"Argh… my head…"
I muttered as I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was still blurry, and my memories were all tangled.
What happened after I went up to the rooftop?
That question spun endlessly in my mind, only worsening my headache.
"Hm… damn it…"
Strangely, it felt like I was lying in a bed.
Was it my hospital bed?
Did I go back to the hospital?
In the end… I didn't kill myself
But oddly enough, the bed I was lying on felt a little softer, more comfortable.
'Hnn… it's so soft… I could stay here for years…'
But what was the point of thinking that, when I only had a few months left to live?
Still… had my hospital bed always been this soft?
I had spent enough time confined to it to know exactly how it felt.
It was like a wall—
That constant sensation of leaning against a hard wall. It was awful.
'Heh… just remembering it sends chills down my spine…'
Maybe they finally acknowledged the state I was in and gave me a better bed.
As I slowly opened my eyes, now adjusting to the light, I finally saw the ceiling above me…
'Wait… what?'
What was above me was anything but a hospital ceiling.
I blinked several times.
The ceiling—no, the entire room—was far too luxurious. The soft white canopy above me was embroidered with silver thread, and the frame of the bed I was lying in was made of polished wood, etched with unfamiliar patterns.
I slowly sat up, my body reacting far too easily for someone who had been lying sick in bed for months.
No pain?
The chronic ache in my joints… the burning in my chest… the numbing weakness that had shackled my body for so long—gone.
"What… the hell?" I muttered under my breath.
The blanket covering me wasn't the standard hospital linen. It was thick, silky, and stitched with an ornate crest I'd never seen before. The sheets were pristine white, without the slightest stain or wrinkle, and the mattress…
It was far too soft.
This definitely wasn't my hospital bed.
No… this isn't the hospital at all.
I turned my head slowly, scanning the rest of the room.
The walls were painted in a deep shade of emerald, lined with silver moldings. A chandelier—yes, a real chandelier—hung from the center of the ceiling, its crystal pendants catching the morning sunlight pouring through the tall windows. Heavy velvet curtains swayed gently with the breeze.
On one side, there was a fireplace with a neatly arranged stack of firewood. A few paintings decorated the walls—elegant, old, and noble in style. Not a single piece of modern technology in sight.
This… this looks like a set from some kind of historical drama.
I pushed the blanket aside and swung my legs over the bed. My feet touched a soft, warm carpet instead of cold hospital tiles.
The air smelled different too—rich, clean, laced with faint traces of wood and lavender.
"W..where am I ?"
and without warning-
Ding!
The message that appeared in front of me.
=☆[ Welcome to: The Faded Flowers of the Villainess ]☆=
- You will now begin a new life as the second son of the Vickelheim family:
[Derek Vickelheim]
"…What..the..hell ?" I whispered.
I remembered it clearly. That was the name of one of the male leads in The Faded Flowers of the Villainess—the second son of the Vickelheim family.
A side character doomed to be rejected and hated by the readers.
And now, somehow… I was him