crunch

"What do you want." Not a question, but a command with the threat of a swift and painful death hanging on the edge of his breath as it warms your face.

You don't seem the least bit perturbed though.

"From you?" You tilt your head as if you don't understand how question when both of you know well enough that you do.

Tamsy shoves a hand into your shoulder with enough force to bruise both the front and the back of it as it slams into the brick wall behind it.

With his other hand, Tamsy grabs you up by the arm, nails digging into the meat of your bicep through the fabric of your top. Despite his soft and often unassuming appearance, Tamsy is strong. Quite strong. He might never beat Delmon in fist fight, but he's strong enough to break bones, strong enough to kill a man, information you flaunted knowing.

Yet you don't react to his attempt at intimidation. Not a wince of pain flashes across your face. Your eyes never narrow. Your breathing stays perfectly even. And you smile, the one he wants to wipe off your face so badly right now, stays curled in amusement, glossy lips parting as you let out a giggle.

"There's a reason why you told me that." In just nine words, you told him that you knew Tamsy killed Rudo's father, and that you know he's been to the sphere and back. Both pieces of information are worth their weight in gold, maybe even more, should you tell either Semiu or Corvus this.

But you chose to reveal to him that you knew his secrets instead of telling those two, people who you are considerably closer to compared to him, the truth.

Why?

Why? Why? Why?

"What. Do. You. Want."

"I've already told you, no?" You make a broad gesture to his face with your hand, nails faintly tracing the edge of his jaw as if falls down to rest at your side. "That I like pretty things."

"And what does your obsession have to- " Tamsy pauses, thinking back on all of the conversations you've had before.

Pretty things. He knows your version of the term has a visual aspect to it. You told him how you thought Semiu would look better, divine was the exact word, if she put on a few more pounds. You said something similar about Riyo and Zanka too. How nothing matches a truly healthy body.

But there's another part to it, the reason why he thought the two of you would get along in the first place.

You had seen past his facade. The fake softness he had been wearing wasn't something you were interested in. You liked his true personality.

And, you didn't just find it pretty. No no. You called it beautiful.

That's the answer, the reason why you showed him your hand.

"You're a freak." Tamsy said the first thing that came to his mind, what he thought of you, spitting out those words like they're some type on insult directly in your face.

What do you do? Do you curl up in embarrassment? Do your eyes shine as tears threaten to fall down your cheeks? No, you shudder. Not shake, but full on shudder in excitement, more than happy to be the subject of his scrutiny.

All you wanted was the true Tamsy. Not the gentle one who acted as a teacher and guide, who hid his intentions behind his pretty lashes and faux smiles. But the Tamsy who's mean, bordering on cruel, the Tamsy who's lovingly sarcastic and a handful too much sadistic.

You sigh wistfully, now somewhat bashful in the face of what you longed for enough to have him debate whether or not he should kill you on the spot (something you relished in, he's sure)

Your eyes dart all over his face. His lips, his eyes, his nose, his brows, his lips again, then back up to his eyes as you raise your shoulders, shrinking into them as you use your hands to push at his chest. The effort isn't really there. You don't add more force when Tamsy leans in close. Actually, you lighten up, hands tensing as if you're holding yourself back from properly feeling him beneath your fingertips.

What catches Tamsy's eyes is your lips, how you're biting them. The action isn't done from nerves or you being uncomfortable. You're trying to stop yourself from smiling even wider than you do now.

He wonders what that smile would look like, how debauched he could get you to act, what it would take to pull an even worse reaction out of you.

The thought brings a grin to Tamsy's face.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" He looks you dead in the eye as he speaks, a single hand reaching up behind your head, deft fingers threading through your hair, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your shoulders fall lax, before clenching into a fist and pulling down hard, forcing your head to drag back against the wall a little, chin up and neck flexed from how you instinctively arch your back from the pain.

What do you do? Do you cry? Do you ask him to stop? Do you scream for someone to come and save you? Of course not. Why would you?

You're exactly where you want to be.

Your feet are rooted into the ground. Your knees bend towards each other. Your hands fist in the fabric of his clothes and pull, not push, but pull him closer.

Then your jaw drops open, lip slightly puffy from being bitten, and you give him one of those pathetic cries, the kind that's more air than it is your own voice.

"You like it." You tug him nice and close, chests now compressed together, breaths mingling as Tamsy keeps you down beneath him, hand still fisted in your hair. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be here in this alley like this. You wouldn't have invited me out in the first place."

And maybe he does. More than he would like to admit anyway. But he's not going to tell you that and give you the satisfaction of being right.

Tamsy glances down at your lips for a half a second. A good way to keep you quiet, to have you stop speaking the truth so plainly, make you give him more of those almost desperate sounds and turn your lips the right shade of irritated pink.

He decides not to in the end, backing off and letting you go with a huff a second later, annoyed more with himself rather than you.

Now isn't the time.

Not when someone's expecting the two of you, at least.

"Done already?" You muse (very much tease, Tamsy can't help but think) leaning back against the wall for support as you regain your composure. "I thought we were having fun."

Tamsy looks you over once.

A mess. Frazzled hair, panting for air, crumpled clothes, flushed face. If anyone saw the two of you walk out of the alleyway now, they'd think Tamsy was some greedy bastard who couldn't wait until the two of you got back home.

"You don't want your precious little Rudo seeing you like this, do you?"

You had sent the boy off on some errand, to go and grab an order you had made with the florist across town to buy some private time between you and Tamsy. He should be back any minute now.

You put on a pout.

"Pretty things can be a little messy... " Your voice trails, following whatever thought you had in your head. "But now isn't the time for a mess. Give me a second."

You fix yourself up quickly, putting your clothes back into place and changing up your hair perfectly without ever seeing your reflection. It feels practiced, like a honed skill, but Tamsy doesn't comment on it.

Instead, he brushes any stray debris from the wall off your back with a swipe of his hand, eyes and ears straining for any indication of Rudo has come back.

Where Tamsy is more of a cautious lookout, you very much do not care, waltzing out of the alleyway with a bit of a swing to your step.

You throw the man a look over your shoulder.

"It'd be more suspicious if he saw us walking out of a dark alley together."

"..." Tamsy puffs and follows you out a second after. You give him a smile, a pleased smile, a hand digging around in your pocket before it reveals a small enclosed tube.

You unscrew the top and it becomes obvious what it is. Your lip gloss. Right, you probably ate it off earlier when you biting your lip. It would look strange for Rudo to come back and find your lips without their usually glossy shine, and Tamsy could do without the teasing he knows he'd get back at HQ for now.

You swipe the applicator across both lips a few times, smacking and rolling them together to ensure an even application.

Strangely, you go and lick your lips afterwards, humming at the taste. 

"Cherry flavored." You answer without ever turning to look at him. "Maybe you'll get a taste one day."

Before he has a chance to respond to what you're implying, Rudo calls out to you, bolting down the street with a bouquet of flowers in cradled in his hands.

"I got the flowers you asked for!"

"Aren't you a reliable little thing?" You ruffle the boy's hair, back to being the dotting sap you were just a little more than half an hour earlier.

Taking the small bouquet from Rudo, you throw a look over your shoulder back at Tamsy, smile all nice and sweet as if the man didn't have you weak in the knees from a few insults a minute ago. 

"Shall we head back?"

Taglist: @iglb12, @princess-poolia, @weponxwrites,

“I thought so.” Kafka says at last, acknowledging the meaning of your silence.

“Look, I know how it must look now, but there are hundreds of men who look like this on this planet alone—” you attempt one last time to salvage some dignity.

“[Name],” immediately your mouth shuts upon recognizing the tone, “What do we do when we make mistakes?”

You avert your eyes, lips pursing, words practically a grumble, “Not make excuses…”

“And?”

“Fix them.” you grit out after much struggle.

“Yes. So, what are you waiting for? You know what to do, don't you?” a clink echoes from Kafka’s wine glass settling on the table, signaling the finale of this exchange.

You mutter a half-hearted agreement, still petulant. Not really paying much attention to whatever she says afterwards as the call ends.

Six months. Twenty six weeks. One hundred and eighty three days of sleepless observing, learning and planning to pin down one man just to be told that you had the wrong person since the beginning. A sigh forces its way past your lips as you shove the phone in your pocket, repressing the urge to throw it at the nearest wall instead.

“Luckin Luckin, drink it up..”

All your muscles stiffen as that familiar jingle drifts to your ears, you sharply turn to see your hostage swaying from side to side on the chair as he sings that damnable song without a care in the world.

“Carrying carrying, Snowy’s here!”

Instantly, a maelstrom of memories flood your mind.

“A leap that leads to an encounter with you!~”

Days of dealing with stupid customers, a narcissistic boss and loud fangirls just to get close to the celebrity. Abandoning your self respect as an aspiring Hunter to suffer in minimum wage hell all for it to mean nothing.

“Today’s a lucky day— uwah!!”

A loud thunk echoes in the air, startling the napping cat and silencing that maddening tune for good, your heavy breaths prompt him to hold his.

You look up to his bewildered form so quickly he wonders how you didn't snap your neck, cyan eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

You dare him to maintain eye-contact, which he loses within two seconds, flickering downwards to where the heel of your shoe rests in between the gap of his legs.

(If anyone asked later, you’d deny the reason you’d retreated was not for the loud gulp he’d forced down his throat, or the flush of pink coating his cheeks.)

“Phainon.”

The addressed man stiffens further at the terse way you use his name, “Uhm, yes?! Uh- Well-”

His sputtering spree stops as you flash him a dazzling smile, the remaining adrenaline manifesting in a flinch instead.

“How do you feel?” you ask sweetly.

If Phainon was bewildered before, his cognitive abilities are out of function now. His mouth opens and closes, neurons firing and synapses aligning to form one response.

“I'm fine? How about you?” and then his whole face flushes as he realizes how dumb that sounded.

A corner of your lips twitch, which you immediately smother as Phainon fake-coughs, “I mean! I’m okay… but! I definitely would be finer if you… loosened these ropes?”

You fix his sweetened smile with a blank look and Phainon bends after three seconds, “Only if you want to, of course! No pressure!”

You shift to lean your weight on one leg, a hand gripping your hip as Phainon looks at anything but you, bouncing one of his legs. You catch a glimpse of his hands twisting behind his back against the restraints.

A hum from you stops Phainon’s squirming just a little, “Don’t worry. You’ll feel ‘finer’ soon.”

The man whips his head just as your shadow falls upon him, the response that’d been on the tip of his tongue dies there as you reach behind him.

He inhales sharply at your sudden proximity and his mouth runs before he could stop himself, “M-my, are you going to pin my arms above my head? Oh noooo, please don't! I won't be able to move my hands ahaha—”

His teasing bravado falls flat as light glints over the needle of the syringe you fix.

“Ha…”

You look at his gaping expression from your peripheral, “I told you not to worry, didn't I? It’ll sting just a little bit. Then, you’ll wake up forgetting everything that happened.”

Phainon straightens at that, face twisted in alarm, “Wait wait! No no no! I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I won't tell anyone about this, just wait—”

He tugs at the ropes with a sudden burst of energy and to his luck, the ropes loosen just enough for him to wiggle one hand out.

But that's where his stretch of fortune ends, a gasp is all that is heard as you strike the needle of the syringe right on the tattooed sun at the side of his neck.

Your left hand raises as his head limps forward, all the energy sapped out of his body in an instant. You toss the syringe aside, the previously napping cat catches it midair and drops it in an open plastic bag nearby.

You place your now free hand on his shoulder, steadying him so that he doesn't topple you over. A web of the next steps already taking shape in your mind.

Your thumb traces an absentminded circle over his cheek one last time before you let him go, trying your hardest to not think about the softness of his skin, or how you wished to feel more of it.

—

A week later, you sit at a secluded corner in the dining space of a fast-food chain, three tables away from your real target.

Your thumb swipes over the screen of your phone, pretending to scroll alongside the occasional munch of the fries you’d ordered.

Your attention, albeit, is zeroed on the man talking animatedly to the person in front of him.

You surmised it to be an argument, and the realization begets a pleased spark in you. The more tumultuous the emotions, the easier it was to bait someone.

“So, who are we stalking this time?”

You tilted your head, stealing a glance at the man in front of you over the rim of your glasses.

“The one with the shades, voice so booming it might as well be a verbal attack—”

Wait a minute.

You don't recall bringing a partner.

Slowly, you turn your head to your left, eyes long having forgotten how to blink.

“Missed me?” his voice drips of honey, sitting in utter leisure with a measly one inch gap between you, one elbow propped on the table, cheek pillowed by his palm.

Your soul almost leaves your body.

Phainon— damnable Phainon— blinks for a good few seconds in what appears to be concern at the force of your flinch, before an amused chuckle echoes from behind his masked face.

“You— what— how—?” your arms flail, trying to make sense of it. Why are you here? Why are you talking like you know me? Did the drug not work? How did you find me?

Phainon leans back slightly with a hum, his silver-blue tresses dance along the gesture, “It seems like you did miss me, a lot.”

Your brain ceases buffering at that, rebooting to adapt to the sudden change of circumstance, “Who… says I missed you? I don't even know who you are!” you cross your arms, angling your head straight.

Phainon makes a pained sound, a gloved raises to clutch at his chest, ever the actor he is, “Now you're just breaking my heart, Mx. Kidnapper! After we shared such an intimate, heartfelt experience—”

He lowers the volume of his exclamation at the death glare you direct at him, but doesn't stop, “Ahh, how I ache! But it's alright. I know you may pretend to be annoyed with me, but there's a soft spot for me in your heart. You even tucked me into bed even though I was such a naughty boy—”

Your jaw slackens, eyes appalled as he continues his soliloquy about intimacy and punishment, without a care in the world about how easy it’d be for him to get exposed here out of his stereotypical celebrity disguise.

You force yourself to swallow, no no, there is definitely something more to this. At the same time, your actual target springs from his seat, following after the other guy in a rush and that prompts you to attempt an escape.

You yelp, as the momentum of you standing up is used to yank you back down, your hand shoots out to cushion the abrupt pull, landing right on Phainon's thigh in time with his breath brushing over your face.

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, fingers fisting into the fabric covering your arm, “Running away so soon, Mx. Kidnapper?”

His free hand hovers over your hips for a brief moment, you can feel the weight of his hand even from the inch of distance and you instinctively draw in a breath as the tips of his fingers brush against the dip of your waist.

The golden flecks in his eyes twinkle behind his shades, you blink out of the daze as he raises his wandering hand to re-adjust your crooked glasses instead.

“I could kill you.” your whisper is far too loud in the thick silence.

There are a million other things you could've said, million ways you could've shoved him away. But your mind decides to not be partial to either.

Phainon tilts his head, eyes softening in what you could only assume was curiosity, “You wouldn't,” his response is just as tender, just as heavy as your threat.

You scoff at his audacity, pulling back with a jerk, and he lets go of your hand when you sit down beside him instead of running away.

“And why wouldn't I?”

The playful edge returns to Phainon’s countenance, “Because you own a cat.” he declares with the utmost confidence.

You stare at him blankly, “What? Cat?” and then you realize what it was that he was referring to, “You idiot, that wasn't my cat, that was my boss.”

Phainon blinks once before a carefree chuckle leaves him, he waves a hand, “Oh, I know! You cat-people treat your cats like they're your employers, no? Not saying that I don't get it, by the way! Completely valid, completely valid.”

Your eye twitches in irritation and resignation, realizing that he couldn't be shaken out of whatever narrative he’d convinced himself of. You lose any motivation to argue with him further, suddenly conscious of how ‘my boss is a cat’ sounds like to an ordinary person.

“Anywho!” you flinch as he stops his frantic waving to point a finger directly at you, you realize then that this man would give you a heart-attack if you don't leave soon. “To return to the point I was making, you won't kill me. Because I know that beneath all those scoffs and eye-rolls, you actually have a really soft heart.”

You reward his oh-so-confident exclamation with a deadpan.

“I am a wanted criminal.”

Phainon flinches and gears up in defense, “C-criminal?! Don’t sell yourself short! You're a… professional! Are you not?” he fixes his sunglasses and places a hand over his heart, “But even that is a matter of perspective. I know that villains are made, not born. If we're condemning anyone, it should be society! What I'm trying to say is— wait! Don't go! Wait!”

You equip yourself with imaginary noise-cancellation and get up to leave with a determined gait, no longer trusting yourself to stay sane before this man’s yapping.

Phainon scrambles after you, his legs eating up the distance with a few strides, “Mx. Kidna—”

The tips of his fingers brush by your scarf, before being shoved aside by a waiter in-rush. The noise of Phainon's shades hitting the tiled floor resounds as its pushed from his face from the impact.

The waiter gasps.

“Phainon?!”

Immediately, all the heads nearby turn, footsteps and swooning eating up the previous silence. Within seconds, Phainon is swallowed by a crowd.

“I’m extremely sorry, I'm in a hurry—” his plea is pushed aside by the excited yells of admiration and requests of autographs, the crowd does not budge an inch.

Phainon can only watch helplessly as your silhouette disappears amidst the helter-skelter.

—

A few weeks have gone by since that incident, the majority of which you’d passed in your apartment after a reasonable amount of earful from the others.

“Elio says that you should lay low for a while. The mission will be handed over to Bladie instead.” Kafka had instructed.

“Don’t leave your place unless absolutely necessary, we’ll be investigating the case.”

And, you did as you were told, left with no other option besides reflecting over everything that had happened throughout the past six months.

You couldn't even bring yourself to feel frustrated this time, numbed from the failure of being unable to complete the one assignment that would've solidified your position as a Stellaron Hunter.

You were half expecting police to kick down your door any hour of the day, but nothing happened, not even a peep was heard about the fact that Amphoreus’ golden boy had gotten kidnapped even after a month since the incident. But you chalked it up to be one of your colleagues’ work.

And every time your thoughts circled back to that day’s incident, your mind arrived at the same conclusion again and again.

That man was dangerous.

Not necessarily in terms of strength (though you weren't very confident about this point either), but for how he’d tipped you off of your axis so effortlessly that day.

You have a soft spot for me in your heart, his words would invade your mind in the middle of washing dishes. Villains are made not born, the statement would gyrate in your head as you twisted and turned while trying to chase after sleep, the image of that annoyingly cute, repulsively adorable smile would flash before your eyes—

Then, there were the texts.

“Good morning (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧”

“Have you had lunch yet? D:”

“Don’t stay up too late playing otome games!”

You’d initially thought them to be Silver Wolf messing around with Blade’s number or something, or even bots. But the more you ignored them, the less and less avoidable they became.

“The new pajamas are so cute! I love the cat print (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)”

“Coffee mug placed precariously close to the edge of the table. Alert alert!”

“You left the hair-tie on the sink.”

“A roach almost crawled on your bedsheets last night, but don't worry! I took care of it (｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧”

“You look so cute when you're fidgeting, Mx. Kidnapper.”

It was only after a reluctant consultation with Silver Wolf that you found out, “Someone had hacked into your webcam.” you felt your heart drop, not because of the news, but because of the twinge of worry in her usually deadpan voice. “You should check your whole apartment, too. For secret cameras and tampered locks.”

You could only hear the drumming of your own heartbeat in your ear, the apartment canopied by a deafening silence as you plucked the cameras one by one— two from the potted plants of your bedroom, one in your shower, one in your kitchen and one from the socket of your living room.

You gripped your phone tightly in one hand, the device already cracked from when you’d thrown it towards the wall in your earlier panic.

The bite of the splintered screen against your palm grounded you, giving you courage to check the locks.

Communication from their end had gone conveniently quiet, leaving you to fend for yourself until further notice. It was no secret anymore who the sender of those creepy texts was, but it didn't make it any less disbelieving.

You're jolted out of your daze as the doorbell rings at the same time as you twisting the screw in on the additional lock.

You hold your breath, again, it rings, confirming that you didn't mishear.

For a moment, you consider backing off and crawling under the bed, not at all interested in finding out who was behind the door, even though there was a good chance for the person behind it to be one of your colleagues.

But that treacherous, curious part of you whispered, nudging you closer and closer to the door until you were looking straight through the peephole, towards a far too familiar pair of cyan eyes.

“I know you're in there, Mx. Kidnapper.”

You jerked away, nearly toppling over a stray wrench on the floor.

Phainon. Phainon was was right behind your front door, confirming all the facts you’d wrestled with denial against up until now, attempting to break into your apartment with an ease that made you shudder.

Had anyone told you that this man, this ordinary pretty boy whose smile earned him his livelihood, who you’d been targeting to kill would be the one to corner you in your own home even a day ago, you would've laughed and rolled around on the floor.

The frantic clicks of him attempting to twist the locks brought you back and sigh tumbled out of your lips.

At least, the extra locks you’d put and the drawers you’d pushed against the door would be able to keep him at bay, enough time for you to think about your next move.

Which, namely, were two — you could either climb down from the nineteenth floor right now, or you could push another closet to the front door and wait until one of your colleagues came to rescue you.

Wait a minute. Your thoughts screeched to a halt ; run? Hide? All against one ordinary actor who you definitely would win against in a brawl should it come? You're seriously on the verge of having a panic attack from that? Where's your pride as an aspiring Stellaron Hunter?

Your fingers stopped their tapping against your arm, you turned to cast one last look at the door, and then swiveled on your heels towards the kitchen to make yourself something warm, enjoying the frustrated noises of Phainon trying to unlock the door as you turned on the stove.

—

That night, you had a marvelous sleep, belly full with a hearty dinner and moisturized skin. Both sides of your pillow were cold, the sillage of sunlight still lingered on your bedsheets.

A dream unfolds and cradles you. Sunny skies, the scent of petrichor, cars whoosh by, billboards flashing blinding smiles, a ray of light — reach for it, grasp it, the whirr of coffee machines, the buzz of crowds, shadows fall, the lonely strum of a guitar, tousled silver-blue, oh how you yearn, a palimpsest of memories sealed in tar, a hand brushing away wayward strands of hair, fingers in between yours—

… Fingers in between yours?

You gasp, nails digging into skin and sinew.

One blink, the blue of your bedsheets become clear to you in the dimmed light of the night.

Another, and startled cyan gleaming in the dark, amusement slowly crawling from the corners of those eyes.

“I used to be into lock-picking.” he twirls a hinge between pale fingers, useless now for anything besides mocking your hubris.

You spring forward, one hand still holding onto his wrist, the other wrapping firmly around his throat and push him down to the floor.

The hinge clatters to the ground.

An ‘oof’ heaves out of Phainon's lips as his head hits the cold tiles, getting cut-off towards the end as you squeeze against his windpipe, your legs wrap around his midriff.

“You.” Phainon snaps his eyes open to meet your shadowed visage, his Adam's Apple bobs against your hand as he swallows hard.

And then, his face flushes bright red, from the tips of his ears to the nape of his neck.

“Finally, finally you're looking at me again, Mx. Kidnapper.” he exhales, you blink as his free hand raises to not push you away, but to tuck a strand of hair away from your face, baring your bewildered expression to him.

“…What?” your grip slackens in surprise.

The corners of Phainon's eyes crinkle as he smiles so wide it nearly splits his face, “I missed the feeling of having your eyes on m-me.” he chokes slightly as you squeeze his throat again, his body goes utterly pliant beneath you.

“I—I quite… enjoyed you watching me, y-you know?” there's something of a pout in his voice, even as he’s getting the life choked out of him and his eyes— oh, there's apparitions of hearts setting those cyan eyes ablaze.

You let go in horror, but don't succeed in retreating far as he clamps one hand firmly on your waist, dragging you back to straddle his hips.

“Never do that again, okay?” his request is sickeningly sweet but there's steel in his gaze. You have a feeling he isn't just referring to you holding him down. His other hand guides yours back to his neck, placing it right against where a blazing sun bleeds into skin.

Tracing a maddening circle over your hand, “I’d say it's a fair bargain. Stalking for stalking, attention for attention, affection for affection, ownership for ownership.”

A pause.

“Tit-for-tat… wouldn't you agree, Mx. Kidnapper?”

© harmonysanreads | do not cross-post, translate, plagiarise, copy on a different platform or use my works to train ai.

Thank you for reading!

Unfortunately you found yourself reading another shitty webtoon. The heroine was adopted by the royal family after they found out they were unable to conceive a child of their own. Everyone treated her well, giving her everything she could ever ask for, no one daring to go against her will, who would when she was literally the perfect Mary Sue? The only real difficulties she had to go through was when she was a kid and the queen died, but even then, everyone set aside their own feelings (or lack thereof) to comfort the heroine. 

That is until her rival, the villainess appears. She is the king’s bastard child, and threatens to claim the throne as his only legitimate child. She’s scheming, always trying to make the heroine look bad and somehow always fails even if it's a ridiculously smart plan. The heroine also has a few romantic plots going on, like her personal knight, Phainon, ready to protect her from the villainess' schemes. Then there’s the neighboring kingdom, Kremnos. You think there will be a sliver of world building when they describe this land filled with strife, attacking other kingdoms with no remorse…only for it to fizzle and disappear entirely after Prince Mydeimos enters the picture. Where Phainon is puppy-like and upbeat, Mydeimos is quiet and reserved, but don’t let that fool you, as he is just as loyal and kind. Mydeimos always seems to make the villainess look like a fool, tripping her up on her passive aggressive insults and shutting her down with his stoicity. 

You hate how well written some characters are compared to others. The love interests are interesting until they become two dimensional love-struck dumbos whose entire personalities revolve around her. The villainess is a complete waste of missed opportunity. You were actually intrigued by the plot of a bastard child trying to reclaim power, but then they just make her a snarky, jealous bitch who completely forgets everything to just ruin the heroine's life. It’s like watching a trainwreck, you can’t look away from how awful the webtoon gets. 

Worst of all? You never even get to finish the damn thing. You were minding your own business, mouth agape as you continued to watch the events of the villainess get executed for treason somehow, nothing showed the villainess going towards this path until right this second. Due to your distracted state, you didn’t notice the crack in the sidewalk you were walking on, causing you to trip. You flailed wildly, trying to regain your balance, but it was just your luck that your head landed on a nice and hard fire hydrant. Sharp intense pain filled your entire head as you laid on the concrete sidewalk. You squeezed your eyes shut at the pain that radiated through you, somehow dizzy even though you were laying down, and even though you had your eyes closed, it felt like the world was spinning. Who knew hitting your head against hard metal could hurt so much, was your last thought before the world drifted away.

Rays of sun fell onto your form, causing you to scrunch your eyes in displeasure. A knock on your door confused you, then it opened, causing you to widen your eyes and sit up quickly. Your world spun slightly before focusing. This was not your room…or home. Actually…where the hell were you? Dark red and gold duvets covered your form that was only wearing a white night gown, silk sheets sat under you, unconsciously rubbing the smooth fabric to try and ground yourself. The room was grand, bigger than you ever had before, the bed so big it could fit at least three people. The windows were huge, nearly filling the entire wall with red and gold curtains parted to reveal the sun shining through. Two maids come shuffling in, one heading towards a grand closest as the other approaches you. They are dutiful as they make small talk, but you notice they barely acknowledge you more than needed, just tight smiles and knowing glances. 

You’re stiff as one helps you up, guiding you towards the bath. You nearly yell when they start to undress you, but you also don’t want to cause alarm, so you let them do their job. They help you bathe, scrubbing your skin with the rose scented water, steam warming you and giving you a small sense of comfort. You feel like life is just passing around you as you try to gather your thoughts. The maids continue to bustle, helping you out of the water and drying you off with towels so soft you were unsure you should be allowed to use them. You had no idea where you were, but it was somewhere you had never experienced before. Perhaps a noble or royal setting. Clearly you were someone important, but you weren’t sure why or how. It didn’t seem like you had taken someone’s place, or perhaps you completely overwrote their existence? You couldn’t tell as the maids sat you down in front of a vanity, the mirror clearly reflecting your face. Not someone else's. They also referred to you by your name, as their hands worked through your hair, not gently, but not too rough either. They speak of the king, your father apparently, and how he is awaiting your presence in the dining hall for breakfast, so they need to be quick. They then finish with some light makeup, and you can’t help but stare in awe at how much they managed to transform you into something so beautiful.

Finally they rush you out of the room, leading you towards the dining hall. You take in your surroundings with great interest. You thought your room was grand, but the rest of the castle was even more grandiose with ceilings so high you couldn’t even guess how someone may clean the walls. Grand arches lined with huge windows that lit up the pathways, showing views of a beautiful garden that was clearly well maintained. You couldn’t help but be in awe, you didn’t feel like you belonged here, scared to touch even the smallest thing as you weren’t sure what the price may be. Paintings lined the walls, some of scenery, others are portraits, important scholars, grand generals, important people. Deep blue carpets covered the stone floor, cushioning your shoed feet as you approached imposing oak doors. Even the doors were immaculately designed, with iron hinges trailing the wood in a beautiful pattern. 

Everything clicked once you stepped foot into the grand dining room, the heroine's smiling face greeting you, along with the king who sat at the head of the table. You felt yourself tense, this was that stupid webtoon you had been reading before…before…did you die? You sucked in a breath, don’t think about that right now, you can untangle these thoughts when you were in a safer setting, which is not this one. You eye Phainon who dutifully stood guard along the wall, eyes narrowing at your figure. Great. Just great. Now you have to walk the tightrope as the villainess to this shit plot of a story.

Your maids disappear and you sit down. You stare at the food laid on the table and you once again feel out of place. Everything looked divine and you honestly didn’t even know what to grab. You stick to foods you recognize, but it quickly became clear that even the things you knew weren’t safe. As you ate the food that felt way too rich for someone of your status, you silently listened as the heroine prattled on and on about the most mundane things. You slowly blinked, eyeing the others in the room. The king looked like she was telling the most enthralling story (how debating what her favorite color was enthralling will forever confuse you). Phainon stood, his emotions not completely clear on his face. He looked serious, eyes constantly drawing back and forth across the room like a threat may pop out at any moment, but he also had this blank kind of stare when he looked at the heroine. Not creepy, per say, closer to dissociative. You couldn’t imagine the dribble he would have to listen to as her personal knight.

It seemed like now was not a bad time to detangle the raging questions you had yet to ponder about. You were the villainess, your fate was to be executed due to something the author couldn’t even be bothered to explain. You were the bastard child of the king, trying to claim the throne. The webtoon never really explained why, just showed the villainess smugly watching the court freeze when she announced her relations to the king. You decided you wanted to know more about the kingdom itself, not just the royal court and the shenanigans the heroine finds herself in. Breakfast comes and goes quickly, and you don’t miss the way the staff side eyes you, like you’re a stain on an elaborate piece of clothing. You decide this feeling of exclusion will never leave you, not when you are literally an imposter who shouldn’t be here. 

You retrace your steps back to your room, you were going to see where the villainess grew up, perhaps find her mother as the webtoon doesn’t even mention any backstory besides that the villainess’ father was the king. You try to find clothes that are more inconspicuous than giant gowns with lace and layers galore, and you are surprised to find a more ragged outfit hidden within the extravagance. Simple brown trousers and plain white long-sleeved shirt along with some well worn boots tucked all the way in the back. Clearly the villainess knew that the palace staff wouldn’t think twice about throwing such garments away, but these clothes must’ve meant something if she went through the trouble to keep it. You struggled to undress, the corset of the dress your maids put on you left you winded, but you didn’t back down, finally managing to untangle the ties after a few minutes. 

Much more comfortable in these clearly loved clothes, you step out of your room confidently, ready to uncover more about your history…only to realize you have no idea where you’re going. You turn your head left and right, the hall looking nearly the same either way. You only know that you were escorted to the left from your room to the dining hall…but that knowledge doesn’t help much in your predicament. Then you realized, much to your horror, if you didn’t even know the layout of the castle you currently lived in, how would you navigate the city that lay just outside? As you ruminate over your predicament, a maid passes.

“Excuse me!” You call out, trying to prepare for the embarrassment your next question will cause you. The maid pauses at your voice, brown eyes shifted towards you in what looks like nervousness. 

“Yes, my lady?” She asks politely, but she looks like she wishes to be anywhere but here. You watch as her eyes rake across your clothes, a judging glance hidden by a tight smile. 

“Could you please escort me out of the castle?” You asked, head tilted down as you realized you were not ready for the snide politics that came with royalty. 

You could nearly hear the disdain in her voice as she replied with a chipped, “Yes, my lady. Follow me.”

Once again, you find yourself the center of attention as you feel the eyes of the staff and guards follow your form, the hushed whispers following you long after you have already left. You do your best to try and memorize the path the maid is walking you down, but the twists and turns seem endless, shows of wealth lavishing the hallways and rooms you pass. There were ballrooms, music halls, giant chandeliers, scones lining the walls so intricate it looked like it was melting into the wall. Your brain felt overloaded with information by the time you made it to the front doors of the castle, and you know when you come back you’ll be just as lost as before, but you push those thoughts out, thanking the maid for her time before stepping foot outside the castle walls. 

Bright green grass lined the front, hedges maintained to perfection along with flowering bushes and plants lining the edges of the castle walls. Two guards stood at attention in front of the grandiose doors, neither paying any attention to you. Walking along the cobbled pathway, you take in everything. Richness oozed from everything the castle touched, and the amount of land owned by the royal family portrayed that without even trying. The palace was bustling with people, guards on patrols, servants maintaining the garden, workers unloading items that needed to be restocked. A giant curved road leads to the start of the palace entrance, and you continue on foot to the gates that blocked the royal palace from the citizenry. The guards huffed as they opened the massive iron wrought gate, their armor clinking with their movements. You thanked them before setting off. 

Was this stupid of you? Perhaps. You had no clue where you were going, but there was something deep within you, tugging you in a certain direction, so you decided to follow that feeling. Giant noble houses lined the path at first, the cobbled streets filled with carriages and people alike. Fancy houses and nice looking establishments surrounded you on either side, from bakeries to wineries, this was clearly where rich people came and lived. The further you walked, the busier it became, along with being more rundown. Uneven streets led you to recalling the moments of your life before you came to this absurd world. You were careful not to trip this time. People paid you no mind as you continued your walk, children laughing as they played with each other, merchants calling out to possible buyers. You took in the fact of people in rags in the alleys, coughing and weakly asking for spare change, the sight of families crammed in their small houses and children picking the pockets of other people in the same boat as them. 

The world was not as beautiful as the webtoon portrayed it as, though you doubted the webtoons ever really cared about the world building. That is unless it helped further the plot of the heroine and her love interests. Your feet continued to carry you through the streets, taking in the dirty and haggard people whose hands had blisters yet stomachs still growled. You stood in front of a run down house, and something deep within your chest ached. Was this where you lived before? As your eyes took in the details of the house, trying to recall memories that weren’t yours, someone called out your name.

Turning, your eyes met a woman who seemed to be in her mid to late thirties, braided hair covered with a kerchief. She seemed to recognize you, a warm smile settling on her chapped lips.

“It’s been so long, my dear,” She greeted, beckoning you over. “Come, we can talk over some tea.”

She brought you into her house which sat right next to the one you were drawn to, heating a pot of water over the hearth. The ground was just packed earth, the hearth merely a pit in the ground surrounded by stones. A few wooden chairs were strewn about, a smallish wooden table pushed against the wall. Dried herbs lined the walls along with kitchen utensils. It was messy, but homey. Well lived in. It comforted you far more than the too plush bed you had woken on earlier.  “I thought you would forget about us after you left for the castle,” The nice lady chuckled, and guilt pooled in your stomach, cus you did in fact, not remember who she was. “How have you been? Have they been treating you well?”

You thanked her as she handed you a boiling hot cup of tea, trying to gather your thoughts. Do you tell her the truth? She seems kind enough, genuine unlike the palace staff, but you didn’t want to scare her either. Yet you wanted to know your history, know the true backstory of the villainess to understand her motivations better and to shape your own. 

Deciding to play it safe, you reply, “It’s been hard to adjust, it’s so different there. I wanted to visit, for old times sake.” 

She shook her head, calloused hand covering your own in a comforting gesture, “You’ve always had it so hard, especially when your mother died. I was afraid when you decided to confront the king of being your father, but it seems they are treating you well.”

Your smile tightened and you took a sip of the tea, bitter but grounding. “For the most part,” You agreed. “I wish I could visit my mother.” Perhaps she could open your eyes to your past, your childhood and how you were raised, but some of the puzzle pieces were starting to come together. You were clearly raised by your single mother who was poor, the king somehow had relations with her, and you were born. It didn’t seem the king knew, or recognized your existence, and if you could gather anything, being a single mother in this medieval setting would be terrible for your wallet. 

“I tried to help save money for a tomb,” She spoke solemnly. “But they were quick to take her body. They don’t take kindly to those who died of disease.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” You were quick to comfort, thumb smoothing over the skin of her hand. “There’s not much we were able to do.” You found yourself filling into this role easier than you thought, you are starting to understand the frustrations of the villainess now. She must’ve been so angry, so vengeful at a supposed kingdom that was supposed to protect her. The king, who was your father, did not seem to do anything until you took matters into your own hands. Gosh you wish the webtoon went more into the villainess’ plot, it would’ve fleshed the story out better. You continued to speak to, who you were quick to find out is Louise, for a few hours. She speaks of how she’s been, how her family was, and how you should visit more often. It was warm, homey, much nicer than the breakfast. 

You hated the fact that you had to leave, you wished you could help Louise so she didn’t have to worry about feeding her children, but you realized you had no money. You make your way back towards the castle, much easier than the other way around as the tall spires are easy to see in the distance. People laugh on the streets, pubs now open as children start to head back to their homes after playing and working (or they try to find shelter for the night). That low flame in the pit of your stomach continued to grow with the more you witnessed. For such a flourishing kingdom, there were many who were going hungry, begging for spare change, and getting drunk to forget their plights. There were too many children with ragged clothing and rumbling stomachs. The line between the poor and rich was obvious as you stepped between the neighborhoods, back into the nicely clothed people whose greatest problems seemed to be what dessert to choose for dinner. 

It was then you realized what you were going to do with your newfound power. Once the old king finally kicks the bucket, you would change this kingdom for the better. 

It seemed your change in demeanor was noticed in the palace. Your steps were more confident, your eyes showed the flames of determination that flicked within you. You stuck yourself in the royal library, reading up on politics, laws, loopholes, anything and everything you would need to know when you would take the crown, because you will take the crown. You refuse to let yourself be falsely accused of treason, you refuse to give in to the petty whims the webtoon painted the villainess, you need to have your wits about you, because you know that the king will not want you taking the crown from his precious daughter, the heroine. 

The first time you realized your life was in danger was during a tea party. The heroine sat in the center of the circle, an elegant table laying in front of your group as you all sat in the garden. The beaming sun was shaded by the cover of a tree, birds chirping as cups and plates clinked. Some noble daughters were attending, listening to the heroine with rapt attention as she spoke of the flowers that grew around her. Just before you took a sip of your own tea, a book of political theories sitting in your lap, you noticed the way your tea bubbled suspiciously. You watched the small bubbles that popped at the top of the brown liquid with a sinking clarity. Pretending to take a sip, you let the liquid hit your tongue, but not to consume. Your theory was quickly proven correct at the acrid taste that hit your tongue. Whoever tried to poison you was clearly lacking, who would ever drink something that tastes so horribly? 

“Is something the matter?” The heroine asks, snapping you out of your inner thoughts. You blink up in confusion, tensing when you notice everyone’s eyes burning holes in your being. The noble girls whisper, some giggling, others staring with clear distaste. 

“I think there’s something wrong with my tea,” You merely state, setting the cup back in its saucer. 

“It tastes fine to me,” She retorts with a tone that’s a bit too pointed to be innocent. “The servants work hard to provide for us, we shouldn’t let their hard work go to waste.” 

Her moral grandstanding irritates you, that low burning flame flickering lively. Who does she think she is to scold you? In front of a group at that? Does she not know you were once the one groveling at the feet of the rich? That you worked hard for a small piece of bread so you wouldn’t stay up all night thinking of how your stomach hurt? You wanted to be petty, to have her drink your tea then if she wanted to make such a point of it, but you also didn’t want her to die, and not by your hands at that. So you held your tongue, eyes sharpening in disdain towards the situation. The webtoon seemed to have portrayed everything wrong, the heroine was not as innocent and sweet as it liked to portray her as. 

Another part of you wanted to drink the tea, to show you weren’t being a bitch, but actually being poisoned. To show that the heroine wasn’t being kind, that she had made you drink poisoned tea so you wouldn’t be rude. You stared down at the liquid that finally settled, the laced drink staring back at you. Decisions decisions. 

You took a small sip, hopefully not a lethal dose. Your throat tightened at the substance, causing you to choke. A wheezing gasp left your lips as your muscles tensed, and you found yourself fallen onto the soft grass. Your eyes widened as you continued to struggle to breath, choked wheezes hidden by the screaming of the noble girls who rushed to get away, like you were diseased and it could spread to them. The laced tea soaks into the soil next to you, and you wonder why you were dumb and petty enough to risk yourself to prove a point. 

You’re suddenly lifted up by someone strong, the world rushing around you, but you couldn’t tell if it was because you were moving or if it was the lack of oxygen. Once again, you are reminded of your past life, how the world was dizzy even though your eyes were closed. It seemed like a part of you finally cracked, the feeling of tears falling down your cheeks. You didn’t want this, you regret every time you cursed your past life, you wish you could go back. You wish to see your pets, your friends, your loved ones again. You want to see Louise, to have the weight of these responsibilities to no longer be yours, but the villainess of some stupid webtoon series. 

You weren’t sure how to navigate these situations, that was clear enough with you purposefully drinking poisoned tea. You have barely been here and you are already falling for the plots of those that want you dead. You could barely tell what was going on anymore, just desperate voices, shuffling feet, the softness of a bed beneath your feverish skin. 

You don’t even realize you went unconscious. Bleary eyes opening, taking in the same room you woke up in nearly a month ago. Your skin was no longer feverish, nor was it difficult to breathe, but your head was pounding and the dim light of candles seemed to only further that. Sitting up was difficult, your vision turned fuzzy for a second, and your stomach ached. 

“You’re awake,” A voice perked up, the scraping of a chair resounding through the room. Looking to your left, familiar fluffy white hair and sky blue eyes greeted you. Your brows furrowed in confusion. Why was the heroine's personal knight in your room? Before you could say anything, he continued on, “You gave us a serious scare today. How are you feeling? Apparently your tea was poisoned and we’re searching for the possible perpetrators.”

His voice bounced in your head for a second, and it took you a few seconds to comprehend what he was saying. You were tired, but hungry. Gosh you were so hungry. How long had you been knocked out? 

“Here,” Phainon muttered, a glass of water entering your vision. “You must be thirsty.” You took it with shaky hands, afraid you may drop it, but you studied the glass, checking for any tell tale signs of poison or drugs. Phainon seemed to notice this, his smile dimming somewhat. “I got it myself, wanted to make sure no one had the chance to tamper with it.” You took a hesitant sip, and damn did it taste like the freshest water you have ever had in your life. You quickly chugged the water, not caring about decorum at the moment. As you finished, Phainon took the glass from you, looking proud of himself for some reason. 

“Hungry,” You murmured, your brain too clouded with the thought of the growing pain in your stomach. You pressed your hand against it, wishing the pressure would help reduce the pain. It didn’t. 

“I’ll go make you something,” Phainon responded quickly, already rushing out. You were…thoroughly confused. Didn’t he hate you? Why wasn’t he guarding the heroine? Why was he so concerned? These questions made your head hurt, and you decided to rest it against the headboard. Minutes felt like hours, and you were unsure why you were trusting someone else to make you food, for all you knew it was a farce and Phainon would put a more discrete poison in your food, or maybe eventually slit your throat with his sword. You couldn’t trust anyone, you knew who wanted you dead, and it was the same person whose word was law. 

True to his word, Phainon was quick in bringing you food. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some quick scrambled eggs that were nearly burnt on the sides, but you had never seen anything so appetizing than that in this moment. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not much,” Phainon spoke sheepishly, gently placing the tray in your lap. Without a second thought, you wolfed down the eggs, the savory flavor making you hum in content. A gentle laugh filled the air as he joked, “Slow down, you’ll choke. Is it really that good?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, you were too hungry to care if it was even poisoned. You missed the pink that lightly tinted Phainon’s ears, or the sheepish smile that adorned his lips. You let out a satisfied sigh when you finished, that throbbing pain in your stomach finally diminishing. “Thank you.”

You didn’t even realize you were reshaping his entire view of you at that moment. You weren’t as snooty or entitled that the heroine had made you out to be, nor were you as standoffish as you seemed to be. When you fell in the gardens, he didn’t waste a second getting you to the palace doctors. You weren’t the one he was tasked with guarding, but it felt wrong to just stand and watch, especially when no one else seemed to try and help you. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to stay by your side, the doctors were quick to administer an antidote and that should’ve been the end of it, but he didn’t like how the staff seemed to whisper insults.

“She’s just being dramatic.”

“She’s just trying to make the heroine look bad.”

“Lord Phainon should’ve just let her die, it would’ve fixed everything.”

“She’s a shame to the royal family.”

The words unsettled him. Even if you were a bastard child of the king, it was not your fault. The heroine stayed with him by your side, but after a few hours she had to attend studies. She did seem genuinely remorseful, not able to meet your ashen face from the guilt that she pressured you into drinking tea that was indeed tampered with. It was then that Phainon decided that he will try to look after you as well. He was a knight of the royal family after all, and you were apart of that family whether people liked it or not.

After that incident you were more alert, keeping an eye on any servant that seemed to act even slightly suspicious. You eyed any foods that were served to you, kept an eye out for any potential threats, things that shouldn’t typically shouldn’t get past the walls of a royal estate. What was also strange was how Lord Phainon seemed to keep an eye on you more. Not like how he used to, wary and distrustful. No, now it was filled with concern, like he was also afraid of your food being tampered with, or that some unknown threat was always lurking just out of your peripherals. 

In a sense there was. No one had found who tried to poison you, you doubted they ever would. It meant that you would never be safe, but were you ever really in the first spot? The only thing keeping you alive when you were a commoner was the fact that your identity wasn’t known, and now that you had put yourself in the spotlight, crosshairs were now aimed right at you. But you refused to back down, you already plunged into the deep end and you were going to see this through, whether it meant with a crown on your head or guillotine crashing down on your neck. 

But there was one thing you refused, and that was to be helpless. You glanced around the guards barracks, watching as some knights trained and others taught. Gravel crunched under boots, laughter and groans filled the air along with the stench of sweet. You wore your simple outfit again, not wanting to train in silk and lace. Your fingers twitched, unsure of where to go from here. Some of the knights nudged each other, blatantly pointing you out, whether it be insults or not, you felt your eye twitch. They’re not much better than the noble daughters. 

“What are you doing here?” Phainon's voice rings out, jogging up to you with a beaming grin. It seems like your problem has been solved. 

“I wish to learn how to defend myself,” You state, lifting your chin up, a determined glint in your eyes. You didn’t exactly trust Phainon yet, but he had been the one who saved you and even stayed by your side and tended to you when it should’ve been a doctor. You would be a fool to decline his help any further. (And in the back of your mind you remember how genuine his character was in the webtoon, but the more you live in the shoes of the villainess the more you forget where this all began)

“Smart,” Phainon agreed, surprise briefly flashing through his eyes. “Good thing I can help with that.” He beckons you to follow him, and you do, eyeing the knights who stare and gossip. 

“We’ll start with the basics,” Phainon says, handing you a wooden practice sword. 

Training is hard, you conclude. You haven’t even done much yet, just practicing your stance and trying to keep it during a basic swing. Apparently you suck at it, as Phainon had to constantly fix your posture. You found yourself drenched with sweat, the air warm and sticky with humidity, your hair is slowly unraveling with the easy updo you had quickly done to keep your hair out of your face. Your shirt clings to your skin uncomfortably, but you refuse to stop. Maybe you’re being paranoid, but you think you have every right to be. Another day it takes you to learn this skill is another day you are vulnerable. You’re also grateful that you have such a good instructor. Phainon is patient, not complaining when he has to fix your stance for the thirtieth time, but the more you go through the motions, the better you are at keeping your stance straight. He’s also kind, not hesitating to compliment your tenacity as you voluntarily spent hours training when they have to whip the young knights into shape for days on end (he gives a pointed stare to said knights that were watching on the sidelines). 

“Thank you,” You thank Phainon who somehow looks perfect even with the hot weather. 

“No need to thank me,” He shakes his head, hair swaying with the gesture. “I’m glad you’re taking your safety seriously.” It seems he’s not oblivious to your situation either, at least not completely. 

“I should get going now,” You sighed, glancing at the sun that is starting to lower. “I need to clean up before dinner.”

“Let me escort you,” Phainon offers. “I have to head back as well, I’ve left the princess alone for too long.” Right. You forgot he was supposed to be by her side nearly twentyfour seven, the only exception was when he had to be at the barracks to train new knights. You almost feel bad for taking over that time…key word being almost. 

“That would be nice,” You replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. You don’t even notice, your walls falling lower around Phainon than you thought, but the small gesture means everything to him, and it warms his heart. 

A new schedule forms. You train nearly every day, practicing the movements that Phainon taught you previously. He can only help you every so often, but he can’t help but notice how much you improve every time. The heroine has noticed the change Phainon has had around you. The way he immediately notices you every time you enter the room, the way he speaks highly of you, the way you seem less standoffish around him. She finds herself…conflicted. You’ve been rude, always skeptical of the food, never trusting the staff, always so tense around others. She thought you were projecting, thought you were self conceited now that you had an ounce of power. She thought you were trying to ruin the royal family on purpose, trying to take over when you had no clue what it meant to be a royal…but then Phainon would talk about you.

Apparently you knew the tea had been poisoned, which is why you tried to make an excuse to not drink it (the guilt of her snide comment continues to eat at her). You had started training for self defense, and the sinking question of why you thought you needed to defend yourself in such a peaceful palace filled her gut. She found herself paying more attention to you now, how you would spend hours in the library, not reading romance or fiction, but history and political books. She would watch you leave the castle only to come back hours later, sweaty and tired, clearly you had been training, even though Phainon hadn’t left her side. You were more determined than she thought, you clearly had a goal and it wasn’t anything she had originally presumed. A sinking realization fills her. 

She’s been nothing but awful towards you. 

She tries to make it up to you. She can never erase her past actions, but she can try and correct them, try and get to know you better. You’re wary at first, put off by how the heroine continues to approach you unprompted. At tea parties you’re forced to attend, she stands up for you when the other noble ladies try to passive aggressively put you down. When a servant clearly ignores you, she corrects them. It’s…strange, and you wonder if someone put a spell on her. Strange…it’s almost like people are more nuanced than what webtoon comics like to show. 

Meanwhile Phainon is just overjoyed. As a knight, he doesn’t say much when in social settings, but he watches with a warm heart as you stare at the heroine like she grew three heads. It’s all very comedic, and it almost makes you forget you are very much not welcomed here. That is until the king sends you out. A trip to the neighboring kingdom, Castrum Kremnos. It’s a diplomatic mission, one to strengthen ties with the war hungry kingdom that does nothing but invade and pillage. Dangerous. Clearly this is a dangerous mission, nearly impossible if you think about it hard enough. They bathe in the blood of their enemies and laugh at nations that fall in their hands, they kill their own children they deem sickly and if their own warriors fail in battle they die at the hands of their comrades. 

The heroine seems troubled, she had just started trying to mend severed ties, and you are going to be sent on a suicide mission. Phainon seems to think the same way, baby blue fluttering between you and the king. The heroine tries to speak up, to argue that it makes no sense to send you, but even the king's precious daughter won’t change his mind. He ends dinner with a firm statement that leaves no room for arguments.

“If she wishes to become queen of our kingdom, she needs to know how to properly negotiate with other nations.”

You don’t back down. Just stare the king straight into his eyes and agree. You’ll go on this mission, because the fury to prove to the king that whatever he is planning will fail fuels you. You will exceed his expectations, you will create ties to a country that severs itself from the rest of the world. You will do all this to see your supposed fathers face fall from defeat, and you know you can do this, because those small fragments of memories of your past life flit to the forefront of your mind once more. You remember Prince Mydeimos, how he comes to your kingdom and stays for a negotiation and how he is nothing like how they describe his kingdom. 

The day arrives too quickly for your liking. Stuffed in a heavy dress, a dagger Phainon gifted you tucked into a thigh holster you had bought. Phainon and the heroine both seemed concerned for your safety, and the thought alone made you queasy. This was such an obvious attempt to get you killed that even the oblivious, perfect heroine noticed, but you stopped hating her for it. She wasn’t as bad as you thought, and she had even been trying to show you with actions instead of expecting you to accept an apology at face value. She had been joining you with Phainon during your training, just so you would have extra time with him to teach you some last minute tricks. You didn’t expect to be supported by so many people, but here you were. It’s almost like clearing up miscommunications is key to a healthy positive relationship. Hahaha crazy.

You fiddle with the deep red fabric of your dress as you sit in the carriage. You were accompanied by an advisor, the carriage driver, and a knight. You kept glancing back at the retreating castle, a place that felt nothing but hostile now your sanctuary. The fading forms of the heroine and Phainon fade, and dread starts to fully pool in your gut. The only thing keeping you from fully falling into the dread was the weight of the dagger strapped to your thigh. You were paranoid, it was obvious with the way your eyes would dart across the scenery outside your window. At first it was just the city, people moving out of the way and trying to glimpse into your little carriage, the royal insignia on the doors giving away just who may sit in it. 

The advisor sat anxiously across from you, looking over papers and muttering to himself about one thing or another. You almost felt bad for the poor guy. The knight had his own horse, following closely behind, but that was the question, why was only one knight sent? Your hands tightened around your skirt again, taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself. The groups of people outside the carriage thinned, the city walls coming and going, and before you knew it you were outside the safety of your kingdom. You passed by farms, people tending to their fields, children doing chores, wheat swaying in the wind. It didn’t take long for the rolling fields and hills to narrow into a forest, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand. 

The carriage bounces with every root and rock that litters the path, causing your nerves to jitter as well. The advisor’s anxiety isn’t helping you either, you can’t stand his nervous muttering or prayers. Suddenly the carriage stops moving, your heart rate spiking at the lack of movement. You freeze, cautiously eyeing the treeline, only for the driver to jumpscare you.

“Sorry for the interruption, your highness,” She bows her head. “There is a tree blocking the path, we’ll have to look for an alter–”

She is cut off by an arrow piercing through her chest, eyes wide as she collapses, the life leaving her body quickly. The knight lets out a sharp shout and you’re quick to slam the door shut. The advisor lets out a startled shout, the two of you dropping below the windows. You hear the struggle of a fight before silence, then footsteps approaching the carriage. You lift a finger to your lips towards the advisor, not trusting the knight to have won. You tear the fabric of your dress (though you struggle a bit due to how nice the fabric is and how many layers there are) and pull the dagger from the holster. You knew this was going to happen for one reason or another, and you were prepared. 

The door flew open, and you sprung to action, thrusting the dagger up into the abdomen of your attacker. The cloaked figure staggered back, your blade sliding from the wound easily. Your knuckles turned white with how harshly you grasped the handle. Their body falls on top of that of your driver, and you find yourself silently asking them for forgiveness. Suddenly, the other door is yanked open, and the advisor lets out a guttural scream. You turn just in time to witness a sword nearly sever his head from his neck, blood spraying the entire interior of the dark oak wood of the carriage. You don’t hesitate to dart out of the carriage, shoving your dagger back into the holster, nearly stumbling over the deceased bodies that lay just outside the door. Your stomach churns, but you force that feeling to stay down. Now is not the time to pause, you need to move if you want to live. 

That’s when the knight’s horse catches your attention, it’s rearing up in fear, and you’re quick to approach it. The adrenaline coursing through you doesn’t let you stop, doesn’t let you take this slow. You hear rushed, heavy footsteps get closer, and right when the horse drops back to the ground, ready to run away, you grab the reins and kick your leg over its saddle. A sharp yelp escapes you as the horse takes off, kicking at whoever was trying to take your life. You hunch down, trying your hardest to not fall off. The horse seems smart, leaping over the fallen tree and following the trail without need of steering. You were thankful since you weren’t sure if you could even if you tried at the moment. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, hands shaking, legs quivering. Being poisoned was one thing, witnessing others slaughtered and killed in front of you is another. The horse doesn’t stop running until the walls of a giant kingdom appear.

Tall, imposing walls showcase a kingdom of warriors. Red banners waved proudly, reminding you of the dark color of blood that coated your skin. The citizens blended with the knights, both dawning armor and weapons, and the both watched you with equal curiosity. When you finally got to the gate, the guards stopped you.

“Halt!” She spoke in a demanding tone. You pulled on the reins, the horse stopping its escape. “Who are you and what is your purpose here?”

You state your name, trying to hide the tremors in your hands, “I come from Ohkema, the daughter of the king. I am here for political affairs.”

“It seems like you ran into some trouble on your way here, princess,” She sneers, the word princess cutting into your person, but there was an unmistakable hint of respect in her eyes.

“It seems like people want me dead,” You reply, lifting your head in defiance at such a notion. “The ones that tried are no longer with us.”

The guard let out a hearty chuckle, mirth filling her eyes, “Who knew the soft Ohkemens held such righteous fury. You show your worth by spilling the blood of your enemies, it seems that you are already showing the spirit of Nikador.” She lets you in, telling another guard to guide you to the palace. 

You don’t spend much time in Castrum Kremnos. There’s not much politics held there besides who they wish to conquer next, but the king decides to hear you out, purely due to the fact that you showed your worth in battle to get here. You speak of your kingdom’s wishes, no advisor to help prattle niceties, and you think that may be to your favor (you can’t get the site of his slit throat out of your head). This kingdom is straightforward, they honor honesty, and so you speak freely. How your kingdom wishes to be under the protection of Castrum Kremnos, and in return Ohkema will provide food (it was well known that Kremnos struggled with supplying food as all their citizens were focused on being warriors, not farmers). 

They could just kill you where you stand and send your body back as their message, it's probably what was originally planned. They would’ve viewed the offer as your kingdom looking down on them, and in return they would send your cold body back as a declaration of war (a silly mistake of a vengeful man who did not like the existence of a daughter he had created), but it didn’t play out that way. Not with your self taught knowledge on how to handle political affairs, not with what you knew of Castrum Kremnos and not with the newfound respect you earned from the kingdom. Instead, you are sent back to Ohkema, Prince Mydeimos by your side. There is no need for guards to accompany you, because Mydeimos himself can fend off an army. 

That familiar feeling of dread fills your gut all the same when you slowly approach the scene of your attack. First you see the fallen log, then the blood that had seeped into the dirt, finally the bodies that litter the ground. Nausea overtakes you, and you don’t even realize you stopped your horse. Mydei pauses, glancing back at you, your face is ashen as you stare at the now mauled bodies. Clearly the wildlife rejoiced with the free food given to them. Something in you screams at you to search your attackers bodies. There must be proof, proof of who sent them, or bribes, or something. Mydei is kind enough to not say anything as you take shaky steps towards the cloaked individuals. First the one you had killed with your own two hands. You have to remind yourself it was for self defense. You search their pockets, only finding some miscellaneous items that you left behind. Then you went to the one who was kicked by your horse, and it was then you found what you were looking for.

The white paper was splotched with deep crimson, but the words rang clear.

We hereby hire you to execute the false princess, any other casualties are excused. If this is not carried out properly we’ll see to it that you are executed for your crimes.

Signed,

The king of Ohkema

You folded the paper, stuffing it into the garment the Kremnoens so kindly gifted you during your brief stay. The clothes were light and easy to move in, perfect for a fight. Getting back onto your horse, Mydei nodded at you in understanding before the two of you continued your journey, entering Ohkema quicker than you’d like.

Everyone stared with wonder as you entered the palace, stable hands quickly gathering the horses you both travelled on. Butlers quickly led you to the throne room, whispers following your every step. Mydei kept up with your stride, noticing how tense your posture was, tenser than when you stepped foot in front of his father. The king couldn’t help but watch in awe as you entered with the prince of Castrum Kremnos in tow. The servants watched with baited breath as you spoke up.

“The king of Castrum Kremnos has sent me back with his son as a sign of good will.” Elders of the council who had been in the room whispered in hushed tones, looking both frightened and elated at the same time. The king's brows furrowed, clearly he hadn’t planned for this.

“And where is your entourage?” He commanded, fist clenched like he wasn’t the own who sent mercenaries to kill you.

“Dead,” You huff, eyes wild with anger at the audacity of the man before you had. “Killed by mercenaries you hired, your highness. It seems they failed their task of ending my life.”

Once again hushed murmurs filled the room, the king's face turning a bright, furious red. 

“How dare you try and debase me with slanderous claims!” The king’s voice boomed, echoing across the high vaulted ceiling. “After all the generosity we have shown you, taken you in and put a roof over your head, fed you and clothed you, and you dare claim I would try and have you killed?”

Pulling out the bloodied letter, you present it to your audience, “All the evidence is right here, written by you.” A council member takes the letter from you, eyes reading every word, their face turning pale at the signature.

“My king, why would you do such a thing?”

“Do you seriously think she would not try and forage my writing to claim the throne faster?” The king hisses. “Everything she does is to undermine the royal family.”

“I wish to make Ohkema a better city,” You shout, frustrated at the constant slander and belittling you have faced all your life here. “I want to make sure citizens don’t go hungry when there is plenty of food, I want to make sure orphaned children do not have to wonder where their next shelter will be. Can you not see the suffering your people face? Can you not see how your inaction only furthers that harm?”

“ARREST HER!” The king shouts, pointing at your form, hands shaking with pure fury. The guards glance at each other, hesitating to take the first step towards you. “What are you waiting for?!”

You prepare for the worst, this is the king you are going against, it is only logical for everyone to follow through with his command. You are the villainess, you are not some mary sue in a webtoon novel, this is real life now with real consequences. Then, you suddenly feel like a mary sue as Mydei steps in front of you, fiery golden eyes scanning the guards.

“No,” Mydei speaks, crossing his arms over his chest, staring the king down. 

“This is not your domain,” The king hisses. “Keep yourself out of our affairs.”

“No!” The heroine repeats Mydei’s words, rushing into the hall. The king stiffens at her command, his demeanor changing quickly.

“B-but my dear daughter,” He pleads, suddenly looking much more like a sniveling baby than any king (honestly a terrible look for foreign leaders). “I only wish to guarantee your place as queen! You have been nothing but an angel, and yet she threatens to take the kingdom you deserve-”

The heroine looks genuinely disturbed, taking a step back from her father in shock, “You…you did this all…for me?”

“Yes,” The king cries, falling off the throne onto his knees, everyone in the room looking ashamed at such a scene. “I would do anything for you, my love. You are my entire world, and I would do anything to ensure you get it.” 

Tears pooled in her eyes as she stood by your side, “I don’t want this.”

“B-but–”

“I don’t want the crown, I don’t want any of this!” She shouted, anger filling her veins. “How dare you try and kill my sister and claim it’s for me?!” The king was only left blubbering, words tumbling past his lips but having no impact. 

“Gaurds,” The heroine sniffles, but keeps her head held high as she stares at the man she called her father, her next words completely shattering his heart. “Arrest the former king of Ohkema for attempted murder and treason.”

You watched with wide eyes as the guards once more hesitated before following through with this command. It was then that you remember you were still in a webtoon world that had webtoon logic, but this time it was to your advantage. You let out a shaky breath, bones feeling like jelly in that moment. The heroine turned to you, tears still streaking her cheeks as she hugs you tightly. You tensed, not used to such displays, but you hugged her back, unsure when this bond developed between you both. Perhaps it was there for longer than you realized, you were just too paranoid to trust it. Pulling away, she kept a grasp on your arm as you turned back towards Mydei who must’ve been awkward to see such a scandal break out before him.

“Thank you, Prince Mydeimos, for stepping up to the king,” You bowed your head in respect. “I apologize for you seeing such chaos within our court, and as an apology we shall send extra food than what was initially agreed upon to your people. In the meantime, we have a guest chamber ready for you. We had a long journey, please take the time to rest, and feel free to check out the Ohkema bathhouse.”

With a nod in acknowledgement towards you, Mydei turned to leave, a butler quickly scurried to help escort him to said guest chamber. The council seemed to be in emergency mode, the members talking hurriedly with each other, eyes falling between both you and the heroine who was still clinging to your side. You decided that was a problem for a future you, and you turned to follow in Mydei’s footsteps to leave, only to nearly run into Phainon. With all the chaos you hadn’t realized Phainon had entered with the heroine. It seemed like he had been through a tornado of emotion, trying his best to lock it behind a shaky smile. The heroine once again surprises you, not as oblivious as she seems, squeezes your arm before parting.

“Shall I escort you to your room, your highness,” He asks, holding a hand out to you as an offer.

You don’t hesitate to take it in your own.

Your nerves are alight as you're adorned with the fanciest dress you have ever worn (something you didn’t think was possible). Many maids fuss with your dress, hair, and makeup, all muttering to each other, trying to make your appearance as perfect as possible. The younger ones are excited, happy to have such an important job as attending to the future queen on her coronation day, the older ones are more snappy, fixing any mistakes and perfecting even the smallest slight. Soon, the entire fate of your kingdom will rest in your hands, and you were both anxious but excited. 

Your dreams were finally coming true, not becoming queen or gaining power, but you were going to finally help those that needed it. A knock at the door caused some of the maids to grumble, and as they tried to shoo the visitor away, he managed to get in with his charm. Of course it was Phainon. He stopped midstep, eyes widening at your appearance, bright red tinting his cheeks immediately and you felt like his reaction was an overreaction. 

“You look beautiful,” Phainon whispered, finally closing the distance between you both. You tried your best to ignore the maids giggles and whispers, but your warm cheeks were trying their best to betray you. “May we have some time alone, ladies?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.  “Of course, Lord Phainon,” One maid cooed, shooing everyone out and shutting the door behind her. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” You murmur, the weight of the dress adding to the weight of responsibility that now rests on your shoulders. 

“That’s okay,” Phainon smiled, hesitantly grabbing your gloved hand in his own. You tried to ignore the way your pulse raced as he reverently traced the knuckles of your hand. “You’re not alone in this, you have the heroine to help you with royal duties…and, I actually…” Once again Phainon found himself flustered, his ears and neck reddening as he slowly kneeled before you, and still grasped in his own. You watched on in wonder as he held your hand to his forehead.

“I, Phainon from Aedes Elysiae, vow to protect you from any harm that may try to find you,” Phainon recited. “I will give my life for yours, and keep you safe as not only the queen of Ohkema, but as the person I care for most.” You felt like you were going to pass out, now for a totally new reason, and the heavy stare he now gave you was not helping. He had tweaked the knights vow to include just how much he cared for you, and it makes you want to kiss the man silly. 

Kneeling with Phainon was a difficult task as you fought with the floof of your dress and the way the corset wanted to strangle you, but you did it anyway. Pulling your hand from his hold, gently holding Phainon’s face and pulling it towards you. He didn’t need to be told twice, meeting you halfway and connecting your lips in a deep, reverent kiss. You notice how he always seems hesitant to touch you, whether it be fixing your posture during training, to guiding you with a hand on your back, but it seems like he became more confident. He tilted your chin up, making the kiss somehow more passionate. 

Pulling away, you find yourself panting for air, but Phainon doesn’t seem to want it to end, face following yours, causing you to chuckle and put a finger up to his lips. “I fear we have caused more work for my maids,” You comment, amused by the stain of your lipstick now smeared on your knight's lips. 

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” He pouts, once again trying to inch his face closer towards your own. Filled with affection towards the one person who helped you from the start, you pecked his cheek before standing once more.

“Once the coronation and banquet are over, I shall be all yours, my knight.”

As you stood in front of your mirror, a knight so pretty it should be a crime kneeling before you, you found yourself proud. Proud that all your hard work paid off, that you didn’t have to go about this fight alone, and that you were about to change your kingdom for the better. The fight wasn’t over yet, you will still struggle against closed minded council members and nobles that will surely want you six feet under for your ‘radical’ ideals (how wanting kids to be fed is radical will forever confound you), but you’ve already gotten past the hardest struggles, and with Phainon by your side to help protect you, you’re sure you’ll be able to conquer anything that crosses your path.

“I am,” He tells you. Then you feel his lips on your temple. “Go on.”

You’re supposed to be used to this kind of affection from him already. But it just never fails to make you glow in embarrassment whenever he floods you with his love. Every time you arrive to the lighthouse or whenever he’s the one who’s late to come home to you — he’ll never forget to come and greet you. He’ll never forget to look at you so lovingly as he listens to you, before gently grabbing your hand. You know where this is going.

“May I?”

And since you super duper like it too, you let him. How can you reject him, when he asked so nicely?

You watch him with your face heating up by the minute as Kyryll keeps on kissing your hand. If he’s on the mood, Kyryll will definitely press the palm of your hand on his cheek, still kissing it, with his yellow eyes still on you.

And if he really wants to get real frisky? Oh. He’d even try to put one of your fingers in his mouth. You’re really going to explode soon.

He’s such a tease. Obviously, he’ll be so amused by your reactions that it will be difficult for him to repress the small smirk forming on his lips. You being flustered just fuels him more to do more.

And he’s sweet. Polite. Tender. It probably is a common occurrence for you not being able to keep up with him due to his nature of being a lantern fae.

To illustrate, whenever Kyryll kisses you too much, you have no choice but to cover his lips with both of your hands. It’s not because you don’t want to kiss anymore, it’s the fact that you can’t breathe anymore.

You push him away gently, and he’s just confused. Why did you two stop? Is there something wrong? Not until that, ah, yes— not only are you red-faced, but you do require oxygen. My deepest apologies, he’d say.

But then he finds a way to continue kissing you anyway, so he opts for the hands that are on his lips. If he can’t kiss yours, then perhaps he shall resort to your fingers. Or to your palms.

And really, it won’t be long before you seriously explode.

Don't worry you wont lose an eye like Michael did.

Now you're going to be hearing a lot about Lucifer from Michael, no doubt about that. You're going to learn everything that Lucifer taught Michael.

➤ Pictures of Lucifer might also be included- if Michael doesn't show them to you himself you'll find them at his nightstand.

Lowkey (highkey) a helicopter parent- Michael prefers to keep you close, as a way to make sure Raphael and Gabriel dont bother you and as a way of teaching you 'right' and 'wrong' and how to carry out your duties in the future and of course to make sure his paranoia isn't getting the better of him by making him think that you're dead somewhere or that you've left him-

Honestly just like in Gabriel's part- you will be single for your entire long life.. Your partner has a 100% chance of being beheaded no matter if they're an angel, a devil or that one fairy from under a bridge.

You might end up in more than a few fights with other angels considering Raphael will encourage you to beat their asses-

➤ And if you lose he'll eat them/finish them for you so don't worry about that! You might get teased a bit but you know-

Honestly eating angels might also become part of your diet so good job you're now running kentucky fried angels!

➤ And of course Raphael will be your first customer-

You won't be getting near Michael and Gabriel anytime soon- well unless you're going to annoy them.

As for partners- I think Raphael is the only seraphim who'll give you a chance to date someone but even then his standards are pretty high-

➤ Which may or may not include your partner having to beat him in a fight or otherwise they'll got nommed like kitkat..

And if your partner makes you upset- well it'll be a painful and long death for them by Raphael's hands..

Mammon

His favorite thing to do is take the first bite out of others’ food, but since you're the one who asked, he'll let you take the first bite out of his. 

He stares at you the whole time as you chew, swallow, and then he finally asks how it tastes. 

….”Metallic?”

Oops…he forgot to mention there's gold sprinkled onto it. 

L*viathan

No. You should've ordered your own. 

Begrudgingly stuffs a fork with food on it into your mouth to shut you up. 

Beelzebub

A bite of his food? He already finished it! And he finished yours too! Since it had your saliva on it, it tasted better to him. 

Belphegor

…do you really want to take a bite out of whatever mush he eats? Because food is “Too much of a hassle to chew” so rather than eating he's… drinking it. 

Maybe asking for a sip of one of his sodas might be better. He doesn't care if you drink it all, Beleth will bring more. 

Asmodeus

Want a taste of his food? Sure! 

“Your face looks so erotic when you open your mouth to take a bite. it makes me want to put something else in your mouth when you hollow your cheeks like that.” He says cheekily. 

Look, he's been a dad and a husband, so he'll always let you have a bite. 

Lucifer

This man raised Michael, and probably the other two as well. He has a flashback of when one of his little brothers asked for a bite of his food. He didn't expect you to ask him, but Gamigin has done it before too. He doesn't say yes or no, he just cuts a piece and feeds it to you. 

Minhyeok

He just KNEW you'd get hungry, so he's lecturing you about how you should order for yourself next time. Anyway, he already ordered extra food for you. 

Raphael

Sharing Food? With Raphael? Do you really feel tempted to try angel meat? Yeah that's right, he's chewing on one of the lesser angels. 

…But he would let you have a bite if your teeth are strong enough to chew the flesh off… if not, then he can chew it off, and feed it to you mouth to mouth-