Death, Evelyne decided, was not as poetic as the books made it seem.
No soft light. No gentle fade into nothingness. Just the pounding echo of betrayal, the sting of unshed tears, and the quiet realization that she had loved far too deeply, far too foolishly.
She remembered crying herself to sleep—again—after seeing the man she once loved post a photo with his new girlfriend. The same man who had once promised her forever, only to replace her within weeks. Her chest had hurt. Her breathing shallow. And then… black.
Just black.
But now, there was velvet beneath her skin.
And the scent of lavender in the air.
Wait.
Lavender?
Her eyes flew open. A canopy of gold-trimmed silk hovered above her. Crystal chandeliers sparkled gently. To her left stood a tall mirror framed in rosewood—and staring back at her from its glass, a woman with flowing auburn hair, skin as pale as porcelain, and eyes the color of chilled emerald.
Definitely not her.
She bolted upright with a gasp.
A maid dropped the tray she was holding. "M-My Lady?!"
"Wh—where am I?" she croaked, voice hoarse but refined.
The maid blinked. "You're in your chambers… Lady Evelyne Everhart. You fainted at the engagement ceremony, remember?"
Evelyne Everhart.
The name slammed into her memory like a slap.
Not just a character.
A villainess.
Not just any villainess—but the most hated one in that trashy romance novel she'd read out of spite. The one who bullied the heroine, slapped maids, and died alone in exile, disgraced and unloved.
"No. No, no, no," she muttered. "This can't be happening."
But it was.
She was in the villainess's body.
In a fantasy kingdom with political plots, magical duels, and probably dragons somewhere in chapter forty.
Somehow, she had reincarnated. And not as the sweet heroine who gets five love interests and a bakery. No.
She was the bitter ex-fiancée who got dumped in public.
"Of all the characters," she groaned, collapsing back into the absurdly plush bed.
A knock interrupted her dramatic self-pity.
"My Lady?" a butler's voice called from behind the door. "His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived… to end the engagement."
Because of course.
Of course he had.
Because no villainess story ever started with tea and roses.
It always started with a public humiliation.
Chapter 1 – I Died, But My Drama Apparently Didn't
Death was nothing like the books.
No soft glimmering lights. No ethereal music. No guardian angels waiting with open arms.
Just silence. The raw, cruel kind that follows heartbreak.
The kind that settles in your lungs like fog and never lets go.
She remembered the coldness of her room. The flicker of her phone screen showing a photo—him with someone new. His arm wrapped around another girl, captioned:
"She was always the one."
Her breath had hitched. Her heart had cracked.
She had cried.
She had screamed into her pillow.
Then... nothing.
No pain.
No thoughts.
No goodbyes.
Until now.
She gasped.
The air around her was thick with lavender. Velvet cradled her back, soft and expensive. Her body felt... lighter. Stronger. Softer?
"L–Lady Evelyne?!" a voice shrieked.
She blinked.
A girl in a maid uniform stood near her, holding a silver tray and looking like she'd seen a ghost. "Y-you're awake! Oh thank the stars!"
Wait.
Evelyne?
Her gaze darted toward a massive mirror on the far wall. The reflection stunned her.
Long auburn hair, porcelain skin, and vivid green eyes that looked like polished jade.
That wasn't her.
But it was her.
She bolted upright, hands flying to her face. Perfectly manicured nails. A glittering ruby ring. A nightgown too elegant to be anything but aristocratic.
"No way," she whispered.
Everything clicked. The name. The face. The ridiculous luxury.
She knew this body.
She'd read about it.
She was Lady Evelyne Everhart.
The villainess.
Not the heroine. Not the lovable side character. Not even a tragic martyr.
No—she was that one. The jealous noble lady who tried to destroy the female lead. The one who slapped maids and insulted orphans. The one who got publicly dumped and exiled from the kingdom by chapter ten.
And now, apparently... she was her.
"No no no no," she muttered, clutching her head.
"Lady Evelyne?" the maid asked nervously. "Do you need water? Should I call the physician? Or His Highness?"
His Highness?
Before she could respond, a knock echoed from the door.
A male voice. Smooth. Official.
"His Highness, the Crown Prince, is waiting in the tea salon to speak with Lady Evelyne regarding the engagement."
Oh. Of course.
The famous scene.
Where the prince dumped Evelyne in front of everyone for the sweet, naïve heroine.
The scene where this entire villainess downfall began.
Her stomach twisted.
This was it.
The beginning of the end.
Unless…
she rewrote the script.
She sat up straighter. Her hands no longer trembling.
If she really was in this world now, if she was stuck in this novel, then fine.
But she wasn't going to play the villainess role the same way.
Not when she already knew every betrayal, every heartbreak, every twist in the plot.
This time... she was going to survive.
And maybe, just maybe—make them all regret ever crossing her.