Chapter Two: The Villainess Wake

The world outside the carriage window passed in a blur of soft pastels and gilded beauty, but Kim Wan—now Evelyne Rosenthal—kept her amber eyes fixed on her reflection in the polished wood paneling opposite her. Her face was calm, unreadable, but her mind raced.

Every heartbeat pounded with sharp purpose. She was no longer a grieving high school girl betrayed by a smiling snake of a boyfriend. She was no longer someone to be discarded. Not in this world. Not again. Here, she had been given a second chance. She would not squander it.

The manor had not welcomed her awakening. Servants had trembled at her approach. Maids had scattered like frightened birds. Her personal attendant, a girl named Clara, had refused to meet her eyes but followed her commands with unblinking devotion. Whispers filled the halls the moment her back was turned. They thought she had returned from death to haunt them.

In truth, she had.

Kim had spent the night devouring Evelyne’s personal journals, ledgers, and letters. It was a twisted novel come to life, and Evelyne was a beautifully written tragedy. Raised to be a nobleman's perfect daughter, bartered into court life like a jewel on display, and corrupted by politics and betrayal. She had grown desperate, violent, and vindictive. It was no wonder readers hated her. But now that Kim knew her story, she couldn't help but pity her.

Pity, however, was a luxury she could not afford.

She now knew the stakes. In two weeks’ time, the Imperial Court would accuse Evelyne of treason. Her trial would be a farce. Her execution, public. And the worst part? No one would defend her. Not the Prince. Not the Duke. Not the so-called friends who dined at her table. They would all watch her fall.

Not this time.

“Your Grace?” Clara’s timid voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Evelyne turned from the window. “Prepare the carriage. We’re visiting the Imperial Palace.”

Clara paled. “The… the palace?”

“Yes. Today.”

“B-but… you’re not… You’ve been… exiled. You haven’t set foot in the capital in months.”

“And now I’m returning. Make sure they know I’m coming.”

Clara hesitated only a second longer before bowing deeply. “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Rosenthal crest gleamed on the side of the black carriage as it rolled through the capital’s cobbled streets. People stopped to stare. Some whispered. Others pointed. All were stunned. Evelyne Rosenthal had returned from disgrace with her head high.

Inside the carriage, Kim adjusted her gloves with slow precision. Her outfit had been carefully chosen—dark, authoritative, yet undeniably elegant. A high-collared riding coat over a fitted corset and velvet skirts. Her silver hair had been twisted into a coiled braid down her back. Her makeup was subtle but sharp.

The aura she projected was clear: do not cross me.

When the carriage pulled up to the Imperial Palace gates, the guards stepped forward instantly, spears crossed.

“State your business, Lady Rosenthal.”

She offered a tight smile. “I seek an audience with His Highness, Prince Ciel Ardent.”

“He does not take unscheduled visitors.”

“Then tell him this: the villainess he left to rot has returned. I wonder if the court will enjoy the scandal that follows when they hear he refused me an audience.”

The guards faltered. One of them hesitated, clearly recognizing the danger in dismissing her too hastily.

“I will inform His Highness,” the older of the two said, vanishing inside.

Evelyne waited, unmoving. Around her, nobles and courtiers entering the palace began to whisper furiously. She stood like a statue, her presence commanding attention and fear.

Minutes later, the palace doors opened—and there he was.

Ciel Ardent, First Prince of the Empire.

He descended the steps like a blade drawn from its sheath, every movement precise and powerful. Tall, broad-shouldered, clad in an indigo military coat with silver pauldrons. His hair was the color of midnight, and his eyes—those famous violet eyes—were colder than the marble beneath his boots.

“Lady Evelyne,” he said, voice low and sharp. “I was told you were dead.”

“Almost,” she replied. “But death was dreadfully dull.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Then exile me again, publicly. I wonder how the court will react to a noblewoman denied entry without a trial.”

His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t changed.”

“Wrong,” she said, stepping forward. “Everything has changed.”

He studied her face, as if looking for weakness. She gave him none.

“Very well,” he said after a long pause. “Follow me. But one wrong word, and the Empress will have your head.”

“Let her try.”

The palace was as beautiful as the novel had described: domed ceilings painted with constellations, floating chandeliers of flame-less glass, and tapestries that shimmered with enchantments. Kim remembered reading how Evelyne had once walked these halls with pride. Now she walked them with purpose.

Ciel led her through the halls in silence, eventually guiding her to a private balcony in the palace gardens. The wind carried the scent of night-blooming roses and distant storm clouds. From here, the spires of the city glistened under a silver sky.

He turned to face her. “Speak.”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “You and I both know the empire is on the edge of ruin. Political factions are shifting. The Empress is slipping. The Council is fractured. And the heroine? She’s not ready.”

“Lady Lira is the light of the empire,” he snapped. “She’s more than ready.”

“Spare me the fairy tale. You and the others are obsessed with her. And your obsession is going to destroy her.”

He took a step forward, fury in his gaze. “Choose your words carefully.”

“No,” she said, firm. “It’s time someone told the truth. Lira’s kindness will be her undoing. She’ll try to save everyone, and in doing so, she’ll save no one. And you’ll all burn the empire to keep her safe.”

“Where are you getting this?”

“From knowledge no one else has. Knowledge I shouldn’t possess. Because I’m not the Evelyne you knew. I’m someone else entirely. Someone who has seen how this story ends.”

He stared at her. The wind whipped around them, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

“What do you want?”

“A deal. One year. One year of freedom, protection, and political immunity. In return, I give you information. I expose traitors. I help you stabilize the empire.”

“And after a year?”

“I disappear. Or stay. That’ll be up to me. But I won’t interfere with Lira. I won’t play the villainess. I just want to survive.”

Ciel studied her face, searching for deception. He found only resolve.

“Fine,” he said finally. “One year. But if you betray this trust—”

“You’ll kill me. Yes, yes, I’ve heard it before.”

As the carriage rolled away from the palace, Kim Wan leaned back, her hands trembling slightly now that she was alone. The act had worked. She had survived the first test.

But she knew this was only the beginning.

The others would come next. The sorcerer with his cursed eyes. The knight who smiled with blood on his hands. The demon duke who could see through lies. They were dangerous, unhinged, and obsessed.

And all of them had once loved Evelyne.

Now, they would either try to possess her—or destroy her.

Kim looked out the window at the brewing storm.

Perfect.

She wasn’t afraid. Let the world throw its worst. Let the princes and monsters come.

Because this time, the villainess wasn’t here to lose.

She was here to win.

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