I Don’t Want to be a Villainess

I’m currently walking with my family.

They look like a happy, ordinary family at first glance.

But, to be honest, I wonder if they truly fit the category of ‘ordinary.’ I mean, could you really call a handsome dad and a beautiful mom, along with a daughter who could be a child actor, ordinary?

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are ideal.

In fact, they seem so ideal that it feels a bit forced, like a family straight out of an insurance commercial.

If I had seen the three of them without any background knowledge, I might have been fooled for a moment.

Sara’s biological father, Ye In-soo. And her stepmother, Choi Na-kyung, who remarried after her real mother passed away.

Both of them seem to care deeply for young Sara.

Walking hand in hand with her on the endlessly green prairie, their faces radiate happiness.

However, neither of them looks at each other; their gazes are solely focused on Sara.

To feel that this is ‘unnatural’, you’d need to know what happened to Sara afterward.

Sara’s memories have become increasingly unstable, filled with the fleeting happiness of the past. The mansion where she’d been trapped for so long, particularly her room, was detailed and intricate, much like I remember, but some places she had never visited were left empty, while others seemed completely disconnected from reality.

The memories from her childhood are even more hazy.

Within the school, the saturation was so low that it was almost black and white, and the faces of people on the street were all blurred, making it hard to distinguish their features. Except for a few nearby voices, the rest merged into white noise.

…The few clear snippets of conversation I could hear were about a typical family.

This must mean that Sara longs for that time.

While past memories are nearly devoid of color, this memory is painted in splendid hues.

The sky was clear, with no clouds in sight. It was a dazzlingly bright blue.

The wide plains stretching far into the distance were lush with green grass, soft enough to sink into.

Is there such a place in Korea?

Perhaps this scene is an indication of how Sara’s childhood memories have been romanticized.

She loathed yet simultaneously loved her remaining family.

Looking at this scene made me think that indeed, it’s understandable. After all, Choi Na-kyung was truly all that remained for Sara.

It was a beautiful, melancholic sight.

The voices of the three could barely be heard. Even though they weren’t far apart, it felt like they were mumbling from a distance, as though forced into silence. Perhaps even Sara couldn’t recall their conversation at that time.

The three of them walked for a while before coming to a halt.

I, following along quietly, also stopped a few steps away.

Since they went on a picnic, are they planning to eat their lunch? None of them were holding any food, but I’ve seen instances before where something abruptly appeared or vanished within Sara’s memories. Human memory isn’t a perfect simulation; what’s outside of the field of vision can only be guessed.

The possibility for childhood memories to be even more distorted was high.

But the three remained still right there.

Is this the end of the memory?

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I arrived here, but during that time, I had been moving backward through Sara’s memories without a break. It wasn’t my choice; I was merely pushed along by the rushing memories.

…In the process, I realized that Sara was not just a character in a game.

No, it wasn’t just Sara. Everyone I meet in this world likely has their own history. Even though I have no idea how this world exists or how I ended up here, I could tell that this world had existed for a very long time and that everyone living within it was not so different from me.

“……”

Without saying a word, I turned back to walk toward the three, where I could see their faces.

…Choi Na-kyung and Ye In-soo’s faces were shining brightly.

The reason Sara couldn’t trust Yoo Ha-neul.

The light pouring from their faces looked positive at first glance, but the reality was different. It wasn’t because they were good people or because they intended to help her that the light shone.

This light was merely a visualization of Sara’s intuition.

It was probably her unique way and ability to clearly distinguish those who could change her life.

…And both of them certainly did change her life. In various ways.

The dimming light from Choi Na-kyung’s face over time can also be interpreted this way.

Although it changed Sara’s life in a very negative sense, after that ‘change,’ it remained constant. Ever since Choi Na-kyung revealed her true colors, she had merely been an unchanging figure in Sara’s life. If things had been left as they were, Sara’s life would have continued on without “changing.”

Thus, the light was absent from Choi Na-kyung’s face as I saw it.

“……”

No more memories streamed in. This seems to be the last of Sara’s recollections.

The origin of the existence known as ‘Ye Sara.’

The twisted relationship between Choi Na-kyung and Ye Sara that was formed.

The moment within Ye Sara’s memories when she was the happiest.

I lowered my gaze to see young Sara and was startled.

Sara wasn’t smiling. She simply looked up at me, expressionless.

She wasn’t looking up at Choi Na-kyung or Ye In-soo. Even though it was the memory of the happiest moment, there was no expression on her young face.

“……”

After a moment of silence,

“…What did you see?”

Sara asked me.

*

“How the hell…?”

‘That person’ asked, clearly perplexed.

What am I supposed to do if someone who entered another’s body reacts like that?

It wasn’t just anyone’s body; it was mine. This was within my memories.

Indeed, it was my most treasured and oldest memory.

…How embarrassing.

Though I had mostly lived within the mansion since I was nine years old, that didn’t mean I lived without any thoughts. I was a person, after all, and naturally, to pass those dreary hours, I needed something to occupy my mind.

So I often fantasized and wrote my musings down in a notebook.

A story about a princess trapped in a cage, saved by another oppressed being—the vampire.
Looking back now, it seems too lacking to be called a ‘novel.’
The setting, the content, it was all just a jumbled collection of my fantasies. In fact, when I first started writing, I had no intention of finishing it. I was merely listing the words I thought were cool at that moment.
However, the thing I had the most was time.
Those fantasies became threads of a storyline and developed into a full-fledged narrative. In the end, I completed that story.
I only read it once before putting it in the drawer.
…It felt like that story had nothing to do with me at all.
No one came to save me. Nobody cared that I was even there.
Because of that, I buried the story deep in the drawer and never read it again.
…I wonder if this person read that story?
“……”
I looked up at the person towering over me.
There was light there.
A dazzling light pouring over me. So brilliant and beautiful that I couldn’t even see their face.
No one in my life had ever shown me such light.
Does this mean there are still changes left to make?
In truth, that thought sprang from a very emotional intuition rather than logical reasoning—but I didn’t care.
For the first time in my life, I had met someone who wanted to save me.
Someone who, having been ignored and treated as non-existent just like me, empathized with me and shattered my cage.
“After seeing this, where were you planning to go?”
So I asked.
This memory was the earliest recollection I had of myself.
The most beautiful memory with my mother.
If this person had been walking from the end of my memory, there would be nowhere else to go.
If they were to go further from here—
To be honest, I didn’t know anything. I didn’t have specialized knowledge about the human brain, nor did I have substantial knowledge about multiple personalities or anything like that.
But,
But my instincts were screaming.
This person is not ‘me.’
They are not just the lost ‘me.’
If anyone saw this, they would likely think I was crazy. Perhaps my mother would have seen it as a reason to lock me away in a mental hospital.
However, to me, this person was undoubtedly real.
“Where were you trying to vanish?”
“…I…”
The lump of light hesitated for a moment.
“That body is yours—”
Then they tried to give a nonexistent excuse.
“It is indeed my body, but that’s not my life.”
I stated it firmly.
Maybe it was because the person was within me?
Or perhaps it was the desperation that I felt?
I could speak without hesitation in front of this person.
…No, this was all due to the influence I received from this person. My instincts were screaming that way.
The person who had lived my life for just three months, changing everything I couldn’t change.
…The one who effortlessly made everything I desired come true.
The one who dashed through to the end without ever despairing, even in the same situation as mine.
And the one who sacrificed everything for me.
The only person who saved me.
I released the hands of my mother and father. Then I reached out a hand toward that person—the light.
“Since you’ve lived my life for me, make sure to see it to the end.”
Having just met, I didn’t want to part ways already.
So this was merely my stubbornness.
To someone who thought they had done all they needed to do, my words probably sounded like a child’s temper tantrum.
“…Once you take responsibility, see it through to the end.”
I was endlessly sincere.
“……”
That person said nothing. The overwhelming light made it hard to see their expression. Were they bemused by my words? Or were they frowning?
Whatever emotion they felt, it seemed they ultimately decided to listen to me.
From the mass of light, a beam of light flowed out. As if a person reached out a hand.
That beam of light soon touched my hand.
A warm sensation slowly traveled from my hand to my heart.
…I’m relieved.
Thank you for listening to my stubbornness.
I silently reflected while looking up at the pouring light.
Come to think of it, the story I wrote ended similarly.
Should I go back home and read it slowly again?

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