I'm an Overpowered Villainess in a Reverse Harem Novel

2 - the Family

Her new identity, Aneath Toreer. The servants in the halls had muttered her name like they were spitting out poison. Aneath sighed, her head slumping, as she rested her forehead on the palm of her hand. I've probably transmigrated into the villainess, right...

"Aneath...?" She mumbled absentmindedly as she searched her brain for this supposed villainess's name, but only a flurry of images and blurry recollections flashed through her mind.

"Fuck, I really can't remember." She laughed incredulously, a thin sheet of sweat starting to form as a new level of panic began to set in.

How many books had she read with the setting of medieval magic? How many times did she repeat the mundane yet fulfilling cycle of reading cliche after cliche, screaming in frustration when the heroine fell into one of the male lead's arms yet again?

Aneath ruffled her hair, causing the waist-length red curtain to fall on her face. She stared at it in irritation, blowing it out of her face with a scowl.

She had flooded her mind with novels over the years. Of course her brain wouldn't retain common narratives. It was already overwhelmed with stacks of coursework. How do the reincarnators in manga do it? They must have a mind filled solely with flowers and romance. She mused wryly. Do they not have responsibilities? Or are they solely dedicated to the "art" of reading mindless novels?

As she continued to spew insults in spite, the door slammed open, jolting her out of her stupor. She stood from her chair hastily, her mind still in knots of disarray.

A man and a woman entered, with a trail of ten attending servants shuffling behind them. The man, who had a grotesque face like a bruised raccoon, had a seething expression on his face, his bulging eyes fixed on her.

Aneath blinked in mild astonishment before a sense of amusement rushed in. Such scenarios, often found in novels, took on a new dimension of ridiculousness when experienced in real life. The man, displaying a haughty and entitled expression, theatrically waved his hand, prompting the servants to scatter in a hurry. The room descended into silence as the door closed behind them. With a potbelly that bounced as he moved, the man stormed towards her.

"Are you crazy?!" He hollered, his eyes bulging and anger evident in every huff. Grasping Aneath's wrist with his pudgy, greasy fingers, he pulled her to the side. "What if those servants spread rumors? Pretending to be amnesiac, are you doing this just for attention?"

Aneath blinked in response to the torrent of words from the unsightly man. She quickly remembered that after her sudden transmigration, she had interrogated the servants, then dismissed them in a flurry. Oh, right. Well. She thought lukewarmly.

Aneath's lack of response seemed to further stoke the man's fury, his body trembling and veins throbbing on his sweaty forehead. "I can't believe I raised such a useless daughter. You have my blood, and yet you can't even cast a three-tier spell...! You might as well stay quiet in your room to save me some embarrassment. If only Leiann was legitimate, I would have already gotten rid of you..."

His words washed over her like a passing breeze. Aneath's eyes remained fixed on the touch of his clammy hands, which felt like they were infecting her very skin. After a moment of disgust, she processed his comments.

Hm, wait. Leiann, that's a new name, Aneath thought, raising an eyebrow. And he said Leiann is my sister? That's fun. A lighthearted, detached air danced around her.

He said that she was useless, an embarrassment, that she couldn't even cast a three-tier spell. To not be able to cast a three-tier spell... Aneath sighed. Although it wasn't considered bad by normal standards, Aneath was an aristocratic heir of some sort. Much more was expected. It pains me to agree with my ugly father, however... that is indeed a bit embarrassing.

Our so-called father also seems to favor this 'Leiann' girl over me, even though her status as illegitimate should hold her back, Aneath sneered in disdain. I'll bet ten bucks she's the heroine.

As Aneath let her mind wander, the man's indignant tirade became a pleasant background noise. When he finally finished and saw Aneath wearing a deadpan, dazed expression, his already flushed face turned an even deeper shade of red. "You, you..." His flabby cheeks bounced as he fumed. He raised his arm, his sweaty palm opening for a slap.

"My lord. Please stop." The black-haired woman that stood beside him, who had remained silent until now, grabbed his arm before he sent his palm to Aneath's cheek. The stubby man's body shook as soon as he heard her voice.

"I will handle our daughter. You may leave." A graceful, unmoving smile which looked like a perfect plastic mask rested on her face.

The man unwillingly put his arm down. His face held a flattering, fake expression as he turned back to face her. He laughed, spittle flying out of his mouth as he did. "Honey, I–" He began, his words dripping with begrudging insincerity.

"–I suggest," the woman interrupted, "you leave."

He gritted his teeth, forcing out another awkward laugh and took slow, sticky steps to the entrance. The door shut behind him. Aneath observed the scene with deadpan eyes. What a dysfunctional family, she mused.

The inky-black haired woman, who she had identified as this body's mother, had a sharp, indifferent expression painted on her face. The red lipstick held contrast to her pale white skin, making her facial features sharper. Her indecipherable smile played on her face as she faced Aneath.

"Refrain from fooling around like this in the future." She ordered curtly. "After all, it wouldn't be in either of our best interests for your stepsister to... step out of line."

It was quite obvious that the woman had no intention of comfort or indulgence. It seems like I'm not well liked by her, either. Aneath thought, her eyes remaining compliant and disinterested.

Aneath blinked, but quickly assumed a pretentious façade. "Of course, Mother. My apologies." She imitated a generic curtsy she had seen in many otome games, her countenance fitting the cutout of a villainess.

The black-haired woman's smile was like a mask plastered onto her face, unmoving. "Good." With a terse word, she left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Aneath slumped onto the bed, spitting out laughs. The overwhelming unfamiliarity of the situation had soon fallen over her like a wave, and she was left in the loud silence of the grand bedroom.

"I don't know the plotline, the male leads, the heroine, or even my own fucking age... are you kidding me? How am I supposed to avoid death if I don't even know why it's going to happen?" Aneath's brain spiraled as she clutched and pulled her hair in frustration.

In her past life, a person's self-worth was solely determined by their magical talent and prowess. It was a cutthroat society from birth, where one either had infinite hope or no hope at all. She had tirelessly toiled in her previous life, improving her comprehension of mana and accumulating many achievements unreachable by the ordinary, ultimately reaching the pinnacle. She possessed both talent and a promising future. Was all of this now at risk just because she can't remember a predictable plotline in another world?

Aneath's heart jumped as soon as she revisited that thought. Indeed, it was only a few moments ago when she acted stereotypically enough to fool her mother. She thought back to her musings, remembering how every heroine and every male lead in the novels she read were the exact same, generic and predictable.

Aneath clenched her fist, a flame of aspiration lighting in her heart. Right, right! So what if I don't know the plotline? They're all the same anyway. How hard can it be... just avoid the princes, the handsome mages, the heirs to dukedoms, one by one, I'll figure out this damned plotline. And after I'm safe, I'll figure out how to get back to my own world and restore my success!