I, the Villain, Want to Save Myself, But the Yandere Heroines Disagree - Chapter 12

“Really?” Litte asked in surprise upon hearing Mary’s words.

“You’re so happy every time Orson is mentioned, aren’t you?” Mary said with a light laugh. “Yes, your brother Orson praised you.”

Litte turned his head to look at Orson. Orson smiled at him and nodded in affirmation before turning back to Mary.

“Mother, you must be joking. Why would Litte ever put on an act in front of his family?” Orson said with a smile, deflecting Mary’s veiled sarcasm.

“Isn’t that right, Litte?” Orson naturally gave Litte a pat on the shoulder.

Litte’s body stiffened, and he sat up straighter before nodding awkwardly. “Y-Yes.”

“Alright, I suppose I might have overthought it,” Mary said with a forced smile.

She had believed that, after her hints to Orson yesterday, he would understand what needed to be done. But it seemed he was still as stubborn as ever.

Loyalty, honor, and filial piety—such things were fit only for naive children.

(TL Note: Filial piety is a cultural value, especially in places like China, that focuses on respect, obedience, and care for one’s parents and elders.)

The rest of the lunch passed in a relatively harmonious atmosphere.

Mary wasn’t foolish. She knew that during this initial period after Litte’s return, Lucius would be especially doting on him. It wouldn’t be wise to clash with Litte outright.

Upsetting Litte would only mean upsetting Lucius.

If she wanted to sway Lucius’s opinion of Litte, she would have to wait until Litte had settled into the family. Then she could either catch him making a mistake or gather evidence against him.

If Orson were willing to help her, Mary was confident she could erode Lucius’s patience with Litte much more quickly. But Orson, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, had decided to openly support his rival, Litte.

Sympathizing with one’s rival was one thing, but actively training him?

Mary had never encountered such a person before.

Up until recently, Mary had believed Orson was born to be a ruler, someone destined to stand above others. But after the events of the past two days, she felt it might be time to change her opinion of him.

Kindness and compassion were emotions that had no place in a noble household.

—

In the afternoon, Litte finally returned to her own room.

The layout of her room was nearly identical to Orson’s. Having spent all of the previous day in Orson’s room, she couldn’t help but feel as though she had walked into it again.

From now on, she would be living in such a large house?

Litte’s eyes widened as she scanned the room.

Eventually, her gaze settled on the large bed in the center of the room.

She threw herself onto the bed.

The soft mattress had excellent elasticity, and Litte felt as though she could bounce on it like a trampoline.

Now that she was alone, Litte allowed herself to relax a little, revealing some childlike playfulness.

Just then, the door opened, and a maid entered the room.

Startled, Litte turned her head and made eye contact with the maid.

She found the maid somewhat familiar and quickly remembered—this was Orson’s personal maid, Vivian.

Glancing at the mess she had made of the bed, Litte hurriedly climbed off and stood up straight.

“Um… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’ll fix the bed right away.”

“Pfft.” Vivian chuckled softly before stepping forward and smoothing out the bed with a few quick motions.

“You don’t need to worry about the bed, Young Master Litte. Even if it’s messy, it’s our job to tidy it up,” Vivian said, looking at Litte. “By the way, Young Master Orson asked for you to come to his room.”

“Ah, okay,” Litte nodded and headed for the door. Halfway there, he suddenly turned back and bowed deeply to Vivian.

“Um… Miss Vivian, I’m really sorry for troubling you with the bed.”

Before Vivian could respond, Litte quickly left, heading toward Orson’s room.

“Young Master Orson wasn’t wrong—Young Master Litte really is a kind person…” Vivian murmured as she stared at the door, her lips curling into a smile. She then continued tidying the room.

Standing in front of Orson’s door, Litte took a deep breath before gently knocking and entering the room.

“You’re here, Litte?” Orson said, looking up as Litte walked in.

“Mm, Orson… er, Orson,” Litte said, correcting himself as he remembered their agreement from the day before.

Though he didn’t understand why Orson didn’t want to be addressed as “Brother,” Litte complied.

“That’s better,” Orson said with a satisfied nod. “This afternoon, I’ll be teaching you about noble etiquette.”

“Noble etiquette is something usually passed down orally within noble families. Children raised in noble households naturally pick up most of it just from their daily lives. However, since you grew up in the countryside and are now older, this method won’t work for you.”

“So, I spent last night and this morning compiling a summary of noble etiquette. You can take a look at it.” Orson picked up a notebook from his desk and handed it to Litte.

“If my handwriting is too ugly, I can read it aloud for you. In any case, this notebook is tailored specifically for you—there’s only one copy in the entire Empire.”

“Thank you, Orson!” Litte said as he accepted the notebook and sat down beside him.

“Go through the notes, and if you have any questions, just ask me. By the way, I plan to take you outside this afternoon. You can observe how I interact with others and learn from it.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly. Keep it up,” Orson said, patting Litte on the shoulder.

For some reason, every time Orson patted Litte’s shoulder, he noticed that Litte would stiffen nervously.

He wasn’t using much force, and shoulder pats were a common gesture of encouragement among boys.

Could it be that Litte didn’t like physical contact with others?

Orson considered this possibility and thought it might be true.

“Alright, you keep reading. I’ll go downstairs to get something,” Orson said as he stood up, leaving the room for Litte.

Litte opened the notebook. Contrary to Orson’s claim about his handwriting, the notes were meticulously neat and aesthetically pleasing.

Since the notebook contained only the refined essentials that Orson had compiled, it wasn’t very long. By the time Orson returned, Litte had already read nearly half of it.

“How’s it going? Are you understanding everything?” Orson asked, holding two cups of coffee with sugar and handing one to Litte.

“Thank you…” Litte said softly. “These notes are very clear and well-organized. And your handwriting is beautiful. I’m finding it easy to understand.”

“That’s great.” Hearing Litte’s praise, Orson nodded in satisfaction. He took a sip of his coffee and then turned his attention to his own book.