This Three Year Old Is a Villainess

1

TL:  EunEun

A large chandelier that could never be hung in my palm-sized room.

As soon as I saw it, I realized.

‘…Turns out, I’m still in this world.’

If I could, I wanted to hurl a bucket-load of curses until I was satisfied, but even that was impossible.

Because this body was that of a three-year-old that couldn’t even pronounce words properly, let alone say swears!

All I could do was curl up like a Hoppang and cry.

(t/n: 호빵 [hoppang] is a filled steamed bun.)

My name is Yoo Hyemin.

No, I mean, Erylotte Astra.

Erylotte, a three-year-old who possessed the villainess of a tragedy novel with the highest difficulty.

‘Please save me!’

***

Three years ago, I, who was an ordinary Seoul citizen, died from a disease.

The disease was pancreatic cancer.

When I realized I had it, I already missed the treatment period. I tried to hang on by myself for months, but I couldn’t bear it and died. 

And when I opened my eyes again…

‘I was in this body.’

A plump body that was wrapped in a baby blanket.

With small and round hands like flour rice cake.

The body of a literal ‘newborn baby’ that couldn’t even say words like ‘ah-ah’ or ‘ooh-ooh.’

No one explained to me, but I had a hunch.

‘So, it’s reincarnation!’

This was because it was a familiar setting for me, who once spent all my money on Kakao Page.

For that reason, I grasped the situation quickly.

‘Considering that I was reincarnated as a baby, it’s definitely a childcare thing.’

‘Looking at the luxurious room, my father is a noble.’

‘…He’s either a Grand Duke or an Emperor.’

‘You’re the cold Northern Duke, but it must be that you’re warm to your daughter, right?’

Anyway, since I had already become like this, I decided to prepare steadily for the moment I’ll meet my Father.

The reason why I was not preparing to meet my Mother was because usually, in this kind of setting, there was no mother.

And seeing that she didn’t come find me, I was sure that there was no mom.

Anyway, I worked hard until an adult finally came.

‘Let’s practice not crying even when I see something scary.’

[It’s interesting that she’s a child that doesn’t cry after seeing me]

I even practiced smiling for that development—

‘Aba? Baba? Dada? … Dwuke?’

[Father who is flustered by the friendly title]

I even thought hard about the title for that development.

And like that, with a pounding heart, I waited for Father, but…

“Is it this kid?”

“Yes, Duke.”