I Became the Female Lead Ruined by Others - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 15

The moment my conversation with the man ended, I told the Butler to prepare a room and fled back to my Bedroom.
I slid into the chair and rested my interlaced hands on the table.
An hour must have passed like that.

“So, let me think about this…….”

Everything from the moment yesterday—no, when the Duchess of Bardencia opened her eyes in the Funeral Hall, until now.

One: for reasons unknown, the Duchess is dead.
Two: the Minor Duke and the Crown Prince are hostile toward Roselina.
Three: that Possessor accumulated enormous wealth without my knowledge. The source of those funds almost certainly comes from extorted nobles.
Four: there was some sort of transaction with a Mysterious Man. He’s staying here for a while.

Each time I ticked off a finger, the back of my neck grew tighter.
Last night, sleepless and mulling it over, a fourth item had been added to my despair list. In barely half a day.

“Right, the difficulty just got bumped up a notch, that’s all, yeah?”

I muttered the words and rested my chin on my interlaced hands.
That was everything.
Once I laid it out simply, suddenly it all became clear.

“Well… I’m screwed.”

That was my final conclusion.
No matter how much experience I had as a Possessor, this situation was different.
Back then, everyone loved it when I just played the role of a hollow-headed dupe, and while I acted, I made sure to package things nicely even if it meant sacrificing what I thought was the Duchess’s dignity. As long as I didn’t go around causing real trouble, the path was clear.
This was nothing like that.

“I think I might actually be out of my depth this time.”

But I couldn’t just sit here in despair. That’s not what a Possessor does.
No matter how much of a mess the current situation was, I had to start with what I could do right now.
And then, a cliché suddenly cut through my thoughts like a knife.

‘Amnesia.’

When it’s hard to grasp the situation, there’s no shortage of transmigration stories that just barrel ahead by claiming Amnesia.
If that were the case, no one could blame someone with no memories…….

“Wrong! They absolutely would!”

In less than 0.5 seconds, I’d answered my own question and felt like my chest would burst.
Unable to contain my frustration, I brought my fist down on the table—bang, bang—twice. That’s when it happened.
A measured knock sounded at the door, and it swung open.

“Madam, did you call for me?”
“Huh?”

The Butler entered with an earnest, determined expression on his face.
I stared at him with wide rabbit eyes, then looked down at my hand still resting on the table.

―Without ringing the bell separately, whenever you hear a loud knocking sound twice, come in right away.

The words he’d left behind in front of the reception room came back to me.

“Ha…… no, never mind.”
“I have something to report to you, sir.”

My raised hand froze mid-gesture toward the door.
I nodded absently, and he maintained his rigid posture while speaking with measured precision.

“The Marquis of Brilliant is expected to visit tomorrow. He has sent word that he wishes to meet with you directly regarding the incident last night.”
“……The Marquis of Brilliant?”

He was the half-brother of Carla, Baron’s mother and the Empress. Beyond that, as the head of a time-honored house, he wielded considerable influence over the aristocratic circles.

‘But what does the incident last night have to do with a marquis?’

Before I could turn the question over in my mind, the Butler withdrew a sheet of paper from his breast pocket.

“Yesterday was the day House of Brilliant was to supply security personnel. And yet, the moment you returned, such an unseemly matter occurred…….”

I took the sheet of paper he offered.
A single page filled with names of nobles, laid out like a carefully drafted plan.
That was when I recalled what the man had said yesterday.

―It seems the others are taking turns supplying private soldiers, yet they’re putting in less effort than I’d have thought.

Another secret, its weight incomparable to that single sheet of paper.

‘How did that man know about this?’

Were we the sort of people to share such secrets? A Possessor and I?
Though judging by his manner toward me, he treated me entirely differently from Baron or my Elder Brother.

‘In any case, I’d do well to remember the names written on this paper.’

In times when enemies surround you on all sides, distinguishing friend from foe becomes essential.

“I’ll keep this.”
“Master, perhaps it’s time you went down to the basement?”
“The basement?”
“Yes, sir. The assassin from last night has been unconscious all this while, but he regained consciousness an hour ago.”

Ah.
I’d completely forgotten.
An assassination attempt on my first day as a Possessor—and yet it slipped from my mind as easily as water.
My wits had been scattered by the assassin himself and then that man’s sudden appearance.

‘The man won’t give me a moment’s peace, the bastard.’

While I steeled myself to swallow bitter tears, I found myself troubled for an entirely different reason.
What was I supposed to do down there? Shout a few times and demand answers?

“That is, well…….”

The Butler, who had been staring at me as I fumbled for words, lowered his body slightly.
Then, in a voice far quieter than before, he whispered in confidence.

“You must find this situation bewildering, as it is your first time. Naturally, it is mine as well, but I have discreetly learned that in such cases, one must instill extreme terror. Then, it seems, they confess readily enough.”

I wondered if this was truly the same man who trembled at Roselina’s every gesture.

‘True enough—to uncover who’s behind this, interrogation is unavoidable.’

She’d claimed the assassination attempt was her first. Yet just because yesterday was the first didn’t mean such things wouldn’t happen again.
If I was going to live as Roselina Musher going forward, I needed to know more.

‘The blades, for instance, that might be turned against Roselina Musher.’

And so I shoved back my chair and rose abruptly.

“Let’s go now.”
“Yes, madam!”

The Butler answered my resolve with the grim solemnity of a general marching to war.
We descended without hesitation to the ground floor, pushed through a concealed door behind the central staircase, and before us stood an iron gate.
Beyond that formidable door, a staircase descended endlessly into darkness below.

“Mind your step, madam—the stairs are steep.”

Lamps fastened to the rough, hastily finished stone walls cast a dim, flickering glow—flicker, flicker—bathing everything in a desolate haze. As I descended into that gloom, an involuntary chill crept down my spine.
At last the staircase ended, and another door loomed before us.

“I’ll open it.”

I drew a deep breath and fixed my eyes with calculated intensity.

‘I am a villain of the most heinous sort.’

To render threatening a face that, even blank, was lovely—blessed as it was with the world’s most exquisite beauty.

‘My pastime is torture.’

The Butler following behind me with sharp, military precision likely wore the same expression.
But when we crossed the threshold, the voice that greeted us made us both freeze.

“You’ve arrived.”

The two of us went rigid.

* * *

Dominic Daylor, advisor to the Crown Prince, glanced anxiously across the garden.
The procession of mourners paying respects to the Duchess of Bardencia showed no sign of ending.

“This is troubling.”

Dominic, his anxiety mounting to a fever pitch, turned away from where he’d been nervously biting his nails.
For two days now, his lord had not stirred from this place. A man usually driven to work now stood rooted here, abandoning all else.

‘Shocking news is cause for grief, I understand, but this cannot continue.’

No matter how great the shock, something felt wrong.
He was attending to everything as though he himself had become the chief mourner.

“Has the Duke of Bardencia still not awakened?”
“To lose such a precious daughter in a single day—his heart must be in torment.”
“To see His Highness the Crown Prince grieve so deeply is almost unbearable to witness.”

Clusters of noble ladies gathered here and there, pressing their dry eyes with handkerchiefs.
As Dominic passed them, his heart twisted with worry for his lord’s health, and he quickened his pace.
The Baron stood motionless before the coffin.
Oddly, the closer he drew, the more a subtle chill seemed to emanate from around him alone, as though the very temperature dropped in his presence.

“Your Highness, forgive me, but perhaps it is time we…….”
“Dominic.”

Baron’s low voice carried not a shred of emotion.

“The corpse.”

He gazed down at the sealed coffin with a rigid expression, murmuring beneath his breath.

“How uncommonly beautiful, is it not.”
“……Pardon?”

At those words, spoken with such a chilling tone, Dominic’s head snapped up sharply.
But Baron’s gaze remained fixed, as though nailed to the spot.

“As though nothing had happened at all. Not the slightest trace of anything.”

As if the face sleeping beyond the coffin lid were vivid before his eyes alone.

“Most curious indeed.”

A faint, chilling smile played at the corners of his mouth — a thing even his long-devoted attendant failed to perceive.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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