I tried.

This is the end of confused Haruka, she becomes the villainess we were waiting for.

See you next week.

Igawa Haruka walked through the dimly lit hallway of Sōbu High School, her soft footsteps echoing in the quiet afternoon. Her long black hair shimmered under the fading sunlight filtering through the windows, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, framing a face that held both beauty and an air of mystery. Her uniform—a black blazer paired with a crisp white shirt and a red ribbon tie—hugged her curvy figure with elegant precision. The plaid skirt swayed lightly with her every step. Black thigh-high stockings, embellished with subtle white stripes, added a refined touch to her appearance, hinting at her individuality even amidst the standard school attire.

Though the day had been uneventful, her mind was clouded with thoughts of the past—a different world, name, and legacy marred by betrayal and loss.

The steady tapping of her indoor shoes echoed rhythmically as she approached the familiar door of the service club. She had transferred to this school not long ago, her true identity carefully concealed, even from her foster family. Yet there was one person here who knew more than anyone else: Hikigaya Hachiman, her cousin. He was the only one who had witnessed the fall of Diana von Umbral Serpentis, a once-regal figure now cursed to live as a child while her world crumbled around her. On Earth, she was Igawa Haruka, a teenager in appearance. Although the weight of a life far older than her physical form rested heavily on her shoulders.

As she reached the door, her hand hovered just above it, ready to knock. But the sudden sound of something crashing from within gave her pause.

o000

I approached the service club door, my thoughts drifting as I overheard the voices inside. They sounded familiar. Just as I was about to knock, a sudden cry caught my attention.

"The plot needs slaves!" The male voice boomed with dramatic flair and self-importance.

"No, you fool." Hikigaya's unmistakably dry voice followed, dripping with sarcasm. "You're just ripping off other light novels. You just wanted an excuse to undress women in your so-called 'plot.'"

There was a brief pause before two female voices chimed in, synchronized in their disgust. "Disgusting."

Suddenly, another crash echoed inside, followed by a dull thud against the wall. The sound startled me, freezing my hand mid-air, hovering inches from the door. My posture remained regal, as always, but inwardly I debated whether it was wise to intrude on what sounded like utter madness within.

Still, curiosity tugged at me—an unbecoming trait for someone of noble descent. Yet, even those born of high standing cannot resist the pull of intrigue. With a soft, deliberate motion, I pushed the door open and allowed myself a moment to observe the scene.

Hikigaya Hachiman sat casually at the table, his deadpan expression as indifferent as ever. His younger sister, Komachi, full of her usual energy, sat beside him, seemingly in the middle of explaining something. Yuigahama Yui, always cheerful, sat next to Yukinoshita Yukino, who, unsurprisingly, looked the least amused by whatever chaos had just unfolded.

However, it was the figure slumped against the wall that caught my attention. A boy with pale white hair, overweight, and dressed in an overly dramatic brown trench coat lay face-first on the floor, motionless. The crashing sound I had heard must have been him colliding with the wall—and perhaps the floor, given his current state.

I raised an eyebrow, a subtle gesture I had perfected through years of keeping my emotions hidden behind a noblewoman's practiced mask. It was rare for anything to surprise me, and even now, my outward composure remained intact. Though, I allowed a flicker of curiosity to slip through.

Before I could inquire further, Hikigaya, noticing my gaze, waved dismissively toward the fallen figure. "Don't worry about him. He's just depressed because we criticized his manuscript again."

Yuigahama let out a sheepish giggle. "He, uh, took it kind of hard this time."

"Very hard," Yukinoshita added dryly, her eyes flicking briefly toward the unconscious boy lying against the wall.

Straightening my posture with the grace of my upbringing, I cast another glance at Zaimokuza's prone form. "And who is that?" I asked, my voice calm, though a faint hint of aristocratic amusement laced my words.

Hikigaya sighed, unfazed. "Zaimokuza Yoshiteru. Self-proclaimed writer. He's... a regular here. Unfortunately."

"I see." My voice remained neutral, though I allowed myself a barely audible chuckle. A sound that carried the refined amusement of someone well-versed in noble etiquette. "It seems I've missed quite the performance."

Komachi burst into laughter, unable to contain herself. "Oh, Haruka-nee, you have no idea! He gets like this every time."

I smiled faintly, a delicate expression, neither too exuberant nor too restrained—a perfect reflection of my noble upbringing. I took a seat, I crossed my legs with practiced elegance, the motion effortless and refined. "It sounds... entertaining, in its way."

Meanwhile, Zaimokuza groaned softly from the floor, attempting to push himself up despite his most recent faceplant.

Hikigaya caught the brief shift in my expression—a flicker of concern I hadn't entirely managed to conceal. Letting out a familiar deep sigh, he stood, the sound carrying a reluctant sense of responsibility.

"Well then, I'm getting a Max Coffee," he muttered before glancing in my direction, his gaze steady. "Igawa, let's go."

His sudden invitation caught me off guard, and for a brief moment, I hesitated. His directness was unexpected, yet oddly reassuring. With a soft nod, I rose, smoothing the pleats of my skirt with the practiced grace of someone who once wore the finest silks. I followed him out of the clubroom, my stride poised and deliberate, though inwardly my thoughts swirled.

We walked in comfortable silence through the quiet halls of Sōbu High School, the hum of fluorescent lights faintly echoing above. I found myself appreciating the stillness—so different from the tumult of the court life I once knew.

As we reached the vending machine, Hikigaya fished for coins in his pocket. I stood to the side, my posture impeccable as always, every motion embodying the weight of my noble upbringing, even standing beside a vending machine.

After selecting his Max Coffee, Hikigaya cracked it open with a familiar hiss and leaned against the machine, taking a long sip. His sharp gaze turned toward me, narrowing slightly as if sensing the burden of my thoughts.

"So," he began, his voice casual yet piercing in its directness, "what's wrong? It's about your past, isn't it?"

His bluntness, though something I had come to appreciate, left me momentarily unprepared. I drew a soft breath, a flicker of surprise breaking through my otherwise composed demeanor.

"Yes," I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with a tremor that betrayed the emotions I had kept tightly bound. "I overheard you talking about slaves."

Hikigaya remained silent, his steady gaze unwavering, making me feel the full weight of his attention. It stirred something within me—a vulnerability I had long kept hidden beneath my noble facade.

"In the world I come from," I continued softly, though my voice was steady, "people with my traits—white hair, silver eyes—were seen as less than human. Nobles treated us as property. Some were even sold as slaves. It wasn't just me. Many others like me... they suffered too. Suppose I hadn't met the princes that day. I would have been the s*x slave of my older brother when he turned 13."

I can feel the chill run down my spine.

The truth hung heavily in the air between us, my noble upbringing demanding composure, even as the ache of those memories surfaced—a past I had tried so hard to leave behind.

Hikigaya lowered his gaze, taking another sip of his coffee. He didn't offer any immediate words of comfort, nor did he try to downplay my experiences. That wasn't his style, and I understood that. Instead, he listened—really listened—allowing me to share what I needed without interruption or judgment.

I exhaled slowly, the controlled breath of someone accustomed to maintaining poise under pressure. "As a noblewoman engaged to the prince, I had access to the true history of the kingdom—the knowledge the common folk were never privy to." My voice was calm, yet edged with bitterness, carrying the weight of someone well-versed in the fractured politics of a broken world. "Before the war, the human realm enslaved other races. They were treated worse than animals—completely disposable. It was a death sentence."

I paused, my expression distant though my posture remained perfectly upright—shoulders back, head high, as though recounting historical facts in a royal court. "It was an ugly system, entrenched in tradition. But then the hero and the Demon Lord appeared. They waged a brutal war, yet in the end, neither side truly won. Instead, they allied. A treaty."

Hikigaya raised an eyebrow. "A treaty between humans and demons? That's... unexpected."

"Yes," I continued, my fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of my uniform, a subconscious effort to ground myself in the present. "It should have marked the start of a peaceful era, especially for the common people. But for the nobles—especially the corrupt ones—the treaty was seen as a loss. One of the key changes was an education system to elevate the peasants. Worse for the nobles was the blow to the slave market."

Hikigaya listened intently, his eyes narrowing as he processed my words.

"Under the treaty, slave owners were forced to release many slaves. Complete abolition wasn't possible, but the treaty severely restricted the practice. Only criminals or those who sold themselves into slavery willingly could be kept. Even then, the treatment of slaves was regulated by law. They were granted rights—something unheard of before."

I recited the regulations with the precision of someone well-versed in governance and law, my voice cold and detached, like a royal decree. "Slaves were guaranteed food and shelter, nobles were forbidden from using them for entertainment, and bribing them with freedom to commit crimes became illegal."

I glanced at Hikigaya, gauging his reaction. He met my gaze, his expression sharp yet not unkind.

"The nobles despised it," I continued, straightening my posture, the ingrained habits of my upbringing surfacing. "They blamed people like me—those with white hair and silver eyes—for their lost 'freedom,' attributing their downfall to the hero's actions. My parents plan to have me erased, so my older brother can have me as his sex slave. That was a reality that could have happened to me."

The weight of my words hung in the air, and Hikigaya let out a slow exhale, tilting his head back as he stared at the sky. "I get it. It's a tough subject. But even here, slavery hasn't truly ended. It's just hidden behind policies and loopholes." His voice grew sharper, more cynical. "Take the U.S., for example. They abolished slavery, but forced labor as punishment for crimes? That's still happening. The prison system's turned into a business."

My eyes widened slightly, surprised by his comparison. "So... even on Earth, this is an issue." My tone remained measured, reflecting my training, but there was clear intrigue in my voice.

"Yeah," Hikigaya replied, taking a long sip of coffee. "It's not the same, but the principle's similar. People in power will always find ways to exploit the vulnerable, whether nobles in your world or corporations and governments in ours."

We let the silence linger between us, the rustling of leaves filling the air. Finally, Hikigaya broke the stillness with a sigh.

"About the slavery bit in that manuscript," he began, more casually now. "It's just part of the current light novel trends."

I tilted my head slightly, curious but composed, maintaining the grace expected of my upbringing.

Hikigaya continued, sipping his coffee. "Light novels go through phases. Right now, slavery in fantasy stories is popular. It started with a novel about a hero who couldn't fight, so he used slaves to battle for him[1]."

He shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "People got hooked, especially since one of the slaves was a cute beastkin girl. It wasn't about slavery—it was about her being devoted to the hero, like a wife who supports him."

His expression darkened slightly. "Readers ate it up. The cute, supportive character who's always there for the hero—it's a fantasy. But trends like this don't last."

I listened thoughtfully, my expression reserved but open. "I see. So it's not about slavery itself, but about the role that character plays."

"Exactly," Hikigaya nodded. "It's an easy way to create a bond without developing a real relationship. The 'master-slave' dynamic skips the hard work of writing a mutual connection. It's shallow, but people like it because it's simple. It won't stick around forever, though."

I gave a dignified nod, considering his words. "Even in fiction, there's always a reflection of reality."

"Yeah, well, people write what sells," Hikigaya said, his familiar cynical edge returning. "But not everything that sells has meaning."

As we walked back toward the service club, I adjusted the hem of my skirt, a reflex born from years of noble etiquette. I moved with quiet grace, a contrast to Hikigaya's casual stride.

He spoke again as we approached the door. "There's a light novel similar to what you went through. A noblewoman with white hair, feared by the nobles, betrayed by the princes who were supposed to marry her[2]."

I glanced at him, intrigued. "Betrayed by the princes? That sounds... familiar."

"Yeah," Hikigaya nodded. "She escapes and becomes an adventurer. She's got twin daughters born out of wedlock, but the people love her. Meanwhile, the prince who betrayed her starts losing power. It's about how she rises despite everything[2]."

I exhaled softly, reflecting on his words. "I see... it is similar to my story." The idea of rising again, reclaiming power after betrayal, stirred something within me.

As Hikigaya slid the door open, he offered a subtle bow. "Sorry about that," he said as we entered. "Igawa wasn't feeling well after Zaimokuza's manuscript."

Yukinoshita, seated with her arms crossed, sighed in exasperation. "I can't blame her. That was... headache-inducing."

Yuigahama nodded, her face scrunched in concentration. "Yeah, there were so many hard words. I got lost, like, three times."

Hikigaya glanced at Zaimokuza, still facedown near the wall. "Told you."

Komachi, watching from the side, smiled sympathetically at me. "Poor Haruka-nee."

I smiled softly, the kind of elegant smile expected of a noblewoman, as I settled into the chaotic, yet comforting atmosphere of the service club. Despite everything, there was warmth here—something foreign, yet welcome, offering a rare reprieve from the weight of my past.

0o00

I sat on the edge of my bed, my gaze lingering on the window as the evening light filtered through the curtains. Outside, the world carried on, quiet and indifferent. But inside my room, the air felt thick with the weight of my swirling thoughts.

"Have I moved on?" I whispered to myself. My reflection stared back at me in the window, but I barely recognized the woman looking back. Hikigaya had mentioned that light novel—a story so similar to my own. The noblewoman who rose from betrayal and loss, who forged her path and found success. "But what about me?" I wondered aloud, my fingers tightening around the bedsheet beneath me.

She had risen from the ashes, triumphant. But... what about me?

Being a noblewoman was never a problem. It was the isolation that came with it—the betrayal, the fear of trusting again. Even after everything, after being sent to this new world, I hadn't changed. Not really. The walls I had built around myself remained, unyielding, preventing me from forming any real connection with my new family.

"They've treated me like family," I murmured, a trace of sadness lacing my voice. My foster parents—though strangers to me—had shown genuine kindness. My foster sister, Marnie, had reached out to me more than once. But I kept my distance, afraid to open up, too scared to get close.

"I know we don't share the same blood," I whispered, watching the soft glow of the setting sun. "But they... they still treated me like one of them. Like I belonged."

Yet that sense of belonging felt fragile, almost unreal. I belonged to a different world, and sometimes I wondered if anything—magic or otherwise—could truly bridge the gap between us. But nothing had happened. I couldn't bring myself to trust it—or them. Not completely.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them as I stared at the fading light. My heart ached under the weight of it all. The memories of my past clung to me like shadows, reminding me of the betrayals, the loneliness, and the fear of opening myself up again.

"They treated me like family," I repeated quietly as if saying it enough times might make it easier to believe. But deep down, I wasn't sure if I could ever truly let myself accept it.

Maybe... maybe I'm still trapped in that hole, I thought. And maybe... I don't know how to climb out.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as my thoughts spun in circles. The room was silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside my window. But inside me, there was nothing but turmoil.

As a noblewoman, I had always been taught pride—pride in my name, my status, and my abilities. I had carried myself with dignity, even when the world tried to tear me down. That pride was what kept me standing when everything else had fallen apart. But now, it felt like a double-edged sword.

"I should be able to rise above this," I whispered. "I've done it before. I became a noblewoman and stood tall despite the betrayals, and the hatred. I survived."

But this... this was different. The battle I faced now wasn't with a corrupt kingdom or a treacherous prince. It wasn't about status or politics. It was something far more personal, something far more difficult—something I wasn't sure how to handle.

"How do I build a relationship with them?" I muttered to myself, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. My foster family had been nothing but kind. They had tried to bring me into their world, but I had kept them at arm's length. My fear of being hurt again, of trusting and being betrayed, had held me back.

I turned onto my side, clutching the pillow tightly. How do I nurture something that never had the chance to grow?

The distance I had created wasn't because we were different or didn't share the same blood. It was because I had closed myself off. But how could I open up? How could I allow myself to be vulnerable again after everything I had been through?

My pride told me I should be able to fix this. I could succeed, not just as a noblewoman, but as a person. But even my pride couldn't give me the answers I needed. How could I bridge the gap between myself and my foster family when I didn't even know where to begin?

Maybe it's time to stop hiding behind my pride, I thought, a flicker of realization breaking through the wall of uncertainty. Maybe... the first step is learning to trust again.

But the question remained: How?

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. The answers wouldn't come easily, and I knew it would take time to find them. But as I lay there in the quiet of my room, I realized something important—something I hadn't admitted to myself before.

For the first time in a long while, I wanted to try.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step.

1. The Rising of the Shield Hero

2. Even Though I'm a Former Noble and a Single Mother, My Daughters Are Too Cute and Working as an Adventurer Isn't Too Much of a Hassle