The villainess must survive

Chapter One Rain crashed violently against the palace windows. Seraphina opened her eyes with a gasp. Cold air filled her lungs. Silk sheets tangled around her legs. Thunder rumbled beyond towering glass windows draped in crimson velvet. For a second, she stared blankly at the ceiling. Gold carvings. Crystal chandelier. Black marble pillars. Recognition hit her like a knife. “No way…” Her voice sounded unfamiliar softer, richer. Slowly, painfully, she turned toward the mirror beside the bed. And froze. Long crimson hair spilled over pale shoulders. Sharp silver eyes stared back at her with cold aristocratic beauty. A face she knew too well. Seraphina Vael. The villainess of Beasts of the Fallen Crown. The character she had personally written to die. Her heartbeat thundered. “No. No no no—” She stumbled backward off the bed, nearly tripping over layers of silk nightwear. This wasn’t possible. She remembered everything. Falling asleep at her desk. Editing Chapter 87. Complaining online that Seraphina was her “favorite disaster.” Then darkness. And now She was inside the novel. Not the heroine. Not even a side character. The villainess. The same villainess who would eventually be executed after being tortured by the five male leads. A chill crawled down her spine. Because she remembered exactly how Seraphina died. Broken bones. Public humiliation. Kael’s hands around her throat. Her stomach twisted violently. “No,” she whispered again. “I’m changing this story.” A knock interrupted her panic. Three quick taps. “My lady?” a maid asked nervously from outside the door. “The royal guests have arrived.” Seraphina’s blood ran cold. Royal guests. Tonight. The banquet. Her expression slowly cracked in horror. Tonight was Chapter One. The beginning of Seraphina’s downfall. In the original novel, this was the night she insulted the Wolf Prince publicly and triggered years of hatred. The first domino. Another knock came. “My lady?” Think. Think. If the story was already beginning, then she still had time. She could avoid the death flags. She could apologize. She could stay quiet. She could survive. “Prepare my dress,” Seraphina said quickly. The maid hesitated. “…Which one, my lady?” Right. The original Seraphina had chosen a blood-red gown specifically to provoke the Wolf Clan. “Anything else,” she answered immediately. Silence followed. The maid sounded almost frightened when she replied. Yes, my lady. Seraphina shut her eyes tightly. Even that small change felt dangerous. The grand ballroom glowed beneath hundreds of crystal lights. Nobles filled the hall dressed in gold and jewels, their conversations blending into elegant noise. But the moment Seraphina entered Silence spread. Eyes followed her instantly. Some fearful. Some disgusted. Some curious. The villainess had arrived. Her chest tightened. She had written these people. Now they looked real. Too real. Seraphina forced herself to keep walking despite the tension pressing against her skin. Then the ballroom doors opened again. And the atmosphere changed completely. Wolf beastmen entered first, dressed in silver military uniforms. Powerful. Intimidating. Predatory. The crowd parted instinctively. Then he appeared. Kael. The Wolf Prince. Tall enough to tower over nearly everyone in the hall, Kael carried authority like a blade against the throat. Silver hair framed a face too sharp to be called gentle, while golden eyes scanned the room with open indifference. Until they landed on her. Hatred. Instant. Cold. Precise. Seraphina forgot how to breathe. Because fiction had not prepared her for how terrifying he would feel in person. In the novel, Kael eventually became the empire’s most feared ruler. And Seraphina had given him every reason to hate her. She remembered the script perfectly. This was the moment she was supposed to mock the Wolf Clan publicly. Instead, she lowered her gaze slightly. “Welcome to House Vael, Your Highness.” The ballroom went dead silent. Even the musicians stopped. Kael’s expression did not change. But something dangerous flickered in his eyes. Suspicion. He walked toward her slowly. One step. Then another. Each movement carried the heavy stillness of a predator approaching prey. When he finally stopped before her, Seraphina realized he was even taller up close. “You seem different tonight,” he said calmly. Her pulse spiked. He noticed already? Stay calm. “I simply wished to greet our guests properly.” Another silence. Then “How unsettling.” The words were soft. But sharp enough to cut. His gaze lingered on her face like he was trying to skin away whatever mask she wore. Seraphina forced herself not to panic. Because she knew something nobody else did. This man would kill her someday. And judging by the look in his eyes He would not regret it. A servant suddenly rushed between them, trembling. “My lord the banquet wine” Crash. Red liquid spilled across the floor. Gasps erupted through the ballroom. The servant fell to his knees immediately. “I-I apologize!” Seraphina’s eyes widened. Because she recognized this scene too. In the original novel, Seraphina would accuse the servant of disrespect and have him dragged away brutally. That moment became one of the reasons the male leads despised her cruelty. The servant shook violently at her feet. Waiting for punishment. The entire ballroom watched her. This was it. Her first choice. Her first chance to change fate. Seraphina swallowed hard. Then quietly said “It was an accident.” The servant looked up in shock. “You’re dismissed,” she continued. “Be more careful next time.” Complete silence. The atmosphere turned strange. Wrong. Even Kael’s gaze sharpened dangerously. As if her mercy disturbed him more than cruelty would have. The servant stammered repeatedly before fleeing the hall. Whispers immediately spread among the nobles. “What is she planning?” “Since when does Lady Seraphina show kindness?” “She must want something.” Seraphina’s stomach sank. Right. Of course. Nobody would believe sudden kindness from a villainess. Kael leaned slightly closer. His voice lowered enough that only she could hear. “What game are you playing?” Fear slid down her spine. Because his tone carried absolute certainty. He did not believe she had changed. He believed she was pretending. And somehow… That was even worse.