My home...
It didn’t take long to arrive, and it was impossible to miss: a huge mansion surrounded by towering walls, with enough servants to fill an entire suburban neighborhood.
That was the kind of family the Brimstones were.
And if I remembered correctly, my house was one of the main reasons why one of the villainesses became a villainess in the first place.
"P-Please reconsider, Lord Gavian. I really need to speak with your father."
A familiar voice reached me as I entered the gates, and I saw two figures speaking just outside the mansion’s large patio.
My brother, Gavian Brimstone. And Trish Von Fillaunete, the story’s second villainess. And in this timeline, she was still sane, but her downfall seemed like it was already starting.
Specifically, her parents’ bankruptcy. An event that would strip her of her title, force her into the academy dorms, and leave her surviving on high grades to maintain her scholarship.
Until, of course, she eventually set out to destroy the aristocracy that had ruined her life.
"May I join the conversation?"
I obviously wasn’t about to turn a blind eye to this.
"Brother, I see you’ve recovered earlier than expected."
Gavian barely gave me a glance. Trish, however, looked at me as if her savior had finally arrived.
"L-Lord Reyn, c-can you please deliver this letter to your father? Please..."
But Gavian stopped her before she could hand it to me, redirecting his attention back to himself.
"Please, if you have any business with our father, discuss it with me, not my brother who has only just recovered."
Still, I already had enough information to go about. I knew what I needed to do: To deliver that letter to my father.
Not to save her house, though. Gods, no. Even in the original story, she had managed to deliver it through other means, and even then, it still wasn’t enough to stop her fall or prevent the obsessive plot she would eventually launch.
So what was the point of delivering a worthless letter? Simple: I didn’t care about the letter itself. I only needed an excuse to make a good first impression.
"I’ll handle it, brother. I’ll simply place the letter in Father’s receiving pile. Surely that won’t inconvenience you?"
I said this as Gavian stared at me, slight irritation flickering across his face. If there was anyone who hated the previous Reyn, it was definitely going to be my new family.
And I didn’t blame them, really.
Especially Gavian. The eldest son, the heir, the one who actually bothered to carry the Brimstone name with dignity.
If there was anyone with the right to be mad, it was him.
"You?"
His voice carried no particular warmth. More disbelief than anything else.
"You actually want to deliver a letter to Father? You’ve never shown interest in House affairs before, Reyn. Not once."
"People change, brother."
I kept my voice steady and posture straight. The same propaganda-trained sincerity I’d used on Annabele, dialed down just enough to feel natural rather than performative.
Gavian didn’t look convinced. But Trish was watching us both with desperate, darting eyes, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched the envelope against her chest.
She was beautiful, of course. All the villainesses were. Silver hair that caught the morning light, violet eyes that would one day harden into something cold and calculating.
But right now, she was just a young woman watching her world crumble.
"She came all this way."
I continued, nodding toward Trish.
"The least we can do is let Father read her family’s plea. What he does with it after that is his decision. I’m just offering to carry paper."
Gavian’s jaw tightened. Then he exhaled through his nose.
"Fine. Deliver it. But don’t bother Father while he’s in his study. Leave it on the receiving desk."
"Of course."
I turned to Trish and extended my hand. She stared at it for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening, then quickly pressed the envelope into my palm.
"T-Thank you, Lord Reyn! Truly! I don’t know how I can ever repay—"
"No need for repayment. It’s just a letter."
I offered her a small smile. Nothing that would read as flirtation. She wasn’t Annabele, and her circumstances were entirely different.
The last thing she needed right now was a man acting like he expected something in return.
Trish bowed her head, then turned and hurried back toward the gates. Her gait resembled someone barely holding themselves together.
Gavian watched her go, then turned his attention back to me.
"You’re different."
"Am I?"
"Well, I’m really not sure..."
His eyes narrowed.
"But at least you haven’t leered at a single maid since you walked through the gate."
I hadn’t even noticed the maids. That probably said something about how thoroughly my tastes had narrowed.
"Well, the accident was more than enough motivation to better myself."
Gavian studied me for a moment longer, then shook his head.
"Just make sure you actually deliver that letter. I don’t want to find you sniffing it later in your room, giggling just to catch a whiff of Lady Fillaunete’s scent."
He walked off after saying that, leaving me frozen in place.
Against my better judgment, I searched through Reyn’s memories.
’...’
I immediately regretted it.
Apparently, Gavian hadn’t been exaggerating.
Something like that had, in fact, happened before.
I shook off the revulsion and shoved the memory back where I found it. Some things about the old Reyn were better left forgotten. What mattered now was what I did next.
And I still had two goals to accomplish before leaving.
First, deliver Trish’s letter. That was easy enough. I headed inside, found Father’s study, and slipped the envelope onto the receiving desk just outside the door. The maids barely glanced at me.
They were used to ignoring my presence by now.
That would change eventually. But for today, invisibility served my purposes.
Second: the allowance.
I straightened my coat, squared my shoulders, and knocked on the study door.
"Enter."
The voice on the other side was deep and clipped. The kind of voice that expected obedience before the word was even finished.
I pushed the door open.
Duke Cain Brimstone sat behind a massive oak desk, surrounded by enough ledgers and correspondence to bury a lesser man.
His hair was the same dark shade as mine, streaked with gray at the temples. His eyes were gray too, but colder. The eyes of a man who’d spent decades navigating court politics and come out on top every single time.
He didn’t look up.
"Gavian, if this is about the Fillaunete matter again, I’ve already made my—"
"It’s not Gavian."
His pen stopped moving. Then, slowly, he raised his head.
"Reyn... sigh."
The single word carried a decade of disappointment.
"You’re supposed to be in the hospital."
"I was discharged this morning. The physician cleared me for afternoon classes."
I stepped further into the room, keeping my posture straight and my hands visible. Nothing about my body language suggested the son he remembered.
"And you came here first? Instead of... wherever it is you usually disappear to?"
His eyes narrowed.
"What do you want, Reyn? Money? Another scandal covered up? A maid that actually enjoys your harassment?"
"Actually..."
I met his gaze directly.
"I wanted to apologize."
"What...?"