I Don’t Want to be a Villainess

What will Mother think as she reads this letter? What feelings will she have?

Sorrow? Agony? Anger? Or maybe she won’t feel anything at all. The truth is, I still don’t know her well. No, the more time passes, the harder it gets to understand her. The mother I remembered from childhood and the mother she is now are so different. Sometimes I even wondered if I had two new mothers.

Did she have different thoughts when I was younger? Was she happier before Dad passed away, without the worries and troubles she has now?

I have no memories of my biological mother, but I have plenty of memories of her. Yes, I remember her calling me while I played in the park, opening lunch boxes for me. I remember her holding my hand as we walked together in the amusement park. I remember her sitting next to me, softly patting my chest on Christmas Eve when I couldn’t sleep from excitement.

On Children’s Day, on my birthday, on New Year’s Eve and Day. On days when busy Dad couldn’t be with me, she was always by my side. Because of that, I could have a childhood without loneliness.

But everything changed when I turned nine.

Once Dad passed away, and Mother inherited his fortune and took control, her attitude toward me changed.

The mother who used to smile at me was gone. The mother who would hold my hand and walk with me disappeared.

No, Mother vanished before my eyes.

Yes, I tried to understand.

Like Dad, Mother must be super busy handling the responsibilities she inherited. With one parent down, I thought it was inevitable. After all, you can’t split your body in two.

When Mother moved my living space to this place from our former home, I tried to understand, too. There were way too many visitors in the old house. Guests passing by wouldn’t leave me alone. They probably wanted to get their hands on the fortune I would inherit. There were adults trying to get close to me any way they could, so I chose to think that Mother did it to protect me.

Yes, I tried. Again and again… praying that Mother would come visit me in this vast, lonely space.

At some point, I was forbidden from going outside. The servants claimed it was because I was too young to roam around alone. Those cold servants didn’t hold my hand or take me out like the old Mother used to. Every time I wanted something, it was just, “No, young lady,” and a refusal.

But I thought it was okay. After all, Mother must have been thinking of me with love. Right?

She loves me so much that she ordered the servants to stop me from playing around too much because I was still young. Isn’t that so?

But I’m sorry. During that time, I was too young to think that deeply.

The unresolved anger inside me eventually had to come out. I bit the servant trying to change my clothes, scratched the maid, and threw things around. I ripped pillows and blankets and tore the curtains down.

This behavior carried over to school as well. To the kids who got hurt, big or small, because of me, I now only feel sorry. Of course, it’s too late to apologize now. Even if I wanted to say sorry, there’s not a single person left by my side anymore.

In fact, back then, there was someone who didn’t leave my side.

It was an older brother one year ahead of me. He sweetly spoke to me, even while I was rampaging against those coming nearby.

“Your heart must be hurting,” he said.

He sat next to me and added,

“But if you keep acting like that, no one will come near you.”

He said his mother had a mental illness just like me. He said he understood. Looking back, it’s unimaginable how much trauma a ten-year-old must have gone through to say something like that.

But it seems Mother misunderstood.

She found some way to separate me from that boy. I still don’t know how. I just heard kids whispering about me.

“Because he was close to her, his father’s company went bankrupt.”

“They’re saying if they get close to her, they’ll go through similar things.”

Was it because it was an elementary school with expensive enrollment fees? The brother who always talked cheerfully with me stopped coming to school suddenly. Did he transfer?

Just like that, I was again alone.

And at that point, I had to give up. No matter how much I struggled, shouting during class or running out into the hallway, the teachers didn’t react. Even if I went home mid-class and didn’t show up at school, I wasn’t marked absent. Receiving an attendance award when I graduated elementary school was utterly ridiculous. Of course, I got the award by mail because I was standing alone at the graduation ceremony.

During that time, I learned unwanted lessons.

I learned how to do nothing.

I learned how to remain silent, how to command people without words.

Don’t worry. Nothing I learned was from anyone. I just picked it up as time flowed by.

Just quietly, nicely, like I didn’t exist.

By the time I graduated elementary school, I had already become that kind of person.

And then Mother came to see me.

An unfamiliar servant entered my room and greeted me. She introduced herself, saying she would take care of me from now on. It didn’t excite me. She was just another servant, after all.

But when she said Mother was downstairs, I was shocked.

Mother, you will never know the feeling I had at that moment.

I was so happy. I felt like bursting into song just knowing I could finally meet her.

But I had already forgotten how to feel that way.

Quietly, I got up and followed the maid downstairs. Mother was sitting in the guest room.

When she saw me, she opened her arms and said,

“Come here, my daughter.”

I did.

After all those years, I threw myself into her warm embrace, and oh, yes, I can’t deny it. In that moment, I remembered all the joy I had forgotten. Mother’s embrace was as warm as it had been in my childhood. It felt so cozy.

I think we had some conversation.

But my memory isn’t clear. I was just mindlessly staring at her face as she looked at me. I was so happy in that moment that I even dared to hope she would live with me again.

But that moment ended all too quickly.

Mother gently pushed away my sobbing self and left the mansion as if she had no attachment.

And she didn’t come back for three months.

…I tried to understand why Mother did that to me.

Perhaps it’s because she truly thought about me? Because she loved me so much?

Did she think of making me her own?

What about my sudden engagement? Did she do that to gift me the other party’s company? Because she loved me so much, did she want to leave me more fortune than I would inherit?

It must be because everyone loves me, right? Because they love me that much, that I wouldn’t even hurt their eyes, did they wish to make me their own?

Is this all just my imagination as I’m alone? Lately, I’ve been jotting down my daydreams in a notebook whenever I have time. Luckily, the servants respect my alone time. Or maybe they’re just indifferent?

Yes, I believe you love me.

I believe you love me, so I’m leaving this letter.

Mother, I love you too.

And I hate you so much.

If you truly love me, why did you do it this way? Why did you push everything and everyone away, making only yourself able to reach me? Did you really have to? Did it disgust you to see your beloved daughter grow up happy? Did that happiness have to be sought only from you?

Ah, yes, indeed. The more I think of you, the more these two feelings make me want to lose my mind. The image of the mother who loved me since childhood mixed with the monster who torments me now has made it all unclear.

If your goal was to break me, Mother, you succeeded perfectly.

That’s why I’m leaving this letter.

Because I hate you. I want to torment you too.

But how can I torment you when I hold nothing? Can I move your emotions like you do to me?

I’m not sure. Honestly, nothing comes to mind.

So, I will cling onto this.

I hope, above all, that you truly loved me.

So that you wanted to make me truly your own.

At first, I thought about being completely broken like I was in childhood.

I thought about just letting it all go, injuring everyone around me, hurting myself, and dying while bleeding.

But that doesn’t feel right.

I’ve hurt too many people in my childhood. Now I’m too tired for that.

So, I decided to seek a somewhat different way.

Mother, you know what? I think Dad kind of anticipated you would act this way.

He made some legal arrangements so I could access the inheritance early. I was able to illegally buy a sleeping pill containing barbiturates, which are not prescribed for minors, thanks to that.

Yes, I won’t go into detail about that. It’s a surprise event for you. Guess what.

Now that you’ve read this far, I think you might have guessed why I took my own life.

Among the inheritance I received, I think the thing you treasured the most is probably ‘me.’

So, as the owner of that item, I intend to take it away from you.

By the time you read this letter, I’ll probably be far away. What emotion will you feel as you read this letter? Sorrow? Agony? Or maybe, you might feel nothing at all.

But there’s one wish I have. I hope you love me. As much as I loved you in my childhood.

And, thus, Mother, I hope.

I hope you stay healthy for a long, long time.

And during that long time, please never forget me.

Never. Forget me.

This is my request.

P.S.

But I’m a little sad.

I wanted to live a normal life, just for a week in this short life.

But now, I guess that won’t happen.

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