There is a word called déjà vu.
To feel that you have experienced something that you have never actually experienced before.
My life was full of a sense of déjà vu. However, what is a little different from normal is that my sense of déjà vu is that I feel that it was not like this before.
My name is Lycoris Radiata. I just turned six years old.
It is often said that I am not childlike.
Even if it is said that my appearance is mature, it has never been said that I am cute. I think “cute” is an all-purpose compliment to children.
What a status, the Duke’s daughter.
My mother died before I could remember, but there are a lot of pictures left. She was a very beautiful, but a little cold woman.
My father, the duke, flies around foreign countries for work and rarely comes home. But I’m surrounded by a lot of servants and tutors, so I don’t feel lonely often.
I’m praised for my good memory, so I think it’s a special skill.
Just thinking about myself like this makes me feel uncomfortable.
No, no, absolutely no, something is definitely different, somewhere in my heart it shouts. But I don’t know what the difference is.
Regarding this incoherent problem, I made a big decision to consult a sensible adult.
The person I chose is the grandmother who is especially trusted among the adults close to me.
When I confessed my troubles in poor words, Grandma opened her eyes so wide that the wrinkles on the corners of her eyes stretched out and said, “Well …”
After being stunned for a while, she said with a confused face, “What the lady says is too difficult for me. That “Dejabu” is also a word that I’m not familiar with…”
――By the way.
What kind of language is deja vu, and why do I know it? I think it’s probably written as “Deja Vu”, but I don’t know which country’s character it is.
The result of a big decision ended with more doubts and more confusion.
After that, I started to read books enthusiastically. Because I asked for an answer to my question in the wisdom of my predecessors.
I spent almost all my time reading except when eating, sleeping, and studying.
About me reading various books without showing interest in childlike play, the Duke’s residence said, it seems like they broke up into the “The young lady is a genius!” faction and the “Lady is a little crazy …” faction, but I didn’t even know such a thing at that time.
By the way, around this time, I had a habit of forming wrinkles between my eyebrows. It’s probably because of endless worries and eye abuse.
I don’t like this as six-year-old.
It was one day, a few years after I started reading. One answer was given to this sense of incongruity that I don’t know if it should be called this sense of déjà vu.
I will never forget that day, the day before my 10th birthday.
I heard about my fiancé from my father for the first time on this day.
“Hey, it’s been a long time, my little princess.”
It was my father who gave me such a toothy greeting. It’s the Duke of Lelia.
“I’m glad you’re doing well, father.”
While exchanging unparent-child-like greetings, I stared at my father’s face.
His hair, a color somewhere between gold and brown, is slicked back, and he still can’t wipe the impression of a baby face.
He is only in his thirties, and he has a lively aristocratic demeanor rather than the dignity of a duke, so it’s hard to believe that this man is my father.
It’s not that I’m doubting whether or not there is a blood relationship. Simply, we don’t have much time to talk as a parent and child.
My father spends most of the year abroad, and very occasionally goes home, but always buys souvenirs. It’s hard to understand what this person actually thinks about his daughter.
A cheerful father who gives sweet words to his daughter, but at the same time, there is something that makes him seem like a stranger.
As he explains about the souvenirs, it seems like he is enjoying the time with his daughter after a long time.
But in some way, the opponent is a duke who demonstrates his ability in diplomacy. You won’t make the little girl realize the subtleties of emotions, so is that smile from the heart or the skill of socializing? ……Maybe I’m just thinking too much.
In a word, about my father, “I don’t hate him, but I don’t really understand him.”
I gently put one hand on the hand that my father held out top me while smiling, and I guided to settle down on the sofa.
“I brought you a wonderful story today.”
Without much preamble, my father said something that would shatter my peaceful daily life.
“Your fiancee has been officially decided. He is Viscount Wolfgang Eisenhut. He is the eldest son and heir of Duke Ranankura. I borrowed his painting that was drawn very recently.”
As my father spoke, the butler who was waiting by the wall quickly held up an oil painting and took a few steps to make it easier for me to see.
“What do you think? He’s handsome, isn’t he? Tomorrow is the first meeting. I’m sure you’ll like him too.”
While listening to my father’s voice somewhere far away, my gaze was glued to the picture.
My daily life, which I believed to be normal until then, suddenly collapsed at this time. This is not an exaggerated phrase.
Wolfgang Eisenhut.
The moment I heard the name in my ears and saw the appearance. I felt like I was waking up. It feels like the light suddenly turned on after groping in the darkness.
The sense of déjà vu and strange knowledge were all connected.
It was a sense of déjà vu compared to my “former life” and the knowledge gained from my “former life”.
The name Wolfgang Eisenhut was also in my memory. Picture comes to mind of a girl with soft, golden hair and a young man, who looks like a grown up version of the picture I just saw, hugging each other.
To be precise, it’s a picture, or rather a still of an otome game.
If you want to put the situation in simple words.
It seems that I was subtly reincarnated with the memory of my previous life.
In the world of a yandere otome game.
Moreover, my position is as a rival character to the golden-haired girl, who is the game’s heroine. There is a death route.
This is terrible.
It’s terrible in many ways.
I don’t really care about the reincarnation.
But why is it the world of a yandere otome game?
If you are in contact with a character as a game player, whether it is tsundere or yandere, there’s nothing to be afraid of. However, there is no way I want to meet a yandere in reality.
You may be able to withstand the blade of words that a tsundere swings, but can you withstand the physical knife that a yandere wields? No.
No, the physical knife is just an image inside me, and there was no such scene during the game.
Anyway, in order to face a yandere, you need the strongest shield called the LCD screen. Seriously.
Moreover, without the wonderful skill of heroine correction, what’s the difference between encountering zombies who want to increase their friends, and encountering a yandere as a disturbing supporting role. Give me the shotgun!
No, I can’t shoot it.
Let me say it again.
This is terrible.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading!
