The Villainous Older Sister Who Loves Her Younger Sister Aims for the Guillotine 94

94: The Unchosen Options

I looked around at the knights and soldiers, a mix of the two crests—the gecko and the unicorn-horned helmet—of the Territorial Army and the Knights.

“…So, the Eustasia Knights were talking about Knight Commander Felix?”

“Well… it’s not like he has many interesting stories…”

The knights of the Eustasia Knights, despite their words, began to talk about their commander, Felix.

“He likes horses…?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“He likes horses more than women…?”

“Hey, that’s not confirmed.”

“He prefers boiled sausages to grilled ones.”

“Is that really relevant?”

…Well, wasn’t that about as relevant as the stories about me?

“Yeah, whatever. Forget about our commander. He’s not that interesting.”

The knights chuckled.

No, he was interesting.

…However…

Their casual tone showed their affection for their commander, their ‘boss.’

…Perhaps he…

…that boisterous, rough-around-the-edges Knight Commander…

…could laugh along if he heard them gossiping about him.

Perhaps he could interact more casually with his subordinates, earn even more of their affection.

…Unlike me.

Unlike me, born as a noble, a member of a ducal family—the daughter of the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals.”

Felix was born a commoner, joined the Royal Eustasia Army at sixteen, the age of adulthood—and eligibility for military service—was later recruited into the Royal Eustasia Knights, and rose to the rank of Knight Commander.

A meteoric rise in less than ten years. It was a success story that still captivated many young people.

While the change in leadership was due to the previous commander’s death from illness and old age, the desire for a young, energetic commander also played a part in his appointment.

…Well, never mind him.

I turned to my sister and spoke.

“Let’s go back, Leticia.”

“Huh?”

My sister tilted her head, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

“Do you intend to stay for the night exercise? I told you the inspection was scheduled to end in the evening.”

“Please wait, Elder Sister. I can’t leave yet.”

Leticia straightened her back, her expression becoming resolute.

“…And why is that?”

“I promised to share that soup with everyone once it’s ready.”

“…………”

I glanced over and saw a well-used pot hanging over the campfire, suspended by an equally well-used, blackened chain and hook.

It was bubbling merrily, and now that I was paying attention, a delicious aroma wafted towards us.

“Lady Adelheid, wouldn’t that be a good idea?”

Ciel, who had been silently observing, spoke.

“Ciel…”

“As the saying goes, ‘Sharing salt creates bonds.’ —Even if it’s just a symbolic gesture, it would be beneficial for you to understand the soldiers’ sentiments. Especially since you are a formally trained knight… It would be good for you to… reminisce.”

I was the head of the Vanderwaals family.

But I had also spent time in the military, earning the title of knight—earning the trust of the Territorial Army.

My distant peers. The cold instructor. The thoughtless insults.

The unrewarded efforts. The realization of my own limitations—and the weakness of my own heart.

Born into privilege, allowed to participate in the costly and time-consuming knight training program as a ‘special case,’ I had felt guilty for even wanting to cry, for feeling the hardship.

And yet, my peers had gradually started talking to me.

The instructor, while still strict, had stopped making sarcastic remarks after the halfway point of the training program.

During a shopping trip to the capital, when I overheard a heartless rumor in the market about the “lord’s daughter treating knight training like a game,” my fellow trainees, whom I had gone with, were so furious that I had to stop them.

It was a place, a comfortable space, that I had earned through blood, sweat, and tears.

I had thought that becoming the ‘head of the family’ meant I could never return there.

The head of the Vanderwaals family was, in name, the lord of Vandergant and the supreme commander of the Territorial Army. Though I had reliable people acting in my stead for both.

And I had thought that becoming the ‘villainous sister’ meant abandoning the responsibilities and pride that came with that position.

There was a fate governing this world.

In the scenario written by fate, I was the ‘mean-spirited, haughty half-sister, incapable of understanding kindness.’

And my sister was the earnest, adorable, hardworking, strong-willed, and, above all, adorable ‘protagonist.’

The paths of the [Villainous Sister] and the [Protagonist] were different.

But we were in the same world, on the same stage.

――No protagonist could carry a play alone.

They needed a supporting cast, and, of course, a costume and set crew. The script was either a classic or written by a playwright. There was also a director. The company manager had to oversee everything, and if they couldn’t cover the production costs themselves, they had to secure funding from patrons.

I was the villain. I was going to the guillotine. I would suffer the most dishonorable punishment in this country.

It was a role with many scenes but seemingly little popularity. There was nothing good about it.

Perhaps the only reason I had accepted this role was because my sister was my co-star…

I still sometimes wondered what would have happened if I had hugged my sister when we first met.

What if I hadn’t given her a noble title, but simply brought her to the mansion and kept her locked away in a room… like a pet?

With no money, no education, no support… completely dependent on me.

I would have doted on her, spoiled her, been close to her.

I would have done her work.

I would have set all the pieces in place, according to the scenario.

I would have compensated for my lack of cuteness, compared to my sister, and my lack of connection with the Capture Targets, with my position as the head of the family.

I would have used the “shadows” and the Territorial Army, if necessary.

I would have quelled the coming calamity, no matter how many lives it cost.

I would have wielded the full power of the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals.”

Then, I would have survived.

Then, I could have been with my sister…!

Then… what?

Then it would be a different play.

Would I be satisfied with locking a beautiful songbird in a cage, training it, and making it sing?

Would I be content with imprisoning an innocent girl, chaining her, drugging her, blinding and deafening her to the world, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, brainwashing her… and then…

Would I be satisfied with that?

Could I call the emotions I extracted from her… love?

…While that sounded… tempting, and a part of me wanted to try it, I was probably not the type of person who should wield power.

I could do it.

That option was always available to me.

Even now, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had chosen that path.

…What would happen if I chose it… now?

However, I had become too fond of my sister to choose that option.