Verena D'Auvergne

There was no doubt about it. She had been thrown straight into the cringiest novel series she once devoured as a lonely teenager on an app called MattPop, the holy land of every alpha-hole romance ever written.

But she was so addicted that she used her savings to buy the physical copies of the series.

Much to her indignation, she was smacked in the middle of it, trapped between the breathtakingly beautiful female lead and the walking red flag of a male lead, whose glare alone could set fire to an orphanage.

The pressure was suffocating. All eyes were on her. Her heart screamed, RUN! but her brain, ever the overthinker, whispered, Wait, let's analyze first—

"Why do you look so shocked? Has it finally occurred to you that this is outright dishonor? And at my very return celebration!"

The man, who she could only assume was Grand Duke Raphael, the thrill-seeking warlord with a deep, profound love for weak-looking things, practically snarled at her.

Ah. Right. She knew this scene. Raphael had just returned gloriously from war, and to really spice things up, he invited Evelyne to his grand banquet, while still engaged to Verena. 

That's right. Verena was engaged to Raphael. 

The Villainess.

The very name he was calling out right now.

Oh. Oh, shit.

Her blood ran cold. Her vision swam. The guests were starting to look concerned.

'Okay, so I have two options,' she thought. 'Option one: stay and figure this out like a responsible adult. Option two:—'

She bolted.

"Sorry!"

"Oof—uh, sorry!"

She zigzagged through the crowd, bouncing off people like a wayward pinball, flinging apologies left and right. The suffocating regency dress she wore did not help. At all. Now she fully understood the suffering of every historical heroine who had ever gasped, "I can't breathe in this corset!"

First of all, HOW could I NOT run?! This is too much! Overload! ABORT MISSION!

At last, she burst out of the grand hall and into the cool night air. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, casting an eerie glow over the courtyard. She spotted a fountain, her salvation, and sprinted toward it.

Panting, she leaned over and stared at the water's surface.

Straight black hair. Blunt bangs. Emerald green eyes. An absurdly beautiful face that screamed regal menace.

Her stomach dropped.

"FUCK!" she yelled, making a nearby owl take flight in terror. "I really did get transmigrated into the novel, and not just that, as the fucking VILLAINESS?!"

Verena D'Auvergne.

The ultimate villainess of the entire cringefest—uh, novel series.

Thought to be just a supporting character whose engagement with the duke was instantly broken off in the first book, only to be revealed as the mastermind behind all the nauseating love encounters because of a love curse.

Yes, a love curse that made her target the heroines like some obsessive yandere puppet master. 

It was a plot twist so bad it circled back to being kind of genius. But considering the author was literally a 15-year-old writing a smut novel series, well… it explained things.

Teenagers these days are so freaky…

And then, the author vanished, never explaining why Verena had a love curse in the first place. Classic.

Now… what exactly did Verena do again? Let me try to remember it a.k.a why I'm screwed...

"Stole the heroine's engagement ring and replaced it with a cursed one that made her fall for the WRONG man."

"Pushed a heroine into a fountain then dramatically gaslit everyone into thinking she was the victim."

"Sent love letters to the male leads in the heroines' names—causing a full-blown duel where two dukes almost killed each other."

"Poisoned a tea party."

"Kidnapped a heroine for fun—and forgot about her for three days."

"Manipulated a heroine into thinking the male lead was cheating—just to spice things up."

"Seduced a bishop just to make the saintess cry."

… Okay.

This was not just any villainess role. This was the Olympics of villainy.

And she was Verena.

"Oh, I am so dead."

Well, there was always the foolproof option.

Running away.

And not just any kind of running away. Running away so hard that even the plot itself couldn't catch her.

Step 1: Divorce the warlord duke. Being married to a temperamental murder machine was not on her bucket list.

Step 2: Secure money. She needed gold, jewels, offshore accounts. Anything that would keep her from eating dirt.

Step 3: Cut off all contact. No letters. No messengers. No dramatic "I still love you" confrontations. She'd be a ghost. A legend. A woman who yeeted herself out of the plot entirely.

But just as she was hyping herself up for the Villainess Escape Plan, a cold, mechanical ding! echoed in her mind.

[SYSTEM WARNING!]

[Trial of Social Etiquette]

[You have attempted to flee a major event.]

[Return to the party within 10 minutes to avoid triggering a Death Flag.]

[Debuff Applied: Stiff Corset (Speed -30%) ]

[Debuff Applied: Regency Slippers (Trip Chance +50%) ]

What...

What kind of medieval MLM system was this?!

Who wrote these rules?! And why was she being nerfed like an NPC with bad RNG?!

Her eyes darted back toward the ballroom.

She had 10 minutes before the Grim Reaper personally escorted her off the stage.

…Yeah, no. Running away later. Right now, she needed to survive.

With her pride shattered, her dignity bruised, and her feet absolutely hating her, Verena stumbled her way back toward the ballroom.

The Stiff Corset debuff squeezed her lungs so tight she swore she could hear her ribs begging for mercy.

Every step in these Regency Slippers of Doom felt like she was walking on betrayal itself—thin soles, slippery fabric, and a 50% trip chance that was clearly more like 90%.

As she neared the grand ballroom doors, her foot wobbled, her ankle gave out, and—thud! She barely caught herself against a poor, innocent column before collapsing into full regency-era disgrace.

"This is just so absurd..."

The guards stationed at the entrance winced. A noblewoman gasped, fanning herself dramatically, while a servant girl looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Even the chandelier seemed to judge her.

Steeling herself, she forced her way inside.

And then—silence.

All eyes snapped to her the second she entered. Hundreds of aristocrats, in their jewel-encrusted silks and towering powdered wigs, gawked at her like she had just crawled out of the underworld.

She took another step.

Her slipper squeaked against the polished marble.

Someone coughed.

Her left eye twitched.

Debuff Removed: Stiff Corset (Speed Restored!) Debuff Removed: Regency Slippers (Trip Chance Neutralized!) 

Sweet air filled her lungs. Her spine relaxed. Her feet stopped plotting her murder.

She didn't know how nobles actually greeted people, so she just did the first thing that came to mind—

She bowed.

Not gracefully. Not elegantly. Just a stiff, "I hope this is right" kind of bow that made some older noblewomen gasp like she had committed a federal crime.

Raphael opened his mouth.

And the moment he spoke, she immediately regretted not running away.

"I see. So even in disgrace, my wife still knows how to crawl back to me."

Her soul left her body.

Her face scrunched in pure disgust. Her entire bloodstream ran cold.

Wow, that sounded so disgusting...

Before she could fire back with a verbal execution, another ding! sounded in her mind.

[SYSTEM WARNING!]

[Mission Initiated: Avoiding the Love Curse]

[A love curse will soon activate. To prevent it, immediately mark yourself onto a target.]

[Action Required: Steal a target.]

…

WHAT....