My Stepdaughter Will Become A Villainess if I Don't Spoil Her Silly

This is a prophetic dream.

I, Sophia, have recognized this immediately.

Rebecca Bernhard! You have used your position as the prince's fiancée to commit intolerable tyranny against many young ladies, and furthermore attempted to poison the prince! Therefore, for the crime of treason, you shall be executed!

Rebecca Bernhard, who has just received this declaration, is lying on the floor in shackles, tears streaming down her face as she pleads.

The scene is taking place in a large hall within the royal palace where social events are held, with Rebecca collapsed and weeping at its center.

Wh-why am I being executed?! I only wanted the prince's love!

So you acted like a tyrant? Did you think that would win the prince's attention? You tried to kill the prince out of jealousy, didn't you?

But I'm his fiancée! Yet other women kept talking to the prince, and he would chat with them so happily—he never showed me a single smile!

The assembled nobles look at Rebecca with cold disdain as she makes her desperate excuses.

Duke Alan Bernhard, do you have any objections to this decision?

Alan Bernhard is present. He is Rebecca's stepfather and the head of the ducal house.

Rebecca looks at Alan standing beside her, her eyes desperate and pleading, but . . .

I have no objections.

At those words from Alan—the man who had raised her—her face fills with despair.

No way . . .

Rebecca then looks at me—her stepmother—standing beside Alan.

Seeing that expression, my heart feels like it is breaking.

I can't bear it and instinctively look away.

Then the official makes his declaration.

I hereby sentence Rebecca Bernhard to be executed! The execution will be held at a later date—

Hah . . . !

I finally wake up from that terrible prophetic dream.

Hah, hah . . .

I try catching my breath as I lie on a luxurious bed, drenched in sweat.

It has been some time since I've had a prophetic dream, but this one was truly the worst.

I have a special gift that allows me to see the future in my dreams.

If anyone knew about this ability, it would certainly cause problems, so I've never told a soul.

I can't control when these prophetic dreams occur, but they're incredibly accurate—if I don't intervene, that exact future will come to pass.

In other words, if nothing changes, Rebecca—who is now my stepdaughter—will one day become engaged to the prince, terrorize countless young ladies with her tyranny, and ultimately attempt to poison the prince, leading to her execution.

Rebecca became my stepdaughter a week ago, when I married Duke Alan Bernhard.

Though I was born into the noble House Ingrid, my family was notoriously poor for a count's household.

My parents eagerly accepted the engagement proposal, enticed by the marriage preparation money from the ducal house. They arranged this contract marriage as a political strategy without even consulting me.

The reason this engagement proposal came to me was because of Rebecca, the stepdaughter Alan had taken in a year ago.

Rebecca is the daughter of Alan's younger brother and sister-in-law, but her parents died in an accident.

Alan took her in and made her his stepdaughter, but he wasn't married.

Because of this, many people said that since he had a daughter, he should have a wife as well. Apparently, numerous engagement proposals came flooding in. But Alan . . .

Women are troublesome. I'll pay the money, so I want a young lady who will just play the role of a wife.

That's how the offer came to me, a young lady from House Ingrid.

And there was another reason I was chosen.

Because you resemble Rebecca a little.

That was his reasoning . . . Well, I only met Rebecca once before marrying into House Bernhard, but don't we just share the same golden hair? I don't think our facial features are particularly similar.

After that, I only saw her once more during the formal introduction when I joined the family.

Playing the role of a wife simply means acting as Alan's spouse when he and Rebecca appear at social events—it doesn't mean we would become a real family.

I understood this arrangement and didn't resist, but that's probably what will lead to Rebecca's future downfall.

Rebecca is still only ten years old now.

For the past year since losing her parents and being taken in by Alan, she has received a strict education with constant reminders to "be a lady of a ducal house."

Rebecca's parents were among the worst parents imaginable.

Her father, who came from a ducal house, had an affair with her mother, a baron's daughter, despite having a fiancée, and she bore him a child. That child was Rebecca.

The father was disowned by his house, the mother was also disowned by her family, and they lived among the commoners with their severance money.

The two of them apparently thought "if the child hadn't been born, we could have remained nobles" and hated Rebecca—even though it was completely their own fault.

They apparently never resorted to violence, but they ignored Rebecca completely, only providing her with basic food.

Rebecca had lived her entire childhood being ignored and berated, receiving no love whatsoever.

Right after those terrible parents died, she was taken in by an unfamiliar ducal house where she knew no one.

Though I think her living conditions have improved compared to when she was with her parents, suddenly receiving a lady's education must be incredibly difficult.

Alan shows no interest in Rebecca. They rarely meet, and he doesn’t speak to her, not even during their monthly dinners.

This is what I saw in my prophetic dream . . . Rebecca, growing up in this harsh environment without receiving love, will become starved for affection.

And when her engagement to the prince is decided around age eighteen, she'll desperately seek love, but love isn't required in engagements between royalty and nobility.

In fact, there's no love between Alan and I either.

It was simply convenient for Alan to marry me, and I only married because of my parents' arrangements.

Rebecca should know this too, but having grown up without knowing love, she'll end up seeking it from the prince.

She'll harass the young ladies who speak with the prince to drive them away from him, hoping to win his love for herself.

But there's no way the prince would fall for Rebecca behaving this way—rather, he'll grow more distant from her.

Finally, Rebecca will attempt to poison the prince . . . that was the future I saw in my prophetic dream.

Poor girl . . . !

I am so overcome with empathy that the words slip out before I can stop them.

If things continue as they are, she'll end up executed just like in my dream.

But the wonderful thing about my prophetic dreams is that I can take action to prevent them.

I will save Lady Rebecca . . . no matter what!

Knowing such a future awaits my stepdaughter, I can't just stand by and do nothing.

Though we've only met twice, Rebecca and I are family now.

Even if it's a contractual marriage, that doesn't change anything.

But right now we're still only family on paper, so I need to change that first.

If I can show Rebecca that I love her and build a real family bond, then maybe she won't be executed in the future . . .

I'm the only one who knows what's coming, so I will prevent it!

The first thing I need to do . . . I need to see Rebecca.

To avoid that future, I need to make sure Rebecca doesn't grow up feeling unloved.

In other words, getting close to Rebecca starting now—that's the most important thing.

I get up from bed, get ready, and leave my room.

The Bernhard ducal estate is enormous, divided into several buildings.

I'm currently in the main residence, but Rebecca isn't here.

She lives alone in the largest room of the annex, where she undergoes rigorous education.

Alan probably thinks it is good for her to have a spacious room, but she’s still only ten years old. She must be feeling so lonely.

When I try to make my way out of the main residence to go see Rebecca . . .

Lady Sophia, where are you going?

A man calls out to me from behind as I walk down the hallway.

Your Grace . . . !

Alan, the head of House Bernhard and the man I'm in an arranged marriage with.

His features are terrifyingly perfect as always—that perpetually expressionless face gives off such a cold impression.

His jet-black, lustrous hair is completely different in color and texture from mine and Rebecca's.

My hair is golden and long, with slightly unruly waves.

He's also tall—a full head taller than me.

Good morning, Your Grace.

It's already past noon, you know. You seem to have slept well.

Oh, w-was it?

That’s right. I usually oversleep when I have these kinds of dreams.

I completely forgot about that.

So, where are you going? You should have been taking lessons to become a duchess for the past week.

Yes, that's right.

Since I'm to become the wife of a ducal house, it's only natural.

There's much to learn about House Bernhard's history and the businesses the ducal house is involved in.

Since I'm already twenty-two, these lessons aren't too difficult for me.

But Rebecca is different—she's still only ten.

I was thinking of going to see Lady Rebecca.

Rebecca? Why?

Alan's usual expressionless face shows no change as he speaks.

For the past week, I had been taking lessons and simply following Alan's instructions without question.

I have been curious about so many things. Why don't we eat meals together with Rebecca? Why don't we ever see Rebecca at all?

But since I married into the ducal house, I initially thought it would be better not to go against Alan’s wishes, so I hadn’t said anything. That is, until having this prophetic dream.

I'd like to get close to her.

Close?

Yes, since I'm to become that child's stepmother.

At my words, Alan tilts his head with a puzzled look.

His expression still hasn't changed at all.

It's true that's the relationship on paper, but I don't really expect that much. It's fine if you just act as my wife at social events.

He says this so coldly that it makes me feel irritated.

If such an attitude continues, we will head straight toward that future where Rebecca is executed.

Although, I also haven’t tried to get close to Rebecca, not until now.

Now that I know the future, I can't just do nothing.

I want to get close to her. Not out of duty, but simply as family.

As family . . . hmm.

He puts his hand to his chin and nods once, as if considering.

I won't stop you. I don't recall writing anything like "you must not get close to Rebecca" in the contract.

When we married, we agreed to several terms in the contract.

There were various clauses, but the essence was simple . . .

Do not interfere with or obstruct His Grace's work, and do not love him.

That was the contract.

Since he has no interest in women, any woman who fell for Alan would only complicate things.

Yes, thank you. I'll be going then.

I bow and pass by Alan, heading toward the annex.

Family . . . huh.

I think I hear Alan murmur something quietly behind me, but I can’t make out the words.

I arrive at the annex and ask a maid of Rebecca's whereabouts.

Apparently she is already receiving today's lessons.

Since I slept until noon, I'm not surprised.

What is she doing right now, and where?

She should be practicing dance in the second floor hall.

I see, thank you.

I thank her and head toward the second floor hall.

There is a large door on the second floor, and I consider opening it immediately. But since she is receiving lessons, it is probably best I don’t disturb her. So instead, I quietly crack it open and peek inside.

Inside, several maids stand along the walls while Rebecca and a female dance teacher occupy the center of the hall.

At ten years old, Rebecca is much shorter than the adults around her—even next to me, she only reaches about chest height.

Her long golden hair is beautiful, and she has big, adorable eyes that dominate her delicate features.

Alan had made a comment about me.

You resemble Rebecca.

However, I think we're quite different.

Like Alan, I'm sometimes told I have a scary face.

Because my eyes turn up at the corners, I've been misunderstood as glaring many times when I have a neutral expression.

So the only thing Rebecca and I have in common is our golden hair—her features are much more adorable than mine.

But right now, Rebecca's expression is very stern.

For dance practice, she has a book balanced on her head.

She's walking around the room with it there, but . . . it keeps falling off.

She hurriedly picks it up and balances it on her head again, repeating this cycle several times.

The teacher watching from the side lets out a sigh.

Rebecca flinches at the sound.

How many times will it take for you to get this right? I'd like to move on to the next practice.

Y-yes, I'm sorry . . .

Rebecca responds, clearly intimidated by the teacher's harsh tone.

This kind of practice for a ten-year-old? It seems too harsh.

Even for me as an adult, walking with a book on my head is difficult.

Something about that teacher seems familiar . . .

From here I can only see her profile, but . . . oh, I remember. It's definitely Countess Narble.

I've seen her before in high society, and she has quite a bad reputation.

She's overbearing with those of lower rank than herself, and apparently treats the butlers and maids harshly even within her own household.

I've also heard that she works as an instructor teaching social etiquette, which is probably why she was chosen as Rebecca's tutor, but . . .

You dropped it again! What are you doing?!

I-I'm sorry . . . !

Taking advantage of the fact that Rebecca is cowering and won't stand up to her, she's being so cruel . . . !

If this harsh treatment continues, Rebecca is bound to be emotionally scarred.

I can't watch this anymore!

I fling the door open with a bang.

Everyone turns to look at me with wide eyes.

My lady . . . !

Though surprised, the maids and butlers immediately bow to me.

Even though I only married into this family a week ago, I am a duchess. Given my position, such a reaction is only natural.

L-Lady Sophia, good day to you.

Rebecca looks at me, takes hold of her skirt hem, and bows her head gracefully.

Since Rebecca and I have only met twice, her formal manner is understandable.

What's important right now is . . .

Lady Sophia, good day. Why have you come here?

This is Countess Narble, who's serving as the teacher.

Without bowing her head, she's looking at me with a smile and a condescending gaze.

Previously, I was a young lady from a poor count family, with a lower status than Countess Narble.

Given her personality, it's only natural that she'd look down on me.

But now things are different.

Countess Narble, good day. But is that attitude appropriate toward me, a duchess?

?!

A week ago, I became a duchess.

Well, it was through marriage, so it's nothing to boast about.

But I am undeniably a duchess now, and my title and position are higher than that of a countess.

High enough to criticize Countess Narble's attitude.

As Lady Rebecca's tutor, I'd like you to conduct yourself appropriately.

I'm implicitly conveying "or I'll dismiss you"—I wonder if she understands?

My apologies, Duchess Sophia. I'll be more careful going forward.

I don't know if she understood, but Countess Narble bows her head and apologizes.

But she doesn’t look convinced. I can see her biting her lips resentfully.

But I don't care what she thinks.

I approach Rebecca, crouch down, and meet her eyes at her level.

Her wide eyes waver with anxiety.

She doesn't seem to understand why I came here.

We're essentially strangers who became family on paper, having only met once a week ago.

It's only natural for ten-year-old Rebecca to be wary.

Lady Rebecca, good day. It's been a while.

Y-yes, it has been a while.

Rebecca still speaks to me so formally—though I suppose that's understandable.

I'd be happy if someday she thinks of me as true family and feels comfortable talking to me casually.

I need to work to show her my love.

I came today because I wanted to eat lunch together with you, Lady Rebecca.

L-lunch . . . ?

Yes, what do you think?

I smile as I make this proposal, not wanting my serious expression to frighten her.

I-I'm grateful, but, um . . .

Rebecca looks away from me and glances at Countess Narble.

Duchess Sophia, Lady Rebecca is currently forgoing lunch.

What . . . ?

The words slip out before I can stop them.

Rebecca is skipping lunch?

I stand up and fix Countess Narble with a sharp look.

What do you mean?

Exactly what it sounds like. I'm in charge of managing her meals as well.

She says this matter-of-factly, as if it's perfectly obvious.

Why does she need to skip lunch?

It's for maintaining her figure and building endurance.

Skipping lunch to maintain her figure—a ten-year-old girl?

Depriving a growing child of proper meals will only hinder her development.

There are other ways to build endurance.

Besides, a young lady's education naturally requires endurance, so she'll develop it simply through her regular lessons.

But making her skip lunch on top of that—it only stunts her growth and damages her health. It's awful.

Stop making her skip lunch immediately. Subjecting Lady Rebecca to such treatment at her age will only harm her health.

But I am Lady Rebecca's tutor. Even if you are Duchess Sophia, you cannot interfere with my teaching methods.

Countess Narble does have a point.

Since the ducal house had entrusted Rebecca's education to her, interfering would likely constitute a breach of contract.

In that case . . .

Then I'm dismissing you as her tutor.

What?!

Countess Narble cries out in shock at my announcement.

If she is going to ignore what I, the duchess, say, then dismissing her is the obvious solution.

This might violate my agreement with Alan, but . . . I am prepared for that.

Thank you for your service. I'll find a replacement, so please gather your things.

D-Duchess Sophia! Please reconsider this rash decision . . . !

No, I've determined that I cannot entrust her to your care. I also witnessed your behavior during dance practice earlier. I won't have someone with such a domineering attitude teaching Lady Rebecca.

. . . !

Countess Narble's face reddens with anger, but she can't say anything.

She is barely restraining herself from hurling abuse at me. Only my position as duchess is keeping her in check.

Please leave.

Very well.

She glares at me while bowing once, then hurries out of the room.

I acted rather impulsively, but was it the right thing to do?

Still, I truly couldn't entrust Rebecca's education to that woman for years to come.

If such education had continued, Rebecca might have ended up in the same tragic situation as in my prophetic dream.

Um . . .

Rebecca calls out to me while looking up anxiously.

I'm sorry you had to witness that.

N-no, not at all . . .

Thank you. Well then, let's end the lesson for now and eat lunch together, shall we?

Um, is it really all right for me to eat lunch? The dance practice isn't finished yet . . .

Though Rebecca looks very anxious, I can see a hint of hope in her eyes.

I give her a gentle smile as I speak.

It's fine. Eating properly and staying healthy is important too. Besides, if you're always skipping lunch, you must be hungry, right?

N-no, I'm not particularly . . .

Before Rebecca can finish, her stomach gives an adorable rumble.

Instantly, Rebecca's face goes pale as she presses her hands to her stomach.

I-I'm sorry! My stomach made noise. I did something so improper . . . !

Seeing Rebecca panic and turn pale over something so minor, my anger toward Countess Narble flares up all over again.

A ten-year-old girl's stomach growls and instead of being embarrassed, she turns pale and apologizes in terror?

What kind of education would make her react like this?

I may have acted impulsively in dismissing that woman, but it really was the right decision.

I kneel down to meet her eyes and stroke her head.

She flinches when I reach out to her, but once I start stroking her head, she looks at me with curiosity.

It's all right, I'm not angry at all.

Y-you're not angry?

No, it's actually adorable—it made me smile.

I use both index fingers to push up the corners of my mouth into an exaggerated smile.

See?

Your hungry little tummy made me this happy.

Heh . . . hehe.

Seeing my silly expression with the forced smile, Rebecca can't help but laugh.

What an adorable smile . . . !

I'll absolutely change the fate where such a precious child would be ruined.

Let's eat together, okay? Please?

I gently take hold of Rebecca’s hand, and she looks at me confused.

Y-yes.

She gives me a quiet answer.

Then let's go. Maid, please prepare lunch for us in the annex dining room.

Understood.

After speaking to the maid who had been watching from behind, I head to the dining room with Rebecca.

At first, Rebecca's hand felt completely limp in mine, but after walking down the hallway for a while, her fingers start to squeeze just a little.

When I glance down at Rebecca, she is looking at me anxiously . . . and though I probably shouldn't be thinking this, her upward glance is incredibly adorable, making my heart skip a beat.

Lady Rebecca, do you have any favorite dishes? Is there anything you'd like to eat?

Um, I don't know . . . I'm sorry.

There's no need to apologize. If you don't know what you like yet, we can discover it together from now on.

Y-yes.

Rebecca and I walk hand in hand and sit down at the dining room table.

Normally we would sit across from each other, but the ducal dining table is enormous.

If we sat across from each other, we'd be too far apart to have a proper conversation, so I sit down next to Rebecca instead.

Um, shouldn't we be sitting across from each other?

Rebecca has apparently already learned proper table manners, as she asks this question with genuine curiosity.

That's normally true, but we're family, so it's perfectly fine.

F-family . . . ?

Yes, family.

Rebecca stares at my face in surprise.

She had never known a parent's love before.

But from now on, I intend to love her properly.

Soon after, lunch is brought out one dish after another.

I worry I might have caused trouble for the cook by suddenly announcing I would eat at the annex, but the dishes that arrive are beautifully presented and look absolutely delicious.

A duke's household naturally employs only the finest staff . . . except for the tutor.

I'll have to ask Alan why he chose such a tutor.

Lost in these thoughts as I eat, I notice Rebecca has barely touched her food.

It looks like there's still quite a bit left . . .

What's wrong?

Um, I'm sorry, the portion is a little larger than usual . . .

Can't you eat anymore?

N-no, I can eat, but . . . is it okay for me to eat this much?

I see. Rebecca has had her meals controlled all this time, so she feels guilty about eating.

It's fine, eat plenty. Do you have any favorites?

Um, everything is really delicious—I like them all!

Ahh, Rebecca's innocent smile is so adorable . . . !

The maids and butlers around us also seem to be watching with warm smiles.

During the earlier practice session, the servants were either frowning or looking away.

They really wanted to stop it, but couldn't due to their position.

I'm glad many of the servants seem to be good people.

The lunch portion was quite large, but Rebecca manages to finish it all.

She's ten years old and still growing, so it's wonderful that she can eat so much.

Was it delicious?

Yes, it was very delicious!

Rebecca beams with such an adorable smile.

It's her biggest smile of the day—food really does make people happy.

What do you have scheduled after this?

Um, I have classroom study after this . . . yawn

Oh, what a cute yawn. Did she get sleepy from eating so much?

While I am thinking that, Rebecca turns pale again in a panic.

I-I'm sorry! Such improper behavior . . . !

Such an apologetic expression. It's as if the adorable smile from just moments ago was a lie.

I can't bear to see that expression anymore and I give her a hug.