My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

After the rhythm for the waltz finally came to an end, Hermione let out a quiet breath of relief.

It had felt far too long.

Not because she had hated it, quite the opposite, which was honestly part of the problem, but because for a first dance with Ulrich, with him standing that close and leading her so perfectly, every minute had seemed stretched thin and sharp against her nerves.

Still, she had endured it.

More than that, she had managed not to completely disgrace herself in front of him, which already felt like an achievement worth defending with her life if Esther started saying too much. Dealing with someone like Ulrich had always been difficult. It had been difficult from the moment she first met him two years ago. But if she was being honest with herself, she had grown much better at it.

At least a little.

Ulrich was still strict, still cold, still maddeningly hard to read, but over the last two years he had become more lenient with the three of them in ways only they would notice. He no longer seemed to care when they called him without proper honorifics, at least when they were alone and not surrounded by nobles and servants. That alone would have felt unimaginable once.

And during this dance...

Somehow, despite all her panic, she had managed to speak with him properly.

Not in passing. Not through argument. Not while being scolded.

Properly.

The thought left Hermione strangely pleased as she followed him back toward her sisters. More than pleased, if she was honest. Relieved. Several fears she had carried quietly inside herself had been broken apart during that single dance, and she still had not fully recovered from the fact that Ulrich had dismissed them so simply.

He had not seen them as tools.

Or at the very least, not only as tools.

That mattered more than she wanted to admit.

Ulrich stopped before Airam and Esther, then looked at Hermione.

Feeling his stare, she raised her gaze at once.

"W—What?"

Ulrich lowered his eyes.

Hermione followed the direction of his gaze.

To their hands.

She was still holding his hand despite the fact that he had let go.

Not lightly either.

Her fingers were still wrapped around his as though she had forgotten to let go entirely.

"Hah—no!"

She yanked her hand back at once and took a step away, face burning as if she had touched fire.

Esther immediately giggled.

Hermione’s expression twisted slightly in embarrassment.

"You really loved dancing with Lord Ulrich, did you not, big sister?" Esther asked, grinning.

"I—I did not!" Hermione shot back at once. "You pushed me into it!"

"But I saw you smiling," Esther said innocently. "And you looked very happy."

Hermione’s blush deepened.

"W—Well, it was my first dance!" She retorted. "Of course I would feel good!"

Esther only smiled wider, unconvinced.

"I am happy your first dance was with Lord Ulrich, big sister."

Hermione looked as if she might combust on the spot.

"Enough already!"

Esther giggled again, delighted by her sister’s embarrassment, then turned her head.

Airam was walking forward.

Ulrich turned as well, just as Airam stopped directly in front of him.

For a brief second, the space around them went oddly still.

Airam lifted her face and looked up at him with those unreadable black eyes of hers, then calmly raised one pale hand between them.

Waiting.

Hermione’s jaw dropped.

Of all the things she had expected tonight, this was not one of them.

Airam?

Airam was the last person Hermione would have imagined stepping forward like this of her own will. If anything, Hermione had expected her eldest sister to keep standing there with crossed arms and a frozen stare, pretending she cared nothing at all for the dance or the humiliation surrounding it.

And yet here she was.

Hand raised.

Waiting for Ulrich to take it.

The sight was so unexpected that even Ulrich seemed to pause for half a heartbeat.

He looked down at her hand, then at her face, as if checking whether this was some kind of silent challenge rather than an invitation. But Airam offered no explanation. She said nothing. She only kept her hand lifted and stared up at him with that same still, dark expression.

"A—Airam?" Hermione finally blurted out, unable to contain herself.

Her shock was genuine.

She almost wondered if Airam truly liked dancing that much after all, enough to put aside everything else and ask Ulrich herself. But that made even less sense the longer Hermione thought about it. Airam had been especially angry with him recently, ever since he had forcibly put her to sleep the last night, and made her relive those nightmares she hated speaking of.

She had spent the entire journey to the capital sulking and glaring at him because of that, though Ulrich obviously, as always, didn’t mind it and ignored it.

And now, suddenly, she wanted to dance with him?

Hermione could only stare in disbelief.

Knowing Airam, and knowing just how petty she could become when she was truly upset, this was nothing short of absurd.

"You want to dance with Ulrich now?" Hermione asked, still sounding speechless.

Airam did not even look at her.

"Esther wants me to."

Hermione turned at once toward her youngest sister.

Esther gave a small, sheepish smile.

"Hehe... I wanted to see eldest sister dance, so I asked her."

Hermione’s expression flattened immediately.

Of course.

Of course that was the reason.

Airam would refuse a prince, a noble, a servant, or common sense itself if she was in a bad mood. But when it came to Esther, all of that stubbornness turned to smoke. Esther could ask for the moon with wet eyes and a hopeful face, and Airam would probably start wondering how to drag it down from the sky.

And, if Hermione was being honest, the same was true for her as well.

She knew perfectly well that if she or Esther ever sincerely asked something of Airam, their eldest sister would bend more often than not. That was simply how much Airam loved her little sisters, quietly, strongly, and in ways so indulgent they bordered on ridiculous.

So now, despite her anger, despite the lingering resentment she still held toward Ulrich, despite everything that had passed between them lately, Airam had relented.

How could she ever refuse Esther when the request had been made like that?

Thus she stood before Ulrich now, hand raised, ready to put aside her small grudge for the sake of her youngest sister’s wish.

Still, as the silence stretched a little too long, Airam’s gaze darkened.

Ulrich was looking at her hand as though he were actually hesitating.

That alone sharpened something cold in her eyes.

At last, he took her hand.

It was not as if he had any particular reason to refuse now. He had already danced with Esther and Hermione. He might as well dance with the last sister too before returning to the real matter still circling at the back of his mind. For the moment, nothing had gone wrong in the hall. The assassination attempt had not surfaced yet. Everything remained deceptively calm.

And under those circumstances, drawing suspicion to himself would have been pointless. The best way to find out anything weird was to blend with everything ordinary.

So he accepted.

Esther brightened instantly.

"You are the best eldest sister!" She said with a delighted smile. "Dance like you do with Elana!"

Her voice rang out a little louder than it should have.

A few nearby nobles frowned at once. Others cast brief looks in their direction, displeased by the lack of restraint. But Esther, too happy to care, noticed none of it.

Hermione let out a soft sigh and shook her head, half exasperated and half amused.

"Goodness..."

Then she looked at Airam again.

Ulrich had already begun leading her away, holding her lifted hand with that same composed stance he carried into everything. Airam followed without a word, her back straight, her expression unreadable, her black eyes fixed ahead.

It was still difficult to believe.

If anyone had told Hermione two years ago that one day she would stand in a royal ballroom and watch Airam willingly go off to dance with Ulrich Van Rubenhart, she would have laughed directly in their face.

And in the same way, two years ago, Hermione would never have believed Ulrich would dance with any of them.

Back then, she had been convinced he saw them as burdens at best and despicable witches at worst. Useful, yes, because of their talent. Worth keeping, perhaps, because they had value. But still stains on his hands and his estate all the same.

She had clung to that idea for a long time.

Even after entering Rubenhart Estate, even after being fed, taught, clothed, and protected, she had kept trying to force that image of him back into place whenever it slipped. Cold. Selfish. Cruel. A man helping them only because it served him.

It would have been easier if he had stayed that simple.

But he had not.

And that was what made him so difficult to understand.

Hermione and Airam had never been the sort of girls who would trust a man simply because he offered shelter. A roof meant little on its own. Kind words meant even less. They had both seen enough already to know how easily comfort could turn into control, and how quickly a hand offered in help could close into a fist.

So no, neither of them had trusted him at once.

Hermione still could not say how much Airam trusted him even now. Perhaps not much. Perhaps none at all. Airam guarded herself too strongly, and men were the last people she would ever lower those walls for. If there was anyone in this world she trusted without hesitation, it was only Hermione and Esther.

Even so, Hermione could see the cracks forming, even in Airam and it showed in the way she was colder than usual with Ulrich.

Her gaze shifted to Esther, who stood there with bright blue eyes shining in open excitement as she waited to see Airam dance.

A fond smile curled Hermione’s mouth.

Of course Esther had been the first.

That was obvious enough. Esther was soft where the two of them were warier. She trusted easily, loved easily, forgave easily. It was part of what made her vulnerable, and part of what made her impossible not to protect.

For the longest time, Hermione had dismissed that trust as childishness.

Now, she was no longer sure that was fair.

Maybe Esther had seen something in Ulrich from the beginning. Some part of him that neither Hermione nor Airam had been willing to notice when they first arrived, not that they could be blamed.

Something Esther had recognized long before either of them could bear to admit it.

Something Hermione herself had only begun to see recently.

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