Emily stood in front of the gold mirror, hands shaking like she was auditioning for "Nervous Wreck: The Musical."
> "Okay. Breathe. Don't freak. Don't murder the male lead. Just… give him breakfast. Like a normal person. Not some sketchy villainess with a chemistry set and commitment issues."
She left her room trying to channel Disney princess energy, even though, let's be real, she'd reincarnated less than nine hours ago and still felt like a glitch in the matrix.
And—bam—there he was.
Logan Valenhardt.
The main character. The guy the plot revolves around. The world's unofficial landlord.
He lounged at the breakfast table like he'd invented chairs. Silver hair catching the sun like he had his own built-in filter. Coat dusted with embroidery that looked suspiciously like snowflakes. Not even pretending to smile. He just stared, all icy blue eyes and "I could end you" vibes.
Emily? Girl almost faceplanted on the rug.
> "WHY is he hotter in person?! He's supposed to be fictional. This is a scam."
She attempted a smirk and dropped into her seat. Maids brought tea and some aggressively adorable toast. Logan didn't even blink in her direction.
> "Morning, Lord Valenhardt," she mumbled, trying not to sound like a fangirl or a serial killer.
He sipped his tea. Zero words.
> "Sleep okay?" she tossed out, fake-chill.
Still nothing. Was he a statue? Was he buffering?
> "You know," she blurted, desperate, "some say silence means deep thinking. Others say it means you're just cold-hearted."
That got his attention. He turned, slow as a glacier.
> "And what do you say, Lady Emily?"
"Me? Oh, I like warm people," she said, way too fast.
Then—silence. Again.
> What am I doing? Do I want to date him or throw him in a stew pot?
Logan set his teacup down, all elegance.
> "You didn't poison my tea today."
Emily glitched.
> "Wh-what?"
Now he was giving her the full death glare. Those eyes could probably shatter diamonds.
> "Last time you smiled at me, I saw double in three minutes. By five, I hit the floor."
She nearly crawled under the table.
> "Oops," she whispered. Then, scrambling, "But hey, you're still alive! That's progress, right?"
His mouth twitched. Like, almost a smile. Or maybe he was just plotting her demise. Who knows.
He stood up, voice soft as snow but somehow terrifying.
> "Whatever game you're playing, Emily… I'm watching. Always."
And then he swept out, cape swirling dramatically like he was auditioning for a K-drama villain.
Emily grabbed her cup, staring into the abyss of her tea.
> "I came here to save your life, dude… but honestly, you're killing me first."