MSBEA 01

Chapter 01

“What is that supposed to be? Look at that, look. She’s in a mess because she picked the wrong man. What a disaster.”

When I was little, my grandmother would often sigh like that while watching dramas, lamenting the tragic life of the female lead.

“Oh dear, how pitiful.”

Back then, I didn’t understand why she got so upset over it. The only thing that interested me was the candy sitting on the table.

As I lay next to her, unwrapping candies one by one, she would sometimes say things like this:

“Jihya.”

“Hm?”

“You must never end up with a man like that.”

“Why?”

“A man like that ruins a woman’s life. So you make sure you find a decent man, okay?”

I was five years old. There was no way I could understand what kind of man “that kind of man” even was.

Still, for my grandmother—whose only joys in life were me and those dramas—this was something she repeated over and over again.

“Okay.”

Back then, I just nodded without understanding anything. She would pull me into a hug and stroke my head, calling me her little puppy.

Maybe… she saw this coming.

My fate of getting involved with the wrong man—and ending up with my head cut off on the guillotine.

‘I got transmigrated. And not just anywhere, but into a villainess who gets executed for tormenting the female lead…!’

I never thought I’d actually be the one saying such a cliché opening line straight out of a romance fantasy.

If I was going to say anything, I’d have preferred something grand and shameless—like:

“Rich and unemployed! Reverse harem! A life of luxury and pleasure!”

You know, the kind of dream any morally questionable adult secretly harbors at least once.

After all, being the daughter of a count should make me part of the privileged class in this world, right?

Ah, “privileged class.” What a round, soft, adorable word.

Back when I was an ordinary person, it was a word I spat out passionately while criticizing social injustice. But if I could hold it in my hands, I’d protect it with my life.

And I wanted to use that power to become a decadent adult.

Yes—if I had been born into a more ordinary noble family.

“Sister, we were so worried you wouldn’t make it back like this.”

My brain, thoroughly soaked in romance fantasy, accepted the situation quickly without being surprised by the unfamiliar ceiling.

The boy I had never seen before—who called me “sister”—held my hand tightly and looked up at me with exaggerated concern.

Why did I think it was acting?

Because I had heard him muttering outside the door.

‘Useless as ever. At least I thought she could be married off and serve some purpose…’

With a voice colder than a winter frost, he had criticized me. And now, the moment he saw I was awake, he switched to pretending to care?

All I could think was, “Is this supposed to be a family drama?”

“Sister, the Duke himself came because he was worried about you. Hurry and get ready and come down.”

Meeting a duke right after waking up? Starting on hard mode, I see.

I didn’t even know who I was yet, but I knew one unspoken rule of romance fantasy worlds:

Dukes hold immense power.

And someone like me—a minor noble at best (though judging by this room, even that was questionable)—could lose her head over the smallest mistake.

It would have been nice if proper etiquette just downloaded itself into my brain.

But no—this was a dream that didn’t offer such conveniences.

I didn’t know the etiquette. I didn’t even know who I was. And on top of that, I had a hostile younger brother tagging along.

Going out there would definitely make things worse.

So I clutched my chest and groaned weakly.

“I’m still not feeling well…”

“Sister, this is not the time to be saying things like that.”

“…Huh?”

Thinking my poor acting had been exposed, I looked at him—but his expression had completely changed.

“We called a doctor and a priest to save you. It already cost dozens of gold. You understand what I mean, don’t you? You’re smart.”

No… I actually don’t understand at all.

As his expression kept shifting, I stayed silent and read the room.

When someone brings up money like that, it usually means:

“You better be worth the cost.”

Having survived plenty of social situations in my previous life, I forced an awkward smile and nodded.

After he left, I opened the wardrobe—filled with old dresses—and picked the least terrible one to wear while looking around.

Who did I transmigrate into?

The tiny room, containing nothing but a bed, offered no clues whatsoever.

The only thing I could tell was that I was a woman in my early twenties, with dull beige hair and green eyes.

With no answers, I went downstairs.

In the living room sat people who appeared to be the boy’s family.

Among them, one man stood out.

He looked completely out of place in this shabby environment—overflowing with elegance.

The boy who called me sister was handsome too, but this man felt like he belonged to a different species entirely.

He looked as if all the light in the world had been gathered onto him alone.

While I was inwardly marveling, a middle-aged woman grabbed my hand.

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

Pulled along by her rough grip, I awkwardly sat beside her.

Ravenne? Is that my name?

It sounded familiar… but from where?

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

The man who seemed to be Ravenne’s father spoke.

The Duke… came for me?

I glanced at the man.

Black hair, red eyes, and a face sculpted like a masterpiece—exactly the kind of male lead you’d find in almost any romance fantasy novel.

“His Grace suggested that you stay at the ducal estate until the wedding, to help you adjust.”

Marriage?

With that man?

That’s basically winning the lottery.

As my inner affection skyrocketed and even his cold face started to look warm, he finally spoke.

“I’d like you to come to the estate within a week. If you need anything prepared, I can send people.”

“Of course. We’ll make the preparations. Ravenne, go and learn well. You’ll soon be the lady of House Celestaine…”

“Yes! Of course!”

Lost in imagining marrying him, I quickly nodded.

The gazes around me felt strangely sharp.

Celestaine… That name…

Wait.

Isn’t that the same name as the second male lead from that dark novel I read recently?

And the appearance matches too—

The flowers blooming in my mind abruptly withered.

The Duke was just setting down his teacup and rising.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave, Count Rishupelt.”

Rishupelt?

Wait… does that mean I’m that Ravenne Rishupelt?

Come to think of it, I’ve always had terrible luck.

Gacha pulls, lotteries, random draws—I’ve never once gotten anything good.

In school, I always ended up in the front seat.

In games, I always drew the losing card.

Even with a 99% success rate, I’d fail repeatedly.

And in novels, every couple I rooted for ended up doomed.

People even jokingly called me an “intentional anti-fan.”

Seems like people don’t change that easily.

Because once again—I pulled the worst possible outcome.

The novel I got transmigrated into, “The Empire’s Rose Blooms Twice,” was notorious.

A true tragedy.

A story so dark it destroyed not just its characters, but the readers’ sanity too.

By the later chapters, it felt like every episode was a final destination.

Readers dropped it in droves.

A captured saintess.

A tyrant emperor.

And a second male lead who would rebel for love.

A story full of people with no tomorrow.

The man in front of me was that very second male lead, Ilion.

And I…

I was his fiancée—Ravenne—who would try to poison the saintess and be executed.

If his rebellion had succeeded, maybe my luck wouldn’t seem this cursed.

But it failed.

And as a result—

Not just the Duke, but his entire family and everyone in the estate would be executed.

A death sentence.

People say “terminal illness” is trendy these days, but this isn’t what I signed up for.

I don’t even have a disease, yet I have to worry about dying?

What did I do to deserve this?

Looking back, saying:

“I got transmigrated into a villainess who gets executed!”

…was actually optimistic.

At least that version had hope.

In a situation like this…

“Damn it!”

Back in my room, I muttered to myself and took a deep breath.

No. No need to get worked up.

This is just a dream.

Yeah. Just a terrible nightmare.

I’ll wake up once I fall asleep again.

So…

Let’s just sleep.