Volume 1

I grinned as I finished writing the scene where the Empress nearly lost her balance inside the room where the luncheon was being held. Scattered across the floor were shards of broken cups, the result of a maidservant's mishap. The first concubine had orchestrated the whole incident.

I yawned, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Writing allows me to bring all the impossible scenarios to life. It's a way for me to freely express everything in my mind. Being an introvert, I find solace in spending time alone. I have a tendency to be straightforward, sometimes to the point of unintentionally hurting someone's feelings.

Curious, I opened the comments from my readers. To my delight, there were plenty of hate-filled responses. Strangely enough, that was even more gratifying.

I shut down my laptop and lay down. This is my daily routine: wake up in the morning, cook, eat, bathe, write all day, and then sleep. It may sound boring, but I love this kind of life.

Living alone in my apartment, there's no one to tell me what to do.

Even as I closed my eyes, my mind continued to churn, conjuring up countless scenarios until I eventually drifted off to sleep.

I WOKE UP past midnight, my stomach grumbling with hunger. Still half-asleep, I dragged myself to the kitchen and opened the fridge, but I jumped when something shattered nearby. My eyes darted around the room. My brow furrowed in confusion. How did my vase on the side break? I don't have any pets, so what could have caused it?

Closing the fridge, I cautiously approached the broken vase, my brow still knitted in thought. "What the hell?" I muttered, bending down to pick up a crumpled piece of paper that had somehow ended up among the shards. I unfolded it.

My eyes widened in shock. "What kind of sick joke is this?!" I muttered under my breath. The piece of paper in my hand had the words I WILL KILL YOU scrawled across it in large, menacing letters. A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I quickly crushed that sensation with a surge of anger. My hands trembled, not from fear, but from pure rage as I tore the paper apart violently, watching the pieces fall to the floor like confetti. I am not scared. I'm pissed!

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub away the tension building in my head. Just what the hell was that? My thoughts were racing, but one thing was clear—I'd lost my appetite. Whatever urge I had to eat was completely gone. Frustrated and on edge, I headed straight to my room, needing to get away from the unsettling message.

Since that incident, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling crawling under my skin. The worst part? It didn't stop there. That wasn't the only time I received one of those threatening notes; it happened several more times after that. At first, I thought it was just some stupid prank pulled by the girl from the room next door. She had been pestering me to go out with her a few times, insisting we hang out, but I'd always turned her down. After a while, she must have realized I wasn't going to budge and stopped trying.

But this? This was different. It felt more sinister.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I need to stop overthinking. I should focus on finishing my novel. These are just stupid pranks from some losers with nothing better to do. I convinced myself, though deep down the lingering unease gnawed at me.

Before I started typing, I stretched my fingers, cracking each knuckle in succession, a small ritual to shake off the tension. The familiar sound gave me a fleeting sense of control as I set my hands on the keyboard. With a determined breath, I began typing, letting the rhythmic clacking of the keys drown out the unnerving thoughts swirling in my mind.

The scene I'm about to write involves the concubines conspiring to eliminate the Empress by having her drink poison.

Just as I was about to start, I heard a loud thud. I immediately stood up, a sense of unease creeping over me. My eyes darted around the room as I quickly grabbed the pencil from the table, gripping it tightly. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Shit, this is really making me paranoid.

I began to move, each step measured and cautious. Slowly, I reached for the doorknob, my breath growing heavier with anxiety.

Just as I was about to turn it, the door was suddenly pushed open with force, sending me crashing to the floor. My eyes widened in shock as I looked up to see the figure responsible. My breath caught in my throat-it was a person dressed entirely in black. I couldn't make out their face because it was covered by a mask. I swallowed hard and immediately pointed the pencil at them, my hand trembling. "W-who are you? What do you want!" my voice wavered, rising slightly in pitch as fear took hold.

I immediately stepped back as he took a step closer to me. "I'm going to kill you." My eyes widened in shock. I jumped to my feet, ready to run, but he was faster. He grabbed my hair, yanking it hard. "Let go of me!" I screamed, thrashing in his grip. "Fuck! Who the hell are you?!" I struggled to pry his hand off my hair, but his grip was tight.

"I'm tired of you. I'm going to kill you now. You're a murderer too, in all those stories you write," his words pierced through my mind, striking a nerve. I wasn't stupid—I knew exactly what he meant, "Fuck! Are you some kind of psycho?! You're going to kill me over a story?!" my heart pounded with fear, but anger flared inside me, burning even brighter.

Suddenly, he shoved me against the table, and I groaned as pain shot through my body. I spun around to face him, but froze when I saw him clutching his head, his face contorted with a wild, maniacal grin. He burst into laughter—a sound so crazed it sent chills down my spine. I gulped hard. This is bad. This guy is a fucking psycho.

I tried to inch away, moving sideways as discreetly as I could. I need to escape!

Carefully, I pressed my back against the wall, taking small steps toward the door. My heart raced, but hope flickered in my chest when I got closer. The moment I was near enough, I bolted toward the door. But just as quickly, I screamed in agony as he yanked my hair again, sending sharp pain across my scalp. His favorite move—grabbing hair.

"Help! Somebody, help—" My words were cut off as something sharp plunged into my back. Time seemed to slow. Pain erupted from the wound, radiating through my entire body. My eyes widened in disbelief as the object was viciously pulled out, only to be stabbed into my back again.

Blood filled my mouth, and I coughed violently. I groaned in excruciating pain as my vision blurred. My body felt heavy, weak, as if I were sinking into a void. Am I really going to die? Is this the end? Is this how it's going to happen?

I barely registered it when he pushed me again, this time sending me crashing to the floor. I coughed, each breath more labored than the last. No! I can't die like this!

I tried to move my hands, tried to crawl, but my body refused to obey. My strength was gone. My breaths were shallow, each one harder to take. Why? Why is this so hard?

"F-fuck y-you…" the words slipped from my lips, barely a whisper, before the darkness swallowed me whole…

──── •✧• ────

LIFE is full of surprises. So many things happen that we can never predict. Who would have thought my life would be so short? If I had known, I would've lived more fully. I would've been happier.

I blinked, trying to make sense of where I was. My eyes roamed the unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? What is this place? Is this some kind of prank? Am I… really dead? Was that even real?

I furrowed my brows in confusion. This place—this place was breathtaking. It looked like paradise, a scene straight out of a dream.

"Adil…" my body tensed at the sound of a voice calling my name. I quickly looked around, trying to find the source. "Who are you? Show yourself!" I shouted, frustration bubbling up inside me. I'm tired of these games. This is getting ridiculous.

"Too impatient," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. My forehead creased in frustration. "This is not some kind of prank, as you claim."

I immediately turned toward the voice, and there he was—a man with long, white hair and a matching beard. He was wearing a flowing white robe, looking eerily serene.

"Then what is this? Who are you?" I demanded, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin in defiance.

"My child, I am the creator of your destiny," he said calmly.

I scoffed, turning my back to him and placing my hands on my hips. Is this guy for real? I scratched my eyebrow, grimacing in disbelief. Am I in some mental hospital?

"As expected, you doubt me," he remarked, his voice calm but firm.

I shot him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe this nonsense? How?"

I could feel my irritation bubbling up. Was this old man seriously dragging me into his delusion? "Your ignorance led you to your death," he said, his tone tinged with pity, "You lack awareness. Such a shame."

His words were like a slap to the face, and I glared at him. How dare he insult me!

"I am giving you a second chance. You must make the most of it. Don't waste your life again." He turned his back on me, as if to leave.

"Hey! Old man! What the hell are you talking about?!" I shouted, panicking as his figure began to fade. "You expect me to believe this crap?!"

"See for yourself," he said, his voice echoing as he vanished like mist, leaving me standing there, stunned.

What the fuck…

──── •✧• ────

I shot up from the bed, gasping. Was that a dream? I rubbed my forehead, trying to shake off the vivid images. It felt so real. I sighed, feeling a little shaken, and decided to get out of bed—but the moment I glanced around, I froze. My jaw dropped in shock.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

What the hell is this?! I jumped to my feet, panic swelling in my chest. Where am I? What kind of room is this? Everything looked ancient, as if I had been thrown back in time.

"H-hello?!" my voice shook as I called out, my entire body trembling. Is this real? Am I really dead and living my second life? But why does it feel like this?

I paced the room, anxiety gnawing at me, but stopped abruptly when I caught sight of a large mirror. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I immediately touched my face. No. No. No... I shook my head, refusing to accept what I was seeing. This can't be real. This is just another dream.

I slapped my own cheek, wincing as the sting confirmed the reality. "Fuck," I muttered, my heart racing.

"Your Royal Highness, your bath is ready—"

"What the fuck?!" I cursed out of sheer shock, my frustration boiling over. I whipped around to face the source of the voice. It was a woman, her eyes wide as saucers as she quickly bowed.

"I-I'm sorry, Your Royal Highness, if I upset you! It won't happen again, please forgive me!" her voice wavered as if she were on the verge of tears. My brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who are you?" I asked, still irritated. She glanced up briefly before bowing again.

"I'm Sarah, Your Highness. Your lady-in-waiting."

My frown deepened. "And who am I?" I demanded. Her eyes shot up in shock, clearly taken aback by my question.

"Y-Your Highness, perhaps you are so overjoyed that you've forgotten your own name," she stammered, "You are Princess Celestia Valencrest."

My blood ran cold.

That name... I knew that name. It was the name of the protagonist from my novel—the Empress! What the hell is going on?

"What day is it?" I asked urgently, needing confirmation.

"Your Highness," Sarah replied cautiously, "today is the day of your wedding to the Emperor. By the end of it, you will be Empress."

Fuck. My eyes widened in disbelief. No, no, no. This can't be happening. How did I end up inside a story I created? This is just fiction—something that came from my imagination!

Damn it, I remember this scene vividly. In the original story, the Empress was supposed to be on the verge of death. She had attempted suicide out of shame after hearing rumors that she had seduced the Emperor to marry her. The news spread like wildfire, and Celestia was humiliated to the point where she wanted to end her life. She didn't succeed, though.

But now, I'm here, in her body. What's going to happen now? How did I end up in her place? Did she really die, and I took over her body?

I rubbed my temples, trying to process everything. But this is just a story! Why am I here? How is this even possible? Damn it, my head is killing me.

I staggered back to the bed and yanked the covers aside. My eyes widened in shock when I saw bloodstains. I stared at the dagger lying nearby.

Now it makes sense. She did die, and I took her place.

That old man… He said this was my second life. He's insane! He brought me back to life here, of all places!

"Sarah, clean this mess," I ordered, still reeling from everything that had just happened. None of this made sense, and my mind struggled to catch up.

I walked over to the mirror and stared at my reflection. She—I—is beautiful, breathtakingly so. But now that this is my body, I had no choice. I am her. I had to survive.

If they're villains, then I'll be the greatest villainess…

I glanced down at my wrist. There were faint traces of blood, but strangely, no wounds. I took a deep breath and looked at myself once more in the mirror.

I must live.