faeni

I did nothing with my entire life. Literally nothing. Then I died — not saving a cat from a tree heroically, not even struck by Truck-kun — but of a heart attack caused by a BL manga confession scene. Pitiful? Perhaps.

When I begged for a second chance, the gods listened. Or at least, they jeered at me. Instead of returning as a mighty sorcerer or a spoiled heiress, I found myself as a young woman with awful vision in some obscure nobleman's manor house.

My eyesight is so poor I can hardly recognize faces. I trip, blink, and consistently confuse people with chairs (and vice versa). But here's the kicker: I've been reborn as the young stepmother of a future villainess — a child who will grow up to be the "evil empress" in a bestselling romance novel that I used to detest.

And so, with only my half-working eyes, shreds of memory, and sheer obstinacy, I'm going to do something — anything — other than waste this life. Whether that is steering my evil stepdaughter, making it through treacherous noble schemes, or just learning how to walk straight without crashing into a wall.

I've got my chance now. And this time, I won't let it slide through my fuzzy fingers.

The Blind Stepmother Of The Villainess

The following morning, I awoke to the gentle shuffling of footsteps outside my room. I thought perhaps it was a maid with my tea, or someone swearing about the hallway mat for the umpteenth time (again, likely because of me).

Ah. The small silhouette just beyond the door. The little girl.

I squinted so hard that I almost popped a vein, attempting to discern her shape.

"Oi! Ghost child! Is that you?" I shouted, waving a hand theatrically as if I was calling forth a ghost.

There was a surprised squeak and scurrying footsteps, but I leapt forward (stumbling over my accursed pants) and was able to catch her wee hand in mine.

"Wait! Don't bolt off now!" I begged, panting.

She stood still, shaking, her little fingers still in mine.

".You're Charlotte, aren't you?" I panted. "Your father stuttered it once. You're Charlotte?"

"Wow! So you're the legendary Charlotte!" I flung my other hand over my head. "We have a name in common, to a point! You're the little angel Charlotte, and I'm Alexendra — professional menace and disappointment at large!"

It was tiny to begin with. Such a small candle trying to light up the whole room.

"Come along, come along," I coaxed, moving slowly on my cane into my room. "I was just going to have some tea and maybe burn the manor down. Save the world for me, would you?"

Charlotte stood in the doorway, hesitant as if she was waiting for something to pounce or a trap to trigger.

I breathed a deep sigh. "I swear, today I won't throw anything. Probably."

That appeared to work. She did eventually venture cautiously into my room.

We were engaged in what could charitably be described as "tea-making." I'm sure I added salt rather than sugar to one cup, but we got away with it. I offered play-by-play commentary along the way, describing as if we were presenting a cooking show.

"And now, behold! Young Lady Charlotte subdues the great teapot dragon! Observe as she has no fear!"

She laughed louder and louder, her small shoulders shaking with each.

When we were finally finished, I slumped into a chair, dramatically swiping imaginary sweat from my forehead.

"I nearly perished three times today," I announced gravely. "You, dear Charlotte, are a warrior of unmatched prowess."

She moved forward awkwardly. Then — to my amazement — she put her tiny arms around me.

It was a tentative hold at first. Then she hugged me tighter, burying her face in my chest.

I stood frozen, my heart contracting.

Slowly, I leaned forward and awkwardly embraced her back.

"There now," I whispered, soothingly patting her on the back as awkwardly as a panicked chicken. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I couldn't even see you well enough to chase you around."

She snorted-laughed into my chest.

And that was all. I could feel my eyes pricking with tears.

She slowly disentangled herself and pressed something into my palms.

A tiny, wobbly hairpin with minute flower beads on it.

I leaned in so hard I almost tumbled onto her.

"You did this? For ME? The horrible mud monster Alexendra?!" I breathed.

She nodded, her head bobbing up and down like a frightened chick.

I clamped the hairpin to my heart. "I'll hold onto this for ever! Even if I can't see it properly, I can feel the love going straight into my heart! You are now my favorite human. Don't tell your dad."

She laughed so hard she almost fell over.

After that, Charlotte visited me every morning. She guided me down halls, kept me clear of potted plants (nearly always), and introduced me to which maids snored the most.

And each night, I'd fall asleep holding that small flower hairpin to my chest — a fuzzy but shining evidence that perhaps, just perhaps, this world wasn't so terrible after all.

Little Charlotte and the Big Monster