“What is that? Look at that. She’s in a mess because she met the wrong man.”

When I was a child, my grandmother often lamented the tragic lives of the heroines in dramas.

“Oh dear, how pitiful.”

I, who had no interest in dramas, didn’t understand why my grandmother got so upset. At that age, my only concern was the candy on the table.

When I lay next to my grandmother and ate candy one by one, she often said to me,

“Jiha.”

“Yes?”

“You mustn’t meet a man like that.”

“Why?”

“A man like that will ruin a woman’s life. So, you should meet a decent man. Got it?”

It wasn’t something a five-year-old who couldn’t even understand what a ‘man like that’ was could comprehend.

But my grandmother, whose only joys in life were me and her dramas, repeatedly emphasized this to me.

“Yes, I got it.”

At that time, I didn’t know what she meant, but I nodded my head. Then my grandmother would hug me, patting my head, calling me her puppy.

Maybe my grandmother foresaw this.

The fate of meeting the wrong man and getting beheaded on the guillotine.

***

I never thought I would utter the typical romance fantasy introduction, ‘I possessed a villainess who gets executed for tormenting the heroine…!’

If I were to say something, I would have preferred to declare grandiose goals like becoming a wealthy bum! Reverse harem! A life of debauchery!—the kind of dreams that a twisted adult might have.

If I were the daughter of a count, wouldn’t I be part of the privileged class in this world!

Ah, ‘privileged class,’ what a round and cute word!

It was a word I would have passionately used to criticize social injustice when I was an ordinary person, but now it was a precious word I would protect with my life if I could grasp it.

And I wanted to dream of becoming a debauched adult using this power.

Yes, if only I were the young lady of a more ordinary count’s family, that’s what I would have done.

“I was worried what would happen if you didn’t return like this, sister.”

My brain, steeped in romance fantasy, quickly recognized the situation without being startled by the unfamiliar ceiling.

The boy, whom I met for the first time today and who called me sister, held my hand tightly and looked at me with an exaggeratedly worried expression.

I thought it was an act because I heard him muttering outside the door.

‘Really useless. I thought she might at least function as a person if she got married…’

Even though the younger brother who had criticized me in a voice colder than the frost wind of midwinter changed his attitude to pretend to be worried as soon as he knew I was awake, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Is this a family drama?’

It was clear I was dreaming under the influence of the romance fantasy novel I read yesterday.

“Sister, the Duke himself came, worried about you. Get ready and come down quickly.”

Meeting the Duke as soon as I wake up. Starting on hard mode, huh.

I still didn’t know who I was, but I knew the unwritten rule of the romance fantasy world.

The Duke has a high status. And in front of such a high-ranking person, a mere noble like me—even though judging by the room, I wasn’t sure if I was even a noble—could lose my head over a small mistake.

It would be nice if the etiquette of this world popped into my head, but it seems this dream doesn’t offer such convenience.

Not knowing the etiquette, who I was, and having to meet the Duke with an antagonistic boy by my side?

It was clear that it would be troublesome if I went out, so I clutched my chest and groaned.

“My body is still…”

“Sister, this is not the time to say such things, is it?”

“…Huh?”

I looked at the boy, thinking my poor acting had been caught, and he continued with a changed expression.

“They called a doctor and a priest to save you. It already cost dozens of gold. You understand what I mean, right, sister?”

No, I don’t really understand…

With the boy’s expression changing every moment, I kept my mouth shut and observed.

Usually, when someone mentions money in a coercive manner, it implies ‘You should at least be worth the money,’ and having eaten my share of humble pie, I nodded with an awkward smile.

After the boy left, I put on the least worn-out dress from the few old ones in the closet and looked around.

Who on earth did I possess?

The tiny room with only a bed had no clues about its owner.

The only thing I could tell was that I was a woman around 20 years old with dull beige hair and green eyes.

Eventually, without any plausible clues and full of questions, I went down to the living room where people who seemed to be the boy’s family were sitting in a circle.

The most noticeable among them was a man who looked out of place in this shabby space, exuding an air of nobility.

I thought the younger brother who called me sister was handsome, but the man felt like a completely different species.

I couldn’t help but admire inwardly as I looked at the man who seemed to shine alone as if he had all the lights in the world, when a middle-aged woman pulled my hand.

“Oh my, Ravenne. Are you feeling better?”

I awkwardly sat down beside her, led by her slightly rough hand.

Is my name Ravenne? It sounds familiar. Where did I read it…

“The Duke came because he was worried about you.”

A middle-aged man who seemed to be Ravenne’s father said, looking at me. He came because he was worried about me? A handsome man like him, for me?

I recalled novels about the romance between a commoner or a fallen noble lady and a duke, but the name Ravenne still felt too unfamiliar.

And asking the Duke’s name in this situation would be… rude, right?

Recalling the saying that silence is golden, I glanced at the Duke.

Black hair, red eyes, and a face as handsome as a sculpture, he had the appearance of a male protagonist in a romance fantasy novel.

“The Duke suggested you live in the ducal mansion until the wedding to get familiar.”

Wedding? With such a handsome man? This is like winning the lottery!

As I imagined marrying the man in front of me, I felt an illusion that even the Duke’s cold face seemed kind, and just when I was getting emotional, he spoke.

“I hope you can move into the ducal mansion within a week. If you have a lot to prepare, I can send someone to help.”

“Understood. We will prepare accordingly. Ravenne, make sure you learn well. You will be the lady of Celestine… Are you listening?”

“Oh, yes. Of course!”

I quickly nodded my head, imagining marrying the man in front of me.

For some reason, the gazes around me felt piercing.

By the way, Celestine. What a coincidence that it’s the same name as the sub-male lead in the dark romance novel I read the other day.

Even their appearance is the same…

Clearing the endless flowers blooming in my mind, I looked at the Duke of Celestine again.

The Duke was just putting down his tea and getting up.

“Well, since the business is done, I’ll take my leave, Count Rischefeld.”

Rischefeld?

Could it be that I am that ‘Ravenne Rischefeld’?

Come to think of it, I’ve had terrible luck since I was a child. Whether it was drawing lots, playing ladder games, or random boxes, I never recalled getting anything good.

In school, I always ended up in the front seat during seat assignments, always drew the joker in thief games, and failed repeatedly in games with a 99% success rate, losing both items and my sanity.

Even in my favorite novels, the couple stocks I invested in always turned into worthless paper, earning me the unfortunate nickname of an intelligent anti-fan.

It seems people don’t change easily. It looks like I drew a blank again.

‘The Rose of the Empire Blooms Twice,’ the novel I possessed, stood out in my library list.

True to its genre of dark romance novels, its brutal storyline left readers mentally exhausted, making each chapter feel like the end of the line towards the latter part.

There were many who dropped it.

A saint captured as a prisoner, a tyrant emperor, and a sub-male lead who goes mad and decides to rebel for the heroine.

It was a novel full of characters with no dreams or hopes.

The man in front of me was the sub-male lead, Ilion, and I was his fiancée, Ravenne, who was executed for trying to poison the saint.

If the rebellion had succeeded, I wouldn’t be lamenting my terrible luck like this.

The problem was that the Duke’s rebellion failed, and as a result, not only the Duke but all his relatives and everyone in his mansion were executed.

While terminal illnesses are trendy, I never wished for this kind of terminal illness!

No, worrying about natural death without any illness… What did I do to deserve this?

In hindsight, ‘I possessed a villainess who gets executed for tormenting the heroine…!’ was a rather cute exclamation.

At least there was hope in that.

In this case, well,

“F*ck!”

I muttered to myself, catching my breath.

No, there’s no need to get so worked up. After all, this is just a dream. Yes, when I wake up, it will just be a terrible nightmare.

So, let’s just sleep.