She racked her brain, trying to piece together the absolute clownery that led to this ss.
From what she vaguely recalled, between cursing the author and cursing fate, Verena was tied to the fate of eight won. Eight!
Why? Who knows. How? Also a mystery. But what did it an?
It ant that her love life was an actual endurance trial.
A certain line from the novel echoed in her head, one that the person who cursed Verena said, which then Verena repeated in a middle of a fight between her and the won:
"If you see love as a ga, then you shall be its greatest fool.
You will chase love forever amongst eight people, but it will never be yours.
If you do not win their hearts, you die and you will try again."
Great. Just fantastic.
This basically ant that in order to survive, she had to rip apart couples and steal at least one of their n.
Steal the main male leads.
The problem? The male leads had one collective brain cell, and it belonged to the heroines.
It didn't matter what she did, how many tis she attempted to seduce them, or even if she chard their entire bloodline, those n would always, inevitably, without fail, fall in love with the heroines.
And when she failed?
She would die.
And She would regress.
Back to stage one.
...
She could already feel a migraine forming.
"You should be grateful, Verena. Even after your shaful behavior, I still find myself rciful enough to let you stand by my side."
Petra, who is now Verena, blinked, tilting her head. "rciful? Ah, yes. Like how one might be rciful to a cockroach they refuse to step on."
Raphael was surprised. He did not expect the woman to retort, especially when she was always begging for his attention. Then, he walked over to lean his lips closer. "Watch your tongue, woman. It was your honor to marry ."
"And yet here we are." She sighed, rubbing her temple. "The way you speak of our marriage, one would think I bribed the priest to make it happen."
The ek girl awkwardly shifted to the side, clearly regretting being within hearing range of this conversation.
"You always did have an arrogant tongue. Perhaps if you were more obedient, I would have found you more appealing," he hissed. The sudden change of Verena left his eyebrows furrowing from confusent.
"Obedient? Oh, forgive . I wasn't aware you were in the market for a dog. Did you want to bark as well?"
"You may act high and mighty, but at the end of the day, you are nothing but my wife, and nothing you do can change that."
Ah.
There it was.
The urge to vomit.
The undeniable, bone-deep disgust that ca from hearing this man speak.
As expected, Evelyn, the ever-fragile, ever-weeping heroine, finally broke her silence.
She stepped forward, eyes glistening like freshly polished glass, lower lip trembling as if she were monts away from spontaneous combustion.
"P-Please don't fight..." she whispered, voice so delicate it could be swept away by a light breeze.
Verena internally rolled her eyes. Right. Evelyn Ashbourne. The epito of softness, kindness, and a complete lack of backbone.
Every novel needed a heroine, after all. And in this one, Evelyn specialized in whimpering, trembling, and providing Raphael with the perfect opportunity to act like a savior.
Predictably, the man wasted no ti.
Raphael swept toward Evelyn, cupping her face with all the tenderness of a man who had never known hardship in his life.
"Oh, Evelyn," he murmured, as if her single tear was a national disaster. "Do not trouble yourself over this woman. She does not deserve your kindness."
Verena watched, unimpressed, as he dramatically wiped her tear away, a single, barely-there drop that she could have handled herself if she had functioning hands.
Evelyn sniffled. "I-I just don't want anyone to get hurt..."
"You are too good for this world," Raphael sighed, shaking his head in what he probably thought was admiration. "Unlike so people."
The girl then turned to her. "I-I'm sorry, lady Evelyn..."
"No need to apologize, girl," he comforted, also facing Verena. "Verena.... I declare that we break off our engagent!"
"What?!"
"Oh, co on now, Verena... Jealousy is a dangerous thing and it made you hurt lady Evelyn!"
That made her cringe. This novel was totally written by a 15 year old and it showed.
Just as Verena was about to verbally demolish Raphael and Evelyn for being the walking plague of her sanity, a dreadful chill crawled up her spine.
[SYSTEM WARNING: BAD ROUTE INITIATED.]
[You have unknowingly triggered a Death Flag.]
[Solution: Steal the Love Target imdiately with a kiss.]
[Penalty: Imdiate application of brutal debuffs.]
[Ti: 10 Seconds]
Before she could blink, a wave of absolute suffering crashed into her like a divine punishnt.
[Applied Debuff: Blurred Vision]
[Applied Debuff: Weak Knees]
[Applied Debuff: Suffocation]
[Applied Debuff: Sudden Fever]
The mont the debuffs struck, it was as if her soul had been drop-kicked into the depths of hell.
Her vision blurred into a nauseating swirl, the suffocating corset crushed her ribs like a vice, and a fever burned through her veins, leaving her lightheaded and delirious.
Her knees buckled, refusing to support her, and every breath felt like she was inhaling molten air.
It was pure, undiluted suffering.
Then, she slowly turned to look at the abundance of unfortunate souls standing within arm's reach.
'Well. Shit.'
Ten seconds left. Ten asly, cruel seconds. And there was absolutely no way in hell she was going to kiss that self-absorbed warlord after he had just publicly humiliated her. Her standards weren't that low.
She had already suffered one soul-crushing heartbreak. She refused to let her dignity take another hit.
So, she did the only logical thing.
She grabbed the arm of the lesser evil.
The heroine.
"L-Lady Verena?!" Evelyn squeaked, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered shock.
Without hesitation, she crashed her lips against the trembling girl's, cupping her soft face as gasps and scandalized whispers erupted around them.
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