The sect's corridors stretched before me, long and endless, gilded with the quiet menace of silk banners fluttering in the windless air. Shadows clung to the walls as if painted there, and for the first time since awakening in this body, I felt the full weight of what it meant to be the villainess of this world.
Every hallway hid a threat. Every smile concealed a dagger.
And yet—my body was not the fragile vessel it had once been. No, there was power thrumming beneath my skin, a subtle hum that echoed like a forgotten melody. Skills this body had never used pulsed in my muscles, instincts carved into my bones by the cruel fate of this world.
A ripple of unease skittered down my spine. Something—or someone—was watching.
"Breathe," I whispered to myself, though my heart hammered violently against my ribs.
I forced my steps to remain elegant, measured. The villainess could never be seen trembling.
At the far end of the hall, a servant emerged from the shadows. Their eyes darted too quickly. Their hands trembled, though they carried nothing.
"Lady Seraphine," the servant murmured, bowing deeply. Too deeply. "You are needed in the inner gardens."
My lips curved, though not in a smile. Every alarm in my head screamed trap.
They stepped closer. I did not move.
The air shifted—sharp, metallic. A dagger, impossibly smooth and deliberate, slid across the polished floor. Not thrown. Placed.
I didn't think. I acted.
My hand shot out, catching the hilt with a speed that startled even me. The weight was perfect, balanced, as if the weapon had always belonged there. I straightened slowly, the dagger gleaming beneath the torchlight.
The servant froze. Their eyes widened.
And I smiled.
"You'll have to do better than that."
The silence between us stretched taut, thick with tension.
In my past life, I would have screamed. In this life, instinct moved me before thought. My stance shifted, low and precise, dagger angled not in defense but in threat.
The servant's mouth twitched into something grotesque. Not fear. Anticipation.
My pulse raced. My breath sharpened. My body remembered what my mind had never known. Reflexes I had never trained surged forward, movements flowing as though drawn from another lifetime.
The first strike came—a second dagger, pulled from the folds of their robe. Fast. Too fast for a mere servant.
I tilted my wrist, parried cleanly. The clash rang sharp, echoing through the corridor like a chime of death.
Their disguise shattered in that instant. Not a servant. An assassin.
They lunged. I moved.
Steel kissed steel in a deadly rhythm, sparks flying with each clash. My body obeyed without hesitation, every step deliberate, every turn of my blade laced with purpose.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice steady despite the thundering of my heart.
The assassin only grinned, teeth bared in silence.
Their movements were precise, trained—an echo of countless battles fought in shadow. Mine were instinctive, drawn from the strange fusion of my past-life mind and this body's untapped potential.
And yet, I matched them strike for strike.
From the shadows beyond the torches, unseen by all but me, a presence lingered. Cold, commanding, coiled like a predator waiting to strike.
Kael.
The sect heir. The villain fated to bring ruin to this world.
He watched, silent, his stormy eyes reflecting the gleam of steel. He did not move to interfere. Did not call for guards. He simply… observed.
Why?
My dagger locked against the assassin's blade, sparks spitting between us. I felt his gaze like a touch across my skin, searing, evaluating.
Curiosity. That was what lingered in his eyes.
And that, I realized, was more dangerous than hatred.
The assassin pressed harder, their blade grazing the fabric of my sleeve. I twisted sharply, slamming the hilt of my dagger into their ribs.
They stumbled, but did not fall.
Adrenaline burned hot through my veins. I lunged, the villainess' silk gown whipping around me like a storm. The dagger cut clean across their arm. Blood sprayed, dark and hot.
The assassin hissed but did not cry out.
They leapt back, eyes narrowing.
"You…" their voice rasped, low and dangerous. "You're not supposed to be this strong."
I smirked, though my chest heaved with exertion. "Surprise."
For a moment, silence.
The assassin crouched, blade trembling with restrained fury. I stood ready, dagger raised, every muscle coiled.
Then—footsteps. Guards rushing toward the commotion.
The assassin's eyes flickered, calculating. Too many witnesses. Their mission unfinished.
They spat blood to the floor and melted into the shadows, retreating as swiftly as they had appeared.
I did not chase.
Instead, I turned, gaze locking with the one figure who had not moved this entire time.
Kael.
He stepped from the shadows, each stride deliberate, regal. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes—those sharp, stormy eyes—burned with quiet fire.
"You fought like someone who has bled before," he said softly, voice like velvet over steel.
I held his gaze. "Or perhaps I fought like someone who refuses to bleed again."
Something flickered in his stare. Interest. Amusement. Maybe even respect.
But he did not smile.
"You intrigue me, Seraphine." His tone was neither praise nor insult. It was a verdict. A claim.
My heart skipped a beat despite myself. Dangerous. Too dangerous.
I sheathed the dagger, though my fingers trembled faintly around the hilt. "Intrigue is a double-edged blade, Kael. Handle it carefully."
The guards arrived, panting, eyes wide.
"My lord, my lady! What happened?"
Kael did not look at them. His gaze lingered on me, steady and unyielding, as though committing every line of my face to memory.
Finally, he turned. "An intruder. See that the halls are secured."
The guards bowed deeply, rushing off to obey.
And just like that, we were alone again.
The silence was unbearable. Charged.
I could still feel the heat of his gaze, the unspoken question lingering between us. Why had he not intervened? Why had he let me fight alone?
Perhaps, I realized, he had wanted to see if I was worth his attention.
And that realization terrified me more than the assassin's blade.
I returned to my chambers that night, dagger hidden beneath my pillow. Sleep evaded me. My body ached, but my mind churned.
The villainess was not safe, not even within the sect walls. Every smile was poison, every shadow a threat.
But survival was no longer enough.
No. If I wanted to live—truly live—I needed to seize control. To wield this second chance not as prey, but as predator.
And yet… as I closed my eyes, the image that burned behind them was not the assassin's grin.
It was Kael's gaze. Cold. Intrigued. Watching me bleed and survive.
What did he want from me?
And worse—why did I want to know?
Far beyond the sect's walls, in a candlelit chamber cloaked in secrecy, a figure draped in black robes listened to the assassin's report.
"She should have been weak," the assassin hissed, clutching their wounded arm. "But she was not. She fought like—like someone else."
The shadowed figure leaned forward, voice low, serpentine.
"Good. That means she is awakening. Which makes her even more dangerous."
A pause.
"Continue watching. When the time comes, she must be eliminated. We cannot let the villainess rewrite her fate."