I Reincarnated as a Noble Girl Villainess But Why Did It Turn Out This Way? (WN)

... the scent of the flower was slight and the lid was pressed open.

I'm still not used to the fact that the cloth feels like it's taking care of my body. As he missed the unique aroma of straw, the boy rolled over and leaned back, waking up his body.

The given bedding is furry on a wooden slab, and is only stiff with a woven cloth, making it very uncomfortable to sleep on. Is there only one good place I can think of that maybe I'm awake because of it?

That's one thing, he breathes loosely. A slightly sweet scent still stained my lungs from a round of flowers placed at the pillow.

The small stone room, which gives both a sense of narrowness and stubbornness, is echoed by the snoring of the others who make this room look like it. A thin light shot in from the outside as he pushed open the wooden slab covering the window just next to him from the outside.

Just a few moments before dawn.

He always thinks that that moment, when red beams twitch into a gloriously colored and white sky between the moon and the sun, is the most beautiful moment of the day.

The boy stared at it until he got the blues that would completely let the sky out. A blurry head in the wake works cursorily in the meantime.

Remembering the colour of Red Bea, the face of the person who taught him the word, he suppressed the tingling and painful chest. Among the nuns on patrol, a mixed girl. The time spent was only for a short time, which is why I vividly remember my eyes the same color as this dawn sky.

Turning his back on the window that it would be time to wake up, he stood up from his bedside and did not hesitate to slap the iron plate hung at the entrance and exit of the room with a wooden gavel.

Gang-gang-ganging, and relentless loud volume scratches off the annoying snoring and drags the muddy, painful men out of the dream world.

"Morning, get up, Osama and the others."

"... oh, oh. Good morning, Latka."

"Totally, you have no mercy for the way you wake me up, every morning..."

It's been half a month since the boy came here. I have a decision to tell the first guy to wake up in the morning, but so far, one of them slapped this iron plate every day.

Latka's health was at its limit by the time she was blown away by an adult soldier this morning and rolled ten times on the ground.

As usual, the rough soldiers around him fly a jerk and a mockery whenever he bites the sand with this sword. It's terribly humiliating, and all this day he managed to breathe and raise his voice.

Speaking of soldier jerks,

"Whoa, that's sloppy! Tsari was even a little more sticky when he was five!

"You can't lose to a five-year-old woman as a man who can mow wheat!

"So I'm telling you, Latka's a 'lady'!

This is it.

Because the Earl who threw Latka into this barracks pointed to Latka and said, "Work out just like Viscount Cardia" and so on, every time a soldier speaks of comparison with that girl, he stands up as "the lady" Latka who loses it.

The appearance of poverty and the resemblance of a woman's face to her mother was a sufficient complex for Latka, and the way she called 'the lady', which had the meaning of stirring up her boxed daughter, incited Latka's humiliation.

"Annoying! Unlike that Tsari guy, I've never done swordsmanship before!!

The soldiers silence themselves perfectly for a moment to Latka, who barked so in frustration.

Between now and when Latka thought it would be quiet. Soldiers laugh even more annoyingly than they did earlier.

"Even Tsari never touched a sword until he got here!

The only way to make that mockery is to keep Latka quiet on the boulder.

- Fuck off! Without putting it to words, I just threw up a nasty curse.

Aristocrats learn swords from a young age. Some years ago, that's what the little nun who stayed at Cyril Village did say.

Only if you think the comparator was originally handled by a sword was he the one who had managed to endure it until now. The fact that he has just been exposed makes his insistence scarce.

Most importantly, the comparator was bad. The girl, known as Tsari, was the daughter of a lord whom Latka hates more than anything - precisely, the present lord.

The laughter of the soldiers disappears to shrivel when they see Ratka, whose face has been distorted thoughtlessly by his incomprehensible anger and remorse, beating him too hard on the boulder. I was so annoyed, I wondered what made me quiet this time, and even that stuck to my epilepsy now in Latka.

"─ Well, that, what. Don't insult our hotel too much."

When one of the soldiers says so, the others also zero the word like a corn and consent to it, scattering it like it was cold.

─ ─ What the hell!!

Until then, a cold voice that had not heard a word is dropped on Latka, who waved her right-hand fist down to the ground in frustration.

"Get up, you fucking kid. If you're all right, you can have five more meetings."

At the same time, a wooden sword that had been blown out of his hand earlier came down on his belly, and Latka groaned a lot.

With resentment in his eyes, he scorns the person who went such an outrage without hesitation to an eight-year-old. The man, standing over his sleeping Latka's head, returned arrow cod and a sharp glance.

"... excuse me"

I apologized reluctantly Latka, but there was no change in the man's eyesight. When he jumped up in a hurry and set up his sword, the man was pulling only a little leg.

Were you going to kick it, I knew it.

A man smacks his tongue small against Latka, who escaped the crisis with a single hair.

"Hey, don't get bogged down and get started."

"Yes, Master Gunter."

Latka nodded one thing, sticking it straight into the man.

... Just twice, I was to roll to the ground again just to cross swords.

I have to go get my own dinner from noon. That, he said, is the decision of this leadership.

I'm physically stranded enough to vomit, and I can't hunt with terrible fatigue or anything. At least that's what Latka thinks.

I'm used to hiccups. I told myself so feeling infidel and rotten, and Latka hasn't been out collecting until today.

Instead...

"Oh, are you still here today?

Care for the human eye. Rather than it's time to... pull the tired body through the cursory shadows and head to the brilliant building that is the symbol of the hateful lord in Latka's eyes. That's how a soft voice descended from the top of the window as it leaped into a painting of a complex shaped courtyard.

"Dear Elise!

Latka looks up and gazes at the girl looking at this one with a little face out the upstairs window. She smiled very elegantly and seemingly enjoyable.

"Hehe... that's crazy. You must be Elise too, right?

There was a slight bitterness in that word, but enough to swallow it and give the girl a grin back. It seemed more important to me that Elise was looking pretty good today than that for Latka.

"Dear Elise, what are you going to talk about today?

"Anything. I told you not to put it on when you called me."

Latka uttered a prawn and a small desire that would at least be forgiven to herself. I think I say it every time I come here, but Elise just laughs and says "I'm sorry," and I've never nodded yes.

The truth is that I even want this girl to call me "Latka" and her real name, but Latka is not allowed to tell Elise that name.

So at least I want you to call me a little closer.

There was a fear of what a deviant wish you were making against a noble lady - but you can't stop talking about it because Elise doesn't fit too much into the statue of the 'nobility' in Latka.

The nobility he was listening to was arrogant, wasteful, and he didn't think of civilians as people, but he could only decorate and chat.

There was only one apprentice nun who told Latka that, but he had no other way of listening, nor did he want to.

Unfortunately, that rating seemed to him to accompany the lord of this realm perfectly.

But Elise, who turns a gentle grin on me, and her statue of nobility are never linked.

Likewise, Elise is special, and Latka sees her as sacred.

On the other hand, the facade past the back of his brain irritated him badly.

Every day, every day, whenever the name is heard in his life in the barracks, he still betrays the statue of the 'nobility' that Latka had in mind - Eliza, a girl called Tsari by the soldiers and admired. I hate you everywhere, Cardia's daughter.

Latka's frustration turned to the soldiers of the army this morning.

Tsari. Old words remaining in the Yugfena region. Before even St. Ahar was born, a bedtime story about the king ruling Yugfena becomes its source.

What is' Tsari '?

Behind a smile toward Elise, Latka threw up like that again.