My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

The grand living hall of the Rubenhart Estate was designed as the warm, beating heart of the estate.

Ornate sofas, plush armchairs, and carved tables were arranged perfectly across the large space. It was an impeccable space for formal gatherings or intimate conversations.

Years ago, when the late Countess still drew breath, the room had been a vibrant place. It was constantly filled with the echoing sounds of laughter and warmth.

She used to sit by the roaring hearth, cradling young Ulrich in her arms while the former Count smiled proudly at her side. They would talk for hours, laughing freely as they watched their bright-eyed son play on the rugs.

Ulrich had been a remarkably intelligent child, a prodigy even then. The Count had always wanted to push the boy to his limits to secure the family’s legacy.

But Ulrich’s mother had been vehement in guarding his innocence. She wanted her son to simply enjoy the fleeting years of his childhood, knowing all too well that the burden of inheriting the Rubenhart name would eventually harden his life.

She had spent countless hours playing with Ulrich in this exact spot. The few veteran servants who had survived the turbulent years still remembered those days clearly. They knew exactly how much light the beautiful, kind Countess had brought into this hall.

But that was in the past.

Now, Ulrich rarely set foot in the room. He certainly never sat down to rest here. The hall had become merely a grand corridor to him, a path to walk past on his way outside or toward his endless duties.

It had only been over the last two years that life returned to the space. The three sisters had begun using the hall during their rest periods, chatting quietly and reading. Their presence alone made the cold room feel slightly more human again.

Tonight, however, was a shocking departure from routine. Ulrich actually found himself sitting upon one of the ornate couches.

And he was not alone.

He was sitting beside a woman.

It was the mysterious, breathtakingly beautiful noblewoman known only as Meera, whose true identity remained a complete enigma to the household.

She was sitting intimately close to Ulrich, his injured arm resting gently across her lap as she meticulously tended to his torn flesh.

A small carved glass vial stood open on the table beside them. Meera held a piece of soft linen, drenched in a fragrant, potent healing concoction.

With care, she swept the damp cloth over the jagged cuts on his forearms, cleaning away the dried blood.

"Those are some strange, deep wounds," Meera said softly. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Her piercing blue gaze scanned the unnatural, dark lacerations marring his skin. She had cleaned away the blood, but the angry, bruised edges of the cuts still pulsed with a sickening, dark residue.

"It is enough," Ulrich said. He attempted to pull his arm away from her lap.

But Meera’s grip was stronger. She caught his wrist, stopping him as she looked up with a gentle, disarming smile.

"You cannot simply leave them like this, my Lord," she scolded lightly.

Ulrich narrowed his eyes, unsure of how to respond.

When she had first seen his injuries in the corridor, she had insisted on treating them herself. He had relented, figuring he would have to clean them eventually anyway.

Yet, he felt she was making too much of a fuss over a few scratches, which, yes, perhaps weren’t only just a few scratches.

True to her nature, however, Meera seemed to be quietly enjoying the act of caring for him, even though her concern was clearly genuine.

"Hm," Meera hummed thoughtfully.

She set the cloth aside, raised her delicate fingertips, and began to lightly trace the ruined skin of Ulrich’s arm.

Ulrich’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. As her fingertips brushed against his battered flesh, they began to glow with a faint, translucent blue light.

A strange, soothing trickling sensation spread rapidly through his veins. Shocked, he watched the stubborn dark marks and bruised corruption literally melt away beneath her touch.

Slowly but surely, his unmarred, pale skin was revealed once more.

He glanced up and watched Meera’s eyes. Her irises had transformed, swirling into a mesmerizing blend of deep aqua and vibrant turquoise.

It was exactly like that night on the ship.

It was the same inexplicable, beautiful power she had used to save his life and push back the crushing currents of the Blue Scar.

Ulrich possessed an almost encyclopedic knowledge of magic. Yet, he had no idea what fueled the power radiating from Meera.

He had never encountered anything remotely like it in his studies.

Even stranger was the glaring fact that a woman named Meera had never been mentioned once in the original novel.

Perhaps her character had been irrelevant to the main plot. Perhaps, in a few years, she was meant to sail far away from the continent. Or maybe she was a character destined to appear much later in the story, since the novel itself had never actually finished.

It was impossible for him to know for sure.

But regardless of her absence from the text, Ulrich was certain of one thing. Meera was not just some random merchant ship captain.

There was a hidden depth to her identity, but he also knew she would never freely hand him the truth.

He had made the mistake of asking about her power once before. She had merely smiled her serene smile and offered to tell him all her secrets, on the condition that he promised to share her bed once a week.

Obviously, Ulrich had refused.

Knowing she would deflect any further questions, Ulrich remained silent. He sat and let her tend to his arms, captivated by the magic unfolding before him.

The translucent blue light behaved almost exactly like living water. He watched, fascinated, as the gentle ripples slipped smoothly beneath his skin, washing away the corrupted bruises and leaving healthy flesh in its wake.

Meanwhile, the servants hovering at the edges of the hall watched the scene unfold with barely contained delight.

Fabian, the elderly butler, looked as though he were on the verge of happy tears. His lips curled into a wide, trembling smile as he watched the Count finally sit in the quiet company of a woman who cared for him.

It was a shocking sight for the household staff. It was even more impactful for them to witness their harsh and strict master sitting so meekly and obediently under a woman’s gentle touch.

Fabian had watched Ulrich grow from a bright-eyed child into a cold, hardened man. The old butler had only ever seen his master display this level of quiet obedience toward two people: his late mother, and his former love, Ashara.

They were definitely the two most important women to have ever shaped his life.

But looking at the serene scene before him, Fabian was overjoyed to realize a third woman had finally been added to that sacred list.

He was a bit bewildered at first because Fabian actually knew Meera, one of the rare ones who had met Meera and knew her. After all, Ulrich had informed him two years ago about Meera and her crew, whom he had recruited before he left for the Capital to watch over his estate during his absence. Certainly, seeing that fiery woman again, dressed differently and acting like a proper aristocratic woman, was even more surprising, but he believed in his Lord, and it seemed his Lord also had a soft spot for Meera.

"Phew."

After a few quiet minutes, Meera let out a soft, satisfied sigh. The glowing light faded from her fingertips as she gently released Ulrich’s fully healed arm.

Ulrich immediately stood up, brushing down the front of his ruined coat to regain his composure.

He turned toward one of the armored knights standing guard there, whom he had called earlier.

"Open the dungeons," Ulrich said. "I need to see the Witch."

The knight bowed his head instantly and marched off toward the lower levels to carry out the order.

Ulrich turned on his heel to leave the hall, but out of the corner of his eye, he quickly saw Meera rising to follow him, with the hulking Edmar falling into step behind her.

"That is not necessary," Ulrich said, pausing to look back at her.

"I do know," Meera replied, offering him a sly smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

Ulrich stared at her for a moment, realizing arguing would be a waste of breath. Without another word, he turned back around and let her follow. Her presence down there did not matter to him anyway.