I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead-Chapter 15: Alone With Beatrice (1)

[System Notification: Affection Update!]

[Target: Evelyn Ashbourne]

[+2 Affection Points Earned!]

[Affection Points: 9]

[Alert: Be careful. Evelyn's personality still has a sudden shift.]

So it really was this scene all along...

The weight of everything pressed on her, and honestly, if she passed out right now, she wouldn't even be mad.

Of course, it had to be now that Norvan appeared like an uninvited storm cloud.

"Evelyn, let's go," he said smoothly, like he wasn't radiating possessiveness.

She forced a small smile and gave a quick wave. "See you."

Verena and Beatrice waved back, though Beatrice's was more of an awkward flap.

At the end of it all, Evelyn was swept away, leaving behind the uncomfortable aftertaste of something unfinished.

By "unfinished," she meant the absolute mess that had become her life. Nothing, as in absolutely nothing, was going according to plan, and it was driving her insane.

The insufferable male leads, the helpless heroines, her idol suddenly treating her like a cockroach infestation... and that moment.

She exhaled sharply and turned to Beatrice. At least now she had some grasp of her Natal Affinity, but she still needed more knowledge.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just admiring the view. Appreciating true beauty."

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Beatrice recoiled. "Somehow, I'd prefer if you just looked at me like I was garbage again. This change in behavior is concerning."

"Can I go to your place?"

"Wait... What?"

Unexpectedly, hours later, Verena ended up standing in Beatrice's home.

Compared to the lavish estate of House D'Auvergne, the Faulkenridge household was... modest, to put it kindly.

House Faulkenridge was a barony hanging onto nobility by a thread.

Their wealth came from farmland and fine textiles, but their finances were shaky at best, and politically? They were about as relevant as last season's fashion.

The only thing keeping them from fading into obscurity was their stunning daughters.

Beatrice was not one of them.

Her father, Baron Faulkenridge, had a beautiful, noble wife who gifted him four picture-perfect daughters—graceful, elegant, and marriageable.

Then there was Beatrice, the product of his love affair with a mere seamstress.

While he had the decency to acknowledge her, it was obvious to everyone that she was nothing more than an inconvenient footnote in his otherwise pristine lineage.

It was no wonder she became a hoe.

Lack of attention truly does something.

"M-My lady, I know it's not as... pretty as yours," Beatrice mumbled, suddenly looking shy.

Verena barely had time to respond before a startled voice rang through the hall.

"Lady Verena?!" Baron Faulkenridge all but choked on his own breath before hastily bowing. "P-Pardon me, but... Welcome to House Faulkenridge. What brings you to our humble home?"

Almost instantly, the other women of the house appeared, each bowing with well-practiced grace, their eyes glittering with curiosity. Verena wasn't particularly respected, but her household was, so this reaction was familiar.

And, as expected, the Faulkenridge daughters were breathtaking. Like, offensively beautiful.

Verena sighed. This family was really living up to their brand.

"No need to be so formal," she said, waving a hand lazily. "I'm just here to spend some time alone with Lady Beatrice."

"B-Beatrice?!" the baron sputtered as if someone had just suggested his horse was the guest of honor.

"Why, yes..." Verena replied smoothly. "She's become... a dear friend."

A total lie, but whatever.

The room collectively gasped.

The sisters, once poised and delicate, suddenly looked like they had bitten into lemons. Their smiles twitched, their hands subtly clenched, but oh, the courtesy remained.

In a switch, the atmosphere shifted to exaggerated cheerfulness.

Words of welcome were exchanged, empty pleasantries were thrown around, and before Beatrice could get dragged into whatever that was, Verena grabbed her wrist and all, dragging her away till they arrived in the bedroom.

"Good, now that's out of the way..." Verena muttered, deep in thought. If she had to guess, her powers were what triggered that mess. "Beatrice, I need to—"

She stopped.

Because Beatrice was currently slipping the strap of her dress down her shoulder, her rather ample bosom dangerously close to spilling out.

Her collarbone, sharp yet elegant, became more pronounced, drawing attention to the soft slope leading down to her décolletage.

A hint of creamy skin peeked through, the gentle swell of her ample bosom teasingly framed by the loosened fabric.

Her other hand idly toyed with the second strap, considering whether to let it fall as well.

"W-Wait! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Verena yelped, slapping both hands over her face in secondhand embarrassment.

Not for herself, but for this girl with no sense of dignity.

Beatrice blinked innocently. "What do you mean? Why else would you want to come to my place?"

"For something else! Not this!" Verena sputtered, her brain short-circuiting.

"Ohhh, so calling me a dear friend in front of my family was just for nothing?"

"YES!" Verena groaned. "I mean, NO! I mean... Everything was supposed to be for something else!"

"Oh! I see! You just want to make out?"

"No! No! Not that!" Verena groaned, her face heating up as she lunged forward, grabbing the fallen strap and hastily yanking it back into place.

She fussed with the fabric, making sure Beatrice was properly covered, while the other girl just blinked at her in wide-eyed surprise.

"W-Why did you do that?"

"Because... because someone has to have some dignity around here!"

"I... I don't know. I usually bring guys here. It always ends up like that. It kept their attention. And I wanted to keep your attention."

"So you do this with all your friends?"

"No... not really."

"Then why me?"

Beatrice bit her lip, suddenly looking anywhere but at Verena. "I... I don't know," she admitted softly, her fingers clenching into the fabric of her dress.

"Look, I have to admit I came here to use you. But not in that manner."

"I wouldn't mind if you did. Though this would be my first with a woman."

"I told you, it's not like that!"