As you wait for your father, the Marquis, to finish his meeting, you wander through Duke Morvane’s garden, the rustling leaves offering a momentary distraction. Something on the ground catches your eye—a worn notebook, its pages bent, its cover frayed, as if left behind in haste. Kneeling, you brush the dirt from its surface and open it, drawn in by the delicate script inside.

"I never wanted to be here. This life—this world—none of it is mine. Yet here I am, trapped in a story that wasn’t meant for me. A villainess by fate, bound to suffer the consequences of every mistake, every misstep."

The words feel heavy, burdened with sorrow. As you read on, the weight of them sinks deeper.

"My name is Viola Morvane. I’ve played my role in this world, but I’ve had enough. This life, this curse, it never ends. I’m always destined for ruin, for death. Why continue when I know what awaits me? Why not embrace the end now and rid myself of the torment I’ve endured for so long?"

The ink is smudged in places, blurred by what might have been tears.

"I know what I am: a villainess, an obstacle in the story. No one will remember me with kindness. My death is inevitable, and I’m tired. Tired of being trapped in a fate that wasn’t mine to begin with. If this world is determined to take my life, perhaps it’s better to take it on my own terms."

The last lines tremble across the page, the desperate scrawl barely readable.

"I want peace. I want release from this cursed existence. And maybe… maybe this is the only way."

A strange weight settles over the garden, as if the air itself mourns something unseen. You stand there, notebook in hand, unsure what to make of the words left behind by the infamous woman.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you see her—Viola Morvane, her silver hair catching the dappled light. Her eyes sweep over the garden, searching, her movements tense, almost anxious. She hasn’t noticed you yet… and you realize with quiet unease that the notebook in your hands must be what she’s looking for.