My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

After Kaliantha left, silence lingered in the chamber.

The door had barely closed behind the Queen when the atmosphere changed.

Camellia still stood near Ulrich’s bed, the camellia pendant tucked safely in her hand.

"I should leave you to rest," she said at last.

She slipped the necklace carefully back into the small pouch at her side. Her fingers lingered there for a moment, ensuring the delicate chain was secure.

Then she turned toward the door.

Before leaving, however, she looked back.

"Have a good recovery, Lord Rubenhart," Camellia said softly.

Ulrich inclined his head.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Camellia smiled faintly.

Then she departed.

The door shut behind her.

For a while, the room became awkwardly quiet.

Esther stood close to Hermione, looking relieved that Ulrich was awake but still unwilling to move too far away from his bed. Hermione had regained her usual composure, though she looked still concerned. Airam stood apart from them, silent and thoughtful.

Ulrich was the one who finally broke the silence.

"You should leave," he said. "I will recover. I intend to depart by tonight. You should be ready by then."

Esther’s eyes widened.

"Tonight?"

"You should remain in bed longer," Hermione added immediately.

Ulrich ignored that.

Airam’s gaze fixed on him.

"Why were those demons there?" She asked.

Ulrich looked toward her.

Airam had known something was wrong before the attack. He had warned her that danger might come, though he had not explained its source or told her everything he knew. Now that the truth had unfolded, her curiosity had only grown.

"To assassinate the Queen," Ulrich replied.

"But Lord Ulrich stopped them," Esther said, beaming a smile.

Ulrich said nothing.

"Hmph."

Hermione crossed her arms.

"By a hair’s breadth, he nearly died. He is still lying there, unable to move properly, recovering from poison." She turned her face away from Ulrich, her cheeks faintly flushed with frustration. "It was not as though he defeated them without consequence."

Ulrich looked at her.

Hermione refused to look back.

"Honestly," she continued, "if you had died, what would we have done? It would have been humiliating."

Ulrich considered this.

"If I die, you will inherit my wealth," he said. "I prepared the documents in advance. There would be no concern."

Esther stared at him.

"B—But Lord Ulrich will not die!"

"I will not," Ulrich replied. "Leaving Rubenhart territory and the estate to you three would be comparable to throwing them into a furnace."

"T—Then why did you list our names as your heirs?!" Hermione glared at him.

Ulrich’s expression did not change.

"Because there is no one else to give them to."

Hermione fell silent.

Her displeasure faded immediately.

The answer had been simple. Blunt, even. Ulrich had not offered it to earn sympathy or soften the room’s mood. He had only spoken the truth.

He had no close family.

His father was dead. His mother was gone. The rest of his mother’s family remained distant, strangers separated from him by blood, years, and silence. There was no sibling, cousin, or trusted relative whom he could name as heir.

But the sisters were here.

He had adopted them.

If something happened to him, then the Rubenhart County would belong to them.

Esther pulled away from Hermione and stepped closer to the bed.

"Lord Ulrich is not alone," she said.

Her voice was small at first.

Then it grew firmer.

"You have us!"

She placed one hand over her chest, looking at him with an earnestness that made Ulrich pause.

"We will always be with you," Esther said. "And we will protect you too!"

The room went quiet.

Hermione did not deny her.

Airam did not deny her either.

Over the past two years, too much had changed.

When they had first arrived at Rubenhart Estate, the sisters had held plans of their own. They would gain knowledge. They would become strong enough to protect themselves. And eventually, when the time came, they would leave. No witch could live comfortably in Skargardia forever, not with its laws, its prejudices, and its long history of treating witches as something to fear.

That had once been certain.

Now it was not.

Esther had become attached to the estate, its people, its routines, and, most of all, to Ulrich. She spoke of Rubenhart as though it had always been her home. Hermione had changed as well, though she would never admit it so openly. She had begun to care about the household, about the servants, about the responsibilities Ulrich trusted her to handle.

And Ulrich himself.

He had become part of their lives in a way none of them had expected.

Airam was the only one who still believed leaving might be necessary.

Not because she disliked Rubenhart.

Not because she hated Ulrich.

But because she could not imagine a lasting future for herself in Skargardia. The comfort of the estate did not change what she was. A witch. One whose magic did not fit quietly into human society, no matter how kind a Count might be or how beautiful the rooms of a noble estate became.

How long could she deny that nature?

How long before the world demanded an answer?

Airam looked at Esther.

Then at Hermione.

Esther’s attachment to Ulrich was written plainly across her face. Hermione was more careful, but the concern she had shown since the barrier broke had made the truth difficult to deny.

Airam could not take this from them.

Not when they had finally found warmth after so much darkness.

If leaving became necessary, then perhaps she would leave alone.

The thought would once have been impossible.

She had always believed her place was beside her sisters. They were all she had. Their safety had come before every wish, every plan, every fear she possessed.

But now she knew Ulrich would protect them.

He had already proven it.

They would be safe at Rubenhart.

But she couldn’t stay forever here. She was different and no matter how much she denied it, her presence with her sisters would only put them more in danger.

Airam turned away without speaking.

Ulrich watched her walk toward the door.

He lay back against the pillows.

The room spun slightly as the lingering weakness returned, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment before speaking again.

"You should all leave," he said. "And call Hendrick here."

Hermione nodded.

She took Esther’s hand, gently guiding her away from the bed.

"Come," she said. "Lord Ulrich needs rest."

Esther let herself be pulled toward the door. Before leaving, she turned around and gave Ulrich a bright smile, still touched by tears, but much stronger than before.

"Recover quickly, Lord Ulrich."

Ulrich opened his eyes.

He looked at the three sisters standing before the door.

Then he gave a small nod.

Esther smiled again.

Then Hermione led her out, with Airam following in silence behind them.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

Hendrick entered the chamber.

As Commander of Ulrich’s personal knights, he wore formal armor even within the royal castle, though he had removed his helm before crossing the threshold. His expression had remained controlled since the attack, but the relief in his eyes was obvious when he saw Ulrich sitting upright against the pillows.

He bowed deeply, one hand pressed to his chest.

"My lord, it is a great relief to see you awake and recovering."

Ulrich gave him a brief nod.

"Has anything happened while I was unconscious?"

Hendrick straightened.

"No, my lord. The investigation concerning the demons and their potential allies remains underway. Her Majesty has ordered that every possible connection be uncovered. Commander Lambert has closed much of the Keep to outsiders, and the royal mages are examining the barrier apparatus."

"I am not speaking of that."

Hendrick paused.

"My lord?"

Ulrich looked toward the window for a moment.

"The sisters," he said. "Did everything proceed well for them?"

Understanding crossed Hendrick’s face.

"Yes, my lord. Her Majesty granted them rooms within the royal castle and ordered that they receive proper hospitality. Our knights have remained near them at all times."

"Nothing unusual occurred?"

Hendrick frowned slightly.

"No, my lord. Nothing. They have been safe."

Ulrich nodded.

That should have been enough.

It should have brought relief.

Yet the unease in his chest did not disappear.

He thought again of the dark-haired man from the night of the ceremony, the stranger who had approached him, spoken of the sisters as though he knew them, and then vanished before Ulrich could learn who he was or what he wanted.

The man had not approached Esther.

He had not spoken to Hermione.

He had not confronted Airam.

He had simply appeared before Ulrich, made his strange comments, and disappeared into the crowd.

Why?

If he had been connected to the demons, he would have acted during the attack or tried to use the chaos afterward. But there had been no sign of him among the five assassins. He had not moved toward the sisters. He had not been found among the guests detained by Marx Lambert.

He did not seem to be a demon.

Nor did he seem to be one of the witches’ Blooded Sons.

A member of Libra?

The possibility existed.

But it was slim.

Libra had its own methods, its own objectives, and its agents rarely revealed themselves without a purpose. If the stranger had belonged to them, why approach Ulrich so openly? Why mention the sisters with that strange familiarity, then vanish without doing anything further?

Who else could he be?

Ulrich’s fingers tightened slightly against the blanket.

"Do not let them out of your sight," he said.

Hendrick’s posture became more serious.

"My lord?"

"The sisters," Ulrich repeated. "Keep our knights near them. Quietly. Do not make them feel watched, but do not leave them unprotected."

Hendrick nodded.

"Understood."

"And if anyone approaches them without a clear reason, I want to know immediately."

"Yes, my lord."

Ulrich looked at him for a moment.

"Especially a dark-haired man. Approximately my height. He may not bear obvious demonic mana. If he appears, do not provoke him. Observe him, learn where he goes, and report to me."

Hendrick’s expression hardened seriously.

"Is he a threat?"

"I do not know."

Hendrick did not press for more.

"I will inform every knight assigned to the sisters," he said. "We will keep them safe."

Ulrich gave a final nod.

"You may go."

Hendrick bowed again.

"Rest well, my lord."

Then he left the chamber.

The door closed.

Ulrich leaned back against the pillows and exhaled slowly.

The room was quiet again.

His body still ached, and the lingering weakness from the poison made every thought feel heavier than it should have been. But he could not allow himself to rest fully yet.

The demons had attempted to kill Kaliantha.

He had interfered.

He had killed five of their assassins, exposed their barrier plan, and placed himself openly at the center of the failure.

Zagon would hear about it if he hadn’t actually witnessed it.

And Ulrich needed to know exactly where he stood now.

Was he still considered an uninvolved noble?

Had they recognized him as an obstacle?

Did Zagon believe he had acted against the plan intentionally?

Ulrich closed his eyes.

He needed to contact them eventually.

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