"Did you see what the heroine did this chapter?!"
"Ugh, I can't even with the villainess—so bratty!"
I, Ana, rolled my eyes at my friends' dramatic voices. [Bratty? Maybe. But can you really blame her? If I were trapped in a world where everyone expected me to fail just because I wasn't a boy, I'd probably throw a tantrum too.]
We were sitting outside the school gate, the late afternoon sun painting the concrete golden. The distant clatter of students packing bags echoed from the hallways.
Everyone else seemed obsessed with the heroine—Velarisse Thyselle, with her pink hair and purple eyes. I understood the appeal, but I couldn't bring myself to be as starry-eyed as they were. Something about the villainess… made sense.
"Honestly," I said, trying to sound casual, "she didn't choose to be born a villain. It's not like anyone thought she'd be a girl.
Her family treated her… badly, but it's not all her fault."
My friends looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"You're defending her?" one whispered, horrified.
[Yes. I am. And I know I'm right.
The walk home was quiet. My backpack felt heavier than usual, though it was mostly books. The swish-swish of my sneakers on the pavement was oddly calming. Dinner was the same as always—mom fussing over food, dad focused on the news, and me trying not to spill the smallest secret about school life.
After cleaning my plate, I climbed the stairs to my room and sank onto my bed, pulling the book my friend had lent me close. The Villainess Who Erases Her Own Happy Ending. I knew the story already, but rereading it was like visiting an old wound—and a lesson in strategy.
I skimmed the villainess' actions, thinking about how unfairly she was judged. [Everyone loves the heroine. She gets everything, just for being born a duke's daughter. Meanwhile, the villainess… she has to fight for even the smallest acknowledgment. Maybe I get her too much.]
I barely noticed when my eyelids grew heavy. The tick-tock of my old wall clock echoed softly. The last thing I thought before sleep claimed me was: [What would I do if I were in her shoes?]
When I opened my eyes again, everything was… different.
Rich tapestries hung on the walls. The scent of roses mixed with candle wax. The soft crackle of a fireplace filled the room. And a gentle rustle of fabric told me someone was nearby. I sat up so fast I almost toppled off the bed.
…And that's when I saw her.
My reflection in the vanity. Brown hair. Yellow eyes. The villainess.
[What the—why am I—why not the heroine?!] I shouted, flailing.
From the corner of the room, a figure stepped forward with calm efficiency.
Clara Evyra, my personal maid, slightly dark hair framing her brown eyes, gave a small bow.
"Milady… you are awake," she said softly, her voice steady. She didn't flinch at my panic, didn't frown, didn't judge. Just watched, ready.
This wasn't my room. This wasn't my world. And yet… here I was, Ana inside the villainess' body.
[Okay, Ana. Breathe. Think. You know this story. You know what's coming.]
Little did I know, knowing the story wouldn't make it any easier.