When consciousness dragged me back from the depth of darkness, the first thing I felt was cold.
Not winter-cold, not air-conditioning-cold—but the kind of cold that threaded through your bones because your soul recognized danger before your mind did.
My fingers twitched against the smooth surface beneath me. Wooden desk. Classroom.
A faint murmur rose around me—whispers, giggles, chairs scraping.The familiar scent of floor wax and sunlight-warmed paper hung in the air.
My heart seized.
This wasn't my life.
This was her life.
The villainess.
Sierra Song.
And this—this exact moment—was the day her downfall began.
A sharp buzz vibrated through my skull as memories not my own crashed into me like a tidal wave.
The original Sierra Song.The daughter of a disgraced tycoon.The girl framed as arrogant, petty, vicious—the perfect social media villain in the novel I had read.
She would be humiliated by her classmates today.She would lash out.A secret recording would go viral.By evening, the entire school—and half the city—would label her a monster.
By next week, her father would be framed for a financial crime.Her family torn apart.Her reputation ruined beyond repair.
And in the end…she would die.
I inhaled sharply, the air slicing into my lungs like ice.
Not this time.
I was not the girl who walked blindly toward her own execution.
Today, I was awake inside her body—and I remembered every line of the script written for her destruction.
My eyes opened fully.
Sunlight spilled through the tall classroom windows of Lin Academy—the elite private school that catered to heirs, rising stars, and those with enough money to bury scandals under marble floors.
Dozens of faces turned toward me.
No—toward her.
Toward the infamous Sierra Song, the girl born with a silver spoon and a target painted on her back.
Sierra's long, dark hair brushed my shoulders—smooth, glossy, too perfect to belong to someone who had been broken by life.Her uniform was crisp, her posture enviably straight.
On the outside? Perfect.On the inside? A ticking bomb.
But I wasn't going to explode.
I was going to rewrite everything.
A shadow fell across my desk.
"Wow, look who finally decided to wake up," a voice drawled.
I knew that voice before I saw her.
Vivian Shen.
The queen bee of the school.Beautiful, composed, cruel in the way only someone raised with too much power and too little love could be.
Her sleek ponytail swayed as she leaned forward, eyes gleaming like a predator amused by her prey.Three girls flanked her like glossy accessories.
In the original story, this was the moment Sierra snapped.Humiliated, provoked, overwhelmed, she had thrown her pen at Vivian.The class had laughed.Vivian had cried.Someone had filmed everything.By the afternoon, the video was everywhere.
"Sierra?" Vivian tilted her head. "Are you okay? You look… pale."
The fake concern dripped like honey, sticky and poisonous.
My fingers curled around the pen in my palm.
The exact pen the original Sierra had thrown.
Not today.
I forced a calm smile, one so gentle it made Vivian's brows twitch in confusion.
"I'm fine," I said softly. "Thanks for worrying about me."
The class froze.
Vivian blinked once. Then twice.
I almost laughed.This was the first crack in her armor.Vivian Shen didn't know how to respond to kindness.She only knew how to dance with enemies.
Before she could recover, a deeper voice came from behind her.
"Sierra, the teacher wants everyone settled before she arrives."
My breath caught, and I turned.
Leon Lin.
Tall.Sharp-eyed.Calm in a way that made other people instinctively sit straighter.The heir of the powerful Lin family—the very people who would later crush Sierra's father under false charges.
His uniform jacket hung lazily from one shoulder, his tie slightly loose.He looked effortless, like someone used to being obeyed.
In the novel, Sierra had adored him.Leon, meanwhile, had tolerated her the way someone tolerated heavy traffic—annoyed, impatient, but unable to fully escape.
He glanced at me—only briefly.But something in his gaze tightened.Like he sensed the difference.
Like he knew the Sierra sitting here wasn't the same girl from yesterday.
I lowered my eyes, pretending to adjust my notebook.No confrontation. Not now.
The trap hadn't been sprung yet.
The class slowly drifted back to their seats.Vivian muttered something under her breath and walked away, heels clicking like tiny hammers of judgment.
I inhaled deeply.
New life.New rules.New Sierra.
I turned to my bag and pulled out a notebook.The first page was filled with angry scribbles—the old Sierra's attempts at venting her frustration at a world that had already condemned her.
I flipped to a blank page and wrote, in clean block letters:
"REWRITE."
Below it, I listed the things I needed to prevent today:
Avoid conflict with Vivian.
Don't fall for provocations.
Stop the secret recording.
Leave the classroom before the incident.
Find out who really frames my father.
As soon as I wrote the last line, my fingers stilled.
A chill crawled down my spine.In the novel, her father—Mr. Song—was accused of embezzlement.Stocks plummeted.The media swarmed.The entire city fed on the scandal like vultures.
But the truth?He had been framed.
By someone powerful enough to erase evidence.Someone with ties to the Lin family.
And Sierra…She had been collateral damage.
My stomach coiled.
Not again.
Not this life.
Not this version of Sierra.
The classroom door slid open, and the homeroom teacher entered.A hush fell over the room.
But I barely heard her.
Because a faint buzzing sound vibrated from three seats behind me—exactly where the hidden camera would be planted later that morning.
I slowly turned my head.
A boy sat there, hunched over his phone, pretending to scroll.His backpack looked ordinary—too ordinary.
In the original timeline, Vivian's group used him as the fall guy.The recording would appear to come from his device, even though Vivian had orchestrated everything.
I exhaled softly.
Time to act.
I raised my hand.
"Yes, Sierra?" the teacher asked, brows lifting.
"May I move seats?" I asked politely.
The class broke into murmurs.Even the boy behind me froze.
The teacher blinked."No one's asked to change seats since the start of the semester. Why?"
I smiled, serene.
"I'd like to concentrate better."
That line was harmless.Unassailable.
She hesitated for two seconds before nodding."There's an empty seat near the window. You may move."
Perfect.
I gathered my things calmly, ignoring the confused stares.
As I walked, Vivian's eyes followed me, narrowing.
She could feel it too.
The script wasn't unfolding the way it was supposed to.
I sat down near the window, sunlight washing over my desk.A small breeze fluttered my hair.
In the original story, Sierra had spent this morning suffocating under humiliation.
But now?
I felt like I had cracked open the bars of a cage.
The teacher droned on about exam schedules and group assignments.
Students whispered.Chairs creaked.Someone laughed.
But my focus sharpened on one point:the boy with the camera.
I watched him from the corner of my eye.His fingers fidgeted nervously.He kept glancing toward Vivian.
So it was today.
Without the recording, the scandal would never start.Without the scandal, Sierra wouldn't be attacked online.Without the online mob, her father wouldn't be vulnerable to political pressure.
This single clip was the first domino.
I tapped my pen lightly.
Not on my watch.
As soon as the teacher dismissed us for a "five-minute break," I stood.
Students poured out of the classroom.Some chatted in clusters, some rushed to the restroom, others grabbed snacks.
The boy hesitated before stepping out.He left his backpack behind.
Too easy.
I waited until the room emptied except for a couple of students near the back.They weren't paying attention.
I walked calmly toward the backpack.
My heart beat steadily—not with panic,but with icy determination.
I unzipped the small side pocket.
A tiny black recording device gleamed inside.
Exactly where I expected.
I plucked it out, snapped the memory card in half, and placed the empty shell back in the pocket.
When the boy returned, he wouldn't suspect anything until it was too late.
And by then?
The incident would never happen.
When I returned to my seat, Leon Lin's shadow swept across my desk.
I looked up.
His eyes, sharp and unreadable, rested on me.
"You moved seats," he said.
"Yes," I replied lightly.
"Why?"
I tilted my head, mirroring his calm.
"Because I didn't want to be recorded today."
His expression didn't change—but his fingers tightened slightly around the notebook he held.
Interesting.
Leon wasn't a villain in this story—but he wasn't an ally either.
Not yet.
The bell rang, shattering the tension.Students rushed back inside.
Vivian walked in last.
She paused when her gaze landed on me.
Her smile was still sweet.But the edges had sharpened.
A queen sensing a threat.
"Sierra," she called softly.
I lifted my eyes.
"Yes?"
She approached with slow, deliberate steps, her shoes tapping against the polished floor.
"I don't know what you're planning…"Her voice lowered, honey turning to venom."…but don't forget who writes the rules in this school."
I smiled back, equally gentle.
"Maybe it's time someone rewrote them."
Her eyes widened—just for a second.
Then the mask snapped back into place.
"Sierra Song," she whispered, "you're playing with fire."
I leaned closer.
"So are you."
The bell rang again.The teacher entered.Class resumed.
But today—just today—no one laughed at Sierra Song.No one humiliated her.No video was filmed.No scandal broke.
The domino that once toppled her life had been snapped clean in half.
I sat straighter, exhaling slowly.
One crisis avoided.
Ninety-nine more to go.
My father's fate.Leon's hidden loyalties.Vivian's schemes.And the powerful hands behind the fall of the Song family.
But this time?
I wasn't the villainess doomed to burn.
I was the girl who remembered the ending—and refused to accept it.
My story didn't start with a tragedy.
It started today.
With me rewriting my fate.
And I had only just begun.