d with love while Caesaria was shunned and outsmarted.

That was how the novel ended. It was given praise for the writing and the character development, but it was never seen as anything spectacular. It made sense, after all, there were hundreds of villainous novels in the market.

The murky understanding of the original heroine, Caesaria, and the reason behind her personality shift were never explained. There were several plotholes that readers just happily skipped over and to put it simply, I had forgotten about it after reading it.

Consuming stories had become a pastime for me. Looking at my phone, I couldn help but feel tired. The clock read that it was far past the time that I should have gone to bed. Without a single thought, I tucked my phone next to my side and fell asleep, letting my eyes close.

. . .

Opening my eyes, I felt cold. Absolutely frigid as I looked around for my phone only to find nothing. I was on the floor. Had I fallen in my sleep? Groaning, I placed my hand against my head. Why did my body ache?

Had I seriously fallen off my bed?

Looking around and rubbing my bleary eyes, I couldn help but blink. Where was I? The room was small, covered in dust and cobwebs. It looked like a cellar and the ground was frigid. My body tucked against the wall. There was a cracked mirror but what startled me the most was not where I was but rather who I was.

This is unfair.

Looking at the mirror, it was obvious to see that the reflection was that of a pink-haired girl with bright green eyes. Delicate features and an angelic smile, the original heroine of the book, ”A Flower to You. ”

But, Im not in the book, ”A Flower to You ” because that novel never existed. Im in the novel, ”The Lovable Villainess ” and Im the original female lead who is overshadowed and eventually killed by the lovable villainess!

Slumping to the ground, I looked at my own reflection. I was a young child, not the university student that I was just moments ago. Dark pink tresses and bright green eyes stared back at me—innocent features and a porcelain face.

”Fuck, ” I mumbled out. The fragments of the mirror helped piece together what I already knew. I must have not been over the age of seven. There were haphazard bandages wrapped around my arms and legs with a dark grey dress, stained and dirty. That was right. Caesarias parents hated her. An explanation was never given but they despised her, locking her up inside of the attic and beating her when they grew bored.


The author had never said. There was no rhyme or reason for it.

But, was this reality? Gently touching my cheeks, I sat back on the cold floor. It looked like it was. I had somehow reincarnated into the original heroine of a villainess-love novel.

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