Resetting The Villainess

The first thing I noticed was the light.

The ballroom blazed with gold — thousands of candles reflecting off crystal chandeliers and mirrored walls, turning every guest into a living jewel. Music drifted from a string quartet near the dais, graceful and distant.

The second thing I noticed was that every head turned the moment I walked in.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through silk.

“Is that—?”
“Lady Seraphina Valeria…”
“She actually came?”
“After what happened with the Crown Prince—how bold.”

I held my chin high, every inch the villainess they expected — but tonight, I wouldn’t give them the performance they wanted.

---

My gown was a masterpiece of defiance: a cascade of crimson silk that shimmered like fire, threaded with gold filigree that caught every flicker of light. The bodice hugged close, elegant without vulgarity, and a single ruby pendant rested at my throat — the same shade as my eyes.

When I moved, the train flowed like liquid flame behind me.

The murmurs grew louder. Nobles leaned toward each other, fanning themselves, pretending not to stare. Even the royal banners of the Radiant Cycle seemed dull next to me — the sacred sunburst sigils embroidered in pale gold along the walls paled against the vibrancy of my gown.

Good. Let them look.

Let them remember that Lady Seraphina Valeria still existed.

---

I crossed the hall slowly, each step echoing against the marble floor. Servants bowed, courtiers parted like waves. My father and brother stood near the noble dais, their eyes narrowing slightly as I approached — Alaric’s gaze stern, Adrian’s expression unreadable.

But I didn’t falter.

If I was to survive this story, I had to control how they saw me. No tantrums, no foolishness — just composure wrapped in silk.

At the far end of the ballroom, beneath the largest chandelier, the royal family stood surrounded by high-ranking nobles and priests.

And there — beside the golden banners of the Solara Church — was Elle Fenwyn.

---

She looked exactly as I remembered from the book.
Long blonde hair that gleamed like sunlight, blue eyes clear and soft. She wore a gown of silver and pale blue — simple, almost modest, yet glowing faintly with the divine aura of her water magic.

She looked like a saint carved from light itself.

Beside her stood the Crown Prince, Lucien Valenor — auburn-haired, regal, handsome. His smile was courteous as he spoke with the high priestess, but his eyes lingered on Elle with unmistakable warmth.

The air between them was already charged with the kind of chemistry that made bards write love songs.

And now, both of them were looking at me.

---

The music faltered.
The conversations died down.

For a heartbeat, the entire ballroom went utterly still.

This was the moment — the infamous scene that had ended my predecessor’s life.
In the novel, Seraphina had marched straight up to Elle, mocked her common birth, and accused her of using witchcraft to seduce the prince.
The confrontation had been legendary.
It had also been the beginning of her end.

I could feel the crowd waiting — hungry for chaos, breathless for scandal.

“She’ll start again…”
“Look at her eyes—like she’s ready to strike.”
“This will be delicious.”

Even Lucien seemed to brace himself subtly, as if preparing to shield his saint from whatever venom I might spew.

Instead, I smiled.

A calm, polite, utterly devastating smile.

Then I bowed — deep, elegant, flawless.

“Your Highness,” I said softly, voice clear enough to reach the nearest nobles. “It’s an honor to see you well again. And congratulations to Lady Fenwyn for her divine miracle.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Elle blinked, clearly thrown off. The prince’s brows lifted slightly. Around us, whispers erupted in disbelief.

“Did she just—thank her?”
“That’s not possible.”
“The Lady Valeria never compliments anyone!”

I straightened, keeping my expression serene. “Please, enjoy the evening,” I added before turning gracefully away.

My heart was racing, but outwardly I was a portrait of poise.

---

As I moved toward my father’s table, I could feel eyes on me — dozens of them. The court was practically vibrating with confusion and disappointment. They wanted blood. Instead, I gave them civility.

And in the corner of my vision, I saw Lucien watching me.

Not with disgust this time — but curiosity.

For the first time since I’d woken in this body, I realized something terrifying and thrilling:
When you stop following the story’s script… everyone else has to improvise.

---

A bell chimed at the head of the hall. The High Priestess of Solaria — draped in sun-gold robes — lifted her hands.
“Praise be to Luminara, whose light restores all,” she intoned. “Tonight we celebrate the Saint of the Water’s blessing and the divine Cycle’s mercy upon the Crown Prince.”

Guests bowed their heads. I did too, though mine was lower and slower.

The priestess continued, her voice echoing through the hall:

“For Light brings life, and Shadow brings renewal — but only through surrender to the Radiant Cycle may we find peace.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Because under those gilded words, I could hear the true message:
Obey fate. Stay in your role. Die when you’re told.

I opened my eyes and found Lucien’s gaze again — still fixed on me, thoughtful, maybe even unsettled.

Good. Let him wonder.

---

When the music resumed and nobles began to dance, I retreated to the side of the hall, where servants carried wine and laughter bubbled anew. My father nodded subtly in approval from across the room. Adrian, however, looked suspicious, as if he couldn’t decide whether to be proud or concerned.

“Don’t worry, Brother,” I murmured under my breath. “I’ve learned my lesson. No more scenes.”

A court lady nearby whispered to her companion, “Perhaps the Lady Valeria truly repented.”

Repented.
They said it like I’d committed a sin against their god of Light — as if being angry, grieving, human, had been heresy.

I let the wine swirl in my glass, the red liquid catching the candlelight like blood.

Let them pray to their goddess.
I’d make my own miracles.

Because tonight, I didn’t just survive the scene that killed me once before —
I rewrote it.