The Villainess Awakens

[WARNING: SYSTEM REBOOTING…]

[LOADING FINAL BOSS STAGE…]

The screen flickered.

The throne room was bathed in blood. The hero's blade gleamed, raised high. Across from him, the villainess stood in her final moments, her beautiful face twisted in aggression, her last desperate battle against fate unfolding before the player's eyes.

Her fingers hovered over the Yes button. Victory was within reach.

Then... suddenly her vision got blurred.

...Darkness.

Silence pressed in. A ringing noise pounded in her skull, followed by a deep, suffocating weight on her chest.

Her fingers twitched.

The cold glow of her gaming monitor was gone.

Instead, an unfamiliar ceiling, a soft, golden light filtered through heavy velvet curtains, casting shadows across the room.

Where… am I?

TAK TAK

A sharp knock jolted her fully awake.

"My lady," a voice called from behind the door. "It's morning."

Before she could even process what was happening, the door creaked open, and a maid entered without waiting for permission.

The girl carried a large basin of water, walking in with zero respect, her eyes half-lidded in disinterest.

THUD

She placed the basin on the table, sloshing water onto the wooden surface.

"Wash your face," the maid said flatly.

Elaria...or rather, the person inside Elaria blinked. Her mind was still sluggish, but something about this didn't feel right.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to the water.

Murky. Grayish. A familiar stench of soap and dirt.

Wait…

That wasn't clean water.

That was laundry water.

A noble lady was being given dirty water to wash her face?!

For a moment, she thought she had misheard.

"…Excuse me?"

The maid finally looked at her, impatience flickering in her dull brown eyes. "You're slow today, my lady. Wash your face before it gets colder."

Elaria's stomach twisted.

Something was wrong.

No, everything was wrong.

Her eyes darted to the nearest polished surface. A silver-framed mirror sat atop a grand dresser across the room.

Slowly, she forced herself up, legs weak beneath her as she staggered toward the mirror.

A pale, delicate face stared back at her.

Long, silvery-white hair over her shoulders like silk, its eerie shine giving her an almost ghostly appearance. Large indigo eyes, cold and unreadable, framed by dark lashes. Her complexion was impossibly smooth, but her skin was so pale it looked almost sickly.

It was a face she knew.

Elaria Velchanth.

The villainess of Fateslayer: Eclipse.

Her breath hitched.

No. No, this isn't real. I was just playing the game. I was just...

SPLASH.

A sharp shock of cold water struck her face, drenching her hair, her nightgown.

She gasped, stumbling back.

The maid was laughing.

"What's wrong, my lady? Didn't like your bath?" The girl smirked, setting the empty basin down. "Oops."

A stunned silence filled the room.

Then...rage.

This wasn't just rudeness. This wasn't a mistake.

The daughter of a Duke was being humiliated.

Her hands curled into fists.

A crash at the doorway broke the tension.

BANG.

The doors slammed open, and a tall man strode in.

An older butler, his uniform crisp, his posture stiff and unyielding. His graying hair was slicked back, his face with deep-set wrinkles.

"The Duke has summoned you, Elaria." he announced.

He didn't bow.

He didn't greet her properly.

Just Elaria. Like she was nothing more than a burden.

Her breathing steadied.

So this was how everyone saw her.

A villain. A disgrace. Not even worth basic respect.

For a fleeting moment, she considered lowering her head. Quietly following along, blending into the background like the defeated villainess she was meant to be.

But then...

Screw that.

She lifted her chin, her drenched hair clinging to her pale skin as she met the butler's gaze head-on.

"You," she said, her voice like sharp like a knife, "should know your place."

A flicker of surprise crossed the butler's face.

"It's Lady Elaria to you," she continued, stepping forward, water still dripping from her chin. "Or have you mistaken yourself for the Duke of this house?"

Silence.

"Or perhaps," she added, tilting her head slightly, "you believe you are powerful enough to barge into a noblewoman's room unannounced?"

The butler's expression darkened. He opened his mouth, likely to dismiss her.

But Elaria's voice was razor-sharp as she cut him off.

"Apologize."

His breath hitched.

The maid gawked, suddenly realizing something was wrong.

Elaria didn't break eye contact, her dark indigo eyes cold and unyielding.

A few tense seconds passed before the butler finally gritted out...

"I… apologize, Lady Elaria."

It was stiff. Forced.

But she didn't care.

She had won.

The butler straightened. "The Duke is waiting."

Elaria wiped the dampness from her face, flicking away a silver strand of hair as she turned to the mirror once more.

Her fate was supposed to be sealed.

She was supposed to die.

But if she had learned anything from years of gaming, from clawing her way through life...

A game is only unwinnable if you follow its rules.

And she had no intention of playing fair.

"Tell the Duke," she said, voice unwavering, "that I'm coming."