[Authors Note: I apologize for my on and off. I have to admit that I've been on depressive episodes for the past two months and could no longer emotionally resonate with what I wrote so I often made novels that didn't last long. This novel will be the last and I'll try to break the habit. University has started too and problems just keep popping up. I hope you guys understand, and I hope you guys enjoy this one.]
...
The atrium of the Crescent International School shone with crystal chandeliers, their light fracturing over polished marble.
At the center, Selene Veymore knelt, her gown shredded, hands slick with blood, not hers, but the male lead's guard, struck down for daring to interfere.
Her emerald eyes, wild and unyielding, fixed only on him.
Alaric Dorne, heir to the wealthiest industrial family in Mechton, stood near the dais, his expression a mask of detached irritation, as though watching a trivial pest scuttle across the floor.
The heroine, Elise, stood frozen to the side, her pale face calm, but her body trembling.
She had never been cruel. She had never wished harm.
And yet here was Selene, tearing through protocol and flesh alike, claiming what Elise had earned through trust, not manipulation.
"Step aside," Selene hissed, her voice like a whip, cracking the air between them. "Do you think he belongs to you? Do you think your timid smiles earned him?"
Elise swallowed, stepping forward despite the fear coiling in her chest. "Alaric does not belong to anyone," she said, her voice steady. "And you… you have crossed a line that even you cannot justify."
"I loved him first," she spat, claws brushing a fallen guard's blade. "And I will have him, even if I have to burn this hall, drown this city in blood, and tear every hand that reaches for him!"
***
"I'm dating my sister's ex."
"My fiancé chose my sister over me."
"I stole the heroine's harem."
Notice a pattern?
Yeah, basically, all these stories are about stolen love.
Either the main character's crush gets snatched away, or they're the one doing the snatching.
There was something perversely satisfying about watching the female lead snag the man her rival once had, or seeing the ex crawl back, heart all aflutter.
It was like emotional fast food; quick, messy, and oddly comforting.
But now… Marie was eighteen. Freshly adult. No longer a teen hiding behind a book for escapism. And suddenly, a tiny, nagging thought crept in:
"Wait… what is up with all these validation-seeking stories?"
Why did women in these novels always fight over the same guy? Weren't they supposed to be feminists, champions of girl power, sisters-in-arms?
Yet here they were, gleefully plotting who could win the attention of some handsome bloke. It was confusing, a little frustrating… and a lot more entertaining back then.
But Marie was starting to wonder: was it really empowerment? Or people just inherently loved dragging others down just to feel special?
"Man, I feel bad for the Villainess…" Marie muttered to herself, shoving a fistful of popcorn into her mouth and hastily wiping buttery crumbs on her sleeve like it was a perfectly acceptable napkin.
On her screen was the latest urban otome craze: a game that somehow mashed together sci-fi, fantasy, and romance in the world of Mechton.
Its title was "Stars, Scandals, and Schemes", though honestly, Marie wasn't sure if the name or the content deserved more eye-rolls.
The setup was painfully familiar:
The heroine: A poor, unremarkable girl who radiates "special" vibes.
She's ignored by everyone, misunderstood, constantly underestimated, and naturally possesses a secret talent that no one notices… until it conveniently saves her ass.
The male leads: A roster of impossibly wealthy, impossibly gorgeous, and annoyingly perfect men from powerful families who look at the heroine like she's some rare gem in a landfill of mediocrity.
Bonus points if they have tragic backstories, brooding stares, and an unexplained obsession with her.
The villainess: Stylish, cunning, and somehow born to be hated.
She's the one "standing in the heroine's way," only to be humiliated by plot armor, fate, or sheer authorial whim by the final chapter.
Naturally, the goal was clear: collect all the male leads like a romantic Pokémon trainer, defeat the villainess, and bask in the glory of finally being seen.
Add in jealous friends, secret rivalries, dramatic misunderstandings, over-the-top dialogue, and a school for elites that makes Versailles look like a middle school cafeteria… and you've got yourself a teenage classic.
But this game had a twist, one that made Marie raise an eyebrow.
The Villainess wasn't just some generic "mean girl" trope doomed to lose by default.
No, she was a regressor: cursed to repeatedly relive her life, forced to dodge disasters and rewrite her fate over and over, only to still end up with the worst possible outcomes.
Every choice, every move, every slight misstep was a trap laid by destiny itself.
"NOTHING STILL MAKES SENSE!"
Marie hadn't progressed far enough to understand all the implications.
She didn't know what the goddess part really meant, nor how catastrophic the Villainess's regressions would get.
Meanwhile, the heroine was the polar opposite. She wasn't unlucky. She wasn't struggling
She didn't even have to lift a finger, yet everyone reacted as if she'd performed some miraculous feat just by showing up.
Rich bad boys at the elite academy practically drooled over her every smile.
Marie groaned, tossing her controller aside for a moment. "Do I really have to fight the Villainess? These dramas are so unnecessarily stupid."
Otome games had really evolved. This one wasn't just about dialogue choices or picking which rich guy to flirt with.
No, it had fighting mechanics. Actual combat.
Seriously. Who thought this combination?
[YOU DIED.]
[THE VILLAINESS KILLED YOU.]
...
Marie smacked her lips and reached for her cup of water, muttering, "Nevermind. This b*tch is a homewrecker," when suddenly, it slipped.
She leaned too far over her desk, just a little too casually, and her elbow nudged the power strip beside her gaming setup. Sparks flew.
A sudden jolt shot through the cord, crackling like a miniature lightning storm, and before she could even yelp, the electricity leapt through her body.
Her cup of water tipped over at the exact same moment, spilling a cascade of liquid onto the power strip.
The combination of metal, water, and electricity created an instant, sizzling arc that flung her backward with a cartoonish BZZZT!
The screen went black. The room smelled faintly of burnt plastic.
Marie's own limbs went limp as she slumped onto the floor, stunned, but somehow fully aware enough to think:
"…Goddamn it. I still need to submit my performance task for school."
College just hits different.