**Seoul, 3:25 AM — Tuesday**
Park Yuna stared at her phone like it had personally insulted her entire bloodline and stolen her lunch money.
"Ugh, and here comes the brooding crown prince again. Bro, just say you like her and go—no one needs seventeen chapters of emotional constipation," she muttered, thumbing through Chapter 224 of 'Four Hearts For the Holy Saintess'.
The male lead was doing his usual routine: staring intensely at the heroine while having approximately zero communication skills.
"He's lucky he's hot… Wait—seven days until the next chapter?! This is daylight robbery!"
She groaned, checked the time, and immediately regretted every life choice that led to this moment.
"Thirty minutes past three? Ugh, I have Mr. Kim's class in five hours. He'd stare people to death if he caught you sleeping in his class—you'd be marked for life like some kind of academic scarlet letter."
A pause.
Her finger hovered over another webtoon.
"One more chapter wouldn't kill me… probably."
This was Park Yuna: straight-A student, Seoul National hopeful, known across campus as "The Ice Queen."
Not because she was shy—hell no—but because she had the social tolerance of a caffeinated hermit and the patience of someone who'd been stuck in traffic for three hours.
Her only real friends? Her phone, her webtoons, and a good bowl of kimchi jjigae that didn't judge her life choices.
The rest of the world could keep its drama. Unless it was fictional and came with pretty artwork. Then she was absolutely, completely, hopelessly addicted.
Yuna tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and sank deeper under the covers, grumbling something about plot armor and emotionally damaged love interests who needed therapy more than romance.
Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with regret and three hours of poor life choices.
"Imagine actually being stuck in that novel," she mumbled with a snort that would've made her mother lecture her about ladylike behavior.
"I'd rather die than simp over four guys with the emotional availability of a brick wall."
The room flickered.
Literally.
For a second, the overhead light blinked—even though it was off, which was either a sign from the universe or her landlord's electrical work finally giving up.
Her phone screen lit up on its own, glitching violently like it was possessed by the ghost of bad wifi connections.
Then everything went black.
No phone. No room. No late-night snack wrappers or cozy blankets that smelled like fabric softener and broken dreams.
Just—
Wind that felt like it had opinions about her life choices.
And cold that seemed personally offended by her existence.
And a smell that definitely wasn't her usual combination of instant ramen and regret.
When Yuna opened her eyes, she was no longer in her shoebox apartment that cost half her soul in rent.
She was lying on a luxurious king-sized bed that probably cost more than her entire education, wearing a scratchy nightgown that felt like it was made from the tears of uncomfortable sheep, her head covered in bandages that suggested someone had used her skull for target practice.
Her brain screamed: NOPE NOPE NOPE.
Her mouth whispered: "This isn't funny. Who put me in a low-budget period drama? And why does everything hurt like I got hit by a truck full of regret?"
Her eyes adjusted to reveal two women in maid outfits that looked suspiciously authentic.
She thought to herself, "Why are there two women cosplaying? Did I get kidnapped by the historical reenactment society? Is this what happens when you don't pay your student loans on time?"
Her existential crisis was rudely interrupted by someone calling her in a tone that suggested she should already know what was happening.
"Lady Aria? Lady Aria Montclair, are you listening, or has that fall finally knocked what little sense you had right out of your head?"
Park Yuna thought to herself, "Hmm, who is she calling? Me? Wait... Aria Montclair?"
The name hit her like a brick made of pure dread.
"Oh... oh no. No, no, no, I didn't mean it when I said imagine being stuck in this webtoon! I was being sarcastic! Universe, do you not understand sarcasm?!"
"Montclair—I know that name. As in one of the five ducal households of the kingdom of Valencia. The surname belonging to Damien Montclair, also known as 'Saintess Boytoy Number Two' in my very detailed mental notes."
"Wait, stop monologuing, Park Yuna! Talk to this maid who looks like she could end my second life before it even properly starts!"
"Lady Aria? Should we call the physician?" snorted extra number one in a tone so cynical it could've cut glass.
"Oh, leave her be, Elena. How can she fall off her horse so easily from a mere joke? It's almost like she has the survival instincts of wet paper," said extra number two with all the sympathy of a tax collector.
"Hush, Matilda. Master Julius's joke went too far this time. Now, Lady Aria, are you alright, or should we start planning your funeral arrangements?"
"Yes, I'm quite alright. No need for a physician," I replied, sounding hoarser than a chain-smoker at a poetry reading.
"What do they mean by 'joke'?"
Just then, Park Yuna got hit by a truckload of memories that weren't hers, and let me tell you, Aria's life was like watching a tragic comedy where the comedy was accidentally removed.
She thought to herself, "Oh, what in the doormat history is this? This girl is a walking apology with the backbone of overcooked spaghetti. How did she survive here and not run away after being treated like literal dog poop with fancy clothes?"
"And wait—they call attempted murder 'trying to shoot Aria off a horse' a JOKE?!"
The memory of Julius's response made her want to scream: "I was merely doing target practice. The arrow barely even grazed her. It's not my fault the horse got spooked—ask the stable master. Aria just has subpar skills in riding, and that's hardly my problem."
"Okay, let's play this out safe," she thought, channeling every diplomatic bone in her body.
"Elena, Matilda, thank you for taking such good care of me. Could I trouble you for some water? Then you may leave—I fear I'm still lightheaded and need rest to process how my life became a tragic comedy."
"But my lady, the duke asked us to look over yo—"
Matilda cut in with barely concealed glee, "Yes, as you wish. We'll inform the duke that you're fine and require no supervision. Wouldn't want to burden us with actual work."
Matilda snickered like she'd just heard the world's funniest joke. "Oh, whatever will we do with you?"
She went out, brought a glass of water with the enthusiasm of someone delivering poison, and then they both left. Not even halfway out the door, they started laughing like hyenas who'd just discovered comedy.
"Jeez, I know she's hated, but even the maids look down on her like she's gum on their shoe. Okay, let's see—Aria Montclair, when was she mentioned in the webtoon..."
She searched her webtoon-obsessed brain.
"Hold up. Just a sentence. Just a single, throwaway sentence by her older brother to the saintess for emotional depth: 'Oh, I lost my sister when I was young. It was my fault.'"
The realization hit her like a freight train made of pure horror.
"Oh no. You're telling me this girl died for PLOT DEVELOPMENT? Not even significant character development—just for emotional seasoning?! She's basically the literary equivalent of parsley!"
"Okay, let's start thinking of a survival plan. Currently, I'm the youngest, and I have five siblings who treat me like their personal stress ball."
"There's the eldest brother Damien and eldest sister Irene—they're basically too engrossed in academy life to care about our little sibling squabbles, which is both a blessing and completely useless for protection."
"The second-borns are the most annoying: Julius and Marie. They pose the most threat and have the combined empathy of a particularly vindictive houseplant."
"Let's not forget the maids and servants are also an eyesore who treat me like I'm contagious."
She pieced together Aria's tragic backstory like the world's most depressing puzzle.
"It seems my mother was the original Duke's wife, but she couldn't bear children. Only after the duke married his second wife, known as Amelia the Home-wrecker, did the first wife miraculously bear a girl."
"Aria's mother Vivian died soon after, but it seems suspicious, so I'll assume the second wife either poisoned her or had her assassinated with the subtlety of a soap opera villain."
"I heard the duke loved Aria's mother, but I guess people change when inheritance and heirs are involved. Love really does die when politics get involved."
"I'll assume my father hates me, which explains why I look like I've been living on a diet of sadness and why my room is smaller than my old apartment's bathroom."
She looked around the room with new eyes. "Its only saving grace is the bed size, and why the hell did they open the window fully? Let me close it before I die of pneumonia on top of everything else."
As she stood up, Park Yuna was hit by millions of tiny needles of pain that made her question every life choice that led to this moment.
"Ugh! Those damn maids forgot to mention she broke four ribs! I think I'm gonna die... wait, did I already die? So I'm gonna die again? This is like the world's worst sequel!"
"I'm even seeing blue screens in the air... shouldn't my life be flashing in front of me? Or is it Aria's life? And why is it in bullet points?"
**[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE...]**
**[LOADING USER INFORMATION...]**
**[GREETINGS, USER. I AM THE ZERO ASSIGNED ROLE ACTIVATED SYSTEM, OR AS THE USER MAY SAY, Z.A.R.A FOR SHORT.]**
**[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: ASSIST USER IN SURVIVAL (BECAUSE CLEARLY, YOU NEED ALL THE HELP YOU CAN GET).]**
**[SCANNING BODY... ALERT: DETECTED FOUR BROKEN RIBS, MALNUTRITION, MANA POISONING, AND A CONCUSSION. USER'S PREVIOUS BODY WAS APPARENTLY TREATED LIKE A PUNCHING BAG.]**
"Yes! It's a system! Thank the heavens, I can live! But seriously, who named it? Z.A.R.A sounds like a discount shopping app!"
**[THE USER HAS REQUESTED A NAME CHANGE. REQUEST DENIED. USER SHOULD WORK ON HER ATTITUDE AND FOCUS ON NOT DYING.]**
"Oh, sassy! I like you already, Zara. At least someone around here has personality."
**[ALERT: TWO INDIVIDUALS AGED 15 AND 16 DETECTED APPROACHING. LEVEL OF HOSTILITY: HIGH ENOUGH TO POWER A SMALL VILLAGE.]**
**[USER SEEMS TO POSSESS AN INNATE ABILITY. ADVISED TO ACTIVATE THE ABILITY 'POKER FACE' LEVEL 1. TRY NOT TO LOOK LIKE A DEER IN HEADLIGHTS.]**
**[ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 10 SECONDS. PREPARE FOR IMPACT.]**
Park Yuna's eyes widened as footsteps approached her door with the ominous certainty of doom.
"Well," she whispered to herself, "looks like my second life is about to get really interesting... or really short."
The door handle turned.