either. He only ever visited on my birthday." She huffed. "He's lucky our feelings are mutual."

I laughed. For another reason, I was proud of that scar on my shoulder from that arrow. It had driven Ophelia away from that murdering Crown Prince. "Ophie, don't get so pouty. I didn't mean to bring him up. Oh, what about the Introductory Ball for all the freshmen? I can't wait to see you in a ballgown!"

"But you see me in one on every birthday."

"That's different! It's like Ophie's official introduction into high society! It must be as excellent as you are! Let's see, maybe that mauve-colored dress? Or the navy blue? Oh oh, maybe even the white one with red embroidery!"

I had begun on one of my gushing rants again, something I was a bit ashamed to admit I did. I took a little too much pride in Ophelia's good upbringing, so much that I would begin to go on and on about her. Is this how parents with trophy kids feel? If so, I really need to nip this thing in the butt. Ophelia just sat there looking at me, smiling gently like she was thinking about something wonderful.

I managed to stop myself before I ran out of breath. "Sorry about that, Ophie. I got a little excited..."

Ophelia snapped out of her own little trance. "It's alright. Whatever you choose for me will be wonderful, I know it." She smiled at me wider. Ophelia really was a good kid! I'm so proud! Just like always, I came out of the carriage first and helped Ophelia step out carefully. There were many other carriages with the children of aristocrats pouring out in their expensive uniforms. None of them were as dazzling as Ophelia. The only one who could possibly do that would be the heroine, Carole. I would know her when I saw her. As an Earl's daughter, she would've had a fancy but still modest carriage in comparison to Ophelia's luxurious carriage as the Duke's daughter and the Crown Prince's fiancè. I wasn't actively looking for her either. If the book events went as they were supposed to, both she and Ophelia would meet her after the entrance ceremony, as Carole in all her charming clumsiness bumps into Ophelia in the halls, making a fool of herself and Ophelia would scold her about her manners and attention span. That was what made the readers begin to see Ophelia as the villainess, even though she was scolding, not belittling. Ophelia wasn't even being mean.

That was behind me now anyway, Ophelia would be heading to the entrance ceremony while I was tasked with preparing all of her belongings in her dorm room. I saw her off after fixing her uniform's ribbon and got to work directing the school's servant staff with the moving of Ophelia's luggage to her dorm. She would be staying in the Freshmen Lily Dorms on the third floor. It was conveniently placed near all of Ophelia's classes and gave her easy access to various school facilities. Basically, she got lucky. I would be staying in the Student Servant Quarters, not far away from the dorms but far enough that the students wouldn't have to see their servants work. Unlike Ophelia, I'd be sharing a room with at least two roommates which was fine. I'd spent my entire life sharing a room with other people and other than the fact they were strangers, I would still be in the same situation. Well, expecting the maids I room with are mature and respect privacy.

I felt like I was jinxing myself already.

Within an hour I had helped haul all of Ophelia's possessions into her room and put them away. I knew the entrance ceremony had at least an hour of it left and began to bide my time doing what needed to be done. I tested the comfy bed and was almost knocked out cold. It was like laying on a cloud of pure cotton and the sheets were silky and comfortable. The true sign of a rich man is the quality of his bed and you can't tell me otherwise. As much as I loved that bed, I got up because if I damaged it I'd have to live more than twenty lifetimes to pay for this thing. I then did some random tasks to pass the time. Sorted the clothes by color, the shoes by color, sorted accessories from favorite to least favorite and practiced my flute. I had visited my room in the servant's quarters earlier to find four beds, meaning I'd have three roommates. I chose the best bed out of the four because first come, first serve. Twas a rule that transcended worlds and I took full advantage of it. My stuff was put away neatly, but you could still tell someone had claimed the bed and had somewhat settled in.