My name is Lycoris Radiata. I just turned 6 years old. I am often told that my way of talking is not like a child. In impressions as well, rather than being called âcuteâ, the compliment that is usually given to me is âgrown upâ. Even though in my opinion, âcuteâ is the universal compliment for a child.
My social position is also remarkable â I was a dukeâs daughter.
My mother, who died long before I could make sound judgement, had a lot of portraits that were left of her. Although she was very beautiful, she looked like she would have been a cold woman. My father, who is a duke, constantly travels to foreign countries due to his work. He rarely returns home. However, since there are a lot of servants and tutors at home, I never feel lonely.
Since I am often praised on how good my memory is, I have often thought that it was my special skill. But when I carefully think about my memories like this, a sense of discomfort swells up.
Wrong. Wrong, absolutely wrong â thereâs definitely something wrong, my heart would cry out. But âwhatâ that something was, I donât know.
This unexplainable uncertainty within me, I resolved to consult with a sensible adult.
The person who I chose, a familiar adult who I trusted deeply, was my wet nurse. When I confided to her my troubles with clumsy words, my nannyâs eyes widened her wrinkled eyes and said, âOh myâŠâ
She was bewildered for a while, and with a stunned expression she replied. âMy lady, what you told me is too difficult for me to understand, <d>is a word that I am not accustomed to hearingâ</d>
â-Come to think of itâŠ
Where did the word <d>come from? How come I know that word? I thought that <d>was used in writing before, but from which countryâs language did this come from?</d></d>
The result of my resolve ended up with more questions that further increased my confusion.
From then on, I eagerly began reading books. I sought the answers to my question from the wisdom of my ancestors. Aside from eating, sleeping, and studying, I spent nearly all my time reading.
Absorbed with reading a variety of books and having no interest in playing childish games, I was unaware of the divided opinions inside the Dukeâs mansion on whether âOur lady is a geniusâ or whether âOur lady is crazyâ.
Around this time, I formed the habit of wrinkling my eyebrows. Exhaustive worry and overworked eyes are most likely the reason.
I donât like being a six-year-old.
Several years have passed since I started a life of indiscriminate reading. To what was called <kishikan>that brought incomprehensible discomfort, one answer was brought forth.</kishikan>
An unforgettable day happened, just before my tenth birthday.
ăHey⊠Itâs been a while, hasnât it, my little princessă The teeth grinding greeting came from my father. The duke of Lilia was that kind of person.
ăIt seems you are well, Fatheră While giving a greeting unlike that of a child to a parent, I stared at my fatherâs face motionlessly.
With combed slick back hair that had combined colors of gold and brown, the impression of a baby-face could not be wiped off from his face.
Only having hit thirty years old, with a presence more like a young nobleman than a duke, the impression that he was my father is weak.
Itâs not as if Iâm questioning my blood relation to him. Itâs just that the time we talk as parent and child is too little.
With majority of the year spent outside the country, on those rare occasions he comes back, however, heâs the type of father that will bring souvenirs without fail. Itâs hard to say whether this person thought about his actual daughter or not.
Brightly giving endearing words to his daughter, there wasnât a chance this father was anywhere reserved.
This situation, which was explained based on the souvenirs, looks as if he enjoys spending time with his daughter.
However the other party, as a duke, displays competency in diplomacy. The subtle emotions of a young lady probably wouldnât get past him. Is that really a heart-felt smile? Or is it a trick he learned due to sociability? âŠOr could it be that I had over-analyzed it too much?
There is one thing that I can say about my father,ăI donât know whether I dislike him or notă.
That same father, while smiling and laughing, held out a hand gesturing me to sit on the sofa.
ăI came to tell you great newsă Once he began the introduction, with a few words, my normal everyday life collapsed.
When my father mentioned it, a butler that was at the side of the wall came out with an oil painting, taking several steps closer so that the painting was easily visible.
ăWhat do you think? Heâs a pretty boy, isnât he? Tomorrow is your first meeting with him. Iâm certain youâll like himă
My fatherâs voice seemed far away, as my gaze was glued to the picture.
Today, my everyday life until that point and the life that I had hoped, in one morning, shattered. This was by no mean an exaggeration.
Wolfgang Eisenhut. When I heard that particular name, something flashed through my eyes. It felt like I had just awoken â the feeling as if I was stumbling through the dark and then suddenly given light.
The name, Wolfgang Eisenhut, was also included that memory. Embracing a woman with soft golden hair, the grown up version of the young man in the portrait whom I had just laid eyes on, came to mind.
Rather than saying it was an accurate portrait, it looked like it was actually a still picture from the game.
Frankly, if you want to form this situation into a phrase⊠It seems like I got reincarnated with some of the memory from a previous life.
Inside the world of a yandere otome game.
Furthermore, my position was the rival character of the golden haired heroine. And there was a death route available for me.
This is bad. In more than one way.
The reincarnation part is okay. I loved reading those kinds of stories.
But, why was it a world of a yandere otome game of all things?
As a game player, if you get in contact with a capturable character, whether it be a Tsundere or a Yandere, it wouldnât be scary. But, in real life, you wouldnât ever want to meet a Yandere.
You might be able to endure the cutting words that a Tsundere brandishes, but would you be able to endure a kitchen knife that a Yandere brandishes? Absolutely not.
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No, actually the kitchen knife was just my imagination. In the game, there was no scene like that.
In any case, when confronting a Yandere, an LCD screen was the strongest shield required. Seriously.
Even more, if the heroine doesnât have any special skills to compensate, if for example, a Yandere appears as an obstructive supporting character, itâs no different from being in the same league as when you encounter a zombie. Give me a shotgun! No â I wouldnât really shoot though.
Iâll say it again. This is bad.
(1) She first used the japanese term, âkishikanâ. Before using the french word âdeja vuâ. When she consulted with her nurse, she used the latin word and that resulted in the confusion.