Lila, or rather Ava, found herself pacing back and forth across the extravagant pink rug. Her old life as an invisible introvert who only dreamed of high-stakes fiction was officially over. Now, she was the villainess in a high-stakes, life-or-death novel.
She forced herself to stop moving, pulling a silver-framed notepad and a gilded pen from the desk. "Panicking won't help," she muttered to her reflection. "Every great heroine, when faced with an impossible situation, rationalizes. They find the map, learn the rules, and make a plan."
Ava was sure she couldn't return to her world; that's what happened in these stories. The only way forward was to survive this one.
I need to escape from my fate, somehow.
According to the plot of Supernaturals, Lila Blackwood was the very definition of a rude, arrogant villainess. She used her wealth and family influence to sabotage the story's protagonist, a strong female lead named Rose Williams. Lila's motivation was simple and cliché: she loved the male lead, Harry Westwell, and saw Rose as a disposable obstacle.
Ava quickly started listing the upcoming incidents, desperately trying to map out a safe route through the treacherous narrative she already knew by heart. Her pen flew over the expensive paper as she scribbled down key interactions and moments where Lila made her fatal, villainous choices.
Then, her hand froze. The pen clattered onto the desk. Ava stared blankly at the paper, then mumbled out loud, a sound of utter horror escaping her new, flawless lips: "THIS IS A WEREWOLF STORY, and Lila is an OMEGA!"
How could she have forgotten the crucial details? The core mechanics of this world were the very thing that defined Lila's vulnerability and ultimate doom.
"In the story called Supernaturals—the one I'm currently stuck in—it is a rigid, ranked society," she narrated to the empty room, trying to force the information into her panic-stricken mind.
She picked up the pen and began meticulously detailing the hierarchy
The Werewolf Hierarchy
Alpha: The powerful leaders of the packs, dominant and usually requiring high societal standing.
Beta: The second-in-command, physically strong but without the highest authority or the hormonal demands of an Alpha.
Omega: The lowest rank. They possess no powerful traits, are often subservient, and are fundamentally weak in a world that respects only strength. This was Lila's rank.
She wrote down the biological realities that dictated life for those at the top and bottom of the power structure, details that suddenly felt terrifyingly relevant
Alpha Rut: Alphas must endure a rut every six months for three agonizing days. To alleviate the pain and biological urge, they must mate with a partner.
Omega Heat: Conversely, Omegas experience a heat every three months for two days. This period makes them highly susceptible to Alphas, vulnerable, and in dire need of a mate to stabilize their bodies.
Betas: Luckily for them, Betas function much like normal humans, experiencing neither rut nor heat.
And then there was him.
Ava's hand trembled as she wrote the final, most terrifying classification.
The True Blood Alpha: This was the most powerful and rarest werewolf kind, born only once every two hundred years. They were ten times more potent and terrifying than a regular Alpha, and they followed the same six-month rut pattern. The villain who would end Lila's life in the most brutal, drawn-out way was this True Blood Alpha.
The story stated that Lila's downward spiral began when they all met at the Academy, a school every werewolf must attend upon reaching their coming-of-age. Alphas and True Blood Alphas joined at the age of 21, while Betas and Omegas, like Lila, joined at 18.
Lila is already 18 years old. That meant the beginning of the plot was imminent. The moment she set foot in that Academy, she would meet all the main characters and put the wheels of her inevitable death in motion.
I need a plan. I need details.
Lila decided to get fresh. First, she needed to look the part of a high-society young miss and, second, she needed to gather information. She headed straight for the bathroom.
She was stunned—and frankly, deeply jealous—seeing the luxurious interiors. Italian marble covered every surface; the walk-in shower featured a rain head and body jets. "This is even bigger than my whole house back home," she mumbled, a sense of awe mixing strangely with her dread.
She spent a luxurious, yet unsettling, thirty minutes bathing. As the hot water cascaded over her, she examined the body she now inhabited. It was soft, flawless, and perfectly sculpted: an hourglass figure with a slim waist and generous curves that made her average, clumsy body from her old life feel like a distant, sad memory. This was the body of a villainess, a woman designed to catch the eye and incite jealousy. A small, shameful part of Ava was thrilled.
After bathing, she wrapped the softest, fluffiest towel she had ever felt around herself and went to the closet. She was overwhelmed by the sheer variety of colors, fabrics, and designs—all undeniably feminine and high-fashion. There wasn't a single oversized hoodie or pair of worn jeans in sight. Ignoring the internal scream of her former, modest self, she chose a random, elegant day dress in a deep sapphire color that surprisingly looked stunning against her coffee-colored hair.
As she moved downstairs, she found herself stunned and shocked anew by the sheer scale of the mansion's interior and luxury. It was a palace, not a home. As she followed the sounds of conversation, she quickly located the dining room.
Her parents, John and Hannah Blackwood, were already seated and, to Ava's immediate terror, were speaking in hushed, excited tones about the Academy.
Lila sat down on an empty chair and offered a greeting that felt painfully forced. "Good morning, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry for worrying you guys early this morning."
The couple froze, forks halfway to their mouths. They stared at her, stunned. Lila had never apologized for anything in the history of the novel.
Her father was the first to recover. "It's alright, baby. You are now okay, right?"
Lila nodded firmly. "Of course, Dad, I am."
They resumed eating the luxurious breakfast spread. Lila slowly began to fish for details. "Mm... Dad, do you know when will the Academy actually start?"
Her father smiled reassuringly. "Did you forget, honey? It starts tomorrow! We are leaving this evening itself, after dinner, so you can arrange the dorm room where you will be staying for the time being."
"WHAT?" The word tore out of her throat. Today?
Why? I just got here! Please give me time to rest and plan! This was too much. This was the exact point in the plot where Lila's doom began. According to the book, the first thing Lila Blackwood did when she stepped inside her dorm was literally bump into the female lead, Rose, and proceed to shout at her and insult her, setting up the lifelong hatred that would lead to her death.
This was a tragedy. She wanted to go home.
Lila was crying internally in self-pity, completely oblivious to her parents' increasingly worried stares.
"Baby, are you all right?" her mother asked, placing a hand over Lila's. "Is there any problem? You were looking forward to joining there today, weren't you? Then what happened?"
Lila looked up at their concerned faces, knowing she had to cover her terror and start acting like the Lila they knew—but a slightly more controlled version, one focused on survival.
"Nothing, Mom," she forced out, her voice dangerously high. "Just... excited. That's all."
This is where the plot immediately collides with Ava's plans! She has mere hours to prepare for the confrontation that kicks off her tragic fate.