After some time, Ria opened her eyes.
Pain slammed into her head like a hammer. It felt as if someone had split her skull open and forgotten to put it back properly.
"Damn you—do you know what I'm going to call you?" she snapped into the air. "Dumb ball!"
Footsteps paused.
The school nurse, who had been organizing files behind the desk, turned around at the sound of shouting. Her brows furrowed as she watched the girl on the bed—hair messy, eyes sharp, posture anything but weak.
Did she lose a screw? the nurse thought.
Ria finally focused and froze.
White walls. Medicine cabinets. A faint smell of disinfectant. A small window letting in pale sunlight. She was sitting on the clinic bed, legs crossed casually like she owned the place.
The nurse was staring.
Ria's face heated instantly.
"…Ah."
Slowly, very slowly, she lay back down, yanked a pillow over her face, and screamed internally.
Fuck.
The nurse clicked her tongue and walked closer. "You really did knock something loose in that head of yours. Rest more.
Honestly, students these days—falling from the first floor like it's nothing."
Ria stiffened under the pillow.
"If you wanted to end things," the nurse continued bluntly, "at least do it properly. Making trouble for others like this—tsk."
She walked back to her desk, muttering under her breath.
Ria lowered the pillow just enough to breathe. Her eyes darkened.
"Dumb ball," she whispered. "What is happening?"
A familiar, irritating voice replied immediately.
"First of all, I don't appreciate that nickname. Second, yes—you are now in the comic world. Your name remains Ria."
Ria sat up slowly, her movements cautious but controlled.
"You were pushed down by your fake best friend," the voice continued. "A minor villain, as previously stated. I only provided you with your ending. Everything else—you must experience yourself."
Ria's lips curved faintly.
"To be a villain," the voice added, "your fake best friend Natasha must be dealt with. Efficiently."
"So," Ria said calmly, swinging her legs off the bed, "I'm the fake heiress. My job is to bully people, act spoiled, and be intelligent enough to make the comic sell."
"…What?" Dumb Ball paused. "What are you talking about?"
Ria snorted. "Oh, shut up. You already said it's a comic world. Why would a mysterious voice care this much unless this world makes you money?"
She straightened, eyes sharp and amused. "People love hating stupid villainesses.
We're a team, aren't we? So don't hide things."
The nurse glanced over.
Ria was talking.
To nothing.
"Damn. A real psychopath," the nurse muttered under her breath.
Ria heard it.
She ignored it.
The woman already thought she was crazy, so why bother acting sane? Pretending only mattered when it was useful.
"Now," Ria said quietly, lowering her voice, "tell me about my family in this world."
The voice responded without hesitation, its tone shifting into something closer to a briefing.
"In this world, power is divided into tiers. At the top are the Seven Top Families. They control industries worth billions—enough influence to shake the entire country."
Ria leaned back against the bed, eyes half-lidded, listening.
"Among them is the Voss family," Dumb Ball continued. "Fashion empire. Tech empire. Jewelry. Mines. Their tech division supplies nearly ninety percent of the country's security weapons and equipment."
Ria's brows lifted slightly. That serious?
"Above them," the voice went on, "are the Blue Blood families or big family. Quiet. Old. Vast influence. Their power exceeds the Top Families, but they rarely show themselves."
"And the Gray families " dumbball said then pause.
"What about them ? " ria asleep
Silence.
"I will not speak further on the Blue Bloods or the Gray families," Dumb Ball said flatly.
"That is for you to discover."
"Tsk. Stingy," Ria muttered.
"For now," the voice continued, "this body belongs to the Voss family. You are their fake daughter—though they do not know that yet."
Ria's fingers tapped lightly against the bed.
"You have two brothers. Adrian and Philip. An aunt—Nancy—and her husband Jacob, also one of the Top Families. Their children are Cole and Rachel."
The voice paused, then added, "Jacob is a Vegas."
Then it went silent.
Ria stared at the wall for a second.
"…That's it?" she asked.
No response.
"Wow. Truly generous," she scoffed.
"Whatever. That's enough."
She swung her legs off the bed and stood up in one smooth motion.
"Time to act."
"I'm okay now!" Ria shouted toward the desk. "Going back to class!"
The nurse didn't even look up. "Don't fall again."
Ria walked straight to the mirror by the sink.
And stopped.
The face staring back at her was familiar—but not entirely.
Porcelain-pale skin, flawless and delicate, like it had never known hardship. Lips naturally red and heart-shaped, glossy without makeup. A small, cute button nose. Dimples that appeared faintly when she tilted her head.
Her hair—once brown and curly like a soft waterfall—was now jet black, still thick and cascading down her back.
Her eyes.
That was the biggest change.
The sharp black cat eyes she remembered were gone. In their place were warm brown eyes, large and glassy, deep like gateways to space—innocent, enchanting, dangerously misleading.
Framed by long, full lashes and double eyelids that made every expression softer than it should be.
Height: still 5'2.
Ria stared at herself.
"…Tsk. Look rich," she muttered.
Her uniform only confirmed it.
A crisp white shirt tucked neatly into a red pleated skirt just above the knee. A fitted black blazer, tailored perfectly to her body, the school crest embroidered in gold on the chest. A red ribbon tie tied carefully at her collar.
White knee-high socks. Polished black shoes.
Simple.
Restrained.
Unmistakably elite.
On her wrist, a diamond bracelet caught the light. A matching diamond watch rested beside it—quiet luxury, not flashy, but impossible to miss.
Ria smirked at her reflection.
"Fake heiress," she whispered. "I can work with this."
She left the clinic.
She walked the halls—not because she was sightseeing.
She was lost.
Completely.
But instead of panicking, she wandered calmly, observing. Students passed by, some whispering, some staring. Eventually, a teacher noticed her and offered to guide her back.
She nodded weakly, lowered her head, acted pale.
Punishment avoided.
When she reached the classroom door, she paused.
Straightened her posture.
Adjusted her expression.
Then—
She opened the door.
The classroom fell silent
.
Every head turned.
Whispers died mid-sentence.
Chairs stopped creaking.
Ria stood at the entrance, framed by sunlight, her figure calm, composed, eyes unreadable.
And just like that—
The stage was hers.
Then a girl suddenly stood up.
"Ria!" she shouted, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she rushed forward.
Ria smiled.
It was a soft, relieved smile—fragile enough to melt hearts. She ran toward her too.
At the last second, Ria subtly stretched out her leg, hooking it toward the girl's ankle. It looked like an accident, like a careless misstep. The girl reacted quickly and stopped herself from falling—
But Ria didn't stop.
She shoved forward.
Smack.
The sharp sound echoed through the classroom.
Everyone sucked in a breath.
The girl froze.
"Oh my gosh—Natasha! Are you okay?" Ria cried, rushing forward in panic. She held Natasha's face, her hands trembling as tears welled up and fell like pearls down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to… I swear I didn't…"
Her shoulders shook. Her voice cracked.
She looked so pitiful that everyone's hearts clenched instinctively.
"I don't think Ria did it on purpose," a boy said quickly, snapping Natasha out of her stunned state.
Natasha bit her lip, forcing herself not to glare. Instead, she grabbed Ria's hand tightly, her fingers digging into her skin.
"Are you still mad at me?" Natasha asked gently, her voice soft and kind. "If you want to take your anger out on me, then do it. I don't mind."
Her grip tightened.
Ria flinched but didn't pull away.
Bang.
The classroom door slammed open.
King strode in, his expression dark with anger.
"Tsk. You're still doing this, Ria?" he snapped coldly. "What exactly are you trying to pull now?"
Ria lowered her head, her shoulders trembling.
"Yes, I know," King continued harshly.
"You're upset because I slept with Sandra, even though you hid the fact that you were engaged. Between us, who's really disgusting?"
His voice rose.
"You even tried to kill yourself by jumping from the first floor just to make me feel guilty. Who would believe that? Aren't you tired of all this drama?"
Inside, Ria sneered.
Perfect.
She subtly lifted her wrist higher.
Natasha's fingers tightened instinctively.
Pain flared. Warm liquid trickled down Ria's wrist.
Blood.
Natasha's eyes widened in shock. She tried to let go—but Ria suddenly grabbed her hand and dropped to her knees.
When Ria released her grip, she collapsed onto the floor.
"Sob—"
"Natasha… why did you hurt me?" Ria cried, clutching her bleeding wrist. "Is it because I slapped you? But it was an accident… it hurts so much…"
She looked like a flower crushed underfoot.
Then she slowly lifted her tear-filled eyes to King.
His heart tugged painfully.
Ria bit her lip, tears falling freely. "I loved you so much," she whispered. "So much that I wanted to cancel my engagement so we could be together."
Gasps rippled through the classroom.
"I didn't even know about the engagement," she continued softly. "Our families arranged it. I wanted to be honest with you… but what did you do to my trust?"
"You cheated on me with Sandra. Fine." She wiped her tears and straightened slightly.
"Then let this be the last time."
Her gaze hardened.
"From now on, if you ever come near me again, I'll slap you every time—to remind myself how low I, Ria Voss, once fell."
She didn't give King a chance to respond.
She turned to Natasha instead, her expression gentle again.
"If not for my dear best friend," Ria said quietly, "who told everyone I was engaged, I wouldn't have known anything."
Eyes slowly shifted to Natasha.
"You cared so much about me," Ria continued sweetly, "that instead of telling me, you told King. Because you knew he would cheat and break my heart."
Natasha's face went pale.
"Thank you," Ria said, bowing her head slightly. "You even told me to test his love by jumping from the first floor. You led my fiancé there too—so he could see me risking my life for another man and cancel the engagement in disgust."
The classroom was dead silent.
"If I didn't know better," Ria added softly, "I might think you loved my fiancé. That you stalked him enough to know about the engagement before I did… and wanted to break us apart."
She smiled faintly.
"But you wouldn't do that, right?"
All eyes snapped to Natasha.
Everyone's eyes turned to Natasha.
Then to Ria.
Then back to Natasha again.
Natasha's face had gone deathly pale. She forced a laugh, stiff and unnatural, before glancing back at Ria—whose eyes were red, sincere, and strangely… grateful.
That was when it clicked.
Whispers spread silently through the classroom.
So this was what had happened.
Natasha had fallen for Ria's fiancé. She had stalked him closely—so closely that she discovered the engagement before either of the two families officially announced it. To break it apart, she spread rumors that Ria was two-timing, pretending to love King while secretly being engaged.
And King?
Everyone already knew he cheated often.
Ria had always forgiven him.
But this time, she didn't.
And the most chilling part—
It was Natasha who had suggested that Ria jump from the first floor to "test" King's love.
What kind of friend was this?
No—this wasn't a friend.
This was an enemy hiding in plain sight.
"Ria, what are you saying?" Natasha finally stammered, her voice cracking. "D-Don't joke like this—"
Ria suddenly let out a sob.
Natasha instinctively reached for her injured wrist—
Just then, the classroom door flew open.
The teacher walked in.
He froze at the scene before him.
Ria was sitting on the floor, crying softly, her wrist bleeding through torn skin. Natasha stood over her, pale and rigid, her hand still hovering awkwardly in the air.
The teacher's expression darkened.
He slammed his hand on the desk.
"What is going on here?" he thundered. "Is this bullying happening in my classroom?"
He pointed sharply. "Natasha. Step outside. Reflect on your behavior."
Then he turned to the class. "Someone help Ria to the clinic. Now."
A boy quickly stepped forward. His ears turned red as he helped her up. She smelled faintly of milk and roses, her figure delicate, her lashes wet with tears—so beautiful it made his heart race.
At the clinic, the nurse froze the moment she saw the blood.
"…Are you a masochist?" she muttered while treating the wound.
Ria stayed silent.
"First you fall and hit your head," the nurse complained as she cleaned and bandaged her wrist, "and now this. Tsk. You kids."
She finished wrapping the bandage and waved her hand. "Lie down and rest for a while."
Ria leaned back against the pillow, eyes closing slowly.
Behind those lashes—
Her thoughts were calm.
Calculated.
Satisfied.