Flag-Breaking Villainess: The Story of How Breaking the Romance Flags of the Otome Game's Protagonist Ended Up Creating New Flags Between the Reincarnated Villainess and the Heroine - Chapter 5.1

As the night deepened and bedtime approached, Liel sat down at her desk and placed something on its surface.

A pink-covered book—one I instantly recognized from my experience as a player of the original game.

“Is that… a diary?”

“Yes! It was a gift from the headmaster and the children at the orphanage to celebrate my enrollment.”

Her face brightened with a joyful smile as she reminisced about receiving it.

In the original game, the save and load screens were designed to resemble a diary.

Liel’s diary bore a striking resemblance to that design, but it didn’t appear to be anything more than an ordinary book. There was no way it was secretly a cursed relic or something of that nature… right?

“That’s a wonderful gift. It suits you perfectly.”

“Doesn’t it? I loved it the moment I saw it!”

Of course, I had no intention of prying into its contents. I gave her space, allowing her to write in peace.

Still, I remained subtly alert—listening for any game-like sound effects, similar to the ones that played when saving progress in the game.

But all I heard was the soft scratching of a pen against paper and Liel’s quiet humming. The pleasant sounds filled the room with a gentle, comforting atmosphere.

After a while, she finished writing, her face relaxing into an expression of quiet satisfaction—like she had set her thoughts in order and found reassurance in doing so.

Seeing an opportunity, I decided to clear up something that had been on my mind.

“Can I ask you something? Do the words ‘save’ or ‘load’ mean anything to you? Or have you ever experienced time rewinding, or seen your own abilities displayed as numerical values?”

“Um… no, none of that sounds familiar.”

She tilted her head in confusion, her voice sincere and free of deception.

Even if those mechanics did exist in this world, Liel wasn’t consciously aware of them. And if she couldn’t recognize them, then for all practical purposes, they didn’t exist.

For now, I would assume that while this world originated from the game, system elements like save files and stat screens were not present.

“I see. That’s good to know. On a different note, do you think you’ll be able to keep up with the academy’s lessons starting tomorrow?”

“I think so. I studied at the church’s Sunday school, so I should be able to manage… Plus, after my enrollment was confirmed, the Magic Association sent instructors to the orphanage to teach me various subjects.”

In the original game, Liel’s starting stats were all at the lowest level. However, that didn’t mean she was unintelligent—when the player used the study command, her intelligence stat increased accordingly.

As long as she continued learning, she wouldn’t fall behind in her studies, and I wouldn’t have to worry about triggering the forced student council enlistment event due to poor grades.

“That’s good to hear. But if you ever struggle with your studies, don’t hesitate to ask me for help. Don’t hold back—I’ll be your personal tutor.”

If, for some reason, her grades dropped to an unsalvageable level, I would be the one dealing with the consequences. It was best to eliminate the academic failure flag before it had a chance to activate.

“…Okay! I’ll be counting on you!”

After wrapping up our conversation, we completed our nighttime routine and lay down in bed.

“Good night, Liel.”

“Good night, Lady Lilia.”

We exchanged goodnight wishes, briefly meeting each other’s gaze before closing our eyes.

Just like the night before, a sense of tranquility settled over me as sleep took hold.

I never realized how comforting it could be to share a room with someone.

Maybe… it was because that someone was Liel.

If this became an everyday routine, I might struggle to sleep alone once we graduate.