My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

After washing away the fatigue of the morning, the three sisters gathered in the grand dining room to share their breakfast. This daily routine was a nice ritual for them. It was easily one of their favorite moments of the day, as they were treated to a lavish spread of exquisite dishes, fresh pastries, roasted meats, and seasonal fruits, all prepared by some of the finest culinary masters in the Kingdom.

Yet, there was one notable absence. Ulrich never joined them. Whether it was a bright morning breakfast, a quick midday lunch, or a formal dinner, the Count’s chair at the head of the long table remained perpetually empty. Instead, his meals were quietly carried up to his office, where he ate in total isolation.

At first, Esther had worried that their presence was driving him away. Seeking reassurance, she had timidly asked Fabian, the head butler, about the Count’s habits. Fabian had politely informed her that Ulrich rarely ate in the dining room, even before their arrival. The old butler hadn’t explicitly explained the reason, but he knew the tragic truth well enough.

Years ago, when the previous Countess, Ulrich’s mother, was still alive, the dining room had been the vibrant, beating heart of the Rubenhart Estate. She was a lively and affectionate woman who cherished her son above all else. Her mere presence was enough to light up the halls, and even the notoriously strict former Count would soften completely under her warm gaze. But after her sudden passing, followed years later by the Count’s death, Ulrich had been left orphaned. Naturally, the grand dining hall was now burdened with painful, lingering memories of a happier time, memories Ulrich preferred to avoid.

In a way, his absence was a silver lining for the older sisters. Hermione and Airam would have found it quite awkward to eat with someone as intimidating as Ulrich, silently presiding over the table. Without his gaze bearing down on them, the three girls could truly relax, chatting and laughing with an ease they only ever showed around each other.

Still, as Esther picked at her food today, her mind was troubled. She had somewhat adapted to the routine, but it saddened her to know Ulrich was upstairs eating alone. She reasoned that perhaps he had isolated himself in the past simply because the estate was too lonely for one person. But now that the three of them were here, bringing life back to the manor, surely he didn’t have to be lonely anymore? Personally, she wouldn’t mind his company at all. However, she knew deep down that neither Ulrich nor her stubborn sisters were comfortable enough to bridge that gap just yet.

"I seriously cannot wait for the next lesson with Grandmaster Strelley!" Hermione’s voice suddenly rang out, pulling Esther from her thoughts. Hermione was glowing with excitement, seated directly across from her and Airam.

"It really is a shame, though," Hermione continued, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I don’t understand why the Grandmaster doesn’t just sleep here at the estate like Linnea does. It would make teaching so much easier. He wouldn’t have to waste time traveling, and we could squeeze in way more lessons!"

"Maybe because he’s a Grandmaster of Magic, big sister. I think he has a lot of very important duties besides tutoring us," Esther muttered thoughtfully.

Hermione tapped her chin in thought. "Hm, yeah, I guess so... Still, he’s so kind to let us borrow so much of his precious time." She smiled, visibly pleased with her own progress.

"Do you really like that old man that much, Hermione?" Airam asked blankly. She didn’t even look up as she casually speared a bean ball with her silver fork and popped it into her mouth.

"Of course, I like the Grandmaster!" Hermione shot back, proudly puffing out her chest. "Thanks to his guidance, I am certain I am already halfway to beating Ulrich."

Esther blinked in surprise. "Um... I don’t think Lord Ulrich can be beaten that easily. He trains his body so hard every single morning, after all."

"Well, not physically, obviously," Hermione scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "But I am a genius when it comes to magic, Esther. I can definitely beat Ulrich in that domain. He has a broken core, after all."

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room plummeted.

Every single servant standing near the perimeter of the dining room stiffened in horror. Dusting rags paused in mid-air; poured tea nearly spilled. It was an unspoken taboo to mention the Count’s broken magical core within the estate walls.

Hermione didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She hadn’t said it with malicious intent or outright mockery; she stated it simply as an obvious, indisputable fact of life. But factual or not, it was a dangerous line to cross out loud.

"Yet Lord Ulrich always manages to imprison both you and Airam, and you can never break out, big sister," Esther pointed out, a mischievous little smirk playing on her lips.

"Hey, Esther! Whose side are you even on?!" Hermione’s face flushed as she snapped back.

Truthfully, it was a sore subject. Hermione had no idea how Ulrich, a man widely known to have a broken mana core, managed to conjure such complex, inescapable barriers. Two years ago, when the girls were inexperienced, it made sense that his magic could hold them. A broken core didn’t mean he was completely stripped of their power, after all, it just meant their output was severely limited, and so were his spells.

But now that they had undergone rigorous training, it baffled Hermione that he could still trap them so easily and seemingly even better than before. No matter what she or Airam tried, they couldn’t find a single clue on how to dismantle his barriers.

She suspected the secret lay in the baffling uniqueness of Ulrich’s spell structures. The magical runes suspended within his spell rings were ordered in bizarre, unfamiliar patterns, utilizing combinations that Hermione still couldn’t decipher. But was that really the only trick to it? No matter how hard she probed the barriers with her own mana, she couldn’t find a single structural loophole. To make matters more frustrating, on the rare occasions she felt she was finally on the verge of finding a solution, the runic combination would suddenly shift and adapt, locking her out all over again.

She could, of course, ask Grandmaster Strelley to explain the mechanics of it. But Hermione stubbornly refused to seek outside help for this problem. Her pride simply wouldn’t allow it, especially when it came to conceding defeat to Ulrich.

Airam clearly felt the same way. The eldest sister just shot Esther a dry, withering stare for bringing up the humiliating memories of their imprisonments.

The scenario was identical every single time the two older girls found themselves trapped in one of his shimmering cells. Hermione would scream in frustration, while Airam would try to punch her way through the physical manifestations of the magic. Eventually, they would both calm down and shift tactics, meticulously studying the hovering runes to figure out what type of magic Ulrich had woven together. And every single time, without fail, they would eventually exhaust themselves, give up, bitterly write out the lines required for their punishment, and finally be released.

Perhaps the indignity of it was another reason that fueled Airam’s obsessive drive to understand and manipulate raw runes.

But there was one undeniable truth that both Hermione and Airam were forced to swallow: Ulrich was a genius when it came to magic. They would never admit it aloud, not even under torture, but the man’s intellect was clearly far from normal. Now that Hermione truly understood the complex theories of runes and mana flows thanks to Grandmaster Strelley, she could see just how impossibly brilliant Ulrich’s barriers actually were. Sometimes, she genuinely found it deplorable that such a brilliant mind was cursed with a broken core.

Esther simply giggled softly at her sisters’ irritated reactions. This was just another reason she admired Ulrich so much. She loved and looked up to her elder sisters immensely, but they were a chaotic force of nature. Yet, Ulrich handled them with perfection. More importantly, even though their motivations to beat him were perhaps wrong ones, she loved seeing them so driven. After the loss of their mother, it was Ulrich who had given them a tangible purpose and a reason to strive for greatness. For that, Esther was once again grateful.

Finishing their lavish breakfast, the three sisters left the dining room and headed down the halls toward their usual classroom for Linnea’s lesson.

Hermione pushed open the wooden door, expecting the usual routine. They found Linnea standing behind her desk at the front of the room, but the young woman looked visibly tense, her hands gripping the edge of the wood nervously.

It didn’t take the girls long to understand why. Sitting perfectly still in a solitary chair at the very back of the room, shrouded in his usual cold, imposing aura, was Ulrich.