How to Survive as the Horror Game Villain's Fake Fiancée - Chapter 11
Cynthia, her hands trembling, brought them together and bowed her head deeply. It was a habit ingrained not in herself, but in the body of ‘Cynthia Obel.’
“I am Cynthia of the Obel Countdom.”
“Ah, House Obel… I feel like I’ve heard of it before, maybe.”
The man frowned and repeated what he’d just heard, as if turning it over in his mind.
“So? Why did you come here and put your lips on me?”
Seizing the chance while he showed no sign of attacking her, Cynthia quickly continued.
“I apologize for coming in uninvited. The door was open, so I came in, but you were asleep, so—pardon me—I tried to wake you. Since the owner of the ducal manor was sleeping during the height of the banquet, I’ll take it that you do not require any thanks.”
Cynthia inwardly credited all the romance novels she’d read in her spare time for helping her cobble together such a response. Anyone listening, however, would never have mistaken it for the speech of a true noble.
The man gave a dumbfounded laugh. His way of speaking and manner seemed more like someone with underworld connections, but the smile on his face still had an inexplicable, almost holy, beauty.
“Oh, I see. Is that so? You know how to talk in a pretty entertaining way.”
‘…I’m not going to die here, am I?’
The reply didn’t sound like a compliment at all, and Cynthia felt anxious. Unexpectedly, though, the duke simply yawned and, looking languid, ran his fingers through his hair again. He still didn’t seem to have any intention of killing her.
“Anyway… you said the banquet’s in full swing. I suppose I should go… even though it’s a hassle.”
Standing awkwardly as the villain’s muttered grumbling continued, Cynthia just watched for an opening. If he went to the banquet hall, maybe she could slip away in the meantime. More than anything, she felt relieved to have survived the crisis.
But just as the villain was slowly heading toward the door, he glanced back at her and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“…Pardon?”
“You’re a guest at the banquet too, aren’t you? Come with me. Since you went to the trouble of waking me, it’d be rude to just leave you here. Don’t you agree?”
Cynthia was suddenly struck by the harsh reality of her situation.
In the early part of the game, before the duke locked up all the guests, word would suddenly spread through the banquet that the duke had died. Of course, in truth he hadn’t died at all, only pretended to be dead, which allowed him to roam freely and murder the guests. Even though he was alive right now, after leaving here, the fake-death scenario would begin, and the true game story would start.
A chill crept up Cynthia’s spine. And there was something else strange.
From Cynthia Obel’s memories, the only people who could enter the banquet hall with the host were a fiancée or spouse. No matter how long he’d been a recluse, for a high noble not to remember such rules was unthinkable. Unless… he had some reason to make such a request of her.
If that happened, Count Obel would be overjoyed. But that wasn’t what Cynthia wanted. Her only goal was to escape from this mansion.
“…That’s quite all right. As a guest, I have my own sense of propriety, so I’ll enter separately.”
“So you’re planning to stay alone in a place full of someone else’s clothes?”
The duke furrowed his brows, his expression as if he was regarding her as some kind of pervert. Without thinking, Cynthia blurted out a reply.
“No, it’s not that!”
“Then what is it?”
Turning his body toward her with a slow, amused smile, he looked almost playful. But Cynthia, frightened, shrank back a step. Even though he seemed relaxed, it felt like the kind of signal a predator would give before pouncing on its prey.
‘Is he just looking for an excuse to kill me?’
Gripping her trembling hands tightly, Cynthia searched for words. She was afraid to say outright that only lovers or spouses could enter together, uncertain what he would say in response.
