Selene had always been the kind of girl who didn't need a reason to laugh at life.
Or cry.
Or fight someone twice her size in a sports match.
She lived loudly, carelessly, emotionally-an ENFP in her natural, chaotic habitat.
But tonight she was unusually quiet.
She curled up on her bed, her hoodie sliding off one shoulder, re-reading her favorite scene in The Fallen Rose of Aetheria.
A novel of fantasy with many handsome men and little logic.
Her favorite character wasn't the heroine.
Of course not.
It was the villainess, Lady Seraphine Aldara: sharp of tongue and a duke's daughter with enough potential to change the world, yet too many people wanted her gone.
Srishty sighed.
"So stupid… she didn't deserve that ending."
She traced her finger over the paragraph describing Seraphine's death, her brows furrowing. In another life, she thought, the villainess could have survived if she had been just a little stronger…or a little less alone.
Her phone dimmed.
The room hummed with quiet.
And without meaning to, she whispered,
"If I was her… I'd never let it end that way."
The light flickered.
She frowned, looking around.
Before she could even sit up, some kind of cold air current swept under her skin.
Not painful-just foreign, like her body no longer belonged to her.
"Huh…?"
Brightness engulfed the room.
Not the warm yellow glow of her lamp—
but a white, clean light so sharp she had to shut her eyes.
For a moment, she felt weightless.
Then—
A hard surface.
Cold.
Marble?
Her lashes fluttered open.
A chandelier sparkled above her.
A grand canopy bed beside her.
And a room far too elegant, too quiet, too expensive to be part of her life.
She sat up slowly.
"…Okay. I'm either dreaming," she muttered, "or someone dropped me inside an novel."
A soft gasp.
She turned.
A maid stood at the door trembling.
"L-Lady Seraphine…?"
Srishty froze.
Her voice reverberated faintly, as if she had stated the impossible.
Lady Seraphine.
No.
She rose and walked—cautious, almost afraid—to the mirror.
The reflection wasn't hers.
White hair brushed her waist.
Lavender eyes stared back, too elegant and cold.
Her posture, accidentally perfect.
It was her.
It was Seraphine Aldara.
Selene gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.
"…Okay," she whispered. "Deep breath. Don't panic."
She took one.
She panicked anyway.
BUT quietly.
She drew nearer still. "My lady, shall I summon the duke?
"Uh—no. I mean—wait."
Srishty rubbed her temples. "Just… what day is it?"
The maid blinked. "The first day of the Spring Cycle, my lady."
Selene let out a sharp breath.
The timeline.
She remembered it.
This was months before Seraphine's public downfall.
Before the heroine appeared.
Before the four male leads began to hate her.
She wasn't doomed yet.
That should have comforted her.
But something heavier settled in her chest instead-like standing at the edge of a long road full of choices she had no memory of making.
The maid bowed. "Will you take breakfast in your room, or join the Duke?"
"Join him," Selene said before thinking.
Seraphine's father…
He was caring for his daughter, yet he never understood her in the novel. He was strict, distant, more worried about reputation than comfort.
Still, he wasn't cruel.
Not like the others Seraphine would eventually meet.
Selene pushed the wardrobe open.
Dresses lined up like pastel soldiers.
She reached out, brushing the fabric.
They were beautiful, but stiff, intended for someone obedient, someone delicate.
Someone she wasn't.
"Something simple," she said quietly.
The maid decided on a soft lavender dress-loose sleeves, light embroidery. Elegant, not suffocating.
Selene didn't complain.
She got dressed, and her mind wandered.
Seraphine, within the novel, was always lonely.
Reared in echoing halls, going among nobles without friends, with people who smiled without a warm smile.
Selene fingertips brushed the mirror once more.
She didn't know much about this world yet, but one thing tugged at her heart—a small, quiet pull.
Perhaps this time she needn't have let Seraphine stay alone.
She shook herself.
One problem at a time.
She stepped outside.
The hallway was long and polished.
The guards stood upright, like pillars.
They bowed as she passed.
It felt strange. She wasn't used to people stepping aside for her.
She wasn't used to silence following her footsteps.
Halfway down the corridor, she turned a corner—
And bumped into someone.
A wall?
No-warm and very solid.
She stepped back.
A tall figure stood in front of her.
Black hair.
Golden eyes.
Armor catching the morning light.
He looked down at her, clearly irritated—though for what reason, she had no idea.
It was him.
The Knight Commander.
One of the future male leads.
In the novel, he did not like Seraphine since their first meeting.
Cold, disciplined, painfully honest.
And dangerously observant.
Srishty straightened instinctively.
"Pardon," she whispered, almost calmly and cautiously.
His brows rose-surprised.
Seraphine wasn't known for apologizing. "You seem… different today," he said slowly. She forced a small smile. "Maybe I woke up on the right side of the bed." He continued to study her for the moment, almost as if something didn't quite fit. "Your father is waiting," he said finally. She nodded and walked past him. He stepped aside without arguing—a fact that would've shocked anyone who knew the usual Seraphine. Srishty didn't look back. But she felt him staring at her for a moment too long. Not interested. Not suspicion. Something a bit quieter. Like confusion tinged with… surprise. She breathed softly. Everything was different now. She didn't know her path yet. But she knew one thing as she reached the door to the Duke's study: She wasn't here to play a villainess. Or a heroine. Or a tragic noble girl destined for loneliness. She would simply live. And maybe… just maybe… She might find people who made that life feel less empty. One step at a time. She knocked on the door. "Come in," a deep voice answered. That simple sound started her new life.