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

Charlotte clung to Alexendra's side like a small, stubborn shadow. Each time Alexendra adjusted her cane or stumbled her way past a passing guest, Charlotte's small hand flew out to catch her.

Alexendra hardly registered it at first. She was too caught up in hearing the rustle of silk skirts and the muffled strains of the orchestra, trying to keep her balance and avoid bumping into too many people.

But then, when she almost stumbled on a ribbon spilled on the floor, Charlotte was already there, yanking her sleeve in time.

"Careful," Charlotte breathed, her tone edgy in a manner no five-year-old's should be.

Alexendra's lips curled into a smirk. "Ah, my little knight in shining frills."

As they walked past a clutch of laughing noblewomen, Charlotte swiveled her head in their direction, furrowed brows like a fox over its lair. She raised her chin a fraction of an inch — a silent, haughty dare from a girl too young to be so ferocious.

"Don't pay them any attention," Alexendra growled softly, humiliated at the prospect of Charlotte overhearing snide comments regarding her vision or unsteady gait.

But Charlotte would not even allow those murmurs to reach her. She pulled Alexendra hastily through the crowd, dodging in and out with surprisingly good agility for a little girl.

Later, when they were approaching the buffet, a tipsy young nobleman — cheeks flushed from too much plum wine — staggered toward Alexendra, arms waving. Charlotte positioned herself in front of her without hesitation.

"Look where you're going!" she snapped in her high, tiny voice, stiff enough to put the young man on ice.

He blinked, surprised, and stammered an apology before lurching off. Alexendra was so taken aback she almost dropped her glass.

She let out a raucous laugh, more or less a bark. "You… you really are a fox cub."

Charlotte puffed out her chest proudly, taking her hand as if she were guiding her through the woods, not a ballroom. "You belong with me. I won't let them hurt you."

As they stepped into a remote corner to catch their breath, Alexendra moved in, lowering her head until their foreheads almost met.

Charlotte's face turned pink, but she didn't step back. "Promise me you'll always stay where I can see you."

Alexendra let a quivering breath out, emotion constricting her chest. "Only if you vow to continue rescuing me from spilled ribbons and wine-drunk morons."

Charlotte laughed, her beautiful laugh ringing in Alexendra's ears like the most beautiful music. "Deal!"

That evening, even as they walked home, Charlotte did not release her hand once.

The Fox Guards Her Own