1 - Acceptance
Where the heck am I…?
The question echoed loudly in her mind.
Why do I look different in the mirror? Why are there maids around me? What castle is this? And why... why do I have such a long name?!
Mariana—formerly Iana—stood frozen in place, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger wearing her face. No. Not even her face. Someone else’s. Someone far too beautiful to be hers.
Her long golden blonde hair cascaded down her back like silk, her skin smooth and pale, her features delicate in a way that felt almost unreal.
“… this is insane…”
Behind her, a quiet shuffle. The maids. They had misunderstood her silence. Her confusion. Her expression. To them, it looked like dissatisfaction. Displeasure.
Their faces paled almost instantly. One by one, they stepped back—then dropped to their knees, bowing low, their voices trembling.
“P-Please forgive us, Your Highness…!”
“Was our service insufficient…?!”
“We will correct it immediately... please spare us!”
Mariana blinked. “… huh?” For a second, her brain lagged. Then, “Oh, wait... no, no, no...!” She rushed forward in a panic, grabbing the nearest maid by the shoulders and pulling her up. “Get up! Get up! Why are you kneeling...?!”
“Yo-Your Highness...!”
“I’m not mad! I’m just confused!” She moved to the next. Then the next. Helping each one stand up, her movements hurried, almost frantic. “Please don’t bow like that, it’s...it's weird...!”
Weird? No, not weird... terrifying...!
They were begging for their lives. Over her expression.
“… this is too much…” She muttered under her breath. But still, she smiled softly. Awkwardly. Trying to reassure them. “It’s fine, really. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The maids exchanged uncertain glances. Because this was not their mistress. Not the one they knew.
I knew I’d be isekai’d one day!
The thought came suddenly. Bright. Excited.
Take that, God!
But then, a pause.
… wait.
Her brows furrowed.
Isn’t this supposed to happen after getting hit by a truck or something?
Her expression stiffened. “Wait…” Her heart skipped. “How did I even get here…?”
CREAK. The doors burst open. All thoughts halted. A tall man strode in—his presence commanding, his steps urgent.
He looked to be in his middle years, yet there was an undeniable charm to him. His golden-blond hair shimmered under the light—strikingly similar to hers.
“My dearest daughter!” Before she could react, he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I heard from the maids... you fell into the pond!” His voice trembled slightly. “Oh, my poor daughter… Father is here now…”
His hand gently rested against the back of her head, stroking softly. Warm. Careful. Protective.
Mariana froze. “Fa—”
“DEAN!”
His voice thundered suddenly. She flinched. An elderly butler appeared almost instantly at the doorway, posture impeccable.
“Prepare some chicken soup for my daughter!”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” And just like that, he was gone.
“Sweetheart, lie down.”
Before she could protest, she was gently guided back onto the bed. Soft sheets enveloped her instantly.
“You need rest. You’ll catch a cold.” His tone softened, but there was a hint of tension beneath it. “Your mother will kill me if you so much as sneeze because of this. Am I clear?”
“Yes…” She swallowed. “... Father…”
The word felt foreign on her tongue, heavy.
I haven’t called anyone that… since…
Her chest tightened.
Since my father died…
The butler returned quietly, a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. He handed it over without a word, then stepped back, excusing himself to give them space.
The Grand Duke fed her himself, slowly. Carefully. Blowing on each spoonful before bringing it to her lips. Mariana ate in silence. Because she didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t know what else to feel.
When she finished, he smiled. Relieved. “Good girl.” He placed the bowl aside and gently adjusted her blanket. “Rest well. I’ll return later.” And then, he left.
Silence filled the room. Heavy. Still.
“Finally…” She exhaled deeply, sinking into the mattress. “Peace…”
Her gaze drifted upward, settling on the elaborate canopy above her bed. Gold accents. Soft pink drapes. Everything was excessive.
“… okay…” She placed both hands over her chest. “Let’s process this…”
Maids. Grand Princess. Grand Duke. Grand Duchess. A literal castle.
“… I’m isekai’d.”
Her thoughts spiraled. Excitement bubbled beneath the confusion.
I prepared for this…
Countless novels. Manhwas. Anime. She knew the tropes. The rules. The system.
All that research… finally paid off…
A grin slowly formed on her lips.
“… wait…” Her expression froze. Her body stiffened. “My name…” Her eyes widened. “… Mariana… Cherustine…” A pause. “…Kylin…! Yes, yes, okay… la Vernon!”
Silence.
“Wait.” Her heartbeat stopped. “Isn’t that…” A cold chill ran down her spine. “… the Villainess?”
Another silence.
“… FUUUUUUUUUU—!”
She grabbed her head, fingers digging into her hair as if she could physically rip the realization out of her brain.
“No, no, no, no, NO...!”
Of all the roles... of all the characters... why her??
After several moments of silent screaming and internal breakdown, she stopped. Blinking. Breathing. Thinking.
“Wait…” A pause. “Isn’t that… actually good?”
Silence. Then, her eyes lit up.
“WAIT.” She sat up abruptly. “If I’m the Villainess…” Another pause. “doesn’t that make me the Grand Princess?”
Her lips curled. Slowly. Dangerously.
“… I’m rich.” A beat. “I’M RICH.” Her grin widened into something borderline unhinged. She hugged her pillow tightly, practically vibrating with excitement. “FUCK THE PLOT, I’M RICH AS HELL!”
She jumped off the bed, wrapping a shawl around herself as she hurried toward the balcony. The doors opened.
And, “… whoa…”
The view stole her breath.
Gardens stretched endlessly below—rows upon rows of tulips, roses, and lilies in vibrant shades of red, white, and pink. Gardeners moved carefully between them, tending to each plant with precision.
Knights patrolled the grounds. Maids carried baskets of freshly washed linens. The sky above was a brilliant cerulean, streaked with soft cirrus clouds.
In the distance, mountains. Lush. Green. Alive. And further still, a towering clocktower stood proudly against the horizon.
“This is insane…”
She turned back toward her room. Really looked at it this time. Gold. Pink. Velvet sheets. Soft pillows. Curtains that looked like they belonged in a royal painting. It was enormous, absurdly so.
“… I could fit an entire clan in here…”
And still have space left...
“I was poor in my previous life…” She murmured softly. “But now?” A slow smile formed. “I have everything.” A pause. “… and a loving father…” Her chest warmed slightly. “I’m accepting this isekai.”
She flopped back onto the bed, spreading her limbs across the soft sheets, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. Energy coursed through her. Excitement. Possibility. Freedom.
Far away, in another part of the Empire of Clematis, the atmosphere was very different. Dark. Cold. Heavy with the scent of blood.
A man in a dark hood stood over another. The latter lay on the ground—broken, battered, barely clinging to life.
The scraping sound of metal echoed as the hooded man dragged a massive black greatsword across the stone floor. Slow. Deliberate. Terrifying.
“Forgive me, sire…” the bloodied man gasped. “I was forced into rebelling... I didn’t want to... I was loyal...!”
“No.” The hooded man’s voice was calm. Cold.
“You had a choice.” He stepped closer. “Die by the hands of the enemy… for your loyalty to the Empire.” A pause.
“Or conspire with them… and die a traitor.” He crouched down, meeting the man’s desperate gaze.
“And you…” A faint smile formed beneath the shadow of his hood. “… chose poorly.”
“P-Please... don’t kill me...!”
“How else should I regard a traitor?” he mused lightly. “Offer mercy… and risk betrayal again?” A soft chuckle. “No.” His eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness. “The Empire cannot afford my mistakes.”
“Of course not! I-I was merely advising you, sire—”
“You?” A tilt of the head. “Advising me?”
The man nodded frantically. “Yes, milord—”
A flash. The blade pierced through his chest. Clean. Precise. Merciless.
Silence.
The hooded man stood, pulling the sword free without a hint of hesitation. Blood dripped from the blade. Fresh. Warm.
He reached into his coat, retrieving a handkerchief, and began wiping it clean calmly. Casually. As if this were nothing more than routine.
The Crown Prince of Clematis, Zafiel.
“Dispose of the body.” His voice echoed into the darkness.
And somewhere far away, unaware of the storm that was slowly closing in around her, a girl laughed atop a bed of velvet sheets, thinking that everything would finally be easy.