It was just another day, a Tuesday like any other. The daylight did not reach the ground yet since the sun was still rising, still presenting that pale, sickly blue-gray dawning haze over the streets. Claire Graye stood at the bus station in a scarf wrapped tight around her neck, earbuds firmly in, the same old fantasy audiobook playing softly as she scrolled through fan theories online.
There came the scream. Just in time, she turned around, caught a vision of a blur-a man in hoodie and a flash of steel.
Pain bloomed in her side before she even understood what was happening. Dropped to the pavement floor, her phone clattered to the ground, cow rendition of some lyrics broken mid-sentence.
A cold numbness seeped into her limbs. Blood soaked through her coat. Someone yelled. The loud sound of her crashing hit the pavement made her vision clarity shatter across the edge like glass cracks.
This is it, she thought hazily. I'm dying.
Funny enough, she did not feel any regret, remorse, or any negativity. She just imagined her being reincarnated in a novel, like any books she read before with the same plot and genre.
And then—
She opened her eyes.
There was no pain. No cold concrete. No screaming bystanders. Only… stillness.
Soft, warm sheets cocooned her body. An elaborate overhead canopy lay like a cloud, with dainty ruffles and a golden trim. A light fragrance of ink and rose perfume lingered in the air and sunlight peeked through the delicate lace curtains. Soft sunlight filtered through lace curtains, illuminating a room that looked straight out of a European palace.
"What the hell…"
Claire sat up slowly, her fingers sinking into velvet bedding. The room was impossibly elegant—an oak wood writing desk stood against the wall, carved with intricate motifs. A pair of armchairs upholstered in pale cream faced a marble fireplace, and golden picture frames dotted the ivory walls. One, in particular, caught her eye.
It is hanged at the very middle of the bedroom wall, its edges gilded and encrusted with tiny shining gems. Inside was a painting—not a modern photograph, but an oil portrait, expertly rendered.
The girl in the portrait was stunning.
No—angelic.
Golden curls spilled over her shoulders in perfect ringlets. Her skin was porcelain-pale, eyes a striking shade of golden yellow. She wore a gown of soft lavender and pearls around her throat, her lips parted in a serene, ladylike smile.
Claire froze.
She knew that face.
In fact, she knew this exact portrait.
Her breath caught as memories flooded her mind.
Last night—no, what felt like mere moments ago—she had been curled up in bed, reading The Villainess's Ever After, her newest fantasy-romance obsession. She hadn't even finished it yet, just halfway through the Volume 4, and the whole story ended in Volume 8. The story followed Seraphyne Archwingg, the blessed heroine of the Empire of Truvania. Beautiful, noble-hearted, and pure—beloved by knights, nobles, and even the Crown Prince himself.
Claire remembered snorting into her pillow as she read. Seraphyne was too perfect. The villainess, Lady Ellise, was far more interesting—fiery, cunning, and misunderstood. The typical "heroine vs. villainess" formula, sure, but Ellise had complexity.
Seraphyne? A golden daisy with angel wings.
Claire slowly stood up, her limbs moving as if underwater. She crossed the room on shaking legs, past a vanity cluttered with jeweled brushes and perfume bottles. There, hanging near the wardrobe, was a tall, full-length mirror.
She hesitated. Then stepped in front of it.
And felt her stomach drop.
The reflection wasn't her own. Gone was her messy bun, chapped lips saved by lip balms, and sleep-deprived eyes. In their place was the same girl from the portrait.
Golden curls. Porcelain skin. Golden yellow eyes. Even the lavender nightgown matched the one from the book's description.
"No. No way," Claire whispered. Her voice was higher. Softer. She touched her cheek; it was smooth, her hand trembling.
"I'm… Seraphyne?"
She stumbled back a step, horror blooming in her chest.
"No, no, no—I didn't want to be her!" she shouted, startling herself with the delicate tone of her voice. "I was supposed to be the villainess! The dramatic monologues! The black gowns! The power!"
The realization hit her like a slap.
She had died—stabbed by a stranger at a bus station. And now… she had reincarnated into a fantasy novel. The exact kind of story she devoured every weekend. But instead of waking up as the layered, tragic villainess with a redemption arc, she was… the heroine?
This was her dream come true—but twisted in the wrong direction.
Claire—no, Seraphyne—collapsed onto the edge of the velvet-cushioned chaise lounge. Her heart was racing. She had read enough of these stories to recognize the signs: luxurious setting, unfamiliar body, plot-perfect face, the vivid realism of it all.
"I've been reincarnated," she muttered. "Inside The Villainess's Ever After."
And not just as a side character. As the main character. The beloved golden girl.
Part of her wanted to scream.
Another part—an embarrassingly large part—was thrilled. She was inside a story. A real one. Her favorite genre. No more nine-to-five job, no rent, no bills. Magic, romance, court intrigue? Yes, please.
But not like this.
Seraphyne was everything Claire wasn't—graceful, pure-hearted, full of sunshine and goodness. Claire preferred sarcasm and strategy. She had dreamed of being Lady Ellise for years—fashionable, feared, powerful. A villainess with presence and flair, someone who got the best lines and made people nervous when she walked into a ballroom.
Instead, she was supposed to flutter her eyelashes and heal people with a tear or whatever the plot required.
Claire groaned and flopped back on the chaise, covering her face with her hands.
"I can't believe this. I got isekai'd into a novel, and I'm the heroine."
A knock at the door startled her.
"Milady?" A soft voice called. "Shall I bring your morning tea?"
Claire sprang up, suddenly aware of how unprepared she was to play this role. She didn't even know what chapter of the book she was in yet—or who she might meet today.
"Uh—yes," she called, trying to mimic Seraphyne's airy, melodic tone. "That would be… lovely."
"Very well, milady."
As the footsteps retreated, Claire turned back to the mirror.
"Okay, Claire," she whispered to herself, narrowing her eyes. "You're Seraphyne now. Which means you need to survive a royal court full of backstabbing snakes, suitors, and a villainess with a justified grudge."
She stared hard at her reflection.
"But I swear—if I have to act like a helpless angel for too long, someone will get poisoned."
And with that dramatic promise, Claire Graye, now Seraphyne Archwingg—heroine of Villainess' Ever After—began her reluctant journey to play the part she never wanted… while secretly rewriting the story from within.