Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess

Ahcehera glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost time for another dose of medication, but she had a different feeling deep inside. Tears welled up in her eyes, yet a soft smile bloomed on her lips. She reached for her phone and opened her favorite novel.

The author hadn't posted any updates on time again.

Sighing, Ahcehera reread her favorite chapters. She was smiling, but her chest began to ache strangely, familiarly.

Is it still possible for me to read the last few chapters before the princess meets her tragic end?

Then, a notification popped up on the screen. It was a letter from the author apologizing to readers, explaining that the new chapters had been postponed for the day.

Ahcehera's smile turned wistful, tinged with sadness and longing. She glanced at the clock again and wiped her tears. Then, she decided to stare out the window, letting the minutes slip by.

Time's almost up…

Ahcehera lay back on her bed and closed her eyes.

If I could write on behalf of the author, I'd change the life of the villainess princess. I'd alter her fate. She deserves to live a good life. She doesn't need to die, just like me. I want her to be happy and free.

When the attending doctor entered Ahcehera's room, she was no longer breathing.

-

A suffocating feeling engulfed Ahcehera, like cold fingers wrapping tightly around her throat. Her chest heaved as she fought for air, and her ribs felt like they might shatter with every shallow breath.

Pain throbbed through her body, sharp, fiery stabs that danced across her skin. She winced, her eyelids fluttering open. The world around her spun like a whirlwind. Smoke curled in the air, stinging her eyes and filling her lungs with bitter heat.

Where am I?

The scent of scorched land and blood clung heavily to the atmosphere. Groaning, Ahcehera tried to sit up but froze when a ball of blazing fire shot toward her.

Instinct kicked in, and she barely managed to roll aside, the flames licking dangerously close to her face. The impact of her fall knocked the wind from her lungs, and she tumbled across the rough, debris-strewn ground.

Her palms scraped against the jagged stones, leaving her fingers raw and bloody. Coughing violently, she clutched her ribs, wincing at the dull ache that spread through her side. Her hand gripped something cold and solid, a sword.

Ahcehera stared at the weapon in disbelief. The blade was thin with crimson markings, and her fingers, calloused and rough, trembled as she tightened her grip.

Only then did she notice the gashes littering her body, angry slashes across her arms, bruises swelling on her legs, and a deep cut above her brow that dripped warm blood down her face.

What... what is this?

Before she could process her injuries, a deafening roar shook the ground. Ahcehera's gaze lifted, and her breath caught. Towering before her stood a massive demonic beast, its monstrous form dominating the battlefield.

It had several heads, each twisted and snarling with jagged teeth. Flames flickered between its snarling maws, and its crimson eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

This... this is impossible!

Her mind reeled. She had accepted death, hadn't she?

Her last memory was one of choking darkness, her body failing her after years of sickness. Yet here she was, surrounded by chaos and bloodshed. The pain she felt wasn't fleeting or distant, it was real.

Ahcehera's hand shot to her chest. Her heart pounded fiercely beneath her ribs, and air rushed through her nasal canal, filling her lungs in sharp, ragged breaths. The sensation was unmistakable, she was alive. Fully, undeniably alive.

But how? Wasn't I supposed to be dead? Her thoughts spiraled.

If I died, shouldn't I be in the Underworld? Isn't that where the souls of the dead go?

But this place, this battlefield of smoke, fire, and blood, was nothing like the Underworld she had read about in stories.

Suddenly, a searing pain split her skull, like molten iron being poured directly into her brain. Ahcehera clutched her head and squeezed her eyes shut. A torrent of memories, images, voices, and moments that weren't hers flooded her mind.

A grand palace of gold and crimson banners. A cold, bitter voice addressed servants. A mirror reflecting an icy gaze, her own reflection, but somehow different. Regal, intimidating, and cruel.

Ahcehera Bloodstone.

The name rang in her mind like a curse. Recognition struck her like lightning.

Isn't that the name of the villainess princess from the novel, 'Major General Loves Me the Most'?

Panic gripped her chest. She knew this story well, had read it eagerly while waiting for the author's next update. Ahcehera Bloodstone was infamous, a twisted, power-hungry princess who met a tragic end, betrayed and executed for her crimes.

Wait, didn't the last chapter end with Ahcehera's death?

Ahcehera's heart stuttered. Could it be? Had she somehow become that character?

Did the author delay the update because it contained the villainess's death?

It was a ridiculous thought, but the evidence was undeniable. The memories and the body she now possessed all pointed to one terrifying truth.

"I'm... Ahcehera Bloodstone?" Her voice shook as she whispered the words aloud, barely recognizing her own trembling tone.

The beast let out another roar, snapping her from her thoughts. Flames crackled as the creature surged forward, each of its heads snapping hungrily in her direction.

Ahcehera's instincts screamed at her to run. But she knew there was no escape, no salvation waiting to pluck her from this nightmare. She had no choice but to fight. Gritting her teeth, she forced her aching limbs to move. The sword in her hand felt foreign, awkward in her grip, yet her body remembered.

Muscle memory guided her movements as she ducked and weaved between the beast's thrashing heads. Her blade lashed out, striking scales that felt like stone. Sparks flew, and the beast recoiled, growling in fury.

I don't know how long I can keep this up...

Years of being bedridden had left her weak, her stamina a pitiful shadow of what it once was. Her arms shook violently, and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her.

But the memories flooding her mind carried more than just the pain of her past. They brought knowledge. Faint recollections of Ahcehera's combat training flickered at the edge of her thoughts, movements honed through years of harsh discipline.

Move... step left... swing upward... duck...

Her body, battered and broken, obeyed those instincts. She slashed, rolled, and evaded. The beast lunged again, but this time, Ahcehera countered with a powerful strike to one of its snarling heads.

Blood spurted as the creature howled in pain. Her chest heaved, her body trembling violently. She knew she couldn't keep this up much longer.

I can't die here... Not like this...

Determination blazed through her, not just hers, but Ahcehera's as well. Whatever fate had brought her to this twisted reality, she refused to succumb.

If this body were hers now, she would survive. Clenching her sword, Ahcehera steadied her breath and faced the beast once more.

I'll rewrite my fate, even as a villainess princess, no matter what it takes.