Silvia's POV
Of course, I am aware of the method of my arrival. One doesn't simply stumble into their destiny by accident. I orchestrated this.
I loved the fantasy novel more than anything in my dull, previous life. I knew every twist, every line of dialogue, every detail of the couture. I dreamed of it. I ached to meet the author, to somehow convey how deeply their world resonated with me, how I was meant to be a part of it.
Then, I found an unknown person online. In a niche forum for obsessive fans, he spoke about the book not as fiction, but as a place. A reality.
He claimed there was a ritual, a way to cross the boundary. I was skeptical, of course. Who wouldn't be? But my desire was a fever. When he promised to send me the necessary artifact, a sense of thrilling inevitability took hold.
The package arrived anonymously. Inside was an ornate, unsettling vial of iridescent liquid and a set of precise, chilling instructions. The ritual was to be performed at a gathering of souls. My company's celebration party was perfect. The instructions were clear: the liquid was to be diluted into drinks and consumed. Its because i can't be the only transmigrator.
Other guests who drank from the tainted bottles would be pulled through as well. Random souls, scattered into my perfect narrative.
As a junior co worker, I was invisible. It was easy to slip the prepared elixir into several bottles of champagne on the catering tables, to quietly switch a few cocktails. I made a show of taking a glass for myself, of course, to complete the symmetry. The plan was to watch, to see who drank from which glass, to be able to identify the other transmigrators immediately.
But it was chaos. People mingled, glasses were set down and picked up by different hands. Tracking the first sip of every affected drink was impossible. So i didn't bother, because i knew that no one else would be able to navigate the fantasy world like me.
But then I woke up here. In silk sheets, in a body of flawless beauty, in the life I was born for. I am the protagonist. The others, whoever they are, are just background noise. Extras in my story.
My guide, Lya, confirmed it. A shimmering, graceful thing with violet wings, she appeared. She exists to ensure my path to the happy ending is smooth.
I reach Audrey's building, and my nose wrinkles in visceral disgust. The concrete is stained, the air smells of damp and cheap food. This is where she festered? How fitting. I gather my skirts, holding them away from the grimy banister as I ascend the staircase.
I reached the correct floor, the hallway was a tunnel of faded paint and the faint, sour smell of other people's lives. I found the door just as the background details in the novel had described.
I simply raised a hand and knocked.
The door swung inward under the force of my knock. It hadn't been locked.
A cold finger of unease traced my spine. I pushed it open fully and stepped inside. The room was empty. Not just unoccupied, but cleared out. The pathetic little bed was stripped bare, the worn mattress exposed. The small wardrobe stood ajar, hollow and vacant. The air still held the faint, musty scent of poverty, but the life that had sustained it was gone.
This shouldn't be happening. The Audrey of the story shouldn't have anywhere else to go.
"Lya," I said, my voice tight.
A shimmer of violet light coalesced beside me, forming into my guide. Lya floated, her delicate wings fanning the stale air. "Yes, Silvia?"
"The villain should be living here, right?" I gestured sharply at the empty room.
Lya drifted forward, her luminous eyes scanning the space. "You are correct. This should be where Audrey live."
"Then how is it empty?" I demanded, my control beginning to fray at the edges. "Where is she? She can't possibly be at the Blake estate after that spectacle. So where?"
Lya turned back to me, her normally serene expression touched with confusion. "I… am also stunned, and don't have any answer.."
The confirmation of my deepest suspicion was a bitter pill.
"She's one of them," I breathed, pacing the short length of the barren room. "One of the others who drank the tainted champagne. A transmigrator. She's in Audrey's body." The violation of it felt personal. She had taken my villain. "How could this happen? If the core antagonist changes, the entire plot destabilizes! This isn't supposed to be possible!"
Lya floated closer, her light pulsing gently. "I didn't know that the possibility of a transmigrator in a main villain would be possible. This has to be an anomaly."
"An anomaly?" I spat the word. "Can you locate her? Can you find out the… system guide is attached to her? Surely she will definitely have one." The thought of that wretched creature having a guide, made my skin crawl.
Lya shook her head, a gesture of genuine regret. "I don't know. My current rank and access privileges do not grant that. To unlock higher-tier capabilities, you must complete more quests. The more rewards you get, the higher my rank goes."
I stopped pacing, forcing a cold calm to settle over my rising panic. Lya swirled around me, a violet nebula of reassurance.
"But this should be simple for you, Silvia," she said, her voice soothing. "No matter what soul resides in that body, the world still sees Audrey. The world would still see her as the villain. And you… you hold the ultimate advantage. You know every plot point, before it happens. You are always ten steps ahead. I would wager this new Audrey doesn't even know about the novel."
Her words were a balm. She was right. The interloper might have Audrey's form, but she lacked the script. She was stumbling in the dark, while I had the entire story mapped out in my mind.
A slow, calculated smile spread across my lips. "You're absolutely right, Lya. Knowledge is power. And I have all of it." The initial shock receded, replaced by a steely resolve. "I'll just have to use my knowledge to build a better, stronger network. I'll secure the powerful connections that are rightfully mine, faster and more completely than the original plot intended. More connections mean more influence. And in the end, there can only be one main character."
Comforted by the logic of my own superiority, I turned my back on the empty room and swept out of the apartment.
The smell of that building stuck to my clothes as I walked back to the curb. I looked calm on the outside, but inside, I was shaking with rage. My sleek Mercedes was waiting there like a reminder of the world I belonged in. My driver rushed to open the door for me, and that simple act helped calm my frayed nerves.
I slid into the cool, perfumed leather interior, a sanctuary from the vulgarity outside. As the car pulled away, I pulled out my phone, a lifeline to the society that mattered.The screen was full of invites and compliments, the usual people trying to get my attention. But one cluster of messages, from a private group chat of well-connected socialites, caught my eye. The subject, of course, was the wedding disaster.
My lips curled in a faint, superior smile as I scrolled through the exclamations of shock and gleeful gossip.
Then a single message stopped my heart.
...is it true that Audrey is going to be part of the Moreno family now? I heard her mother...
The words blurred. My thumb trembled as I tapped the notification, opening the full conversation. The blood drained from my face, leaving a cold, hollow sensation in its wake.
Olivia: My parents were at the Blake's today for a gathering. And they found out that Audrey's dead beat mother is now Mrs. Moreno. She arrived with Mr. Moreno himself!
Chloe: NO.
Gabrielle: You're joking. That good for nothing audrey?
Olivia: Dead serious.
The phone nearly slipped from my numb fingers. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, drowning out the soft purr of the engine.
No. This was impossible. This was my plot point.
In the original novel, I was the one discovered by the Moreno family. I was the mysterious, captivating young woman who became their cherished stepsister. Dave and Dominic, the city's most powerful and untouchable heirs, were meant to lay the world at my feet, their initial indifference melting into a fierce, possessive devotion. Their influence, their power, their obsession—it was the cornerstone of my rise. It was the catalyst that propelled the female lead into the highest echelons of society.
And that… that interloper had stolen it.
She had looted the entire treasury of my future. She was sitting in my seat at the table, wearing a title that belonged to me.
The cold hollow in my chest ignited into a white-hot inferno of rage. I am going to kill that bitch.