I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead
Chapter 129: Unavailable Hotties

Chapter 129: Unavailable Hotties

Verena had unlocked the Interrogation Date Route.

This was not a route she wanted to be on.

She wanted the "Peaceful Background NPC Life With No Touchy Feelings" route. She wanted tea. Silence. Maybe a nice fireplace. Not Isolde sitting beside her like a smug dominatrix with eyes that gleamed too brightly for someone who just accused her of time-hopping.

And definitely not Penelope walking in exactly five seconds later with a tray of cookies and way too much cleavage for someone bringing baked goods.

"Oh no," Verena muttered. "They’ve multiplied."

Penelope blinked at the scene.

Verena draped dramatically across the bed, Isolde sitting like a smug wife who caught her husband cheating—and smiled.

"I see I’ve missed something interesting," she said, setting the tray down with a little bounce. "Should I sit on the other side?"

[SYSTEM WARNING: Surrounded by Dangerous Women. Death Flag Stabilized. Sanity Stat Decreasing.]

Verena scrambled to sit up, only to accidentally bonk foreheads with Isolde.

"OW—WHY ARE YOU THIS CLOSE?!"

"You flopped onto the bed like a Victorian ghost. I assumed you needed resuscitation."

"I was faking fainting! That’s the opposite of consent!"

"...So you admit it was fake?"

Verena slapped a pillow over her face and screamed into it.

"Okay, everyone calm down," she said, voice muffled. "Let’s all act like normal people for one goddamn second—"

"We’re all magical women stuck in a romantic death game," Penelope chirped, already making herself comfortable next to Isolde on the bed. "Define ’normal’ again?"

Verena peeked out from behind the pillow. "Look, I am not a regressor, okay? I just... happen to be very good at reading scripts. I read people like books! I’m emotionally literate!"

"Literate people don’t scream into pillows," Isolde deadpanned.

"Some of us are bilingual in trauma."

Penelope leaned forward, hands folded. "Well, since you’re so fluent in feelings... tell us, Verena, why do you look at me like I’m a ghost that might stab you in your sleep?"

Verena froze.

"Oh. Oh, that’s a loaded question. That’s—uh—"

She tried to stand and hit her knee on the bedpost.

"OW—goddammit, this whole room is trying to kill me!"

"Answer the question," Isolde purred. "Before the bed finishes the job."

[SYSTEM CHOICE:

— Tell the Truth

— Gaslight

— Seduce to Distract

— Cry Cutely and Hope They Pity You

— Pretend You’re Sleepwalking]

Verena hit Seduce to Distract with the grace of a panicked pigeon.

"Oh, you poor things," she said, shifting slightly to lean back, lifting her chin and fluttering her lashes. "Do you always interrogate women in bed? Or am I just special?"

Penelope raised a brow, unimpressed. Isolde blinked.

"...Are you trying to seduce us?"

"Yes?"

"You’re really bad at it."

Verena groaned. "It works better on emotionally repressed men!"

Penelope hummed, tapping her finger on her chin. "You know... we really should interrogate her properly. But we might need to frisk her."

"I’m not hiding a whole alternate timeline in my boobs, Penelope!"

"Not with that attitude," Isolde replied with a smirk.

Flustered beyond repair, Verena leapt from the bed, landing in a crouch. Her nightgown, unfortunately, did not cooperate. It fluttered dramatically in a way that almost broke the fanservice meter.

[Penalty Delay: 15 Minutes Extension Achieved Through Accidental Panty Shot]

Can I please just do what I came here for? Pass the damn trials, survive this plot, and maybe not get emotionally entangled with the entire female cast like I’m starring in a tragic yuri harem novel?!

Then Penelope and Isolde looked at each other.

Then at her.

Then back at each other.

And smirked.

"Oh no," Verena muttered. "You’re both thinking the same thing, aren’t you?"

"Wouldn’t that make it more fun?" Penelope said sweetly.

"We do need a plan for the trial," Isolde added, stroking her chin.

"Strategic bonding improves synergy," Penelope offered.

"Synergy," Isolde echoed, eyes glinting.

"You two sound like HR agents from hell," Verena muttered, backing up toward the door.

"Oh, don’t worry," Penelope said, rising to her feet. "We can strategize in the bath. It’s part of our team-building curriculum."

"The bath? There’s no bath in this—"

"Already arranged one," Isolde said, smug. "Room upgrade. Special request from the Headmistress."

"You traitors."

"We’re your allies."

"You’re my ENDGAME BOSSES IN LINGERIE."

[SYSTEM: Team Bath Event Unlocked.]

[Warning: Resistance Will Only Trigger Another Flag.]

[Accept or Risk -25 Affection with Random Heroine.]

Verena stared at the system window. Then at the two smirking women. Then back at the system.

"...Fine," she muttered. "But no loofah-sharing. And I swear, if anyone tries to poke my memories like they’re soap bubbles, I will scream."

"Oh Verena," Penelope said, looping her arm with hers. "We would never."

"You absolutely would."

As they dragged her toward the bath, Verena sighed deeply.

This wasn’t a mission anymore. This was a dating sim disguised as a magical death game, and she was the unwilling protagonist with a harem of beautiful, unstable women and zero escape routes.

And worst of all?

She was starting to get used to it.

***

The sun was high, the courtyard birds were singing, and Verena was just trying to enjoy a perfectly miserable afternoon under the shade of a tree with a sour lemon tart and a book on historical poisonings.

Then Raphael appeared—radiant, tall, and terrifyingly confident—like a celestial tax auditor descending from the heavens.

"Lady Verena."

She choked on the tart.

"—gghHRHK!"

Elegant, he waited patiently as she hacked like a dying goose.

"Lovely day, isn’t it?" he added helpfully, offering a handkerchief.

Verena slapped it away.

"What the hell are you doing here? Did I forget to pay for something? Did I cause an explosion again? Was there another flag?!"

Raphael looked slightly bemused. "No, I merely wished to speak with you about... joining the Novae Covenant."

Silence.

Birds chirped.

A squirrel fell out of a tree.

"...What."

Raphael folded his arms behind his back, the picture of gallant decorum. "I’ve been thinking about it, and it seems your group may be one worth aligning with. The upcoming trials will require unity, and I have noticed your team has... momentum."

"Momentum?" she repeated blankly. "We’re three emotionally unstable women and a barely-legal healing slime we summoned by accident."

"Exactly."

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Raphael has requested to join your Novae Covenant.]

[Reason: He has observed that Isolde follows you with intense loyalty and therefore assumes you are trustworthy. Your ’Aura of Importance’ stat has increased by a percent.]

Verena blinked at the system window. Then looked at Raphael. Then back at the system.

"Wait, Isolde is the reason you want to join me?"

"She is fiercely loyal," Raphael confirmed. "And I have never seen her tolerate another person’s presence longer than five minutes, let alone share a bath."

"You know about what happened in the bath?!"

"...It was for reconnaissance," he said, expression unchanging.

Verena’s eye twitched. "You people are insane."

[SYSTEM: You cannot reject Raphael without triggering the "Arrogant Male Lead Sees You As Competition" route.]

She groaned. "FINE! Join the Novae Conglomerate of Chaos or whatever. But if you start giving dramatic speeches and seducing random girls into loyalty like you’re building an anime fan club, I’m out."

He smiled gently. "Excellent. I shall begin by assisting with logistics, supply distribution, and morale maintenance."

"Morale maintenance?"

"I believe in strengthening group dynamics through morning pep talks, sword drills, and emotionally repressed backstories shared under moonlight."

"...You’re terrifying."

Just then, Isolde strolled past the courtyard, saw Raphael standing beside Verena, narrowed her eyes—and immediately turned back around like she saw something illegal.

Verena sighed. "Great. Now she thinks we’re flirting."

"You’re not?" Raphael tilted his head.

"Don’t start."

She turned to stomp away. Raphael, like some honorable plague, followed.

"I also compiled a list of strategies for magical synergy," he added conversationally, walking alongside her like he belonged. "Based on your behavior and choices, I assume you’ve regressed through at least three timelines, correct?"

She froze mid-step.

"...What gave you that idea?"

"I’m very good at patterns," he said cheerfully. "Also, you mutter ’not this crap again’ whenever someone tells you something."

"THAT COULD MEAN ANYTHING!"

"Of course."

Verena could feel the death flags sprouting like weeds around her.

Penelope was watching from a second-floor window, sipping tea and already making bets with a nearby professor about how long it would take before Raphael and Verena got caught in a closet together.

Meanwhile, the Novae Covenant’s reputation had soared through the roof.

Within an hour of Raphael’s official joining, they were declared one of the most promising trial team.

Applications flooded in. People started gossiping. Even the headmaster made a vague announcement about "young leaders arising in unexpected circles."

Verena sat on the library floor, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes blank.

Penelope leaned over her shoulder. "So, how does it feel to be a cult leader now?"

"I was just trying to not die," Verena muttered. "Now I’m running a magical Girlboss war club with emotionally unavailable hotties and fanservice side quests."

"You forgot the slime."

"...God help me."