"This is soooo good!" Ava banged out the comment, barely looking at the keyboard.
"The male villainess dies so the FL can be happy? I LOVE THIS! GO EMILY!"
She actually giggled. Like, legit, hand-over-mouth giggled. This story had it all: a villainess with the emotional range of a brick, a cinnamon roll heroine, and a male lead so oblivious he'd probably walk into traffic if you let him.
> "You deserve it, Emily," she mumbled.
"You're a monster anyway…"
Phone to chest. Giddy sigh. Out like a light.
And then—bam.
Loud as hell crash. Blinding white light. Heavy silk sheets. The air smelled like roses and, I dunno, old money? Weird flex.
Ava's eyes snapped open.
"HUH?!"
She shot upright. Four-poster bed, velvet curtains. Was this Versailles or what? Across the room—giant mirror, just chilling there, judging her life choices.
And the reflection staring back?
Long, shiny red hair. Eyes like fire opals. Skin so pale she looked half-vampire. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.
> "OH MY GOD!" she shrieked.
"WHY DO I LOOK LIKE… EMILY?!"
She tripped out of bed, basically face-planted into the mirror. Pinched her own cheek. Squeezed her waist (smaller than usual, rude). Twirled her hair like some wild anime protagonist.
> "No, no, no. I'm not—this isn't—I CAN'T BE—"
Knock knock.
"Lady Emily? It's breakfast time," called some suspiciously chipper maid.
Ava—wait, Emily now?—turned into a statue.
> "Wait. The breakfast scene. Oh god. Chapter 17. The day Emily poisons Logan—the male lead!"
Yeah. The same dude she'd just said deserved to die.
The one Emily was supposed to murder.
And now she was Emily. Plot twist from hell.
She sort of melted onto the plush carpet.
> "I've reincarnated… as the villainess."
And just like that, new game plus: fake smiles, secret plots, and a smoking hot male lead who had no idea his worst enemy now had a massive crush on him—and a raging case of guilt.