I Became the Female Lead Ruined by Others - Chapter 27

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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 27

Cap returned with paper and pen in hand, his expression bewildered.

“Let’s see if your transcription skills have gotten rusty.”

And so he began pressing his pen to paper as I dictated each sentence.

[I will be away on personal business for some time.]

There was no need to retrieve the letter for comparison. I had stared at it so long in the darkness, alone, until the words wore themselves into my memory.

‘Identical.’

The neat, precise handwriting matched that of the letter I’d been meaning to send to Marquis Brillant.
The meticulous care in every stroke stood in grotesque contrast to the suffocating menace of the words themselves—a gap I understood all at once.

“Master, does your head ache? Should I fetch the steward?”

Cap watched my face with growing unease as I pressed my palm to my brow and fell still.
I managed a thin, gentle smile for the boy, whose lips trembled with worry.

“No, no. But tell me, Cap—do you understand what that sentence you just wrote means?”
“Of course! It means being away for a while, doesn’t it?”
“Then you understood all the others too? All the ones you wrote before?”

Cap’s eyes went wide, and he nodded vigorously, his lips working.

“Yes! Of course! They’re the old stories you tell me! Letters punishing the bad people!”

Old stories? Punishing villains?
Cap hopped down from his stool and struck an absurd pose, huffing through his nose.

“With paper and pen, the pen becomes a sword, and I’m your only secret knight, Master! Mwahahaha!”
“Right, you… remember that well. Do you remember the first day you helped punish the bad people?”
“That’s right! The day after I came to the Estate and slept for two nights!”

It occurred to me that the one who had possessed me might have deliberately brought Cap along.
No matter how much I trusted servants like Ted and Martha with my ghostwriting, involving a child carried far greater risk than deceiving them.

– Errand boy
• Excessively cheerful;; brought from Baotol Orphanage.

‘No wonder his entry was just one line, different from all the other servants.’

The absence of a redemption arc had struck me as suspicious, but perhaps it was inevitable.
This child had been brought not to become a loyal retainer willing to stake his life, but as a ‘tool’ for ghostwriting.
I swallowed a hollow laugh and turned to Cap, who still held his ridiculous pose.

“Right, that’s correct. As my secret knight, you’re keeping the secret safe, yes?”
“Of course! You said it’s a secret between just you and me, Master! Shhh!”
“But listen, Cap.”

Even as I paused, Cap’s eyes gleamed with brightness.

“Do you happen to remember what you wrote in those letters to the villains?”
“Well… honestly, I don’t recall much. There were difficult words, and the content was rather tedious.”

Cap withdrew his hand from where it had reached skyward, his expression falling.

“But you said I didn’t need to remember it, didn’t you? You said I just had to write neatly…”
“Ah, no, that’s right. I did say that.”

Only then did I exhale deeply with relief.

‘Thank goodness.’

If Cap remembered everything, the work would have become far more exhausting.
I could barely manage my own affairs—I had no capacity to look after someone else’s well-being.

‘But then again, there’s no point in having found a ghostwriter.’

I’d summoned him thinking he might know secrets unrecorded in the ledgers.
Still, it was fortunate that Cap knew nothing—in the long run, it worked in my favor.

“Yes, you needn’t remember such things.”
“Of course, Master! I haven’t told my brother either! My brother is…”

But just as Cap was bouncing from his seat and about to speak, it happened.
Bang!

“M-Master! My apologies! This is an urgent matter, so I took the liberty of—”

Ted burst through the door with a loud clatter, breathing heavily.
Uncharacteristic of him, I waved Cap away with a casual gesture. Once we were alone, Ted bent at the waist, his voice trembling.

“His Highness?”
“The C-Crown Prince, Your Grace!”

I pushed myself upright on the bed, where my head had been resting against the headboard.

‘Now that I think about it…’

Everyone except Rose, who was preparing ingredients, had put their heads together in heated discussion.

“Exactly! No matter how I think about it, it’s strange. The day she first came to the Manor, she kept muttering in front of us about how ‘the young mistress is my eternal love,’ but when Master actually collapsed, she didn’t bat an eye?”

The one called the senior attendant was Rose, carefully trimming leeks, while the one called the substitute was Mary, huffing indignantly as she held forth.

“And then when the master woke up, she shamelessly clutched his hand and played the devoted companion, didn’t she? All while gallivanting about on outings these past two days!”

Frodo, the gardener and steward, scowled deeply and clenched his fists.

“A wretch like that! It’s obvious he’s some pretty seductress who saw the master’s kind heart and brilliant omnipotence and came slithering in!”
“Unbelievable! Just look at how delicate the man is. And such a fine build—he could make any woman weep—and that voice, so pleasant to hear! It’s infuriating!”
“…Mary, what are you even saying?”

Cain, a knight who typically disguised himself as a common laborer, shot Mary a look of pure exasperation.

“Shouldn’t we throw him out of this manor at once?!”

Abel, also posing alongside Cain, raised his voice and thrust his fist upward in agreement.
Just as the chorus of support was swelling, Cordon, the cook, cut through the noise with his stern face and stirred the pot of soup with deliberate movements.

“The butler has ordered us to remain silent on this matter.”
“With respect, sir, how can that be right? That weasel should be kept far from the master’s side at once!”

Martha found herself recalling the shocking scene she had witnessed with her own eyes. She’d turned it over in her mind countless times, yet even she couldn’t make sense of it.
At Martha’s sigh, all eyes turned toward her.

“When the master woke, she didn’t pull her hand away from his. The master, who ordinarily abhors even the slightest touch from others—who finds bathing and changing clothes almost unbearable—yet according to the butler, whatever that man does, she finds it endearing and lets it pass.”
“Endearing…you say?”
“But that person isn’t really endearing so much as impressive, is he?”
“Mary, if you can help it, don’t speak. You’ll burst everyone’s head open.”

Finally, Martha stepped forward with a grim expression, and the kitchen fell into a hush as sudden as death.
She addressed the startled servants with grave authority.

“From this moment on, no one is to make any reckless remarks concerning our guest.”

The kitchen, now heavy with silence, was filled only with the appetizing aroma of soup and Martha’s unwavering voice.

“The master always thinks one step ahead. Our simple minds cannot fathom her deeper intentions—we need only follow her lead.”

The servants, overwhelmed by Martha’s commanding presence, found themselves nodding as if entranced.

“Everything is the master’s choice, and we merely obey. If the master calls a foal a tiger, then we must raise that foal as a tiger.”
“But the foal is…”

As Mary started to protest, Abel stepped firmly on her foot.
Martha glanced her way with clear disapproval, then spoke again.

“Our duty is to watch that guest closely and keep silent—to ensure no ugly rumors leak beyond these walls. Know that whoever brings shame to the master’s name will not keep their life.”
“Yes, of course!”
“That’s right, Martha is absolutely right!”

Like disciples of some new faith, the servants began to voice their agreement one by one.
Only Rose, now peeling onions, remained silent throughout.

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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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