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The Crowtit Cries of Injustice (placeholder title)

If you think about it, like, actually think about it; transmigration isn't exactly a walk in a park kind of deal isn't it? Transmigrators have to keep worrying about every little plot that comes knocking at the door, worry about their survival daily, and cry every night as they miss the convenience of the modern life when being faced with the truth where fantasy don't live up to reality. So here's our main character, punted into that very same scenario where she can't even tell what's going on due to dropping the story at her earliest convenience to avoid further plot rage. Now possessing the body of one of the earliest villainess, scheduled to die a year after the heroine makes her grand entrance, she starts to. . . Do nothing?? Wait, why aren't you doing anything? You're going to let the knife plunge without stopping it??? Hey, stop, that's not the right script!

RollieOwl · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
23 Chs

1. Chapter One

(A/N : go read the previous chapter 0 or else this won't make sense)

"Tch."

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the sunlight streaming from the covered windows. "Too bad, I thought for sure the jinx will work this time."

The view that I'm greeted with is still the same antique-looking room, the same bed with canopy on top, the same trashed room that I remember from last night, though the destruction becomes even clearer with the light of sun highlighting all the dangerous sharp objects littered on the ground.

"So, to recap so I know I'm not going insane- I got isekaied into a villainess-looking woman, into a world that I have no knowledge about, and all I got is this killer headache."

Right at the moment of my last finger curling, it feels as if a dam has been broken and I start seeing visions.

No shit, legit visions that swim right in my eyes as the vignettes of memories are playing in front of my eyes with the vivid contrast of an IMAX screen.

There's no subtitle that I can read as people are talking in the same gibberish language I uttered last night, though it seems unnecessary.

If I have to describe it, it is as if I'm downloading language straight to the noggin' and I slowly and surely understand what's being talked by and to the original body.

Also, just as I feared, this is definitely a work that I did not finish reading all the way to the end. The memory helped me pinpoint which one, exactly, but I can't tell if it really helped or if I just cornered myself to the bad ending immediately.

The novel I find myself in, which I can't remember the title of, is the classical shoujo works that flood the mainstream media. A humble noble girl with quirky disposition soon finds herself entangled with the prince of the country as they have to figure out how to date and take the throne from the tyrannical king. The synopsis sounds cliché, the work itself is cliché, and there's not much to say about the slow-as-snail romance and the common plot holes in world-building.

What this work has in stride though, are memorable villains.

It is as if the author has sadistic tendencies and should have been writing softcore BDSM work instead, with how much their work infuriates and edges the readers just enough to keep reading in pain to seek relief from unannounced surprise torture that can happen anytime the author wants it to. The villains rotate by each arc showing means of indescribable cruelty to dispense on every milestone for the couple, on top of the already precarious plot doing tightrope walking. From the first date gone very wrong to a nearly catastrophic engagement that almost brought war with another kingdom, this work has it all and more. God, it has so much more stuff that's frankly unnecessary. 

Mostly though, the villains are relatable. Almost as if they're what gets fleshed out first before the ACTUAL MAIN CHARACTER of the story. "Ha, I think I remember commenting that in the actual book!" I huff, but it really was like that. 

I remember getting through the first 200 chapters (out of a total of 600) solely to see how the villains connect to one another, though the quality severely drops after we pass the 300-chapter threshold. The writing becomes visibly sloppy and thus, I ended my journey of reading this story right after. As far as I remember, the author did get some dough out of writing this story, so I didn't leave a bad review on their page despite how infuriating it was to read, out of respect for the grind.

Anyway, regarding my current predicament, 2 people come to mind. A side character level of importance and someone who can be demoted to an extra considering their pitiful appearance time. 

So, allow me to introduce me to myself, the villainess, Carlyanne 'Carla' Hortensia. The sole daughter of Count Hortensia, 5th in line of succession of what is apparently not an agriculture noble clan. A beautiful woman whose appearance could topple countries by simply breathing in the direction of powerful men. 

This girlie died right so early in the story with a cause so absurd for a villainess that I genuinely applaud myself for not laughing as the memory of her death starts playing. It's not funny seeing the twerking, twitching body on the ground once you know that's going to be you in the future.

The cause of death? Killed off-screen by another, bigger villain in the series to be used as a stepladder for his climb to power. 

I can't say that out of other villains, she's the most unfortunate, but it's a damn close race. Tragic backstory, bad family upbringing, self-esteem issue that causes inadequacy, canon fodder death- check, check, and check. 

At least the author was nice enough to keep the mystery surrounding her death as an actual background plot point that pops back twice during the story, once during an unrelated gardening side-quest and another when the true culprit finally gets revealed.

If there's anything I can praise about this book, it's this. Carla's death did get a closure that most other characters don't have and was impactful enough of a mystery to the heroine to make her walk the path of political thorns properly after seeing how life and death are handled within the circle of 'proper' noble houses.

"The memories.. they're really coming back to me," I whisper to the soft pillow while keeping my starfish pose as still as a coral. "Holy shit, the memories are coming back for real.. that's a lot."

There's a lot to parse through. Mostly, since the memories are personal accounts of the villainess, I get to know the inner workings of the house of Hortensia and how I'm supposed to behave.

Surprise, surprise, that sick excuse might actually work for real. "Whew, let's take a deep breath before I give it a try…"

With a small amount of regret for having to sit up, I look at the bedside table where a tiny copper bell rests against the white surface. I've only ever seen this kind of thing in dramas or comics so naturally, there's some excitement in having to ring this item with its intended purposes. 

As the bell rings, I hear some footsteps approaching the door and soon, open with a gusto. A maidenly figure takes a single step into the room, surveys the damage, then bows deep enough that I get it's supposed to be a respectful gesture. "Good morning miss, what I can do for you?"

Now, time to play a jerk! I look at the woman in the eyes and take notes of her motherly face. An old maid, or the head maid? "You, what's ugh, what's your name?"

"Sasha."

"Whatever. Clean this room, and I want a bath prepared." I wave my hand dismissively at her while nursing the lingering shadow of a headache. I do notice a group of other, younger maids behind her, who move only after Sasha gives a curt nod and moves herself into the space.

Two of the maids broke off the group as they stood by my bedside, a brunette with light freckles on her face and a green short-haired one, bowing in tandem as they say, "Let us help with your bathing, miss."

I let out a sigh, out of relief that I won't get dumped to the bathroom not knowing how anything in there works.

Think of this as a spa experience.. I tell myself as I get my body gently watered and brushed by two beautiful girls so early in the morning. God, this is awkward as all hell. At least the water isn't ice cold else I might shriek out of character.

Once done rubbed, rinsed, and dried, I finally step out of that very embarrassing experience with dread as I face the ungodly amount of dresses that got cartwheeled out of the side door. "Miss, which dress will you be wearing today? What kind of look will you be going for today?"

I don't know! I don't know! Even if I've read many shojo comics, at some point the beauty of the dresses starts to blur together as I was much of a 'shorts save lives' camp in my previous life!! This kind of beauty-toppling-face is genuinely wasted on this gal! I don't know anything about dresses at all!!!

Still, I have to say something, so after another short council in my head, my mouth says, "Have two of you ever picked clothes for me?"

The two girls, as expected, look at each other with eyes that wonder if they're about to get hanged on a pike, and shakes their head. Ah, the risk of working for a capricious noble lady, it shows. "No, miss. It is above our stations to do so."

"Then you can try now." I try to maintain a haughty, don't-care tone as I turn to sit at the dressing table. "I'm feeling rather.. generous, today. So go on, discuss."

Once again, the two girls share a wordless exchange, and the green-haired girl gave up the lead to the brunette. "As you wish it, miss."

… I feel bad for the girls, I really do, but it's not like I know the difference between morning and evening dress! For all I know, maybe Carla likes to wear ballgowns to breakfast. Who knows? Not me! I didn't see any memories about it since the original body deems that unimportant!!

In any case, I successfully threw the responsibility to someone else! Yay for the small win!

The dress that the two picked looks good. Looks to the color of pastel purple, the least ostentatious of the bunch, and thus starts the doll-dressing game. At some point, more maids had joined and helps with the hair, the accessories, the makeup…

I start blacking out due to how complicated every process is at some point because once my spirit returns, the green-haired maid that took charge of my face takes a step back with a look of self-satisfaction and, curbing it immediately, she and the others nod to me.

"It is done, miss."

Studying this body in the mirror is- I want to say 'out of body' but I'm already out of my body, so I'll settle on 'otherworldly experience'.

The choice of the soft, pastel dress and the light makeup paired with a half-up hairdo makes me almost a bit dizzy looking at the reflection. I almost don't recognize this body which, should be fair considering I've only equipped it for a single night, but what stares back at me is truly a beauty that deserves to topple countries by simply existing. 

I give the dress a pinch, a little twirl, and a short curt nod as I do my best to maintain a neutral face while hoping the praise gets through. "This will do."

While the servants look like they've gotten a lifetime pardon from crime, I stand in place with stewing anxiety. I've bathed, I'm dressed..

Now what???

'Knock!'

My eyes, along with the other attendants, flit to the source of the sound. The door remains closed, though it is clear that someone is standing behind it. Waiting for me?

Good, let's use this person as the guide to the next thing. "Open the door."

The two maids obey as they open the double door, one on each side, and I am greeted first by the blinding radiance of a handsome servant waiting in the middle of the hall, smiling widely at me as if I'm the bringer of all things joyful.

"Good morning miss, please, let me escort you to the dining room."

Ah, how lovely. This face truly lives up to the description of the villain that I remember. The man who not only orchestrated the downfall of Hortensia's household, but also tried to topple the empire via terrorism and later, tried to win the heroine over to his side and failed, Sieghart.

The only description of him that I remember was that he is as someone who attracts gazes due to his charming yet gentle face, with blond hair and blue eyes. I may have to give credit where it's due since the word 'attractive' is very fitting for this kind of face specimen.

Hm. Maybe it won't be so bad to die to this man, then, if I get to stare into his face resentfully until the moment I pass into oblivion.

"Miss?"

Ah, shit, I got distracted. "Let's go."

I keep my pace a little behind Sieghart, following him as he leads me through the absolute maze that is the Hortensia manor. In the snippets of memories I saw, Carla tends to walk with whatever paces she likes besides her servants. Honestly, not a very helpful accumulation of memories, but I have to make do. 

As expected of a wealthy count household though, there are a lot of things to see during our walk to the dining room. An interesting statue here, a gigantic painting over there, and soon, I encounter the stairs so polished I'm a little scared to go down on these near-flat heels. 

But! The show must go on! I tell myself to get over it soon and slowly descend one step at a time. Of course, the boobs aren't bouncing boobily, as one might expect from wearing a loose two-piece dress because this is an isekai fantasy novel, so of course bra on par with modern quality has been invented for woman's use.

It might have existed since time immemorial, even, I'll have to ask where the library is to make sure how much is authorial intent and how much must have been otherworldly plot-filling job to make a passing word in a book into a reality.

Sieghart remains silent during our walk. I can't tell what's inside his head at the moment, nor do I want to, considering that he won the Nastiest Villain award back when I was still an active reader. 

I don't know if he got away from the plot safely or if he died like all the other villains before him, and it does make one wonder about how absolute is the plot to this projected reality.

"We've arrived."

The solemn tone of the announcement brought me back to the present just in time. I reply with a short, curt nod. Then, before I can stop it, the words already escaped out in the open as the door slowly opens. "Thanks."

Sieghart, the future villain who holds grudges so dearly as if one would to a possessive lover, looks at me as if I'm insane. He doesn't say that though, instead, asking me with a low voice matched with a respectful tone he inquires in another manner. "Are you still drunk miss?"

"Yes." I answer, genuinely, while holding the feeling of rising nausea that boils from the depth of my stomach to at least try and stay in character by ending and walking away from the conversation abruptly. 

The dining room looks like it comes out of a classic European architecture booklet. A big table and numerous chairs surrounded it, though none of the pomp of the food spread and instead individually prepared seats, empty and filled.

At the head of the table sat a man with the same dark purple hair as Carlyanne, darker than hers, actually, as the sunlight streaming from the high windows behind his back did not reflect much of the undertone colors like his daughter's hair did. "Ah, daughter. It's good to see you well this morning."

Right. I'm Carla now. I have to get used to at least acting respectfully to my elders.

"Good morning, Father." My body automatically bows, the movement feels graceful despite me never practicing them at all, greeting the other two occupants of the room. "Mother, brothers, sister."

One by one my greeting is replied, with curt nods or respectful smiles. Their face is triggering my flight/fight reflex due to how uncanny each one is. Some look closely to the father's face, in the case of the first brother Eric, and older sister Joanne, while the rest of the siblings look like disarrayed puzzle pieces between him and the madam.

My current face though? Carlyanne's face? I'm not sure what happened during her conception, but the chemistry was most definitely chemistrying.

I sat down at the only empty seat, trying my best to not flinch when a servant pulls back the seat for my convenience. The food then soon presented, though perhaps due to my half drunk half hangover state, I don't find any of the offered meals delectable. 

Still, I pick and chew on some of what I know, while the other sons are busy talking with one another, or over one another. Theo, the 2nd child in succession, looks at the eldest Eric with a huge grin on his face. "And here I thought you said our youngest won't come today?"

"I said that she might not come, not that she won't." Eric rebukes back with ease, as if used to the occurrence, and shoots back, "Are you so cruel as to want to bar our dearest sister from joining breakfast? It's not every day that she can find herself free enough of her busy schedule to meet us."

I hear the dig in his voice, even though I have no idea what the dig is for, but I'm going to hand him a shovel so he keeps digging. "Ah, I didn't know that you miss me so, dear brother." 

With how awkward the sentence ends, Eric has no choice but to reply and either continue or conclude the conversation. "I do miss your presence in general, Carlyanne, but taking care of your body should be the priority. I can wait until you're better."

"Ah, that is right, dear sister. Your health takes utmost priority."

"You should rest as much as you can."

Even as half-hangover as I am, I can hear the resonance of platitudes in their voice. While I don't remember much of the story and while Carlyanne does fit the trope of sickly beauty, all the insane activities she did in the novel are a far cry from someone needing this much assurance and coddling. Hell, the girl drank a near-toxic level of alcohol straight from the bottle just last night and she's still not dead yet!

. . . 

A quick scan around the dining table shows that my own breakfast is the only one different from the rest as I'm served with a warm, light soup appropriate for someone who drank heavily the night before, it appears that they knew, of some level, of what the previous Carla up to last night.

Something is up with the Hortensia's treatment of their supposed villainess. I'll make a note of it for my sober self to figure it out. "I'm done."

Count Hortensia, who seems to have anticipated this, smiled at me as he gave an excusing nod. "Please, take it easy today daughter."

I don't give him a straight answer. It feels as if they expected this anyway as I'm allowed to go.

I walk. Away, somewhere, I don't know where I'm going but I have to get away from that damned dining room. I keep my breathing shallow when, as a stroke of luck, I encounter an open passage to an outdoor garden.

Flowers of all kinds are blooming around the periphery of my vision. Most of them are yellows and pinks, among the obvious greenery. The wind picked this time to blow a soft, gentle breeze in the air, clearing my mind and taking away the sense of suffocation that nearly choked me from the inside out. 

Without any preamble, I bow to the nearest bush and vomit everything onto the ground.

It took about three heaves before my entire stomach emptied itself onto the soil, hopefully, it'll be nutritional to the plants. I clutch my stomach in hopes of it feeling self-soothing, though what really helps is the hands on my left side, holding my hair out of my face.

As expected, Sieghart follows me out of the dining room and looks like he's half-wishing he's somewhere else instead of helping a young woman puke her guts out into the greenery. He doesn't do more than hold my hair or say anything soothing, perhaps out of respect or to maintain his composure in the face of his hated enemy, but it's a generally silent affair that passes until the moment I feel refreshed for having an empty stomach. 

My back, which is tired of bending down, slots back in place as I straighten myself up. It's not until I take a few calming breaths that Sieghart offers a small, clear bottle to me. 

"A nausea cure." he says without missing a beat, probably reading my questioning eyes.

I take the bottle from him, the shape and the glittering liquid remind me of those witchy potion bottles sold on the internet. Uncorking the top is easier than I thought, the sound of it sliding against the glass is a little fun and I'll repeat it again if not for me needing the contents inside my system ASAP.

There's no taste as I swallow it down, though the texture can use some improvement.

With the bottle now empty, I plug back the bottle and hand it back to a surprised-looking Sieghart. "What?"

"You didn't check it.." He says..? accuse? I can't place the tone of his speech aside that the gobsmacked look hasn't faded from him, one that makes me laugh aloud after realizing it doesn't make him any less beautiful.

Of course, the laugh seems to snap him back down to earth, and the man schools his expression back to that unreadable neutrality.

I laugh harder. I laugh until I'm satisfied since there's nothing this man can do against me that won't jeopardize himself immediately. For the first time, I find that the author missed an opportunity to describe the villain's face as silly-looking when caught off guard. Tsk tsk, what a shame.

"I don't think you'd be that stupid." I wipe the tears from my eyes. Ah, that's one super satisfying laugh, I haven't had those in a while. Then again, when else am I going to get transmigrated and end up surprising a main antagonist? I'll cherish this moment until the day of my second death. "Lead me to my room, I'm going back to sleep this off."

Sieghart, who looks as if he wishes to say anything else than "Yes, miss." looks me in the eyes for one moment too long before he finally leads me back through the winding maze of my new abode and back to the safety confine of my now tidied up room.

Thank you, maids, you all cleaned up well! Off to dreamland I go!