My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

"Where did he even go?!" Hermione burst out, her voice rising through the room as she spun away from the window for what had to be the fifth time in the last few minutes.

She had not left the room since Ulrich dropped them off and disappeared without a proper explanation. More than three hours had passed. Three long, slow, irritating hours inside a mansion that was far too large, far too quiet, and far too unfamiliar. The room prepared for them was luxurious enough to make Esther stare when they first arrived, high curtains in deep green, dark, lavish furniture, a wide bed dressed in pale sheets, a carved wardrobe taller than Hermione, but none of that did anything to settle her nerves now.

As always, her sisters were with her.

Esther sat near the edge of a chair with both hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone pale. She looked smaller than usual in this strange place, her shoulders drawn in, her eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds as if she expected someone unpleasant to come through it at any moment.

"M—Maybe something happened..." she said softly. "What if Lord Ulrich ran into trouble?"

Airam, sprawled on the bed as though the place belonged to her already, did not even bother to sit up.

"He has been gone for three hours," she said. "Why are you both acting as though he vanished for three days?"

Hermione shot her a look. "I am not acting like anything."

Airam turned her head slightly, enough to make it clear she did not believe that at all.

Hermione folded her arms and lifted her chin. "I am not worried about him. I am worried about us being left alone in the capital after he dragged us here. He is always talking about protection, danger, caution, and all those other annoying things, and then he disappears right after bringing us to the very place that hates witches the most. So yes, I think I have the right to complain."

Esther nodded at once, eager and earnest. "I agree with big sister. Lord Ulrich should stay by our side."

"I—I did not say that!" Hermione blurted so quickly her own voice startled her. Heat rushed to her face. "I said he should stay here and keep guard. That is different."

Esther’s worried look weakened just enough for a little smile to slip through. "Then you do want Lord Ulrich by your side, big sister."

Hermione made a frustrated sound and looked away. "You are annoying."

Airam gave Hermione a very stern stare that the latter couldn’t bear to face.

She turned sharply on her heel and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Airam asked.

Hermione stopped with her hand on the handle. For a moment, the answer caught in her throat. She did not want to say that the silence in the room was getting to her, or that every minute Ulrich stayed gone made the capital outside feel larger and more hostile.

"There is nothing else to do," she said at last. "So I am going to look around."

"I want to see too!" Esther jumped up so quickly the chair legs scraped against the floor.

Airam was clearly uninterested in the entire idea, but she slid off the bed anyway and followed after them.

The three of them stepped into the corridor together.

The mansion was stranger the farther they walked through it. It had the dignity of a place owned by old money, yet it felt only half-lived in. Their footsteps echoed too clearly against the wooden floors. Doors stood closed along the hallways, each one severe and elegant. Lamps in gold wall brackets threw warm light across cream-colored walls trimmed with dark wood. The windows were tall enough to frame entire pieces of the city beyond them, rooftops, narrow streets, distant spires, and every glimpse of the capital reminded Hermione exactly where they were.

A kingdom that despised witches.

She disliked that thought so much that she pushed it aside and focused on the house instead.

They passed a sitting room with pale sofas no one seemed to use, a dining room with a table long enough for a small banquet, and a library that made Esther stop in the doorway with shining eyes before Hermione tugged her onward.

"I cannot believe this is only a temporary home," Hermione said, staring up at a chandelier that glittered overhead like a cluster of trapped stars. "He is absurdly wealthy."

Even after two years of living in comfort she would once have thought unreachable, moments like this still caught her off guard. Ulrich’s world had always been rich. Large rooms, expensive fabrics, silver, servants who moved quietly, houses placed in cities as though acquiring them meant nothing. Hermione knew it. She had seen enough of it. Yet every now and then the sheer scale of it returned with enough force to make her stop and look again.

And now that wealth had a strange, uncomfortable connection to them.

She slowed a little, her expression turning thoughtful. "I still cannot believe he really adopted us..."

Esther blinked. "Big sister?"

"It is too late to start thinking about that now," Airam commented.

"No, I mean it," Hermione went on, ignoring her. Her gaze slid over the corridor, the carved banister, the portrait at the far end of the hall, all of it carrying the same unspoken truth. "It means we have a share in this too."

Esther stopped walking. "R-Really?"

Hermione gave her a flat look. "Obviously. We officially bear his name now, Esther."

Esther’s mouth parted. For a second, she looked as if she had forgotten how to breathe. "That means... this is also..."

"Ours, in part," Hermione said.

Airam’s eyes sharpened with interest for the first time since they left the bedroom. "Then if Ulrich dies, all of this becomes ours."

"Eldest sister!" Esther cried out at her eldest sister’s comment.

Airam only looked away, entirely unashamed.

Hermione frowned, though she did not dismiss the thought quite as quickly. "It would not be that easy. If Ulrich dies, the other nobles would swarm in at once. They would make up whatever reason they liked, call us unfit, call us dangerous, call us outsiders, and try to throw us out so they could seize everything for themselves."

Airam answered without hesitation. "Then we kill them before they can touch what belongs to us."

Esther froze.

Hermione’s brows drew together as she considered it with far more seriousness than Esther wanted. "That... is actually reasonable."

"Big sister!" Esther looked from one to the other in growing distress. "Please do not say things like that!"

Airam shrugged. "I am only being practical."

"So am I," Hermione said. "You know how these people are."

"That does not mean you should start talking about Lord Ulrich dying!" Esther protested. Her voice wavered on his name. "Lord Ulrich is alive. He is perfectly alive. He has only been gone a few hours."

Her eyes had gone moist by then, and the tremble in her mouth was so obvious that even Hermione noticed it immediately.

The irritation slipped out of her face. "Esther..."

Esther shook her head hard, as though that alone might keep the tears from forming. "I do not like it when you say things like that. I really do not."

Hermione exhaled and reached over, awkwardly patting Esther on the shoulder once before letting her hand rest there. "Fine. We will stop."

Airam looked at Esther for a long second without saying anything.

By now, it had become obvious to both her and Hermione that Esther had grown attached to Ulrich in a way she probably did not fully understand herself.

He protected them. He paid for their education. He surrounded them with comfort they had never known before and did it so easily that Esther had started to take his care at face value.

Airam never did.

She knew that Ulrich did nothing without reason, and even if he treated them well, even if he looked at them with patience, even if he gave them his name and his protection, that did not mean he would choose them over everything else if the day came for it. If it were his life on one side and theirs on the other, if it were his title, his territory, his future, his wealth, and all the things tied to his family standing against three adopted girls no noble house truly wanted, Airam did not believe for one moment that he would ruin himself for them.

She would.

Hermione would too, though she would complain the whole way through it. Esther would probably cry first and still throw herself forward anyway.

That was the difference.

Airam’s gaze stayed on Esther’s face, on the worry still clinging to her eyes, and she said nothing because there was nothing worth saying. Esther would have to learn it herself one day.

"Right," Hermione said quickly, too quickly, too brightly. She was trying to drag the mood away before Esther started tearing up again. "Let’s go see Ulrich’s room."

Esther’s expression changed at once. Her eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Hermione said, already turning toward the corridor. "If we are going to be trapped in this giant empty mansion, we might as well satisfy our curiosity."

Airam followed without comment as the three of them made their way deeper into the private wing.

Ulrich had not stepped into his room since they arrived; that much was obvious. Even so, this was not a house prepared for a stranger. He had stayed here before, perhaps not recently and perhaps never for very long, but it was still a place he would stay during his visit in the capital, albeit not often. The doors at the end of the hall were taller and heavier than the others, their dark wood glowing to a low shine. Hermione pushed one open with careful hands, and the three sisters slipped inside.

The first room connected to the bedroom was clearly his private office.

Hermione took only one look before folding her arms. "This is definitely Ulrich’s room."

Nothing in it looked touched by haste or disorder.

"A boring room," Airam said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am sure your room would not look any different."

"It would," Esther said with a sudden giggle. "Eldest sister’s room would look worse and messy."

Hermione laughed as well. "That is true."

Airam did not bother defending herself. She preferred plain things. She disliked clutter. She also had no patience for putting anything away once she was done with it. In the estate, the maids fixed that problem before anyone could complain. Back in the village, their mother had done most of it herself, usually with Esther trailing after her and helping wherever she could. Hermione and Airam had both escaped those chores shamelessly often enough, each for her own reasons. Hermione had always found a book, an argument, or a spell to distract herself with. Airam had simply wandered off toward whatever interested her more that day, which was witchcraft and learning from the other witches from the village.

Esther drifted toward the shelves. Hermione went to inspect the desk. Airam remained near the middle of the room, her eyes moving once over everything without much interest. There was a sort of elegance to it all, but that was hardly surprising.

Then footsteps sounded from the corridor.

All three of them went still.

These footsteps...calm yet intimidating...

Esther spun toward the door, her face draining of color. "Lord Ulrich is there," she whispered half happy half panicked

Hermione’s head snapped around so fast that a strand of silver hair came loose across her cheek. "W-What?!"

No one stopped to discuss why hiding was necessary. They simply moved.

Hermione darted toward the desk and dropped to the floor, gathering up her skirts with frantic hands before crawling underneath. Esther gave one panicked look around the room, spotted the tall cupboard near the shelves, and slipped inside with a muffled gasp as she pulled the door almost shut behind her.

Airam stayed where she was.

The footsteps came closer.

She did not understand the point of this. They were not stealing anything. They were not damaging anything. At worst, they were snooping. Hermione would get scolded, Esther would apologize, and Ulrich would look at them with a dead stare. That was all. Still, the other two had reacted as if death itself were coming down the corridor.

"Airam!" Hermione hissed from beneath the desk. "Hide!"

The handle turned.

Airam finally gave in and crossed the room in three quick steps. The curtain beside the window was made of thick dark fabric, heavy enough to conceal her if she stood close to the wall. She slipped behind it a heartbeat before the door opened, pressed one hand against the cold stone at her back, and held still as Ulrich stepped into the room.