The Villainess Takes the Cockpit

The Exile Rite

"Letaria. You have disappointed me."

Her father's cold voice fell through the ceremonial hall like a stone into still water.

Letaria Adeniam, eldest daughter of Duke Adeniam, knelt on cold stone. Her dark violet hair hung over trembling shoulders.

She was about to be exiled. In this world, that meant banishment — a sentence no different from death. She would never be allowed to return.

It had started with something trivial. She had gone to confront her younger sister, as she always did. In that moment, Rutill had missed her footing and fallen down the stairs. Letaria hadn't so much as touched her.

"Sister didn't do anything wrong...!"

Rutill tried to defend her with a frail voice. But it only made things worse. Years of Letaria's cruelty, set against Rutill's saintlike gentleness — a victim shielding her abuser only deepened the suspicion.

Being protected.

The fact of it settled somewhere heavy in Letaria's chest.

Then —

"...My lady..."

Her handmaiden, Kiara, held out a small pouch with shaking hands. Inside: a few coins, some food, flower seeds, a piece of jewelry, a letter. Letaria took it without looking up.

She had no space to notice that Kiara's eyes were full of tears.

My magic can only sense things. It warns me of danger, but my body can never keep up. It can't heal. Can't protect. Can't fight.

...Magic like that was never worth anything.

So then, I —

The magic circle began to glow — wrong, dark at the edges.

"...Hmph. I have no interest in a family like this anyway."

Her voice shook, just barely.

Light swallowed her whole. The next instant, Letaria Adeniam was gone from the world.

* * * * *

(...Hot... can't breathe...)

Her body was weightless.

But something pressed in from the inside — a crushing pressure. Her stomach lurched. She couldn't tell up from down.

She opened her eyes.

Not darkness. A tangle of pipes and metal conduits, stretching in every direction.

Shouting.

"We're done for! The whole Blang gang'll be wiped out! What do we do?!"

A man turned, saw her, and froze.

"What the — some kind of ancient Earth cosplay girl?!"

Another man bellowed.

"Blang! What do we do with her?!"

"Shove her in that junk Makina and use her as bait!"

"What are you saying?! Someone explain this to me!"

The men ignored her completely.

Their words meant nothing to her. She was grabbed and dragged —

A giant of iron appeared before her.

(...What is this... a Golem...?)

Its chest hung open. Letaria was shoved inside without ceremony.

Inside the giant: an intricate tangle of machinery.

A cage made of iron.

(...Not a Golem. A mechanism... a mechanical doll...?)

The moment understanding began to form, the hatch slammed shut.

Silence.

Sound ceased.

* * *

[Arden System — Ready to Operate]

[MTI: Multi-function Translation Interface — Online]

[Vocal pattern analysis in progress...]

[Translation protocol: Applied]

"...What? Analyzing... protocol...? I couldn't understand anything they said, and now...?"

Letaria's eyes went wide. She had no way to know that a translation system built into this machine had just activated. All she knew was that, suddenly, the world made words again.

Proper nouns remained beyond its reach. Words like "MTI" — anything outside her frame of reference — stayed as meaningless sounds.

That confusion was immediately buried by something worse.

"Third and fourth squads! Use that junk Makina as a decoy and go!"

(...Decoy... they mean me...?)

* * * * *

Stars. Every direction, stars.

(...The night sky...? No — the night sky is... everywhere...?)

Before she could understand, the battle began.

Light seared through the void in silence. Cold. Soundless.

Magic arrows...? No. These were something else entirely.

A battle was happening in this vast night sky.

And I had been thrown into the middle of it — as bait — by graceless fools.

Me. Letaria of House Adeniam.

Despair and grief vanished. Rage filled the space they left.

"How dare you—!"

In that instant —

(Something's coming—!)

Instinct fired. The mechanical doll lurched.

"What—?! Stop, I'm not doing anything!"

Letaria was flung against the seat, thrown and thrown again, holding on through sheer stubbornness. This was Trace Mode — a beginner's assist built into most Makinas. Not intended for combat. The movement was far too violent. Any ordinary person would have lost consciousness long ago. Even so, the machine didn't stop. Neither did Letaria.

Every shot missed.

"What kind of movement is that?! How is that wreck—?!"

One by one, the machines belonging to the men who had used her as bait became points of light and disappeared.

They had a real enemy. And that enemy was taking them apart.

"I never should've put that cosplay girl in there!" Blang snarled. "She's the one throwing us off!"

(...I don't know what cosplay means. But I understood perfectly well that I've been insulted.)

Target: the one called Blang.

Letaria fixed her full attention on his machine and leaned forward.

The Makina responded with impossible acceleration.

It hurt. But that no longer mattered.

"You shoved me into this thing without a single word of explanation — how dare you—!"

The mechanical doll's fist drove into Blang's hull dead-on.

A metallic crack rang out.

Blang's Makina spun away into the dark sea of stars.

(...Did I just...?)

Poetic justice. The men who had used her as a decoy were wiped out. Letaria was the only one left standing.

"Whatever that was — it's punishment for making a fool of me!"

She had no idea her voice had been broadcast over every open comm channel in range.

* * * * *

"All that's left is the old unit..."

The Makinas of Seldia's Vigilance Corps closed around her. But no one fired.

"...Doesn't appear hostile."

A man's voice came through.

"...What is it...?"

The rush was fading. Letaria was coming back to herself.

While she was turning it over — whether to trust these people or prepare to fight them — one of the Corps units approached quietly. A man climbed down from the top of the machine and stepped onto the hull.

Seldia's Vigilance Corps Captain: Grain.

A young man, somewhat older than herself. His face had an honest look to it.

He opened Letaria's hatch with care.

A thin membrane extended between them — atmosphere protection. Through it, Grain's expression flickered briefly into something puzzled.

Then it softened into a calm smile.

"Are you all right? We aren't your enemies. You must have been caught up in this. We'll take you somewhere safe — you don't need to worry."

Letaria didn't fully understand, but she went with them.

* * * * *

Station: Seldia — Arrival

Grain and Letaria's Makinas set down in a steel docking bay. The rest of the Corps was already there.

When all the machines had gone still, Grain came to her side. The air here was breathable — no need for the membrane. With his help, Letaria climbed down, and the moment her feet hit the floor —

"■■■■■■..."

The words fell apart into noise. The translation system had been part of the Makina. She'd left it behind.

Confusion and exhaustion crashed into her at once. Letaria sank to the ground.

Grain looked uncertain, but moved quickly — fitting a small device over her ear.

"...Can you hear me now?"

"...What? I can understand again...?"

The relief came out as one long breath.

"...Yes. I'm all right."

Her voice was unsteady. But she did not surrender her dignity.

Following Grain, Letaria stepped into the station.

(...Is this a castle? A temple...?)

The ceiling was high. Pillars gleamed white as marble. Geometric patterns ran across the walls. But —

(...No. This isn't stone.)

The wall she touched was cold. Hard as metal. It caught the light, but there was nothing living in it — no trace of magic at all.

She was calmer now. For the first time, she actually looked at the people around her. Grain and the Corps wore something she'd never seen — smooth fabric, geometric designs, crests on shoulder and chest. They weren't knights, or priests, or nobility. And yet their dress clearly said something about rank and purpose.

"This is Seldia. You'll be safe here."

Letaria gave a small nod.

(...Where have I come to...?)

A villainess, cast out. A girl who survived — in a mechanical doll, in space.

Her story had just begun.