One minute I was glued to my gaming chair, fingers flying across the keyboard, battling my way through the final boss of "Crimson Hearts," the hottest reverse-harem otome game on the market. The next? I woke up in a four-poster bed, the kind you only see in ridiculously expensive interior design magazines, with silk sheets that felt like clouds (seriously, clouds). My head throbbed, my eyes stung, and the sheer opulence of the room was making me want to hurl. This wasn't my cramped, slightly-too-cluttered bedroom back in my apartment. This…this was extra.
The first thing I noticed, aside from the overwhelming scent of lilies (ironic, given the game's title), was the sheer size of the room. It was the size of a small gymnasium, possibly even larger, furnished with enough velvet, gold, and crystal to bankrupt a small country. The walls were adorned with paintings that screamed "wealthy, probably evil overlord," and the sheer number of pillows on the bed could have cushioned a small army. I felt like I'd wandered onto the set of a particularly lavish historical drama, only without the complimentary craft services table.
Then came the realization. The horrifying, soul-crushing realization.
I wasn't in my apartment. I wasn't even in my own body.I was Lilith.
Lilith, the infamous villainess of "Crimson Hearts," notorious for her cruelty, her questionable fashion choices (seriously, those shoulder pads were monstrous), and her penchant for getting herself killed in spectacularly dramatic ways, usually involving a jealous crown prince, a betrayed heroine, or both.
"Okay, universe, this is officially messed up," I muttered, my voice sounding strangely different, softer. Higher-pitched. Definitely not mine. I sat up, the movement causing a wave of nausea, and cautiously swung my legs over the side of the bed. My reflection in the ornate mirror opposite my bed confirmed my worst fears. Gone was my usual messy bun and oversized glasses; instead, I stared at a face that was stunning, albeit undeniably cruel in its flawless features. Dark, heavy-lidded eyes, high cheekbones, and a full mouth that seemed ready to deliver some seriously cutting remarks – it was the spitting image of the game's notoriously glamorous villain. I sighed. At least my hair was still a decent shade of brown, if a lot longer and fancier than I was used to. Gone were the comfortable, slightly stretched out pajamas I'd worn to game. Now I was dressed in some ludicrously expensive silk robe with intricate embroidery – clearly, someone had a thing for elaborate dressing gowns. My fingers traced the intricate patterns, a slight
grimace on my face at the excessive luxury.
I was in a massive bedroom and not even remotely excited.The door creaked open, interrupting my panicked self-assessment, revealing four figures silhouetted against the bright corridor. Four impossibly handsome, impossibly tall, and impossibly annoying stepbrothers. The game's poster boys. And they all looked about ready to throttle me.
Great. Just great.
My internal monologue started to resemble a rapid-fire commentary from a particularly cynical sportscaster. "And we're live, folks! From the palace of impending doom! Our protagonist, the ever-so-slightly-unfortunate Elara – yes, I've decided to use that instead of the 'Lilith' moniker, thanks – is about to engage with the opposing team. And by opposing team, I mean her intensely antagonistic stepbrothers. The odds are not in her favor.
"The eldest, a man sculpted from granite and brooding intensity, spoke first. His voice was low and rumbling, like a distant thunderstorm. "Lilith. Your behavior continues to be unacceptable."
"Oh, really?" I thought to myself, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Is that so, Mr. Brooding McBroodingface?
Because it seems like you are the one who's unacceptable. And, to be honest, all of you are way too intense for 8 a.m.
"The youngest, a whirlwind of eccentric energy with hair the color of amethyst and eyes like molten gold, simply smirked. "Sister dear, you do realize that your attempts at invisibility are hilariously transparent, yes?"
"Transparent?" I internally shrieked. "Is there a tutorial for this whole 'reincarnation' thing? Because I'm clearly missing the section on 'how to actually blend in when you look like you raided a high-end jewelry store and a mythical creature's wardrobe'.
"The other two brothers, one a stoic knight and the other a whip-smart mage, remained silent, their expressions equally unreadable, but their body language clearly indicated their readiness to intervene if necessary.
Panic began to set in. I needed a plan, and fast. My initial reaction to this whole "unexpected reincarnation" fiasco was pure, unadulterated terror. But terror doesn't solve anything. It just makes you sweat and possibly cause you to have some very awkward encounters with extremely hot stepbrothers.
And then it hit me: invisibility.
Not actual invisibility, of course. That's ridiculous. But social invisibility. The art of blending into the background so seamlessly that people practically walked right through me. I'd honed this skill to near-perfection throughout my life. In school, in college, and then in office environments, I'd perfected the art of existing without being seen.So I would become a ghost in this ludicrously opulent palace. I'd melt into the walls, the tapestries, the ridiculously over-stuffed furniture. I'd become a non-entity.
That was my survival plan.
My slightly delusional, highly improbable, and possibly suicidal survival plan.
But hey, it was better than getting murdered by a crown prince who seemed to mistake me for some kind of elaborate game piece. As far as plan B's go, this was the only one coming to me.