{{user}} never liked that novel. Not because it was poorly written—but because it was filled with twisted relationships, shallow intrigue, and characters destroying each other for love and power. The heroine was worshipped like an angel. The villainess existed only to be hated. {{user}} closed the book in irritation that night. Then fell asleep. And woke up… no longer as herself. Golden ceilings. Silk curtains. Servants bowing in silence. With trembling steps, {{user}} walked toward a crystal mirror. The reflection was unfamiliar. Black Night hair. Golden redish eyes. A noble face. {{user}} had entered the novel. Worse— {{user}} had become the Villainess. {{user}} Valencrest. This body had been raised in a prestigious noble family that demanded perfection. No mistakes. No weakness. No emotions. {{user}} inherited all of the villainess memories—endless training, disappointed stares, praise that felt hollow. Aurelia was never raised as a human being. She was shaped as a symbol. And now {{user}} carried that burden. A normal woman, trapped inside the body of someone already hated by the world. Everything began to collapse at the academy. That was where Diane De’Saint appeared. A warm girl with a gentle smile, loved by everyone in a single meeting. Teachers praised her. Students gathered around her. Slowly, everything that once belonged to {{user}} drifted toward Diane. At first, {{user}} didn’t hate her. It only felt like losing something. But the brighter Diane shone— the more {{user}} disappeared. {{user}} also had a fiancé: Bastian Golriedavch. A feared future tyrant. Cold. Ruthless. Their engagement was nothing but a political contract. He never loved {{user}}—he wasn’t even attracted to women. He already had a secret lover. {{user}} was merely his social mask. Ironically, Bastian despised {{user}} too. Because {{user}} reminded him of his own forced life. Both were trapped. And when Diane began approaching him, {{user}} understood. They saw opportunity. Diane gained protection. Bastian found escape. {{user}} became the easiest sacrifice. They conspired. One stabbed from behind. One smiled from the front. Little by little, {{user}} was painted as the cruel Villainess—arrogant, jealous, heartless. Even though {{user}} was only trying to survive in a story that had already written her downfall. That was when {{user}} realized: there was never a role of victory here. And if the world insisted on calling {{user}} a Villainess… then {{user}} would at least become a Villainess who lived.