GOAL: Female Lead, No Matter What

PROLOGUE

Racelle Hunts, stuck in the aftermath of another brutal work skirmish on her computer, smirked as she massaged her temples. "Ugh, the chaos my boss drops on my desk," she muttered, savoring the complex dance of office politics she orchestrated to navigate the corporate maze.

Gazing out the window, the creeping darkness seemed like child's play compared to the intricate schemes she cooked up within the office walls. "Just another day in the jungle," she said with a wry grin, her satisfaction audible in the empty room.

The place, eerily devoid of her co-workers, became her villainous lair. "Peace at last," she sighed, casting a disdainful glance at the deserted desks around her. Glancing at her watch, she reveled in the late hour—11:30 in the evening, the time when the world belonged to the cunning and the ambitious.

Stuffing her belongings into her bag with a confident flourish, Racelle looked forward to the respite Sunday would bring. "A day off for the minions," she chuckled, acknowledging the unwitting relief her colleagues would find from her calculated machinations.

Her inherited home transformed into a sanctuary, especially on Saturday nights, where she dived into her mother's library—a treasure trove of novels echoing her love for intricate plots. "Mom's legacy," she whispered, surrounded by the echoes of literary tales.

Exploring the untouched corners of the library, shadows dancing with secrets, Racelle stumbled upon a cache of unread novels. "What treasures have we got here?" she said with a sly grin, pulling out a dusty tome with a mischievous air.

Time lost its grip as she immersed herself in tales of deception, power, and intrigue. Eyes betraying no surrender, even as exhaustion set in, she glanced at her phone—midnight on Monday—an arbitrary detail in the grand scheme of her modern villainess narrative.

"Wow," she whispered to herself.

Having stayed awake for two days straight, her vision started to blur, and she felt dizzy and exhausted when a mysterious voice suddenly emerged.

"Racelle Hunts, you've been selected as the new host. Congratulations," a robotic voice announced.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"Do you want to be part of a game?" it inquired.

Racelle raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Sorry, I'd rather read," she replied, attempting to leave. However, she felt her body weakening, and everything went black. She sensed her body slowly collapsing to the ground.

"Well, you don’t have a choice. As you have read several novels, we decided to challenge you by playing a game. Your mission is to stay alive, no matter what."

"What? So does that mean I won't be transmigrated to a world that I haven’t read?" she questioned.

“Yes, this is to maintain balance. You will have the memories of each body you will reside in, as well as the memories of this life. So, are you ready, host?"

She initially resisted the voice's offer.

"Well, you don’t have a say in it."

"Wha_!" she couldn’t even complete whatever she was saying as everything was overcome with darkness.

As her mind succumbed to the consuming darkness, she welcomed the challenge like a modern villainess embracing a new act in her meticulously crafted drama. "This is gonna be more entertaining than binge-watching a whole season," she whispered, her words echoing into the unknown.