Prologue

The imperial court buzzed with murmurs as Lady Evelyne Ashbourne stood before the judgment platform.

At the throne stood Duke Raphael Everhart, his face unreadable. At his feet, bound in chains, was Lady Verena D'Auvergne, already judged guilty.

Evelyne stepped forward. "My Lord, please, do not let her deceive you. She has only stood in the way of our love."

Raphael barely spared her a glance. "I have no interest in her lies."

Verena chuckled, voice hoarse. "Lies? Tell me, Grand Duke, did you not use me?" Her gaze shifted to Evelyne. "And you, foolish girl—do you truly believe he loves you?"

"He does. And I love him."

The court fell silent. Then Verena laughed again, hollow and sharp. "Where was his love when I was at his side? When he whispered promises to me, called me his most trusted—only to discard me when you appeared?"

"You… you were cruel. You were never meant to be with him."

"Never meant to be?" Verena's shackles clinked as she shifted. "Did fate write me as the villain, or did he simply use me until I was no longer needed?"

Evelyne had no answer.

Raphael sighed. "Enough. Take her away. The sentence is death."

Verena did not beg. She only laughed.

Dragged past nobles who once sang her praises, she laughed.

And as Evelyne sobbed into Raphael's chest, she never noticed the way his lips curled—how, for the briefest moment, he almost looked… bored.

***

"Motherfucker! How did I like this before?!"

Petra threw the book straight into the fire pit, arms crossed as she watched the pages curl and blacken, the flames licking away every last ounce of its foolishness.

Another breakup. Another disaster. She thought this one was the jackpot, but no, it was a hotpot.

And not the delicious kind.

No, this was the kind where her heart was being boiled alive in a bubbling broth of regret and secondhand embarrassment.

"Why is everyone so fucking dumb?!" she yelled at the heavens, as if the gods of romance would descend and explain. "Why does no one have emotional intelligence?!"

Her first boyfriend? Claimed she's just a friend, only for Petra to find out the very next day that, surprise! She was the side chick.

Her second boyfriend? Sweet, lovable… and clingier than a damp sock. Man would not stop whining.

And her first-ever girlfriend? Oh, don't even get her started on that one. That was the moment she finally understood the struggles of men.

The book she just sacrificed to the flames, you ask?

Well, ever read about a heroine whose only personality trait was being a doormat?

Or one who caught Stockholm Syndrome and decided, "Maybe my kidnapper is kinda hot?"

Or, brace yourself, one so indecisive she spent five entire books choosing between two men?

Then all of that is in "Hopelessly Ever After."

A steamy and smut historical fantasy novel series set in the regency era about a reading group named The Gilded Quill Society.

Founded by the main heroine, Evelyn Ashbourne, she attempted gathering a squad of refined ladies in the Academy, much like the noble version of a girlband anime.

But instead of cute friendship arcs and synchronized dance numbers, they somehow ended up knee-deep in political conspiracies, deadly secrets, and scandalous romance.

It wasn't easy, of course.

Recruiting seven other women into her literary empire took effort, but in the end, the Society was formed.

Together, these eight women would navigate courtly intrigue, whispered betrayals, and the kind of romantic entanglements that could either save them… or get them hurt.

Each of the eight books is told from a different member's perspective, because one point of view simply wasn't enough for all the chaos they had to endure.

As a teenager, she had adored it, a guilty pleasure filled with swoon-worthy love stories, passionate confessions, and charming men who promised the world.

As an adult? She realized the men were morons. The heroines were fools. And the romance? An absolute dumpster fire.

"Ugh," she groaned, rubbing her temples. "No wonder I have trust issues."

Petra was on a reading binge, her latest coping mechanism. She mindlessly flipped through the books in her collection, hoping for distraction, but instead, she only found frustration.

In her current life, she wasn't particularly searching for love, but she was desperately craving emotional intelligence - something the world seemed to lack. Everyone treated romance like a cure-all, a miracle drug, and it was beyond infuriating.

Boom!

"Eep—!"

A sudden clap of thunder rattled the walls.

The lights flickered, and then—darkness.

Only the firelight remained, casting shadows across the room. A sharp pain shot through her skull, a splitting migraine taking over.

"Ugh… I forgot to take my medicine…" she groaned.

Disoriented, she stepped forward, only for her foot to catch on a wire.

Before she could react, gravity did the rest.

It was swift.

A freefall. A moment of weightlessness. And then, nothing.

As she drifted into unconsciousness, memories flooded her mind.

Her childhood in a broken home. Her embarrassingly naïve teenage years. Her string of disastrous relationships. And the one thing that ever made sense—her job as an HR manager in some random company, mediating other people's stupidity.

"Why do people always wait for someone else to change them?"

"Why do they believe love is the key to happiness?"

"Why do we mistake desire for love?"

"Why is romance always about co-dependency?"

"Why do people think they need another half to be whole?"

No answers came. Only the crushing realization that she still didn't know.

"Verena! Don't you da—!"

SMACK!

Petra blinked. Her hand stung.

Wait… had she just slapped someone?

The world around her finally came into focus. A massive ballroom. A grand chandelier glittering above. Elegant guests frozen in shock. Plates of untouched food. And all eyes locked on her.

Where am I?

A horrified gasp snapped her attention to the girl in front of her, an ethereal beauty with long white hair, straight bangs, and diamond-like eyes brimming with unshed tears. She clutched her cheek, a red mark blooming where Petra had struck her.

'She's… really pretty…' Petra thought, flustered.

"A-Are you alright?" she stammered, reaching out instinctively—

Only for her hand to be slapped away.

"Do not touch her!" a sharp voice commanded.

A man stepped between them, his blonde hair and piercing red eyes burning with fury.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Evelyn.

Verena.

An overprotective man.

Petra's breath hitched. She knew these names. She knew this scene.

She whipped her head around, taking in the lavish décor, the gasping nobles, the sheer familiarity of it all.

No. No way.

Her heart pounded as realization dawned.

Did I just… transmigrate into the series?!