The Villainess with a Blank Slate

Sometimes, I think the universe has it out for me. Today was one of those days.

I had it all planned out. A foolproof, fun, interactive detective game for my English class with the 4th to 6th graders—complete with colorful flashcards, catchy songs, and even tiny prizes! But nope. The kids looked at me like I'd asked them to solve quantum physics. Not one laugh, not one ounce of interest. Just… boredom.

"What am I even doing wrong? Is it me? Is it them? Or is it just my destiny to be a tragic failure at this?" I muttered under my breath, kicking off my shoes as I dragged myself into my tiny apartment.

By the time I dumped my bag on the couch, the weight of self-disappointment was crushing. Was I even cut out to be a teacher? I mean, teaching's supposed to be this fulfilling, noble thing, right? But if my class hates me, what's the point?

As usual, my coping mechanism was… food. Specifically, instant noodles, because cooking something fancy? Not today, Satan. I boiled water, threw in the noodles, and stared at the steam rising, mumbling to myself, "Noah, you're 20. Shouldn't you be better at life by now? Like, a real adult? Not someone who burns toast on a good day?"

Dinner lasted five minutes—because who eats instant noodles slowly? Then, like clockwork, I retreated to my room, belly full of MSG and heart full of regret.

At least I had that comic to look forward to. You know, the one where the villainess is all misunderstood and tragic, but secretly my favorite? Yeah, that one. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to the latest chapter. The plot was finally heating up, and I couldn't wait to see if the Grand Duke would—

Zzzzzz.

Yep, lights out. I was out like a candle in a storm, sprawled across my bed, comic still open on my phone screen. What's the saying? Life goes on? Whatever. For tonight, I was done trying to figure it out.

After hours of dozing off, I woke up feeling oddly... amazing. Like, actually amazing. It had been so long since I'd slept so well. My body sprawled across the softest mattress I'd ever touched, limbs thrown every which way like I was auditioning to be a starfish. The guilt from yesterday's flop of a lesson plan hadn't hit me yet, and for once, I just wanted to savor this peaceful moment.

But then, there it was.

At first, it was a faint knock, almost polite. I groaned and buried my face into the pillow, hoping it would go away. It didn't. The knock got louder. And louder.

Suddenly, I jolted upright, heart pounding like crazy. My eyes darted to the door as I clutched a pillow to my chest like it was a shield. "Who's there?!" I yelled, my voice cracking halfway through. The neighbors were probably rolling their eyes already, but hey, survival instincts, right?

"Don't mess with me! I have a black belt in Taekwondo!" Total lie. My most impressive move was tripping over my own feet, but maybe it would scare them off? Then again, why would a murderer—or thief, or whatever—knock first?

I slid off the bed cautiously, pillow still in hand like it was a weapon. That's when it hit me.

This wasn't my bed.

Or my apartment.

"Wait... what the—?" I froze, staring at the lavish room around me. Tall ceilings, ornate furniture, curtains that looked more expensive than my entire rent. Since when could I afford a villa—or no, this was way fancier. A luxury hotel suite?

"No, no, no," I muttered, pacing in a small circle. "Last night, I ate instant noodles. I remember that. I didn't even wash the bowl yet! So what is this?! Did I choke on MSG and... die? Is this, like, some bougie afterlife?"

My head was spinning, and not just from panic. As I tried to piece together how I'd gone from crappy noodles to this opulence, I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror. Same messy hair, same old pajamas.

"This has to be a dream. Right?"

But then the knock came again, more urgent this time. And the voice that followed chilled me to my core.

"My lady, are you awake?"

Wait. What?

When the door swung open, my jaw dropped. Standing there was a tall woman in a crisp maid's uniform, her long brown hair swaying as she rushed toward me. My brain short-circuited. What kind of messed-up fever dream was this?

Before she could say a word, I screamed, clutching my hair. "What is this? Am I dead? Did I join some weird cult in my sleep? Wait—did someone sneak into my apartment? Oh my God! Did I forget to lock the door last night?!"

My voice rose with every word as my overactive imagination kicked in, piecing together a ridiculous crime scenario. I pointed an accusatory finger at the woman. Panic kicked in as my mind went full detective mode. Too much late-night true crime, clearly. "You! You must be the kidnapper! What's your name? Where am I? Wait, why would you tell me? You'd never give away your evil plan! Look, just so you know, I'm broke, okay? Take my apartment if you want—I can't even afford rent properly! Take everything! Just—oh no, you're going to kill me, aren't you?!"

I braced myself for her sinister laugh or pull out a weapon, but instead, the maid looked... horrified? Her face drained of color, her hands trembling as she stammered, "My lady… what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? It's me, Edda Joan. Your personal maid. I've been serving you for years!"

Her words hit me like a brick to the head. My lady? Prepare my clothes? Years? What the hell was happening? This wasn't my apartment. This wasn't even remotely normal.

The room erupted into chaos as more maids poured in, their chatter overlapping in a frenzied mix of concern and confusion.

"My lady, are you in pain?"

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Shall we prepare the herbal tea?"

The sheer number of voices made my head spin. I wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, but my voice felt caught in my throat. Just then, the door creaked open, and the maids fell silent.

A woman entered—older, poised, and with an air of authority that commanded respect. Her uniform was more refined, with darker shades, exuding elegance. Her calm gaze swept over the room before landing on me.

I couldn't take it anymore. The absurdity of the situation, the chaos, and my confusion bubbled over into laughter. Not the joyous kind, but the unhinged, borderline hysterical kind.

"Right, that's it," I said, throwing my hands up in mock surrender. "It's confirmed—I've gone insane. Totally, irreversibly insane."

The maids gasped, their wide eyes darting toward the older woman as if awaiting her reaction. She remained composed, stepping closer with a faint air of authority. Meanwhile, I sank into the nearest plush chair, head in my hands, muttering, "Maybe if I pinch myself hard enough, I'll wake up. Or disappear. Either works."

I sighed heavily, slumping as I tried to brace myself for the bizarre, spiraling absurdity of this situation. Turning my gaze toward the older woman, I asked lazily, though my tone betrayed irritation, "Who are you? The syndicate boss? Or their right-hand woman? Which gang are you even from?" My eyes, sharp with annoyance, judged her silently, as if daring her to make sense of it all.

"What did you do to me? Why am I here? Look, I don't remember messing with anyone, but if I've wronged you somehow, I'll apologize. Let's just settle this, yeah? I want to go home, and I'm sure you'd like this drama to end, too. Let's cooperate, shall we?"

I stood up, shoving one hand into the pocket of my pajama pants and extending the other expectantly for a handshake. But instead of easing the tension, my gesture threw the room into a state of chaos. Voices rose again, frantic whispers and gasps erupting from every corner.

Before I could demand an explanation, the older woman silenced the room with a commanding wave of her hand. Her expression turned grave, her voice steady but laced with urgency as she declared, "This cannot go unaddressed. Someone has harmed Lady Serephina. Edda, the rest of you—guard this room. No one enters or leaves without my permission except for the Duke and Duchess of Arden."

The mention of "Lady Serephina" sent a shiver down my spine. It was the name of the villainess in the comic I'd been reading before I fell asleep. 

What the hell was going on?

As I stood there, trying to make sense of the madness, a terrifying thought crept into my mind. Could it be? Could I have somehow ended up in the world of the comic I'd been reading last night? There was no way this was some weird cosplay syndicate with everyone dressed like they just stepped out of the pages of a fantasy novel. Maybe this was my reincarnation. 

But my brain refused to cooperate. The logic that had once earned me the title of top student in high school was nowhere to be found now. I couldn't even think straight anymore. Positive thinking was always my strength, but right now, it was like my mind had gone blank.

Frustrated, I slammed my forehead against the wall, tears welling up as panic set in. The maids around me gasped and rushed to stop me, their frantic whispers filling the room. What a mess I had gotten myself into.

But just as I felt like I might lose it completely, the door swung open again. The older woman, looking even more serious now, entered with a couple who exuded an air of authority. The woman was flanked by a man and a woman—definitely the Duke and Duchess of Arden, if the way they carried themselves meant anything.

I groaned, rubbing my forehead in disbelief. "Oh, great. Who are you people now? Why does everyone keep showing up? And why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on? This is seriously no fun."

The middle-aged woman walked towards me with a steely gaze and, without warning, slapped me across the face. 

"Hey! What was that for?!" I yelped in pain, hands instinctively pressing against my cheek.

The woman seemed unfazed. "I once heard that when a lady of noble birth fainted, her sister slapped her and she woke up," she explained matter-of-factly.

Her husband nodded eagerly. "Yes, that sounds like a great idea! Slap her again! Maybe it'll drive away whatever evil spirit possesses her."

Before she could make another move, I quickly intercepted. "Hey, didn't you hear me? Why am I suddenly being slapped? I swear I haven't done anything weird! You can trust me!"