Chapter 4 - What Kind of Skill is That?

My eyes snap open to an unfamiliar ceiling, its pale plaster adorned with subtle golden patterns swirling about. For a moment, I let myself sink into the bed, its mattress so soft it feels like it’s trying to swallow me whole. A groan escapes my throat. “Still in the nightmare.”

It had been wishful thinking that I could go to sleep and wake up in my own bed, with Mira shaking my shoulders and telling me to hurry before I’m late for school, the scent of cheap coffee floating from the kitchen. But no, I’m still trapped here, forced to play the villainess.

I pull the covers over my head, hoping to disappear, but last night’s duel flashes back, hot and sharp. Right. That duel.

I bolt upright, fling the blankets away, and stumble out of bed. How do I check my stats? What the heck, I call out the first thing that pops into my mind, “Open stats.”

The air shimmers before my eyes before writing appears:

[VILLAIN POINT SYSTEM]

Name: Leanan Viermont

Title: Demon of Duke Viermont

Level: 1

Villain Points (VP): 5

HP: 120/120  MP: 80/80

STR: 10  DEF: 9  AGI: 11

INT: 4  CHA: 12

Even though I was still Level 1, the numbers had changed. Defence, Agility and Intelligence had all gone up. I didn’t even know how I had managed to achieve that. But my eyes narrow at CHA, which has dropped by 3. Guess terrorising students really doesn’t give me any charm, but who needs it anyway?

I press the flaming sword icon, and the stat sheet fades away, revealing the new text of my skills list:

[Dagger Mastery I] – Increases accuracy and speed when using daggers.

[Mana Manipulation I] – Basic control of raw mana. Unstable, but allows channelling into attacks or defences.

[Wicked Tongue] – Enhances cutting remarks, insults and manipulation. Can briefly lower an opponent’s focus or morale.

[Tea Party Etiquette] – +1 Charm when holding a teacup.

[Dramatic Exit] – Increases presence and intimidation when leaving a scene after a conflict.

I almost choke. “Dramatic Exit? Are you kidding me?” Out of all the cool combat skills I could’ve obtained, what the hell is dramatic exit?

I swipe the screen away and cross to the wardrobe. Flinging the doors open, I forage through the numerous dresses. Lace, lace and… more lace. Blacks, crimson and purples. Big enough to drown me. Seriously, doesn’t this wardrobe have anything practical?

“Lady Leanan?”

I nearly stumble into the wardrobe, hitting my head on the rack as I struggle to free myself from the luxurious fabric. I turn to find Emily standing in the doorway, her brown hair pulled into a messy bun, white apron still crisp and clean over her simple black dress, wide eyes fixed on me.

“What are you doing, my Lady?” she asks, nose scrunching like she’s caught me doing something scandalous.

“Looking for something a bit more practical.” I slam the wardrobe shut. “Do I seriously not own anything but dresses?”

Her jaw drops. “Of course not, my Lady! A lady doesn’t wear such… boyish things.”

I slap my forehead. “Emily, I don’t want to replace the dresses. I want workout clothes. You know, something simple like trousers and a shirt.”

She blinks. “Work… out?” The word comes out like it’s foreign on her tongue.

“Exercise,” I say. “You know, to raise my stats.”

“Stats? My Lady, this is hardly—” She breaks off, then gasps. “Oh heavens, we don’t have time for this. You’ll be late for your first class if we don’t get you ready now.”

Before I can protest, she lunges forward, hands already tugging at my nightgown strings.

I yank away and grab the first thing I can reach from the wardrobe—a black dress with purple lace. “I can dress myself!” I shout, fleeing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

I try to still the tremor in my hands as I near the dining room doors. I internally chide myself. Villainesses aren’t supposed to look like they’re terrified of their first day of school.

I smooth my palms down the frills of the dress Emily had ended up stuffing me into. I’d fought her on dressing me every step of the way, but apparently, corsets and lace are boss-level obstacles. In the end, I had no choice but to let Emily dress me like a toddler.

The hallway stretches before me, dark wooden panels on both sides, with portraits of grim-faced, important-looking faces staring down from their frames. A crimson rug swallows the sound of my footsteps as I move.

Then my stomach gives a growl of protest when the scents of sizzling bacon, spices, and sweet fruit float around me. I press a hand to it, grimacing. Apparently, even in the simulation, I still need food to function.

The double doors to the dining room stand open, letting me see the hustle and bustle taking place inside. Students rush in, taking places at the round tables, and the noise of loud chatter and scraping of cutlery on porcelain plates echoes around the room. I hover in the doorway, trying to act like I belong while my stomach begs at me to hurry.

I take one step, but then stop when a voice calls out to me.

“Leanan Viermont.” The gravelly voice snaps behind me.

I turn my head to find an old man standing there. He is barely chest height, swamped in deep blue robes with a floppy hat that droops over his head, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking out like he’s been electrocuted. Steel-grey eyes glare up at me with disdain.

Anger rushes through me as my stomach gives another growl of protest. “What do you want, old man?” The venom slips into my tone effortlessly.

He actually flinches, taking a half step back, before stiffening again as if pretending he didn’t get scared of a student’s tone of voice. “Is that any way to speak to a professor? The Headmaster is summoning you.”

My stomach twists as if telling me it’ll start eating itself if I don’t give it food soon. I force a smile onto my mouth, baring my teeth. “Can’t this wait until after breakfast?”

“No.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “You are to go there now.”

The smell of food dancing around my nose mocks me. I cast one last, desperate look at the dining room, then turn back to him with my most poisonous glare.

“As you command.” The words drip from my mouth like I’m trying to curse him.

I sweep away from the doors, skirts swishing around my legs as I move.

All right, Headmaster. This had better be important. So, where do I go?

Before I have a chance to ask for directions, my body moves without me, feet carrying me unnervingly through unfamiliar corridors as if on autopilot. Great, at least I won’t get lost if they’ve programmed all locations into me.

My stomach growls again, and I rub it as if trying to placate it. If I don’t get food soon, someone is going to pay.