SeraphineCrowe

Elara Lysander is an ordinary woman navigating the monotony of adulthood. Her way to unwind from all the stress of bills and work? Reading. And her favorite novel as of late has been The Day of Eternal Light, which has been all the rage lately. When the novel ends in a way she doesn't expect--with her favorite character and the novel's villain, Caspian Isyndor's death at the hands of the king and the female lead--Elara is saddened, to put it lightly. She finds herself haunted by a dream of Caspian, and when she goes to reread the book, she doesn't expect the words to glow. She definitely doesn't expect to open her eyes and find Caspian standing over her.

She learns he has summoned her after he became aware he was living in a loop and heard her sympathetic voice among the masses of voices. He believes that with Elara's knowledge of the ending he cannot remember, he can gain what he has always wanted--his brother's head on a pike and the kingdom of Isyndor in his hands where he believes it belongs. Only after she has helped him achieve this will he send her home.

As Elara is thrust into this world of magic and intrigue, she discovers Caspian is not the heartless man he presents himself to be. As they tread the uncertain path filled with dark creatures, political intrigue, and the ever-present threat of his brother's wrath, Elara must face the music: will she be able to turn the tide and give him the happy ending he deserves, or is fate a collar that cannot be removed?

Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

Crisseda sighed. "Then humor me. I'll fetch something from the kitchens. Something simple. Bread, fruit. The kitchens made some fresh beef stew earlier, so I can get you some—"

"No stew." The words left Elara's mouth before she could stop them.

She had no way of knowing when or how her memories had been tampered with, only that someone had tampered with them. Eating something made by hands she didn't trust felt like inviting another hand into her mind, pressing another weight onto the fog that already strangled her thoughts. She didn't want to forget what little she still remembered about the novel.

Crisseda looked at her for a long moment, but she finally nodded slowly. "Fine. No stew. I'll find you other things. You have to eat." Her tone left no room for argument.

Satisfied, Crisseda left without another word.

Two Weeks