I'm a Villainess, But So What? Fuck Off.

The Dreadful Birthday Party

It's my fourteenth birthday today. I was not looking forward to it. I had a huge network of connections now, from old people to young bastards, all with high social status, all around the continent. Usually, I would be very proud of it, since it shows that I am more than qualified as an heir of the Novea House, however... now I'm cursing myself for being so capable.

I'm going to mingle with most of them for the entire day... I don't want to... it's too much trouble... birthday parties are now a curse... Those were the thoughts that continued to rush through my brain as Maria tightened my corset. "Oof!" I grunted as it choked my innards. I. Hate. Corsets. And poofy dresses. And makeup. Those new thoughts rushed into my head after my attention turned back to the task at hand.

Dress up. The worst thing possible. The worst thing in the world. The only thing that could make me dress up willingly is when Mother forced me to with her overbearing smile, or when I needed to keep a promise. Nothing. Else. And I mean, nothing. Every day at home, unlike most noble ladies, I wear only pajamas, or a shirt and sweatpants. Of course, during noble gatherings or meetups with colleagues, I am always professional and wear the appropriate attire necessary. But I do so very unwillingly.

So when Father said that I had to 'make myself pretty' for my birthday, my answer was, "Father, I'm already so dazzlingly pretty that there is no possible way that I can make myself prettier. Dressing up will just downgrade my goddess-like charm."

I was telling a half truth. I was dazzlingly pretty and had a goddess-like charm, but dressing up could only make me prettier. But I really hated dressing up. I loathed it. I absolutely abhor dresses and jewelry. I truly could never understand why other noble ladies enjoyed such frivolous and heavy things when they could just go outside and swing a sword around or practice magic.

Of course, even though I made a strong point, Mother, as usual, forced me into submission. So here I was. The tortured me, on death row, closer and closer to my imminent demise.

----

It was finally over. Finally. Over. I was crying from all of the horrible things I experienced. Jewelry... clothes picking... corsets... terrible, horrible things that could make me shudder. "Sister, let me see, let me see!" A very enthusiastic twelve year old shouted from outside the doorway.

I sighed reluctantly, and told him that the door was open. "Woahhh! Sister, you're so pretty!" Al said with his usual boyish charm. I know, I am... but I never want to do such a terrible thing again. "Sister, you look pale, are you alright?"

"L-Lady Novea, you look very n-nice." Richard added, stepping into the room. How did he even get in here? Richard was my friend, but I didn't really care much for him. Since he was the prime minister's son, of course I kept him as a friend, since it was beneficial for me, but nothing else. I came to his house occasionally, when he invited me. He might be courting me, but I don't really know much about those things, so I shouldn't assume, right?

I nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you, Richard. You look very nice yourself."

I turned back to Little Al. "Al, you gotta help me. Hook me up with some food! I gotta eat... I've been starved since this morning! I had to wake up so early, then had to dress up. Al, please~ take pity on the poor little me!" I begged, holding onto his shirt.

"...Sorry, Sister, I'm afraid I cannot." He said after taking a picture on his phone and storing it into his pocket. I watched his figure go away and nearly became a sobbing mess. I can't cry... then I'll have to do makeup again... ANYTHING but that... I held onto my tears, making sure they wouldn't fall. I held on to them for dear life.