Chapter I
If there was one day she didn't want to work, it was today. She wanted to finish her novel in peace. That wasn't too much to ask—she didn't ask for much, after all. She let out a long sigh as she stepped off the bus, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Adjusting her clothes, she entered her office, already filled with shouting voices and ringing phones so early in the morning. She wanted to go home, she thought, sighing yet again.
And the day had barely begun.
She wasn't even halfway through it.
Just listening to the demands of her stepmother and half-sister was already a heavy burden; her anxiety felt like it would eventually consume her.
All she wanted was to stay in bed all day, not move an inch, and finish her favorite novel surrounded by junk food. Yeah—she was a real couch potato.
She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day—which had only just started—and, of course, it had to be right in front of her boss.
"Am I disturbing you!?" her boss shouted, making her jump.
She apologized profusely before fleeing, embarrassed, to her desk, keeping her head down for the rest of the day. What an idiot. Daydreaming at work was bad enough—but sighing in front of her tyrant of a boss? Brilliant.
The rest of the day passed in silence. She finished all her tasks, and by the time she finally went home, she was exhausted, starving, and sporting dark panda-like circles under her eyes. Skipping meals all day had clearly been a terrible idea.
She rummaged through her bag, searching for her keys, and cursed when they fell, spilling all her belongings across the hallway.
"There you are," she muttered tiredly as she picked them up and quickly unlocked the door to her tiny studio apartment.
She tossed her things onto the entry table, kicked off her shoes, and headed straight inside—bedroom, living room, kitchen. It didn't matter. This place was her little paradise. Her jacket and shirt were scattered across the room as she wandered into the kitchen in her bra, desperately looking for something to fill her growling stomach.
Finding only two packs of instant meals, she shoved them into the microwave without a second thought. Groceries could wait. For now, she happily grabbed her phone and opened the chapter where she'd left off earlier.
But before she could start reading, her phone rang.
She glanced at the caller's name and grimaced. Of course—it was her stepmother. She bit her lower lip. Maybe she could pretend she hadn't seen it? But the phone vibrated insistently, leaving her no choice. She already knew how this would go.
"Why are you only answering now?! Is that how you thank me, you insolent little brat!?" her stepmother screamed. She quickly pulled the phone away from her ear.
"I—I'm sorry, Mother," she replied hastily. "I just got home, and I didn't have the—"
"I don't care!" her stepmother cut her off. "Send me money. Your sister sprained her wrist and needs treatment."
What…?
She bit her lip until it bled to keep herself from snapping back. It had always been like this since her father died a few years ago. Every small desire, every minor inconvenience—they called her to complain and squeeze money out of her. She worked herself to the bone just to survive and had never been able to indulge herself. Aside from web novels, she had dreams too—like escaping this miserable studio apartment someday.
Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she picked up her dinner.
"How much?" she asked quietly.
"Five thousand," her stepmother replied boldly.
Five thousand!? For a simple wrist sprain!? She didn't have that kind of money. It was far beyond her meager salary—and with all her debts, it felt like they wanted her dead.
"I don't have that kind of money!" she protested.
"Isn't that why you work!? You're useless to the very end! After all the sweat and blood I shed raising you, this is how you repay me!?" her stepmother snapped back.
Raised her?
She had only been allowed to live under the same roof. She'd taken care of herself her entire life. She clenched her teeth, swallowing the words she desperately wanted to say.
"And Sarah!? She works too! Can't she pay for it herself? It's just a minor sprain—she can take medicine!" She covered her mouth.
Damn it.
Her stepmother let out a sharp, offended cry and sniffed arrogantly.
"I want the money by tomorrow," was her only reply before hanging up.
Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
She resumed her breathing exercises, slowly calming her anger. She had never been able to express her feelings around those devilish people—any mistake was always turned against her. A few minutes later, once she'd finally calmed down, she looked at her now-cold meal. She'd lost her appetite.
Resigned, she grabbed her phone and collapsed onto her bed without ceremony. She'd waited all day for this. Those harpies weren't going to ruin the ending of her novel.
The screen lit up, and the title appeared in bold letters, making her smile softly.
Angela's Smile.
The title was a little cheesy—but she had fallen completely in love with Angela and her suitors. It was her dream to be desired by everyone, to be appreciated for her efforts, to have loving parents and a dependable older brother.
Angela was the most beautiful girl in the Lyrion Empire—and also the most humble. She seemed to have everything going for her. A story that didn't begin with a miserable heroine was new and refreshing, which was why it had gained so many fans.
She rolled over, kicked off the socks she'd forgotten to remove earlier, and quickly slipped into her pajamas.
The lovely and charming Angela Sullivan, daughter of a count. Lyrion society was strictly hierarchical, and although the heroine's family wasn't particularly wealthy, it held great importance because it produced "specialized mages."
People gifted with abilities that could influence the world—also called elementalists. Angela herself was a earth elementalist. Her weakness, however, was that she could only grow harmless flowers and create small golems. Poor Angela was often mocked for her limited talent. Fortunately, she could always rely on her family and friends.
She longed for that life—to be loved and cherished. To wear beautiful clothes, enjoy good meals, and study new things. She sighed and turned to the next chapter, smiling sadly as she realized she was nearing the end. Rubbing her tired eyes, she checked the time and bit her lip. It was so late.
Letting out one final sigh, she continued reading—just one more chapter, then she'd sleep. But she didn't realize she'd make it all the way to the second-to-last chapter.
Angela had finally awakened her true power.
She let out a silent scream and did a small victory dance.
"Ooh, the prince is so cute," she whispered so the neighbors wouldn't hear. After all, the walls were paper-thin.
Angela was well on her way to becoming crown princess. Smiling happily, she began to drift off to sleep. She hadn't finished yet—only one chapter remained before the epilogue.
Suddenly, a voice answered her in her sleep.
"Write it," said a gentle, encouraging voice.
Before she could ask anything more, she fell into the arms of Morpheus, wishing to dream of Angela's life.