Chapter 2

2. Being the Villainess Was Surprisingly Comfortable

After the car accident, my consciousness finally returned after what felt like an endless stretch of darkness. Blinking blankly, I took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

I was lying alone on a canopy bed draped with white curtains. It was so enormous that at least seven adults could have comfortably slept on it.

Where… am I?

Still dazed, I stared at the curtains embroidered with delicate gold-thread patterns of snakes and roses. Then the motorcycle accident flashed through my mind—the one that had happened just before I blacked out.

I shot upright.

I clearly remembered the sensation of my bones shattering and my muscles tearing apart. So how was I completely unharmed? There wasn’t even a hint of soreness.

As I nervously patted myself down, my hands suddenly landed on an impressively full chest.

“W-What…?”

Confused, I looked down at my body before scrambling out of bed and rushing toward the mirror.

“…Huh!”

A gasp escaped my lips.

Instead of the familiar face I’d seen every day, the mirror reflected a breathtaking beauty with sharp, elegant features. Her glossy violet hair framed a face with striking crimson eyes.

She’s… gorgeous.

I found myself staring in admiration for a long while before I snapped out of it and began slapping my own cheeks.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The pale cheeks of the beautiful woman in the mirror quickly turned bright red from my relentless slaps.

I had no choice.

If I wanted to wake up from this ridiculous dream…

“Ow… That hurts.”

But why wasn’t I waking up?

Had I gone insane?

The sensations were far too vivid to be a dream.

As I stood there in shock, a sharp crashing sound pierced my ears.

Turning toward the noise, I saw a bowl of porridge rolling across the floor. A woman dressed as a Western-style maid had collapsed onto the ground, her face drained of color with terror.

The moment our eyes met, she immediately lowered her head until it nearly touched the floor.

“I-I’m so sorry! I… I didn’t see anything! Please forgive me! I’ve committed an unforgivable offense! Please have mercy, Lady Deborah!”

Deborah?

That name sounded strangely familiar.

Then it hit me like lightning.

I remembered exactly where I’d heard it.

It was the name of the villainess from Swallowing the Black Thorn, the dark, R-rated web novel I’d spent a fortune unlocking chapter after chapter before it was abruptly discontinued.

Deborah was an utterly ruthless villainess the author had created solely to torment the heroine. As far as I remembered, comments cursing Deborah had practically become a permanent fixture among the novel’s top-rated comments.

Logically, this made no sense.

But unless I’d somehow transmigrated into the novel, nothing else could explain my situation.

My stinging cheeks were too real.

My senses were too vivid.

And the violet hair and crimson eyes matched Deborah’s description perfectly.

As I struggled to comprehend what had happened to me, a handsome middle-aged man with cold, piercing eyes entered the room.

“What is all this commotion now?”

The instant our icy silver-gray eyes met, fragments of Deborah’s memories surfaced.

The man standing before me was Georges Seymour—Deborah’s father.

He was a high-ranking archmage and one of the five greatest geniuses the prestigious House Seymour had produced throughout its long history.

Though already middle-aged, Duke Seymour possessed a lean, graceful build. His personality was just as cold as his appearance.

The only person he’d ever truly loved was his wife, Marienne Seymour.

But after she died giving birth to their youngest son, Enrique, he reverted to the heartless man he’d once been.

“What a pathetic child.”

The duke looked down at me with utter contempt, as though I were garbage.

To him, family honor was everything.

Naturally, he despised Deborah, who seemed determined to disgrace House Seymour with a new scandal every other day.

“Hah. A hunger strike wasn’t enough? Now you’ve moved on to self-harm?”

His fingers clamped tightly around my reddened cheek.

“This face, inherited from your mother, was the only redeeming thing about you.”

“…”

“And all over some worthless jewel.”

His grip tightened.

“You are the shame of House Seymour.”

The fragments of Deborah’s memories explained everything.

She had thrown a massive tantrum demanding the empire’s one and only pink diamond necklace. When her father refused, she’d begun a hunger strike several days ago.

Apparently, the duke had mistaken my panicked face-slapping for yet another dramatic stunt.

“My patience with you has its limits, even if you are my daughter.”

His eyes turned glacial.

“This is your final warning. Stay confined to your room and don’t cause any more trouble.”

Grinding his teeth, he flung my face aside as if discarding an unwanted object before striding out of the room.

I watched his retreating back in stunned silence.

Seriously… how can someone’s father be that handsome…?

No… that’s not the point.

He’s terrifying.

The murderous aura he’d radiated left my whole body trembling.

My shaky legs barely carried me back toward the bed before I nearly screamed.

The maid, who had been bowing in apology, crawled toward me on all fours and desperately begged for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me just this once!”

She began smashing her forehead against the floor with enough force to draw blood.

At that moment, it truly sank in.

I’d become the villainess of a brutally grim novel where human rights barely existed.

“…I-I get it. Just leave.”

My voice came out stiff with tension.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

The maid hastily cleaned up the spilled porridge before fleeing the room as though escaping for her life.

The moment she disappeared, all my strength drained away.

I slowly slid down to the floor.

This is insane.

I’d spent my entire life being a pushover, only to die at the young age of twenty-four…

And now I’d reincarnated as this character?

Why her?

There were countless other characters in the novel.

So why did it have to be Deborah?

Swallowing my despair, I buried my burning face in my hands before collapsing onto the bed.

I closed my eyes, desperately hoping that everything would disappear once I woke up.

When morning came…

I was still Deborah, the infamous villainess.

“…Although…”

This isn’t as bad as I expected.

It had already been ten days since I’d become Deborah.

Surprisingly, I was adapting rather well.

I’d assumed life as a universally hated villainess would be miserable.

Instead…

There’s barely anything to adapt to.

Everything is already perfectly taken care of.

I could sleep as late as I wanted in an enormous, unbelievably soft bed.

Whenever I got hungry, I simply rang a bell, and servants immediately brought breakfast.

“This is delicious…”

I murmured without thinking as I bit into a flaky pastry that practically melted in my mouth.

The servant must have heard me.

She darted out of the room like a bullet and returned moments later carrying a basket overflowing with all kinds of fresh bread.

Wow.

Look how well-trained these people are.

Even a quiet comment was enough for my every desire to be fulfilled.

Everyone moved with military precision, terrified of provoking Deborah’s explosive temper.

Well… that’s a hundred times better than servants who don’t listen.

Nodding in satisfaction, I spread a generous amount of raspberry jam over a warm round loaf.

I’d always loved bread, so the food here suited my taste perfectly.

“My lady, would you like some more?”

“No. Leave.”

Being watched while eating made me uncomfortable, so I imitated Deborah’s cold manner of speaking and dismissed the servants.

The figs arranged neatly on the plate were wonderfully fresh.

The mushroom soup was rich and creamy.

After I finished breakfast, the servants poured fragrant tea into a beautiful porcelain cup.

I’d never stayed at a five-star hotel before, but I imagined this was exactly what room service would be like.

Holding the antique teacup, I gazed out the window as birds chirped outside.

A peaceful morning like this…

In all twenty-four years of my life, I’d never experienced such luxurious tranquility.

Back home, mornings had always been a battlefield.

Our apartment wasn’t large, yet there were three siblings.

Every morning was absolute chaos.

My younger brother had his own room.

My older sister and I shared one.

Since she was an early riser, she’d always switch on every light and start blow-drying her hair long before I woke up.

The roar of that hairdryer nearly drove me insane every morning.

It was even worse because I was naturally a night owl.

“Yoon Dohee, I’m wearing this.”

Whenever I finally bought clothes I’d wanted after saving up, my sister would casually wear them first.

“You wear my clothes all the time too.”

She always said that, conveniently ignoring the fact that the clothes she lent me were either stretched around the collar or too small to wear properly.

Still…

I’d always been such a pushover that I never complained.

I simply accepted it.

“Sis, I need the bathroom first!”

Even after being forcibly awakened by my diligent sister, getting to the bathroom was another battle.

The moment I reached the only bathroom in the apartment, my younger brother would magically appear and cut in line.

That brat always left the toilet a disgusting mess, so I’d end up cleaning it first thing in the morning.

Compared to those frantic mornings…

This felt like a luxury vacation at a five-star hotel.

“Stay in your room and don’t cause any more trouble!”

Remembering Duke Seymour’s stern warning made me chuckle.

If this counts as punishment…

I’d happily stay under house arrest forever.

When your body is comfortable, your mind relaxes too.

For the time being, I pushed thoughts about the future aside and simply watched the light snow drifting past the window.

By the time breakfast had settled, the servants brought warm water and began helping me get dressed.

Once I’d put on the petticoat and corset, another line of attendants entered carrying a collection of dazzling dresses.

Oh, right.

Deborah ordered custom-made dresses from the dressmaker last month.

According to the memories I’d inherited, Deborah absolutely adored shopping.

She frequently visited the shopping district to buy outrageously expensive clothes and jewelry.

Showing off her wealth and beauty in the latest fashions was one of her favorite hobbies.

Besides…

Even though she was confined to her room, the servants had effortlessly transformed it into what looked like the VIP lounge of a luxury department store.

Deborah truly lived on an entirely different level.