Not The Villain

Chapter 1

Although I stumbled upon Wattpad by chance, it was the transmigration trope that made me stay.

There was something about stepping into another world, another life, and watching everything unfold differently that completely drew me in.

I've loved so many stories in this genre, and at some point, I thought-why not try writing my own?

It's my first attempt at a transmigration story, so I apologize if it feels a little messy or unpolished at times.

I truly appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, and support this story. Your thoughts mean more than you know, and they genuinely motivate me to keep going.

Also, a small but important note-this work is entirely my own. Please respect the effort that goes into creating it and avoid any form of copying or redistribution.

Thank you for being here and for giving this story a chance

Let's dive into the story......

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Chapter 1

This was not how I imagined I would die.

Not dramatically, not heroically, and definitely not in a way that would at least make for a decent story later.

Just... slipping off a bridge and falling into a river.

At sixteen.

Honestly, if there was an award for disappointing endings, I would have definitely been placed in the top three.

The day had already been exhausting, which was impressive considering I had done absolutely nothing worth being exhausted over.

I shut my locker a little harder than necessary, the metallic clang echoing down the hallway like I had just made a bold life statement instead of simply wanting to go home.

Books were packed, assignments were done, and my daily tolerance for human interaction had been exceeded about three hours ago.

All that remained was escape.

I turned-

-and of course, the universe had other plans.

Three girls leaned against the lockers ahead like they were posing for a low-budget teen drama, which, unfortunately for me, they kind of were. They didn't move when I stopped; they just looked at me like I was the entertainment they had been waiting for all day.

I took a breath, adjusted my bag, and waited, because experience had taught me that if I tried to walk around them, they would simply take it as an invitation.

One of them pushed herself off the locker, a slow smile spreading across her face like she had rehearsed it.

"Leaving already? Didn't get enough attention today?"

I blinked once, mostly to buy myself a second to decide how much energy I was willing to waste on this.

"If you're done venting your insecurities for the day," I said calmly, shifting my bag strap higher on my shoulder, "I'd really like to go home."

For a moment, there was silence, which almost felt like victory.

Then her expression snapped.

"You-pathetic-"

I didn't stay to hear the rest. I had already turned away.

"Don't say your name out loud," I added over my shoulder, my voice flat, not even interested enough to sound annoyed.

And I kept walking, because engaging further would require effort, and I simply did not care enough to provide it.

---

Home was close.

It was also completely unremarkable, in the kind of way that made it easy to forget someone existed within it.

My aunt opened the door when I stepped in, her eyes flicking over me for a second-just long enough to confirm I hadn't died somewhere inconvenient-and then she turned back to the television without a word.

My uncle sat in the corner, absorbed in his phone, not even pretending to acknowledge me.

Somewhere in the house, my cousins filled the space with noise and laughter, a world I was never quite a part of.

No one asked where I had been. No one cared that I was back.

I slipped past all of it the way I always did, quiet and practiced, moving through the house like something that didn't belong to it.

Invisible.

Convenient.

Unwanted.

Life had been like this for a long time now-ever since my parents left me in this world, alone.

It wasn't ideal, but it worked.

And in this house, being unnoticed was the closest thing to being allowed to stay.

I dropped my bag in my room, changed quickly, grabbed my apron, and left again before anyone could remember I existed long enough to ask me to do something.

---

The café smelled like coffee, sugar, and mild regret.

Today leaned toward acceptable.

"You're late," a voice sang from behind the counter the second I walked in.

"I'm exactly on time," I replied, tying my apron without even looking up.

My coworker Lara leaned dramatically across the counter like she was about to deliver life-changing news.

"Emotionally late," she corrected. "Spiritually late. Romantically-"

"Hopelessly nonexistent," I finished for her.

She clutched her chest like I had personally offended her ancestors.

"That is so rude."

"That is extremely accurate."

She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly deciding I needed intervention.

"You say that now," she began, already fully invested, "but one day, a mysterious, emotionally unavailable man will appear."

"No."

"He'll have trauma."

"No."

"A tragic past."

"Absolutely not."

"And he'll look at you like you're the only person in the world-"

"I will call the police."

"You will not."

"I absolutely will."

"You'll fall in love."

"I will fall," I said, picking up a tray, "into traffic before that happens."

She gasped in horror.

"You wound me."

"Go take table three before your fictional husband files a missing person report."

---

By the time my shift ended, the sky had slipped into that strange in-between shade where everything looked softer but also slightly suspicious.

I adjusted my bag and started walking home, following the same route I always did, because routines were reliable and reliability was comforting.

Everything was quiet.

Predictable.

Safe.

Which, in hindsight, should have been my first warning.

The shouting cut through the air just as I reached the bridge.

I slowed, already regretting the decision before I had fully made it.

A group of guys-three, maybe four-stood clustered near the railing, their attention fixed on someone smaller in the center. A girl. Her head was down, her shoulders drawn inward like she was trying to make herself disappear, which, unfortunately, never worked on people like this.

I exhaled slowly.

Of course.

My feet were already moving before I could reconsider.

"Hey," I called out, raising my phone just enough to make the point clear. "I'll call the police."

Every head turned toward me.

The girl didn't hesitate. She bolted the second the attention shifted, which was good, because at least one of us was making smart decisions today.

The others, however, did not look impressed.

"Put the phone down," one of them said, stepping forward.

"No," I replied, because if I had already committed to this, I might as well follow through.

Another step.

A hand reaching.

I stepped back.

Then again-

-and suddenly there was no ground under my foot.

For a brief, very specific moment, everything slowed down just enough for me to fully process what was happening.

Oh. I was falling off the bridge.

That was...

Not ideal.

---

This was still not how I imagined I would die.

Sixteen years old, with no tragic backstory worth mentioning, no great achievements, and absolutely no secret destiny waiting to be revealed.

Just sarcasm, decent grades, and a very questionable decision-making pattern.

The air rushed past me, cold and sharp, snapping me out of my thoughts just enough to make one final, deeply unhelpful observation.

"Okay," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut, "this is really inconvenient."

The river surged up to meet me.

Right.

Goodbye, puny world.

You were... aggressively average.

Darkness closed in faster than I expected.

And then-

Nothing.