"What a captivating sight," you murmured, a sly smile gracing your lips as you watched the Marquess, Asher, honing his swordsmanship.

His chest heaved, glistening with sweat, and despite his labored breath, he managed to cast a roguish smirk your way. "My lady," he drawled, his tone teasing yet edged with reproach, "such bold admiration is hardly becoming of a noblewoman. Do you not find your words rather improper?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you rested your chin on your palm, your gaze unwavering. "I merely appreciate a striking view that fate has placed before me," you replied nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat and crossing your arms. "Surely, you cannot fault me for that, can you?"

Asher scoffed, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with a small towel before striding toward you. His every step carried an air of arrogance, a reminder of the tension that should exist between you. After all, by the dictates of the novel you once loved so dearly, the two of you were destined to be adversaries.

Yes, you had awoken in a world not your own—the very pages of your favorite story brought to life. Asher, the central antagonist, was fated to overthrow the empire with neither tragic past nor redeeming qualities to soften his villainy. He was ruthless, unyielding, and utterly compelling.

But instead of fearing him as the novel’s heroine eventually would, you had always found him... intriguing. And now, inexplicably transported to the narrative five years before its pivotal events, you had become a minor character in the Imperial Academy—a background figure hardly worth mentioning.

"Curious," Asher mused, breaking your thoughts. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming with suspicion and amusement. "The Duke’s cold and distant daughter suddenly showing interest in me? What’s the catch?"

You watched, entranced, as he took a swig from his water flask, the act so effortlessly alluring that you couldn’t help but think, Villain or not, how could anyone resist such a man?