The Villainess' Chapter 1: It Really Is That Banal

Chapter 1: It Really Is That Banal

You read about those crazy transmigration experiences in fantasy novels all the ti - so sad, lonely, poor, or overworked girl dies tragically in a traffic accident, or due to extre exhaustion at work, there is no unexpected twist to it, it really is that banal.

So nobody should be that surprised if sothing similar happened to our heroine as well, right?

***

The yellow sunlight was way too bright for her to be able to open her eyes wide at once. The girl kept slowly rolling on the bed, desperately trying to soak in both the warm rays of the sun gently caressing her face, and the softness of the cool silk bed sheets that felt strangely cool but still undeniably pleasant on her fatigued body.

This girl is Rosalie Ashter, a twenty-one-year-old daughter of Marquess Ian Ashter, or, as she better knows herself, - Wang iling, a twenty-five-year-old office worker who woke up in the body of a minor villainess in an R-rated novel she finished reading just a day before her transmigration.

It has been already a week since she realized that she had possessed Rosalie's body and yet, she still could not believe it actually happened to her. The circumstance was trivial, but the probability of that was definitely nonexistent, especially since she had absolutely no idea whether she died in her previous life, or was in a coma and was dood to be dreaming this bizarre dream forever or until the sweet release of death would finally find her.

'Let's think rationally.'

Rosalie took a seat behind the small wooden table with a large ornanted vanity mirror placed on it and took a good look at herself. Long, wavy, brown locks, falling all the way down past her lower back, beaming with dark golden strands every ti the sun touched them with its burning light; deep grey eyes with a slight hint of sky-blue in them, frad with a thick layer of dark, long lashes; pink, plump, sensual lips that looked like two petals of a wild rose flower; and smooth, porcelain complexion with a slight pinkish hue tapped on her cheeks - enviable, almost irresistible beauty, praised by many, and wasted on a broken spirit of a character.

That was the exact description of Rosalie Ashter, and that was exactly how the girl, looking back at iling from the gleaming surface of the mirror, looked.

It had been long enough. There was no use denying it. She transmigrated into an adult novel, and she was now Rosalie Ashter, the tragic, yet almost irrelevant villainess who was dood to die the most grueso death iling could ever imagine.

The girl opened the small drawer of the wooden table and retrieved a red leather-covered notebook with the na "Rosalie" written on it in beautiful golden cursive letters. When iling first found herself in this world, she was holding this exact sa notebook in her hands, however, when she opened it, it was completely empty, with only three sentences written in unbelievably small letters at the bottom of the last page - "Exhausted. Throbbing. My heart is as bruised as my body."

'I cannot even pretend to be surprised. Rosalie, you poor soul, it looks like you were desperate to get out of this place.'

She slid her thin, elegant fingers across the tiny black letters and let out a long and sowhat pitiful sigh. In the R-rated novel titled "Ac Fever