When Jiyun opened her eyes, she wasn't in her tiny, damp apartment or the suffocating office that had sucked her soul dry for the past few years. No. She was lying on a bed—more accurately, a canopy bed the size of her entire living room. Golden drapes flowed like melted sunshine, and the air smelled faintly of roses and old parchment.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then sat up like she had been electrocuted. "W-Wait… what?"
She scrambled to the mirror beside the bed and nearly screamed.
Gone was her familiar face, the one with the scar on her face. In its place was a girl with red hair and dangerous crimson eyes—eyes that looked like they could glare a man to his knees.
"Oh no. No no no," she whispered, patting her cheeks frantically. "This can't be happening! Am I… am I Velvet Welton?! The 'villainess'?!"
She poured water over her head from a silver jug nearby. It did nothing to help her panic. Still dripping wet, she started pacing.
"Think, Jiyun. Think! Okay, so… I read this novel—'The Trapped White Flower.' I remember! The villainess dies in seven years! Seven years of chaos, and then boom! Dead by crown prince's sword!"
She slapped her cheeks. "No way am I going out like that!"
She opened the curtains and peeked out into the garden. The Welton estate. She recognized it from the novel's descriptions. She was really here. In the world of the novel.
Suddenly, a knock.
"My lady, breakfast is ready," a maid called softly.
"Y-Yeah, coming!" she said, voice cracking.
Her mind raced. The male leads. The tragedies. The obsession. The blood. And… Diana. The girl who had been tortured and killed. The female lead of this novel who had always made her feel uneasy.
But no. She wasn't going to think about Diana right now. She hadn't met her yet.
One step at a time. Survive first.
Jiyun—no, Velvet—took a deep breath. She wiped her wet face with a towel, took a moment to calm herself down, and began sorting through the ornate wardrobe. After struggling to figure out which gowns were for morning and which for evening, she picked a light lavender dress with subtle embroidery and dressed with the help of the maids.
As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she tried to replicate the noblewoman's cool smile she remembered from the novel. "You've got this," she whispered.
In the dining room, she sat straight-backed, nodding to the butler and staff as they served her. The breakfast was luxurious—fluffy eggs, freshly baked bread, sweet berries, and a tea that smelled like a floral garden. She ate quietly, trying to observe everything.
"Is everything to your liking, Lady Velvet?" the butler asked with a small bow.
She nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you, as always."
The butler looked pleased and left her to her meal.
Velvet exhaled softly. It seemed—for now—no one had noticed anything strange. That was good.
As she sipped her tea and peeked over the rim of the cup, she started plotting. If she was going to survive in this world, she'd need information. She needed allies. And most importantly, she needed to avoid the male leads until she could find a way to protect herself.
Especially from that psycho crown prince.
"And no more dying," she muttered under her breath.
If this was her new life, she was going to live it her way.
And the first rule? Play the villainess. But never *be* the villainess.
---
Jiyon—or Velvet Welton now—had read her share of novels. She'd laughed at dumb heroines, scoffed at cold villains, and rolled her eyes when reincarnated characters did dumb things like... declare war in their nightgown.
But never in her entire life had she imagined something as absurd as transmigrating into the villainess—destined to die at the hands of the Crown just two years after the plot begins. That meant she had about seven years left to live.
"Great," she muttered, staring blankly at her reflection as a maid brushed her hair. "Peak of nobility and I get served doom for breakfast."
After a full morning of lessons with Madam Rosaline—who, by the way, was clearly allergic to happiness—Velvet barely managed to escape into the garden.
There she sat, stewing in the summer sun, when it happened.
"You seem rather quiet, Lady Welton," came a voice like silk and vinegar.
A boy around fourteen with golden-blond hair and deep, piercing black eyes stood with an infuriating smirk.
He took a slow step forward, hands clasped behind his back. "I must admit, I expected sharp words or perhaps an insult. You've always had such a… colorful reputation."
Velvet smiled thinly. "Greetings, Your Highness," she said with a shallow bow. "But people often confuse volume with substance, don't they?"
The prince chuckled.
Okay. Okay. He's talking. Don't faint. Don't punch him. Just smile like a snake with a pearl in its teeth.
"Tell me," he said, leaning in just enough to make her want to scream. "Did you dream of me last night?"
Velvet blinked. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "Rumor has it, any lady who dreams of me ends up hopelessly in love."
Velvet's lips twitched. "Then I must have been blessed with a nightmare."
For a second, the prince's eyes narrowed—and then he burst out laughing.
He looks creepy, is he having a fit or something should I call a physician
She took that chance to politely excuse herself. "If you'll forgive me, Your Highness, I've had enough sun today."
"Of course," he said, still smiling. "But I look forward to our next meeting."
Velvet turned around, her steps quick but measured. Next meeting, my foot. I'll fake a cold if I have to.
As soon as she was far enough, she let her composure drop and groaned softly, covering her face with her hand.
"I need a plan," she muttered to herself. "Like, yesterday."
But first… Family dinner.
She marched back to her room, letting the maids fuss over her attire. By the time she reached the dinner table, she had slapped her cheeks, poured cold water over her head (privately), and practiced smiling like a lady who definitely didn't wake up as the future dead villainess of someone else's drama.
The Duke, her 'father,' stared at her like he is ready to eat her any moment.
"You are late" he said sternly.
"I apologise father, this will never happen again" she replied.
Her brother in the corner scoffed but velvet didn't care because she had already killed him millions of times in her head.
She needed to play this smart. She had time—well, sort of. First up on the agenda: survive.
Easy.
Right?
KABOOM.
A sudden noise came from velvet's room
---
To be continued...