In a world where nobility drips with gold and blood runs beneath satin veils, there lived a girl named Atina. Just fifteen, a sharp-tongued teenager from the modern world, she scoffed at the ridiculous historical drama unfolding on her screen — a tale about a vicious noblewoman who married a new man every month, only to torment them under the protection of her powerful mother, the Prime Minister of the empire.

Twelve grooms. Twelve miserable, broken men. None dared defy her… until the thirteenth.

Atina watched, snacking and grinning, as the latest groom secretly poisoned the ceremonial wine. The female lead would finally meet her end — poetic justice, she thought. But fate had other plans.

A blinding light. A pull in her chest. And then — nothing.

When Atina opened her eyes, she was no longer in her room.

She was in the red bridal chamber… wearing that woman’s body.

The poison was real. The groom’s killing intent was very real. And the guards? They were ready to mutilate the man at her single command.

But she wasn’t her. Atina was just a girl. She didn't want to torture, control, or kill. She only wanted to survive.

Panicked, she dismissed the guards and spared the groom — for now. But mercy is weakness in this court. And weakness invites death.

Just then, a soldier stepped forward.

“My lady,” he said. “Shall I bring in Groom Twelve now? He awaits your attention.”

Atina froze. She remembered him. In the drama, Groom Twelve was the one who stabbed the original bride to death, smiling as her blood soaked the floor.

Now she would have to face him. Pretend to be wicked enough to fool him. Gentle enough to rewrite her fate.

Because one wrong move... and she wouldn’t just be acting in a drama anymore.

She’d be dying in one.