Chapter 1: The Worst Hangover Ever**
My head was pounding like someone had used it as a drum in a metal concert. I groaned, expecting my tiny apartment ceiling... but instead, I saw an ornate canopy bed draped in black velvet and gold embroidery. Candelabras flickered with magical blue flames. A massive mirror across the room showed a face that was definitely **not** mine—sharp cheekbones, blood-red eyes, long silver hair cascading like a villain's wet dream, and lips curled in a permanent sneer even when I wasn't trying.
I sat up so fast the silk sheets pooled around my waist.
"What the—"
A mechanical voice echoed in my skull:
[Ding! Welcome, Host 077. You have successfully transmigrated into "Eternal Crown of Thorns" as Duke Valerian Voss, the tyrannical second male lead and ultimate villain. Original fate: Public execution by guillotine in Chapter 47 for treason and attempted regicide. Current progress: Chapter 12. Mission: Survive past Chapter 47 and achieve a happy ending. Penalty for failure: Soul obliteration. Reward: Return to real world + 10,000 points.]
I stared at my reflection. "You've got to be kidding me. I was just binge-reading this trashy fantasy BL novel last night because my friend said the villain was hot! I didn't sign up to **be** him!"
The system ignored my panic. [Current favorability: Crown Prince Elias (ML) — -85 (Extreme Hatred). He plans to frame you for poisoning the king next week. Good luck, Host. First task: Attend the royal banquet tonight without getting yourself killed.]
I flopped back onto the pillows. Great. In the novel, Duke Valerian was a cold, arrogant psycho who tortured servants, schemed against the kind-hearted prince, and got zero redemption. Everyone hated him. The readers cheered when his head rolled.
But me? I'm just a 19-year-old college dropout who cries at sad dog videos. I can't scheme my way out of a paper bag.
A knock. A nervous maid entered, bowing so low her forehead nearly touched the floor. "Y-Your Grace... the tailor is here for your banquet attire. And... Prince Elias has sent a personal invitation. He... he insists you sit beside him."
My stomach dropped. In the original plot, that "invitation" was a trap. Valerian would insult the prince publicly, spill wine "accidentally," and seal his doom.
System: [Opportunity detected. Raise favorability or die faster. Suggestion: Be nice. Or at least don't be a jerk.]
I dragged myself out of bed. "Fine. Let's try not dying on day one."
**Later that evening...**
The grand ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers. Nobles whispered as I entered—fear, disgust, awe. I felt like a walking red flag.
Then I saw him.
Crown Prince Elias stood by the throne dais, golden hair catching the light, emerald eyes sharp and beautiful. In the novel, he was the perfect righteous ML—strong, compassionate, destined to marry the saintess heroine (who somehow got gender-bent into a guy in fan edits, but whatever). Right now, those eyes locked on me like I was a cockroach.
He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Duke Voss. How gracious of you to accept my invitation."
I swallowed. Don't be arrogant. Don't be rude. Just... survive.
I bowed—deeply, awkwardly—and forced a small, genuine smile. "Your Highness. It's an honor. Thank you for thinking of me."
The room went dead silent. The duke never bowed to anyone. Never said thank you.
Elias blinked. His smile faltered for a split second—surprise? Suspicion?
I straightened, heart hammering. "May I... escort you to the table? I heard the venison tonight is exceptional."
He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Then, slowly: "...Very well."
As we walked, nobles gawked. I could feel the plot shifting under my feet like sand.
System: [Favorability +5! Current: -80. Not bad for a first try, idiot host.]
Elias leaned closer as we sat, voice low. "What game are you playing, Valerian? Last week you called me a 'weak-blooded pretender.' Now you're... polite?"
I met his gaze—those eyes were even prettier up close. "Maybe I had a change of heart. Or maybe I just woke up and realized being hated isn't as fun as the rumors make it sound."
He laughed—short, disbelieving. "A tiger doesn't change its stripes overnight."
"Then watch me try," I said softly. "I have nothing to lose."
For the first time, something flickered in his expression. Curiosity. Maybe even intrigue.
The banquet continued. I didn't spill wine. I didn't insult anyone. I complimented the food, asked about his training (he lit up talking about swordsmanship), and when a drunk lord tried to mock him, I shut it down with a calm, icy glare that made the man pale.
Elias kept glancing at me. By dessert, favorability ticked to -65.
As the night ended, he caught my wrist before I could leave. His grip was firm, warm.
"Don't think this changes anything," he murmured. "But... tomorrow. Spar with me. Prove this 'change of heart' isn't another scheme."
I grinned—Valerian's sharp teeth felt weird on my face. "Deal. But if I win, you owe me a private dinner. No poison, I promise."
He released me, eyes narrowing—but there was a spark there now. Interest.
System: [Favorability +20! Current: -45. Warning: The ML is starting to notice you. Be careful—he might fall for the wrong person.]
I walked back to my carriage, heart racing for an entirely different reason.
Maybe surviving wouldn't be so bad... if the villain got to keep the prince instead of losing his head.