Chapter 1: Death by Noodles, Rebirth by Dangerously Hot Villains

Alice wasn’t your average girl.

She was worse.

Addicted to historical drama novels, obsessed with female villains, and the kind of girl who thought mixing spicy noodles with highway speeding was a good time.

So naturally, her death was:

Fast. Fiery. And embarrassingly noodle-related.

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🚗💥 The Noodle Tragedy

It was 1:33 AM.

The roads were clear. The playlist was unhinged. Her soul was at peace.

Until her beloved "Doomed Love in the Duke’s Dungeon" audiobook hit a steamy betrayal scene—right as she was slurping dangerously hot beef noodles in one hand, speeding at 130 km/h.

One sip. One cough. One scream.

> “HOLY SIZZLING SATAN THAT’S HOT—”

She swerved. The noodles went flying. Her car hit something large and aggressively inflatable.

It was a roadside giant birthday cake balloon.

The last thing she saw?

A toddler’s angry face painted like a pirate, staring at her through the windshield.

RIP Alice. Killed by beef, betrayal, and bad decisions.

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👑 The Next Thing She Knew...

She wasn’t in heaven.

She was in a bed the size of a swimming pool, surrounded by terrified maids, an old guy sobbing dramatically, and a doctor dabbing sweat like he was in a Victorian opera.

> “Her Grace is awake!”

“It’s a miracle!”

“Wait—did she just call me ‘uncle bro’?”

Yes. Alice, now fully conscious, sat up and said:

> “Why do I smell like wealth, trauma, and old furniture?”

Then promptly passed out again from shock.

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🛏️ Identity Crisis (and Slay)

The maid filled her in later.

“You’re Lady Evelyne D’Armont, daughter of Grand Duke Albrecht and Grand Duchess Isadora. You had a terrible accident... on your horse.”

> “Horse? Babe, I died in a Toyota.”

“You also have a fiancé. The Crown Prince.”

“...Ew.”

It hit her like a slow-burn angst plot:

She was inside that novel. The one she rage-read last summer. The one with:

A villainess who everyone hated (Evelyne)

A "sweet" girl everyone adored (Elira Dawnveil)

And a stupid, boring prince who had zero taste

But here’s the plot twist—

Elira wasn’t sweet.

She was a gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss in disguise.

And now, Alice was Evelyne. The villainess doomed to lose everything.

Unless...

She rewrote the story.

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☕ Operation: "Tea and Trap"

Evelyne (Alice) decided to throw a private tea party.

Publicly, it was to reintroduce herself to the nobility.

Secretly? It was to scout for a noblewoman to flirt with, as part of her grand plan to ditch the prince and reclaim her dignity.

She picked the prettiest garden, the most expensive tea set, and even practiced seductive eyebrow raises in the mirror.

> “I’ll be elegant. Dangerous. A mysterious ice queen with sapphic energy.”

What she didn’t plan on?

The actual devil showing up uninvited.

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🔥 Enter: Elira Dawnveil

As nobles sipped tea and whispered trash behind lace fans, Elira arrived like a midnight thunderstorm dipped in rosewater.

She was glowing.

Hair like black silk. Eyes like ruined innocence. Dress slit to her thighs. Smiling like she knew your secrets and would ruin you with them.

And she hadn’t even been invited.

She made eye contact with Evelyne—

And Evelyne (Alice)?

Flatlined.

Brain: Do not simp. Do not simp. She is the villain.

Heart: Oops. Too late.

Soul: I’d marry her in the next life.

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🎭 Victim Olympics

Of course, Elira didn’t come to just flirt.

She walked toward the table with a graceful stagger, dramatically tripped over a pebble (that wasn’t there), and "fell" into a maid, spilling tea on herself.

She gasped, eyes shimmering.

> “Lady Evelyne... pushed me!”

Gasps echoed around the garden.

Alice was still staring at her like she’d seen a goddess slide down from heaven in 4-inch heels.

One noble gasped.

Another clutched her pearls.

Alice finally blinked.

> “I... I was literally sipping jasmine tea like a depressed kitten. What do you mean I pushed you?!”

Didn’t matter. Elira whimpered. People glared. A child somewhere fainted.

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💋 The Real Realization

Back in her room, Evelyne paced.

> “Okay. So she’s evil. Fine. She’s manipulative. Great. But WHY did she have to be hot?!”

She flopped on the bed, groaning into a thousand-thread-count pillow.

> “I was supposed to fake-flirt with some nice noblewoman. Not get spiritually seduced by Satan in a tiara.”

Then she sat up, eyes sharp.

> “Fine. If she wants to play villain…”

She grinned.

> “I’ll court her so hard she won’t know what hit her.”

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🌙 The Midnight Visitor

That night, just as Evelyne was about to sleep, a shadow appeared at her window.

She froze.

The window creaked open.

And in slipped Elira.

Wearing black lace. Hair loose. Lips curled in a wicked smirk.

> “You tried to humiliate me today.”

Evelyne stared.

> “You climbed my balcony... at midnight... in heels… just to threaten me?”

Elira stepped closer. Voice like warm velvet.

> “I don’t lose, Lady Evelyne.”

Then she turned to leave.

> “Also. You forgot this.”

She tossed a fan—Evelyne’s favorite, left behind at the tea table.

Then vanished like a romantic tax evasion ghost.

Evelyne stood there, stunned.

> “...God, she’s hot.”

And just like that—

The villainess fell harder than her brakes ever did.

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