That World of Otome Games is Tough for Us - Volume 1 - Chapter 1.2

That evening, the girl retreated to the safety of her modest mountain hut. She was admiring the work she had done after skinning the beast. When she removed her hat, her beautiful, voluminous blonde hair fell free and tumbled across her shoulders. Though it was disheveled, since she hadn’t bothered to pin it back, it had a lovely luster.

Setting the fur aside, the girl reached for a notebook on a nearby table. The moment she realized she had reincarnated in this world, she had written down every single detail she could recall from her previous life.

The girl glanced at the calendar. The academy’s entrance ceremony was fast approaching.

“Less than two months,” she said.

She paused in front of an old mirror to examine her appearance. A rather petite young girl stared back at her. The girl’s name in this world was Marie Fou Lafan. She had reincarnated here after her death in Japan. Notably, this was no ordinary world—nor was it the one she had lived in before. No, this was the world of a very specific otome game.

In her reflection, Marie spotted a wound on her right cheek, no doubt acquired when she was fighting for her life with that creature. Marie pressed her hand over the wound, and a faint light materialized. This same light always appeared when one called upon arcane power, but Marie was using a particularly rare and valuable art known as healing magic.

When she at last removed her hand, all traces of the wound had disappeared.

“How do you like that? I didn’t spend ten years desperately studying this magic for nothing!”

In this world, people could use any sort of magic they liked, provided they studied it first. Healing magic was the one exception. You had to possess an innate talent and work tirelessly to properly acquire it. Healers were few and far between and were thus highly valued. Not just anyone could learn how to wield healing magic, after all. Following her reincarnation, Marie had spent an inordinate amount of time dedicated to the art—pouring her blood, sweat, and tears into it.

Marie looked herself over in the mirror.

“I-I do think I look cute, at least. Though I definitely look way younger than the last time I was this age. I’m sure I was much taller and more filled out back in Japan.”

Being adorable was all well and good, but it had its limits. Marie was awfully underdeveloped for a fifteen-year-old girl. She was short and lacked any of the curves most women enjoyed by this point. The one saving grace was her beautiful face—and, with a good wash, her blonde hair would look even more radiant. As she studied herself, blue eyes scanning up and down, her expression hardened.

“My last life was absolute crap, but I’ve hit absolute rock bottom in this one. Aren’t you supposed to have it made when you’re born into nobility? Why have I had to suffer all this?”

In her last life, Marie had died due to domestic violence. In this one, she had been born into Viscount Lafan’s family. One might think her fortunate, being part of the aristocracy, but one would be wrong.

The Lafans were burdened with a significant problem: while they were as unassailably proud as any aristocrats, they were digging themselves deeper and deeper into debt while trying to maintain a luxurious lifestyle.

Marie hated debt. Her past self had suffered countless times thanks to her boyfriend’s debts.

At any rate, while the Lafans were careless with their spending, their worst transgression was their treatment of their youngest daughter, Marie. Her older brothers and sisters lived the high life in their family’s castle, but the same couldn’t be said for her. Since they lacked a full contingent of servants, her family treated her like the help. They foisted all sorts of responsibilities on her and expected her to wait on the rest of the household hand and foot.

Marie wasn’t even given adequate meals, let alone an allowance. In fact, she had trudged into the forest with a rifle strapped to her back to hunt for sustenance, as well as to perhaps make a little money. This was far from proper conduct for a daughter of nobility, but she couldn’t get by without resorting to such measures.

“Isn’t this supposed to be an otome game world? Overflowing with hopes and dreams? So why do I gotta suffer? Because I’m not the protagonist? Because I’m just one of the infinite insignificant background characters?”

What truly got under Marie’s skin was the idea of the main character. She came from humble beginnings, but she was guaranteed a happy ending. Her default name was Olivia, and she had a strangely voluptuous design, which seemed more in line with a man’s preferences than a woman’s. Her dialogue was even worse. When war broke out, she insisted, “War isn’t right!” That was a moral stance, sure, but it didn’t actually do anything to solve the crisis. Marie remembered being pissed off the whole time she was playing. It hadn’t helped that she couldn’t clear the game by herself. That made her hate Olivia all the more, and even now, those emotions bubbled to the surface.

Thanks to her older brother, Marie had been able to watch the event scenes and movies, which had depicted the protagonist and the happy moments she shared with her love interests.

Marie stared at her reflection, her smile taking on a sinister edge. “I have a right to be happy, too. Wouldn’t you agree, Olivia?” She hugged the notebook filled with walkthrough details to her chest. “To think I’m entering the academy in the same year as the protagonist. Must be fate.”

Her goal was simple: she would use her knowledge of the game to claim happiness for herself. 

Marie tore her gaze from the mirror and stared down at her feet. “This time, I swear it. I will seize my own happiness.”