It's one thing to wake up in a field and realize you've reincarnated into a fantasy world.
It's another thing entirely to realize that world is yours.
And I don't mean vaguely inspired by. I mean scene-by-scene, lore-accurate, I-remember-naming-that-tree levels of recognition. I knew the glint of the river in the distance. The strange curve of the willows. The sky—lavender and dreamlike—had that exact hue I'd picked during a 3 a.m. aesthetic breakdown.
This was it.This was Myltheria.My Myltheria.
And I? I was ecstatic.
"Ha!" I shouted to absolutely no one, arms flung wide. "This is the greatest isekai ever!"
I nearly skipped across the meadow, drunk on delight. Silver-leafed trees, floating fireflies (yes, even in daylight—because who was going to stop me?), and that one rock formation that looked suspiciously like a sleeping cat. It was all exactly as I'd imagined.
This was supposed to be the best moment of my second life.
And then I made the mistake of looking into the lake.
Long dark hair. Tragic, wide eyes. High cheekbones. A face I'd once described as "dangerously beautiful—like a rose wrapped in betrayal."
No.No no no.
I wasn't the heroine.I wasn't even the quirky sidekick.
I was—Amelia Vale.
Minor noble. Devastatingly beautiful. Mildly evil.
The woman who marries the villain, cheats on him with a duke, and gets murdered in chapter twenty-three.
I dropped to my knees beside the lake. "Why? Out of all the characters… why her?!"
Amelia Vale was a narrative device. A plot speed bump in designer shoes. Her entire personality was "rich, reckless, and romantically doomed." She existed purely to break the villain's heart and kickstart his descent into glorious, brooding madness.
And now I was her.
Which meant the countdown had started—to adultery, drama, and a deeply uncomfortable funeral.
Unless…
Unless I rewrote the story.
No cheating. No garden murders. I could apologize to the villain—or better yet, avoid him entirely. Move to the suburbs. Open a tea shop. Befriend a squirrel and keep a low profile.
Simple. Just replot.
Avoid the death flag.Live quietly.Possibly bake scones.
I looked up—and froze.
The sky was no longer peaceful. It was filled with the flutter of royal banners, rising in the east.
I recognized the crest.I recognized the carriage.And I absolutely recognized the incoming doom.
"I take it back," I whispered, staring up at fate on horseback.
"I'm so doomed."